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sassylegshayne · 1 year

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simp notes

this is a bonus chapter for 'support your local caffeine dealer'

okay that being said AHHHHH!!!!! I've had this written for so long and ik chapter three of mmi is taking a bit so I wanted to post this now!! I love it, it's a peak into their relationship past the fic w lots of introspection from shayne, it's adorable! 2.8 words! enjoy xx mwah 💓

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Shayne woke up much earlier than he planned to, so he found himself sat in silence at your shared dining table, staring at his mug of coffee. He unintentionally mirrored your actions in the exact moment that brought him to this point today.

The start of your relationship was a bit rocky, filled with pining and misunderstandings, but Shayne wouldn't change a thing about it.

Four and a half years, one shared apartment, and two cats later, everything felt right. Not perfect yet, but close. Your lives meshed together perfectly in every little way he never imagined it would.

You had similar food tastes, but neither of you liked the other person's favorite snacks or cereals, so no arguments about stealing. You like opposing chores, making it easily to share the weight. You showered at night, him in the morning. You liked the same books, so you shared your libraries now.

You'd been promoted recently, the position allowing a bit more flexibility with your schedule; so you and Shayne often woke up together in the morning and arrived around the same time at night.

The welcome addition of you to his friend group even meant that making plans was extremely easy. Shayne was also immensely thankful to have you with him at pretty much ever group outting.

He felt like you two knew every small thing about each other, so the secret he was keeping weighed heavy. For three months and twelve days he has been keeping the biggest secret from you, and everyone else.

The small velvet box sat in the bottom drawer of your dresser, stuffed between a pair of jeans that were actually too short for Shayne and a pair of Halloween themed sweatpants that matched a pair of your own. He could find it blindfolded at this point with how often he took it from it's spot, almost four times a day, contemplating when it would be the right time. It didn't feel right until earlier in the morning.

Just at 7:39AM, Shayne shot out of his sleep, his heart fluttering as he glanced over his shoulder, finding you softly snoring. His alarm hadn't gone off yet, the two of you didn't need to be up until around ten.

You had the day off and Shayne only had one shoot on his schedule, one you were going to be apart of.

You had been in a couple of shoots in the few years since your relationship had been known to the internet. Some fans had recognized you from the crew and casts personal accounts, especially Kimmy and Damien's.

You were very well received in your first appearance at Shayne's graduation, your speech bringing him and most of your friends to tears. After that you had been brought into an 'Eat It Or Yeet It" video, getting your first chance to witness your boyfriend's grave mouth first hand. After all of the love for you came in, you appeared on a Board AF' episode and began making memes for 'Who Meme'd It?'

You kept your privacy and boundaries still, your social medias were all still set to private, making it clear that you'd appear on occasions, but wouldn't join.

Shayne was fully supportive when you told him this after he mentioned the idea of you coming in for a video. You loved your job, having moved up into management of the shop, the promotion coming as a huge surprise to you, but not to Shayne.

Today you and Shayne were do on set at 2PM, shooting another TNTL episode, as per request of the other's lined up in the shoot. Damien and Courtney were quick to shoot Kimmy the idea, which wasn't hard to greenlight when the producer was your best friend. The easy part was over, convincing you was much more difficult. It tooka lot of coaxing from your friends, but Shayne remained neutral. It almost pissed you off that each time you asked him for advice on whether or not you should do it, he'd say it's up to you. Shayne couldn't help it, he still finds himself not wanting to push you too far, he still wants to protect you from anything he can. Most fans loved you, but what if it stops? He was still in shock of how much everyone seemed to like you. His heart couldn't help but flutter with pride and joy each time he read a comment that spoke highly of you.

It couldn't compare to the love Shayne has for you. He writes every small, tender thought he has about you down in his phone. He isn't sure when they started now, but it was definitely before you had started dating.

He started off using it to get things off of his chest, to write down the words of admiration that he wished he could tell you. Overtime it'd had begun to be every thought he'd had about you.

"I told the stars about you"

"you're the only one want to wake up next to"

"I wonder what goes through your mind when someone says my name"

Damien and Spencer have heard almost all of them, extremely supportive of him, always quick to call it sweet. That's then followed with different ways to call Shayne a simp. It turned into a joke between them, dubbing them Shayne's Simp Notes.

Gears were turning as Shayne shuffled from your bed quietly, grabbing his phone from the night stand before wandering into the living area, brewing coffee.

He took a deep breath, unlocking his phone as he finished replaying his morning in his head before noting the time. 8:17AM is when the perfect idea strikes, apparently.

Shayne was quick to open the notes app and begin writing out everything. He's loosely planned sketches for the show before but this was much bigger, he wrote out every detail to make sure it'd go right.

After about an hour of nonstop writing with Shayne's eyes glued to his screen, his coffee long gone cold, your yawn echos down the hall.

A smile stretches across his face as he finishes his last line, closing out of the app before setting his phone on the tabletop. You enter the room rubbing your eyes as yOu mile softly at Shayne. His ASU shirt covered your top half, an old pair of gym shorts covered your bottom.

Without a word, you made your way over to Shayne's lap, straddling him as you rest your head on his shoulder while he rubs your back gently.

The two of you tend to lay in bed together and cuddle if you're up before your alarms, enjoying the peace of being together before beginning your respective days. On the off days where that doesn't happen, you tend to make up for that lost time whenever you can, like right now.

"Ditch me on my day off, I see how it is." You chuckled as you sat up, rubbing your fingers lightly through Shayne's hair as he groaned playfully.

"I'm sorry, you're just dating an absolute genius, and I had a breakthrough, baby." Shayne laughed softly as you rolled your eyes; he moved to cup your cheeks pressing his lips to yours softly.

The two of you sat there for a bit longer, chatting until your alarms rang in your distant bedroom. You sullenly removed yourself from Shayne's lap, snagging his mug of coffee before disappearing down the same halway you'd wandered out of earlier.

"Ew, Shayne this is so old! How long have you been up?!" You shouted as your turned off the ringing, prompting a laugh from Shayne.

He makes sure to bring you a fresh mug, prepared just how you like as you're busy getting ready later. Your heart swelled at the small action.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary from Shayne, he loved using small, subtle ways to show his affection. You always had fresh flowers from the very beginning of your relationship, sometimes you'd have more than one bouquet at a time. He's been a big fan of ordering things to you while he's away, off on shoots or even while hest at work.

He once ordered groceries to your apartment and video called you to cook together when he was on a trip to visit his parents.

You adored him so much. This relationship had far exceeded what you thought it could be, and you couldn't be happier. You're heart swells at just the thought of your boyfriend and everything he means to you.

The two of you arrived on set a bit early, giving you time to mingle with everyone. You were quick to dart from Shayne, heading toward Kimmy and Courtney across the room.

Shayne stood off to the side, staring at his phone screen once more. He felt like he was gonna scream, throw up, and cry all at once. He just needed to get through this. It's just an episode with his friends, he's gonna tell jokes and do his characters, his girlfriends gonna be there, it's gonna be amazing.

The box sat heavy on his thigh in the front pocket of his jeans, the outline barely concealed by the flannel he had buttoned over his white tee in an attempt to hide it.

Shayne eyed Kimmy, chewing his lip as she finally departed from her conversation with you. He was quick to grab her, requesting something weird of her. He needed you to go last, this wasn't something he wanted to have as the opening bit.

He kept the reasoning to himself, and Kimmy didn't seem too concerned about it so she happily agreed.

Once the others had arrived, Noah only setting the shoot back half an hour, they began rolling. You did great, getting Damien out quickly with an inside joke the three of you had shared after a trip to Universal one night.

Shayne was so nervous he found himself laughing his way through his joke, which eventually got Damien after it had become evident that Shayne wouldn't be able to stop his laughter.

His nerves had settled a bit, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, small kissed placed on your forehead between your bits, hidden by the divider.

You grinned as the end of the video neared, you being called to the yellow stool last. You filled your mouth with water and gave a thumbs up as you heard rustling from behind the divider.

"Okay, this isn't my turn but just wanna do this real quick" Shayne called out, peering around the corner as you shrugged.

After a few seconds, a toy crow flew over the clothing rack as Shayne belted out a purposefully bad impression of Train. You spewed instantly as cackling sounded from your boyfriend.

"I hate you!" You called out as you refilled your mouth, shaking your head.

"No, you don't." He called back, laughing.

The others' bits flew by as Shayne stood behind the divider, his wig and phone clutched tightly in his hands as he took deep breaths.

Shayne told you to close your eyes as he pulled on the curly, bob wig from a character of his.

You had a hate/love relationship of Shayne's simp character, Sir Phillip Simpne, so he felt it was right for this occasion. He had his phone hidden behind an open book as he moved to stand beside you on the stool. He cleared his throat, offering you a smile as your opened your eyes.

You groaned, keeping your mouth shut as you shook your head, determined to hold it over Shayne that he couldn't make you laugh with this bit.

"I haven't a poem for you today, m'lady," Shayne begun, trying his best not to laugh as you stared at him blankly. "I offer you something better. I bring love notes that I have written about the fair maiden before me today."

Shayne's palms felt sweaty as he looked down at his phone, deciding to drop the accent as he read to you, the giggles from others were silent to him.

"l'm gonna start from the beginning, kind of," He smiled, nodding as he looked up at you, removing the wig. "I wrote 'I never planned to like you this much and never planned to think about you this often' right before we started dating."

Shayne couldn't look at you as he felt tears prickle at his eyes, his throat running dry as he knew he'd run out of time.

Nobody in the room was counting anymore. Once Shayne had gotten more serious, the air in the room shifted and everyone grew quiet.

You sat in the chair, head tilted in confusion when Shayne had dropped the character, the game leaving your mind all together as you tried to process what was happening.

"Uh, 'I wonder if we ever think about each other at the same time.'" He kept his eyes on his phone, a bit scared to meet your eyes. You stared at him in perplexion.

"Okay, on my birthday I wrote 'of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you', then the next day wrote 'there's been a place for you in my heart since we first met.'" Shayne sniffled, looking to you with teary eyes, chuckling a bit.

You took in his appearance with your brows furrowed, his cheeks were bright red, his blue eyes glistening.

"So, yeah, those are some of my Simp Notes." Shayne spoke softly as he caught sight of you laughing, some water dribbling from your lips.

You stood from the stool, taking a few steps away as you swallowed, wiping your mouth. You were still clueless as to what exactly was happening, but the name had caught you off guard and made you laugh.

Shayne felt like time slowed down, everything was going too perfectly as he removed the box from his pocket, your back still to him as you laughed.

He found himself grateful for your unwillingness to laugh at him, you allowed him to tell you some of the things he hadn't been able to before.

The energy had come back to the room, everyone laughing as soon as you broke, the assumptions previously made now leaving everyone's mind until Shayne drops to one knee.

A few gasps are heard as you turn back toward Shayne. small shriek leaves you as your eyes widden quickly at the sight.

You two had talked about marriage before, and you both wanted to get married, but you didn't expect this. Nothing could've given this away for you.

"I wanna spend the rest of my life making you laugh." Shayne chuckled as you laughed a rolled your eyes as the purposely bad joke.

"Y/N, will you marry me?" Shayne's voice barely audible, the crew further back hadn't even heard him ask.

"Yes, Shayne!" You squeal, your boyf- no.

Your fiance is quick to grab you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he lifts you up. The two of you are a mess of tears, smiles, sniffles, kisses, and whispers as the room is filled with cheers.

You and Shayne are quickly enveloped with loads of your friends, the shock and excitement evident throughout the room.

After a few minutes, Kimmy hugs you and Shayne tightly, congratulating the two of you continuously, quickly gasping as she looks up.

"I can't believe you didn't tell anyone!" Kimmy sniffles, smacking Shayne's chest lightly as he laughed. You looked to him with wide eyes, quickly looking to Damien in confusion as he shook his head.

"Yeah, I've had the ring for... uh, some time now" Shayne laughed, blushing brightly as you at him in awe. "I wanted to surprise you, and| wanted to have a bunch of people we care about with us to celebrate, it just felt right."

Shayne couldn't hide his embarrassment as you wrapped him into another hug, the two of you embracing each other for a few moments, happy tears falling from and for the couple.

"Oh my god, we're still doing a video, holy shit." She laughs, wiping her own tears as she quickly moved out of frame, the rest of the crew following suit. The cast quickly surrounded you once more, each with bright smiles and tear stained cheeks.

You sit back on the stool, grinning as Shayne stands beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders.

"Pst." Damien called loudly from Shayne's other side. "You should give her the ring, Shayne." He whisper-yelled, causing a fit of giggles to ripple through everyone, both you and Shayne blushing deeply.

He fumbles a bit as he opens it again, pulling the delicate, ornate ring from the box before sliding it on to your finger.

You pressed your hand on to your lap, grinning as you stared at the accessory that fit you perfectly in every way.

"I could not imagine being a comedian and having to go on after this guy." Spencer called from out of frame, causing Shayne to cackle.

You guys were quick to wrap up your outro, Shayne still wrapped around you the whole time, placing a kiss to your forehead as they called for a wrap on the shoot.

This was the perfect he was looking for.

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the5n00k · 4 months

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An observation about TGAMM The End

Big big spoilers ahead, click away if you aren't caught up

This is also my first NEGATIVE TGAMM analysis post! Wowie! So if you don't want to see me bitch, also click off now

The End and how Molly McGee's character was disrespected

The End is. An episode. I have many MANY thoughts about it but it would be far too long to put in one post so I'm going to explore one of my more reoccurring opinions. This episode recontextualized a lot of things but I'm going to talk about how it recontextualized Molly as a character. Most importantly as a MAIN character. A TITLE character. A character with her own past and personality and feelings. All of which this episode completely stomped all over, handed her the check, and said "figure it out"

I want to apologize to my friend who called this so SO much earlier into the series and that he had to listen to me watch this show on lethal amounts of copium. You were right but I knew neither of us wanted you to be.

Now let's get into the meat of it, shall we?

All throughout season 1, Molly's history and relationship with the concept of friends is always treated with complete sincerity and the emotional pause it needs to sink in with the audience that she's been through it. Moving away and leaving friends is why she put so much importance on the "forever home" in the first place because she's had to leave so many people she loved. She had a rocky beginning with Scratch during the early season but quickly became on equal footing with him as they began to understand each other and their boundaries. Because she genuinely cares about him. Similarly, season 2 explores the boundaries of their friendship and shows Scratch more willing to participate in whatever Molly is doing, even begging sometimes to be included. And Molly is very patient and kind with him all throughout trying to help him regain memories of his past. And Scratch actually reciprocated a few times like helping her learn Thai and working with Libby to set her up with Ollie. They're the closest they've ever been and something I can confidently call true best friends, possibly the closest and healthiest friendship I've seen portrayed in media. Season 2 showcases how far either of them are willing to go to help each other.

Then The End happened.

Molly is the same understanding and supportive friend as she had been all season, almost to a fault. She encourages scratch to go back to his life, knowing the risks that come with it. Why did there need to be the risk of forgetting her when his spirit didn't immediately forget his living life? Don't know. Something to do with an unreleased episode although I doubt the rest of season 3 would have sweetened my opinion of this episode. Only she knew he was about to do this, she didn't talk to any of his other friends or family before he went out to Todd's house. They only found out after the fact and the next morning is when he left. None of them had any time to process that they just lost a family member, especially not Molly.

The scene where he's talking to her on the bench breaks my heart. Knowing your friend is no longer there and is replaced with this stranger. So much of this episode would have been fixed to just let him keep his memories. Considering how hard it was to pull his living memories out of his spirit, it's very likely that even the small fragments of her he remembers will slowly fade away. She had to do the one thing she never wanted to do again and repeat the same pain that's plagued her for the entire series. And it sucks! Why doesn't she get a happy ending? Hell, I'm not even convinced this was a "happy ending" for scratch since he can't remember any of the people he just spent the last two years with.

The biggest slap to the face is when Libby, Geoff, and the McGees come up behind Molly and just act like all of this is fine? They're treating scratch like this wild animal that deserved to be released into the wild because he could never fit in with society when he was PERFECTLY HAPPY with the McGees. He proudly displayed to the entire ghost world that he was an "honorary McGee" and told a ghost hunter to his face that him and Molly would do anything for each other despite their differences. Was all of that completely pointless? Because it sure feels that way. He had this entire new "life" he just completely abandoned because oh I guess I'm not really dead. Guess I better go reconnect with my childhood friend I haven't seen in person or had any meaningful conversations with in decades!!! See ya, chumps, hope you weren't attached to me or anything!

It's so disrespectful to the audience's investment in Molly and Scratch's friendship, the themes of friendship overcoming all odds and lasting forever, and Molly as a character. And to a lesser degree, it's even disrespectful to Scratch since most of the season he spent brooding over the fact that he didn't remember his past! Now he's forgotten a large portion of his "life" all over again. Now he's going to have to live with this nagging itch at the back of his mind that he's forgetting something until he manages to completely repress it too. And to rub salt in the wound, the credits don't have near sight nor mention of Molly McGee outside of a painted portrait of her and (spirit) scratch. All this does is tell me a LONG time has passed and neither of them have managed to successfully contact each other. The dream team is gone, this is a story about a girl and a ghost and none of it meant anything.

"he'll remember when he dies again!" Where does it say that

"he didn't forget, he said Moll! That means something!" The longer he spends away from the McGees and Brighton, the more likely he is to completely forget them altogether. The vague memories will eventually fade away and every "forever memory" will be worthless.

"it doesn't matter, this is Scratch's story" then why isn't it called 'scratch and the human girl'? Or 'the scratch show'? Why is Molly a title character if she's nothing but a plot device for his character development.

"Molly had to learn how to say goodbye." No she didn't. She's been doing that her entire life. She's pretty well aware of how to say goodbye. Making her relive 13 years of trauma from the other side of the vehicle doors is not a useful life skill. Pain is not necessary to grow up.

I don't care what the excuse is. This was a terrible ending for both characters and no amount of "he's happy now!" coping from both the fans and the writers is going to get me to see this any other way. If you enjoy the episode, great! I'm happy for you, there's a lot to love in the music and voice acting and breathtaking animation. But none of that could save me from this abysmal attempt at a series finale. I was so viscerally disgusting by this as a finale that I spent a good two days completely nauseous thinking about it. What a disaster. The sad part is I like the story potential! Him reuniting with Adia is what I've wanted for him all season so he could get closure. Molly and Scratch having to say goodbye is heartbreaking but understandable, a lot of shows nowadays end that way and I half expected it. But him completely forgetting the girl he owes his new lease on life to? My gosh it's just a deal breaker. It is such a cruel end for these characters and I cannot wrap my head around why they thought it was a good idea outside of cheap angst.

I wanted to like this episode and I still do. But they just did so much wrong when one thing could change and it would have completely flipped my opinion on the episode and series in general. But what do I know, I'm just a negative nancy.

Anyway idk how to end this off, justice for Molly McGee, Scratch deserved to be called Scratch McGee, kill Todd Mortenson, peace out

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #tgamm season 2 #tgamm spoilers #molly mcgee #scratch mcgee #anyway so im rewriting this episode in my image #if anyone's interested i may post it #but i also may not idk it features a few things i may need to add context for #but these characters deserve a better ending #a happy ending #fuck you *refinds your family*#btw this is not an attack at the crew or anyone who likes the episode #these are just my thoughts #signing off

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smuppetshowmovie · 1 month

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date: September 17, 2024 caption: Assembling the musicians for the orchestra project: The Smuppet Show

The Smuppet Show Orchestra, assembled and ready to play! Here I am trying to work out the dimensions of the orchestra pit. The width of the stage was already set, but I needed to decide how deep and how tall to make the boundaries of the pit area.

I had a lot of fun assigning instruments and colors to each of the plushies (extended ramblings on this under the cut).

Photo legend, roughly left to right

Blue scalemate with rust red trumpet

White scalemate: candy red tuba

Red scalemate: teal trombone

Yellow scalemate: green french horn

Pink turtle: purple violin

Red nakodile: Dave's turntables

Yellow salamander: Breath player piano

Blue iguana: sparkly bass guitar

Vodka Mutini: pink electric guitar

It was a fun exercise to try to assign each character in the movie to a specific musical instrument. I vaguely imagined I could then use these to construct the music too - making sure to use those particular instruments when certain characters were singing or being alluded to. I didn't end up sticking to that very closely, but it helped to narrow down the options at first and get me started.

The trolls all got assigned to brass. Aradia gets a trumpet because in my high school band, the trumpet players were always the cool kids. Terezi gets a trombone because she'd fit right in with the tightly-knit group of cackling troublemakers I played with. Kanaya gets a french horn because every french horn player I've ever met has been elegant and refined, with a wicked sense of humor. Karkat gets a tuba, because all that shouting is great practice for the breath control needed to power such an instrument.

To make the brass instruments, I image-searched each instrument, traced it, laser cut, then painted and covered in glitter.

For the beta kids, I stuck to their canon instruments. Dave's turntables I made (described in a previous post). John's piano I made (described in a previous post). Jade's bass is from the same set of pop star barbie accessories as the pink keyboard stand. I went a bit overboard on Rose's violin, using sparkly silver embroidery floss to make strings.

I started off with Vodka Mutini / Roxy on pink guitar, then didn't follow through for the rest of the alpha kids since I'd run out of matching pre-made plushies. Alas! Setting up complicated patterns and then exhaustively following through on the sequence is hard!

#smuppet bts

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gaz-light · 1 year

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CW: Me but ugly

Ya know what fuck it. I don't intend to this mid week. I wanna do it now while I've got the time and honestly I'm a bit excited.

This is John. He's the guy I used to be. I don't have many other pictures of him but I saved these ones for this purpose. They're some of the few I could stand for some reason.

It's hard to think I ever used to look like that. Think or act the way I did. You could go back right now and tell him the events of the past like year or so and honestly he'd probably understand it. Would be too scared as shit nervous and doubtful to ever believe it. Hated himself too much to imagine it being this way.

This is how I started off on Hormones 1 year ago. 5/31/22. Somewhere between 11/7/21 and 4/9/22 everything went to shit. I crashed my motorcycle and broke my arm, ended up broke, didnt get into grad school, the girl I was madly in love with just let me know I was being replaced by someone with a pussy. It took about everything happy in my life turning to shit over night to finally crack the egg that I had been growing in for so long.

There were signs before. Things I always knew. Always hung out with girls. Liked sapphic content. Felt detachment from peers of my agab, enjoyed pretending at being an internet femboy. Horribly autistic. Fucking hated my body. Hated hated hated hated hated. I had a closeted sissy kink and dressed up FOR YEARS. So much more. Eventually I started hooking up with trannies the same way I hooked up with lesbians and things began to click. Something in me thought ya know what, I don't have to just admire and adore and yearn for them. Then a good friend of mine consoling me one April night more or less extended an invitation and I didn't look back.

And then she was born. I think these photos are from maybe a month post starting HRT. Would you believe I hadn't seen myself without facial hair in like 10 years before this point. I hadn't shaved it all off since I was 13. I'm hispanic. Greek and Cuban so I've had this accursed facial and body hair for fucking ever. I was so afraid the first time I picked up that razor. I didnt know if I'd like what was on the other side. I felt safe and secure in the validation I got from other people that I thought it'd be ok if I was just unhappy with myself forever. I hated whatever I was so much that I didnt have the energy to care for her.

Then I shaved.

I looked in the mirror and I thought that girl looked kinda cute. For the first time I really didnt think I looked so bad. My friends were very supportive thankfully. Not everyone was. Certainly not dear old dad who still wont call me by my name or gender me properly. The man who told me god had cursed him with 2 faggots. My little trans brother and I. The man who let me know I was a disappointment and that neither I or anyone of us were real women. I still havent forgiven him for so much. But I am trying to let it go. Even the cis people were kinda nice. I lost some who were kinda edgy friends from highschool. Nothing of value was lost.

Since then I've worked to navigate the professional world as a woman. My first boss at my first real post college job was this British woman from England who made my life kinda hell. Preyed upon and picked on me and embarrassed me professionally. One of the 2 other women at the office. She never would admit to it but I think she resented me for it. I was also the only tranny there. Well sorta. There was 1 other who worked down in facilities doing the trash and dishes for the labs. But not up there. Not on the 8th floor with us in the "war room".

And this is where and who we are now 1 year later. Same eyes. Same 5'0 looking ass. But happier. Smiles when she looks in the mirror. Can actually do things for herself. Set boundaries. Care. Maybe she can even love too. I've placed myself into countless lesbian romance fantasies and I feel like I have a shot at living them. I used to be like 200 pounds. I'm down to 128 and also built like a brick house full of muscle. I was horrified of being trapped in that body of mine forever and the fear and doubt that I'd never make it even this far scared me into doing nothing until i had little else to lose.

Let me leave you with some wise advice that friend who cracked my egg once gave to me: The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best time is right now.

Transitioning was the best decision I ever made for myself. Happy birthday Morrigan. I love you.

#pin #anniversary #morri posting

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smolghostbot · 11 months

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OC Intros: Patchwork Melody

(Remaking this since the OG post was really only accurate for their first meeting and I've had a lot of fun expanding their relationship beyond that point. Also the OG formatting sucked sorry I'm bad at this)

Patch (They/He/Any but It) is an extremely anxious, mute borrower, (by trade, not species) with the saddest wettest backstory possible, to maybe be told later. Their story starts when they find themself being "aided" (captured) by a human who thinks of them as the poorest, cutest little creature in need of a guardian. Since they can't vocalize, and their writing system is radically different from the one used by humans, communication is a problem. Over time, they begin to work through their trauma around humans, helped as their relationship with this newest human changes over the course of a few years, from captor to friend to partner.

Patch isn't their real name, but it's a nickname given to them since they can't exactly say their real one. Their true name is something of the big mystery of the story.

Melody, aka Mel (She/They) is a huge fan of the supernatural and paranormal who stumbles upon a weak and fearful little fae-looking creature one morning, and takes it upon herself to be their caretaker and guardian. Her sometimes off-putting and overbearing personality makes the start of this newfound friendship a bit strained. Over time, Melody takes a massive level in kindness as she learns to respect her new friend's boundaries, and starts to appreciate Patch as a person rather than a spectacle.

Five Fun Facts about each of them:

Patch:

They're allergic to citrus fruits but don't understand allergies (Doesn't everybody think oranges are spicy?)

Their favorite foods are strawberries and chocolate. Discovering Neapolitan ice cream was basically the highlight of their life.

Totally normal about television (It lets them see so much of the world… they've only ever lived within like three city blocks). Easily the best way to get their mind off things is to set them in front of a nature documentary.

Their backpack and scarf were gifts from their parents, and are their most prized possessions because of that. The backpack is actually made of denim, so it's (relatively) extremely durable.

Actually a skilled poet and wordsmith… not that it's readable to humans. Their specialty is a form of poem similar to a haiku that has the same number of characters on every line.

Melody:

The red eyes and iridescent hair are (obviously) contacts and dye, her natural eye color is a hazel and her hair is a very light brown. Seeing her without contacts confused the hell out of Patch the first time.

One of those kids who went hard for Halloween as a kid, they dressed as various fictional wizards every single year, and only stopped when they went to college.

Actively tries to follow fae rules and superstitions when talking to strangers, even before meeting Patch. One of those people who gets genuinely anxious when a customer service person says "May I have your name?"

She has a degree in classical mythology and folklore. Needless to say, it doesn't get much use other than putting them in debt.

Owns a Switch but only sometimes plays RPGs and strategy games. They'd be a massive Tabletop RPG buff if they had any friends to play with…

#oc tag: patch #oc tag: mel #patchwork melody #g/t ocs #g/t #giant/tiny

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soullikethesea · 4 months

Text

And this post is about T.

Last week I'd forced myself to write to her. I... forcefully... connected inside. It turned out that I was upset about quite a few things, but the things that came to mind first were about my mum. (1) How my body is starting to look so much like her's and it feels awful; (2) Memories of being locked out of the house: (3) Gypsy Blanchard's release from prison and how people are responding to that.

I also shared some lyrics that reminded me of the whole ordeal when I was a teenager. At some point I got so desperate. So, so desperate and lost and alone.

"I had a dream that I was hitting my dad with a baseball bat/and he was screaming and crying for help/and maybe half-way through it became more about me killing him/than it ever was protecting myself/and yeah, dad, maybe no one is perfect/but I believe that you were pushing your luck."

T seemed to have thought about the things I wrote. She wanted to talk about it for like an hour. She shared a song that reminded her of getting out of a freeze state. I don't really remember very well what she ended up asking or telling me.

I think she was trying to acknowledge/recognize my pain?? But since I wasn't connected to the right parts anymore, it just felt a bit weird. She said that, as she is learning more about my story and the deeper meaning of things, she is - only now - recognizing *how* hard it must have been. How painful and how alone. And how hard it must be to open up.

I said that it's not so hard to be open, anymore. And she pointed out the extra layer of potential painfulness/paradox in that, that only *now* it is recognized how hard it must have been, when it is not as hard anymore. When I am more knowable for her. Which grazes open more loneliness...

We also talked a bit about values. And about work. Setting boundaries.

I mentioned how I've lost touch inside, with other parts. And we came to the verbal agreement that I can email her once a week. Somehow I really needed to hear explicit permission for that again. It's not too much work. I'm not asking too much. I can do this if it is helpful to me and I can use it as a means to force myself to reconnect inside.

Oh, and at some point, earlier in the session, T asked why I sent the writing. It was to reconnect inside, to work on things that come up, and I guess also checking again if maybe now she is ready to work on this. To work with the fox, for example. And Thankfully!!!!! she didn't take it as criticism. I didn't mean it like that at all. It's just realistically something I wonder about at times - is she ready for this (because if she's not, it's not going to help me anyway). She got what I was talking about! And I shared an article I found about working with persecutory alters and she asked if she could share it in a little intervision group she does about dissociation. So that's pretty cool as well. I hope she will learn more and get more comfortable with the subject.

We talked about creativity a bit more and then time was up.

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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 1 year

Text

This Time was Different

Garvez wc: 3,657 Posted on Ao3 Reeling from the culmination of catching Voit and all that entailed, Penelope comes to a startling realization, but fears it might be too late.

“Is he dead? Tell me he's dead.” Desperate, accusatory, a tinge of hope; Tyler Green didn’t say anything sweet or loving. He didn’t even say hello by way of greeting the very distressed woman with whom he’d recently begun sleeping with, now standing in his hospital room and quite frankly, he didn’t care. She was his last concern, a wisp of thought if ever there was one.

"Wha-? No. Tyler, no.” Penelope responded quickly, confused. “But you don't- you don't need to worry about that. We'll keep you safe, we’ll look out for you, get you set up- your mom and nephew too. We want to make sure you’re all safe since Voit knows for sure who you are and knows that you can identify him. We can have security posted and cars monitoring. We can order a detail- unmarked…You could even- you could come back and stay with me-" she offered, approaching timidly, hand reaching and faltering to find his own.

Pleading with him. She was pleading with him to drop this vendetta, to accept that Voit would be caught, but he needed to stop interfering for his own safety. He just needed to trust that they could do what she knew they could, knew that they had done countless times before. She knew he had no real reason to trust the team, -her friends- she reminded herself, but he had to know she believed in them, couldn’t that be enough? Wouldn’t her faith be enough for him to have faith too?

He stopped her with an abrupt palm, hand jerking away from her own, expression caged. "That's not what I asked. I asked: Is. He. Dead. Don't tell me he got away again!" Tyler erupted.

She’d never seen this side of him, yelling, furious. She’d seen him cold, distant, and cynical, she’d seen that when they first brought him in. She’d seen what she first interpreted as stoic cruelty when he demanded she not be a part of his work again, but later she decided he was trying to be mindful of her boundaries and emotions. But this, blaming, and loud, and mean, this she hadn’t seen, she didn’t know how to react.

There was something cold in his eyes, and his tone seemed to say “you absolute moron” though nothing like that had been spoken. Penelope flinched, bewildered. "I- I don't understa-"

Tyler laughed mirthlessly, muttering, "Of course you don't." Then more direct, "Don't you get it? I was using you. I've been using you. I told you in the beginning I was using you. When I saw how fast you melted with the cat I knew I had you wrapped. You were a means to an end, Penelope. The only thing I’ve wanted my whole life was within reaching distance with your help, and with the BAU's superior hunters, after all, that's what you all do: hunt serial killers, I would barely have to lift a finger. But somehow you all let him get away! What? Could you not ping Rossi?! I know that’s how you found me! Were you really so blinded by my half-assed attention that you let a serial killer escape rather than follow him?! Jesus christ, you’re more pathetic than I thought! B-e-c-a-u-s-e o-f y-o-u” he enunciated slowly, “he’ll disappear again! Dust in the wind. My one chance fucking GONE. Well let me be clear: you mean nothing to me. Lee dead means everything. My sister means everything."

Her face fell, tears rolling wetly down hot cheeks. "But...You said-“ She jerked her head, clearing the thought. Desperately she clung to the hope of him “I forgive you. I know it's hard-"

But he cut her off, “Did you really think I forgot all about my sister's murder because YOU came into my life? I put you in my life Penelope. It was by design that we worked together. Or did you forget that I knew who you used to be and that I found you? I coerced you into working there again. Why do you think I contacted you instead of just going to the FBI? I knew you wouldn't be able to access everything I needed you to working at ~soar~" Tyler mocked the last part, her safe teen network, her pride and joy.

He was mocking her. Lashing out. He was hurt, she could understand, she would forgive him, they would work through it together."

And yet, somehow you all still failed. I failed. You failed. Lee got away. Again. I thought with your team as backup it would be a sure thing. There's good old American Patriotism for you. So no, Penelope. I do not want to stay at your house. I do not want to be around a cat ever again, and if I never chew on the sponge-like nothingness of another piece of tofu in what’s left of my life, it will be too soon. Leave me alone. Just. Go away. I get nothing out of being with you, romantically, as friends, as anything. You mean less than nothing to me, you’ve been useless.”

Penelope removed her hands from her face, her pink tights covered leg pressed solidly next to dark jeans. Luke sat in the waiting room with her, hand rubbing comforting circles to her back between breaks of sobbing and rambling about Tyler. This was part of being a good friend, this was part of being what she needed.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as every fiber of him was pulling, leaning, reaching for her, he pulled away, breaking their kiss.

She felt herself confused and sad, staring back at him, questioning, caught in the anger in the eyes mere inches from hers.

They were outside her apartment, it was dark.

Luke unwound her hands from his neck, taking a step back. "Look, Penelope, I Know you're hurting. And please, don’t get confused, I do feel for you, I do love you, you know that, I think. But you have a lot to work out. This isn't fair to me, I need to know the person I love loves me too. Not just for what I can give them or how I can make them feel in the moment, but because they really, genuinely, unselfishly love me. I'm not willing to risk it again just to be tossed aside and insulted to my face and treated as a... a... an acquaintance.” There was a hardness to his voice, it wasn’t the soft and warm velvet pillow she found frequently in the comfort she sought from him.

He went on stepping further away, cold air rushing in, “How you treat me is hurtful and offensive. And maybe it's my fault for always letting it slide, making room for you to grow the way you need to in the time you need to. But the problem there was you never ended up growing...anywhere towards me. Not unless it was convenient for you. I'm not a tissue to wipe away your tears after someone's wronged you. I'm a person who needs love and affection, but hell I’d settle for some respect at this point. So no, Penelope, I'm sorry, I can't be with you tonight. As much as I want to be, I need to be with my girl, nursing my pain, feeling my loss, and trying to move on."

Penelope Garcia woke up sobbing.

She’d been doing that a lot lately, waking up wet with tears or a dry sob caught in her throat. Sometimes they ended up together, sometimes, she called it off, sometimes he died, and one really horrific time he turned into Battle and shot her there in the hospital. That time she’d had to get up and make some tea and watch baby animal videos online until it was time to get ready and she was all zombied out.

She knew what it was, she knew what they meant, the dreams. They weren’t good for each other. What he’d done the deepest parts of her could not excuse. But this was the first time Luke had been involved and that rattled her. The anger in his eyes, his feelings glowing around him like an aura. For some reason the pain of a hurting Dream-Luke and Dream-Luke shutting her out was worse, felt worse than losing Tyler.

She hadn’t really hurt him like that, had she? She didn’t act like that with him, did she? And he didn’t care for her that deeply…certainly didn’t looo-. No. Luke didn’t. They’d decided.

But waking up, her whole chest clenched and ached and every string and sinew in her pulled, leaned, reached- just like she’d felt him do in the dream-for her phone.

To call him.

To ease her newly troubled mind. They were fine, right? He wasn’t going to leave her. He wasn’t abandoning her. And he certainly didn’t love her. They seemed fine sitting off together away from everyone else in her apartment after Bailey’s funeral…He’d poured her and himself more wine and they sat together and she tried to explain away her awful and selfish decisions of late and he was so understanding.

He was always so understanding.

And then he pulled out that quote and it was just the one she’d been trying to think of. Just the one. But did it fit? Was it that her heart wanted Tyler? Or was it that her heart wanted to protect itself from the possibility of getting hurt? If you’re with someone you know deep down you don’t love- couldn’t love…you can’t get hurt.

At that her thoughts drifted back to Luke. Back to when he’d first joined the team. What was she doing then? Why was she so rude? Yeah, he was nearly disrespectfully handsome and cavalier about it. But he wasn’t ever anything but sweet, friendly Luke. It didn’t even come off all that disingenuous. He was the new kid and she treated him with as much contempt as a school yard bully. There was nothing she needed to protect herself from except maybe the possibility of…

No.

She was just upset about Derek, that’s all. And then Luke came in all armed and ready to take over. To fill the void. He couldn’t possibly. She had to let him know that, know that one person at least wasn’t going to just let him slide right in.

But she did ease up…and she’d told him she was glad he was there once that finally became true (once she was made to realize she might be acting a bit heavy handed).

Her chest ached a little more thinking about Luke and Morgan together. Luke wouldn’t leave her like Morgan had, would he?

When lockdown started she shoved everyone away before they could get wrapped up in their own lives and forget about her…Everyone but Luke. She knew he didn’t have a whole lot around the area, he had Rox, that was about it. She had Serg. They were kind of fitting in that regard. But she felt him getting closer then and shut him out harder. Requesting he give her a heads up before coming over, limiting their time together…pulling faces and making comments more similar to when they first met. Hurtful. Cutting. She was putting distance between them. She was hurting him. On purpose.

She leaned on him -leaned into him so much. And he’d never been anything but supportive. But the second he showed he might need a little more from her she ran for the hills. What kind of friend did that? She never reacted that way with Morgan, with Spencer, with JJ or Emily… And the thought of him leaving her now scared her more than anything.

The possibility of those over-steeped tea toned eyes looking at her like that- like they had in the office that day- even just for a second…That’s where those eyes had come from. He’d never looked at her like that before. The anger and offense highlighted with flecks of wounding. She did hurt him, but she was too self-absorbed to see it then. Too wrapped up in drama of her own making to catch it. But why would that garner those emotions in him? That wasn’t a regular grossed out oversharing reaction, Luke was furious and crushed. If he wasn’t about to yell at her about putting the team and the case on the line…he was about to yell for other reasons.

And then the date started replaying in her head. How off it’d been. How strangled he sounded. She thought he wasn’t feeling it, she thought he was just being nice, polite Alvez and sparing her feelings, so she jumped in to let him know it was fine, it wasn’t too late to put a stop to it, there were no hard feelings…

Except it stung a little. She did like him, but she didn’t want another date with a completely stunningly attractive person to go bad, couldn’t handle it, so she cut it off hard.

Maybe a little harder than the situation called for…

She said they were better as friends.

She lied.

She said she could only talk to him when she was making fun of him.

That wasn’t true.

She shut it down.

Seeing his expression in her mind again, replaying that scene, she realized he didn’t really respond…but his face did. And oh fuck. She’d done it again.

Penelope began to hyperventilate, her heart beating rapidly unable to stop her quickening breath. This was ludicrous, outrageous, Luke Alvez was not, had not been in love with her! He would have said something! He would have told her that night he didn’t mean clunky as in no attraction! He’d be over it by now if he had liked her years ago… Right?

What in the ever loving. She needed him to tell her. To confirm he was just mad about the case…Mad in the way a friend is mad at you for getting them in trouble too, mad in the way that guys got mad when you told them too much, like Derek got when she told him too much. Hell, he’d even gotten weird and mad when she started dating Kevin, that didn’t mean he had a secret long-standing crush on her!

Penelope threw off the blanket and lunged out of bed dashing to the door to put distance between hand and phone- Calling anyone this early from a dream-induced panic was not a good idea- She then turned abruptly and marched back to her night stand- No, she needed to know- Losing nerve she jerked herself away back to the foot of her bed, down, shoes? No. Back to the night stand. NO. Back towards her bedroom door. Stop it! And back to the night stand. She snatched her phone and hit his number before cooler thoughts prevented it again. It only took one ring before the line connected. Even then her body jerked back towards the door, but her feet stayed rooted, a needle pinning her heart.

He sat up, grabbing his phone, and answered blindly, “-Alvez”

The voice on the other end was not the reserved sound of his boss he’d expected from a sleep-waking call, instead it was shrill and loud.

“You LOVE ME?! LUKE ALVEZ DO YOU LOVE ME?! Like you are IN LOVE. With. Me? BEEN in love with me?!”

Shit.

Penelope. Of course. He glanced at his alarm clock, red glowing numbers flashing. It was too early, and yet this made perfect sense. If Penelope Garcia was going to have a potentially life jolting epiphany, it would be in the middle of the night. Probably from some dream about an all cat-run circus.

He was still half asleep but training made him capable of operating like this. He considered lying to her, letting it go. She was in love with someone else just about three weeks ago, willing to risk everything for them. Was she really ready to face the truth of his feelings for her now?

A hand ran through his hair and he laid back down, eyes closing. “Yeah. Yes, Penelope, that would appear to be the situation. But don’t worry, you’ve made it perfectly clear you do not feel the same way about me.”

“But-“ She was at a loss for words. Luke, their Luke, loving, kind, polite and sometimes sassy Luke loved her? Had Loved her this whole time. Hadn’t been deterred, hadn’t changed a bit, didn’t treat her any different after she insisted they were kind of less than friends. Did she love him? Did he want to know? Of course she liked him a lot, he was very likable. And she found him very attractive, who wouldn’t. But did she love him? Would she be willing to admit it if she was? To be so vulnerable as to love someone openly romantically?

There was a long period of silence between them as these thoughts and more went through her head.

“Penelope, are you still there?” His sleep honeyed voice made her toes curl, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Yeah.” Just reconsidering everything I’ve known and thought for the past ten years.

“Are you ok?” It wasn’t like her to be this kind of quiet, Penelope and this kind of quiet meant bad things, negative things. He needed to know what she was thinking, how she was processing this. If they would be ok when they saw each other in a few hours.

Now, it was Luke’s turn to crush her. Even with how she’d been treating him since the date, he was still putting her first. His question locked around her heart like a fist and squeezed, pulverizing it.

She breathed out a laugh. “I think it’s more fair that I ask you that considering.”

He rolled the hem of his comforter between thumb and forefinger in the dark as he thought, “Maybe. But it’s fair to assume this is a pretty big shell to have dropped on you.”

Penelope dropped to the edge of her bed, some of the shock of the revelation wearing off. Luke Alvez loved her. And she’d been a total asshole to him and she’d run away from him. Dream-Luke was right, she really needed to work on herself. Tristian was not as helpful as she’d thought.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be all sweet and understanding and forgiving. I don’t deserve it.”

He considered it, for a moment. Could he be rough with her? Did she deserve it? “Did you know?” He could hear the pain and regret in her plead, or maybe he just wanted it to be there.

“No…Maybe? Not really, but I think somewhere inside…I did.”

Luke nodded his understanding though she couldn’t see it. “The dinner-”

“I don’t know what to say, except I was stupid and afraid.”

A corner of his mouth pulled up, bittersweet. “I kind of figured.”

“That doesn’t excuse how awful I’ve been to you though.”

“Have you been? Felt just like old times again.”

Penelope laughed, it wasn’t fair he was making this so easy. He should yell at her, put her in her place, hang up, tell her she’d lost her chance. Tell her this new person she’d been acting as was no one he loved, much less liked.

He wasn’t letting hope flutter, she called out of the blue, late at night after finally seeing it, but that didn’t mean…anything at all. But she was willing to talk, and from what he could tell, was willing to be honest with herself right now.

He thought, might as well… “Can I ask; has the being afraid changed? Does knowing change that for you?”

She chewed her cheek, thinking, wanting to give him as honest an answer as she could. “I’m not sure. I want it to. I want- I. Do you want to get some coffee? And maybe…talk. In person. I know I have a lot to make up for, to apologize for. But I want to talk about this in person. Over coffee."

Luke glanced back at the clock, most places wouldn’t be open, but he knew the one she was thinking of would be. “Now?”

“Well, I need to get ready…It’s not like I was up already, dream-you kind of shamed some sense into me and I couldn’t escape the need to call.”

He felt a twist in his gut. Despite his best efforts to not get up hope some had just creeped in. This was serious, possibly more so than the first time…More on the line now that they were both acknowledging his feelings, and yet he couldn’t help but lighten the mood. “Dream me, huh? Dream-me ever do anything Waking-me hasn’t? ”

“Hush. Meet me at Lunacorn in an hour?”

“Half an hour, less time for you to work up nerves and not show up.”

Penelope grinned, “Luke, perfection takes time…and I kind of don’t think I will this time...get nervous.”

He was already starting the shower, “45 minutes.”

She could hear the water jet out, sensed how eager he was, and yet, still no panic striking. Instead, a goofy smile was spreading and something warm and swishing was filling her insides.

“Okay?” he prompted.

“Okay.” she agreed, giving a brief nod.

The smile he could hear in her quiet assent gave Luke some reassurance. This time was different.

“45 minutes.” she repeated. “See you then.” Penelope hung up, walking to her bathroom.

Maybe the fear she was so used to would come, maybe that runner’s instinct would kick in when she saw him, but all she was focused on was that Luke had loved her, still loved her, and wasn’t put off. Deep down she knew she was safe with him, and that’s what the fear had been about. This time was different.

This time would be different.

#garvez #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds evolution #luke alvez #penelope garcia #ao3 #snail's tales

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horce-divorce · 4 months

Text

I have hard boundaries for myself about how I use social media that I've followed for the last few years. Ever since I briefly left tumblr and tried twitter, I took so much psychic damage from that experience that I had to make new rules about how I use the internet. Setting app timers did nothing for me, so I compromised: im allowed to use social media daily to my heart's content (which I found isnt actually all that much)- as long as isn't the FIRST thing I open when I wake up.

For YEARS it was my habit to crack open my eyes and click into FB or Twitter or Insta before I even got out of bed. It was like this compulsive Need to Know What's Going On Out There. what did I miss while I was asleep? Never much, but always some new drama, some new political blunder, some new Person of the Day everyone was dunking on. I hated it, but I COULDN'T stop. I physically couldn't resist.

So lately I've tried to replace that habit with, just, something else. Anytime I feel the urge to click into social media, I try using another app instead. Usually it's a game (dvc has been great for me bc of the social feature, but just as often I'll open up my coloring book, wordscapes, or any other game that keeps me busy for 2 seconds and fulfills the "click button get dopamine" urge). Especially first thing in the morning. My brain needs a solid 2-3 hours of consciousness before I can handle social media.

A cool life hack I learned recently is that it's easier to get up in the morning if you do something you actually LIKE to do first thing in the day. it's done wonders for my mental health. I went from "ugh, morning again? It was literally morning yesterday," to feeling like Spongebob hopping out of bed going "IM READY!" every day. Clicking into social media was NOT something I was doing because I liked it. Gaming is something I do because I love it. I love checking on my dragons, it makes me feel HAPPY to have looked at them, i make new friends playing games bc we already have something in common (ive rarely made new friends on social media. I used to make friends ALL THE TIME playing games like neopets, roleplaying and posting on forums, and building little websites and things- ive even made a bunch of friends on tumblr. Never on FB, though). It's a world of difference getting up and checking on my animal crossing villagers, who fill me with glee and delight, vs looking at FB first thing in the morning and feeling bitter about all the people I know who aren't paying attention to me.

So anyway, this has worked SHOCKINGLY well for me? Usually just clicking another app and looking at it for a minute fulfills the urge to have clicked the FB button, or whatever, which then goes away- and I have sated my craving without pissing myself off, and without creating additional urges by going on social media. I have been using social media SO MUCH LESS since I started doing this and I've been feeling amazing for it. And it's not always games. I also use more practical apps like Bearable and Habitica. Sometimes I'll even click thru my photos or notes instead of clicking the social app.

This morning, I broke my habit. For the first time in weeks or maybe even months, I woke up and clicked FB and Insta first thing. I shared a post or two lately and I was hoping my friends had seen it, but I knew they hadn't even before I looked. 2 likes, no comments. I clicked into Instagram and saw a Reel from Kevin James Thornton, a comedian and whole media personality who has over 600k follows on Instagram alone, pleading with his existing fans to choose to check up on him and to sign up for his email list instead, because the algorithm only wants to hook new followers. The 600k existing ones aren't good enough. Gotta have that exponential growth or else our shareholders will be very cross with us!

I realized this morning what it is about FB that makes me so irate, the thing that creates additional urges to post my whole ass and pick fights and be as annoying as possible: because I hate feeling like I'm being ignored. And this is a feeling social media manufactures for you CONSTANTLY. You log on and ONLY see posts that are already popular, posts that are already "getting engagement." Everyone else is clearly online commenting and interacting with all this other stuff except for yours. Why aren't you good enough? Don't they like YOUR posts? Why are they ignoring you? What did you do wrong?

You can KNOW wholeheartedly that Facebook gives incentives to certain posts/posters and that it does the opposite with certain topics, especially socio-political ones. You can know that it's the algorithm refusing to show your posts, and not your friends ignoring you. But still, you have a page, people know how to find you- can't they come to your page to check? Did they forget you exist? Do they just not care? You can SEE they're online, and they can see YOU'RE online, so what's not clicking???

In me, at least, this WILDLY increases the urge to post something dramatic, incendiary, or outrageous just to get a response. OH, you guys don't like me when im being polite and quiet? You'll really hate me when I decide to be annoying on purpose!

Which then increases engagement, providing you with positive reinforcement for posting "controvertial" things, starting fights, posts that provoke people into responding... If you wont choose to interact with my posts? Fine. I'll make the urge fucking irresistible. A positive reinforcement for fighting and doing other unpleasant things we don't like, and supposedly don't want to use social media for, and yet.

It's not merely that posting misinformation and getting in fights is profitable to these platforms. Why is it profitable? Because the more you engage with (read: fight) random strangers, the more other, new people are also exposed to your inflammatory conversations, which in turn sparks a response in them, and so and so forth.

If we all just gained 600k followers and then stopped, and we all saw every update they made, and we all just hung out in our own corners and minded our own business? Sure, that would be lucrative for the creators with all those followers, but Instagram wouldn't be experiencing exponential growth- they need MORE new users, MORE old users spending MORE time on the app, following MORE people, leaving MORE comments, SEEING MORE ADS, because they need more and more and more for their shareholders. Influences are the product just as much as regular users.

I'm thinking about that post that talks about how, as income inequality gets worse and the middle class shrinks, advertising gets more and more aggressive, despite people's ability to spend shrinking with each new day. This feels similar somehow? Like, people are starting to get wise to the fact that social media makes us feel like crap, and that the excuse of "I have to use it to stay connected to everyone else" falls flat when you're not actually connecting with those people. Even as the internet continues to shrink, more and more people are getting fed up with social media and using it less, or leaving outright, because it's becoming less and less usable, more ad-ridden than ever. And yet it reinforces the need for those platforms to get more aggressive, to bring in more users to replace the ones they're losing. It's a never ending cycle of "we have to cause you psychic damage! in the interest of roping in more people to damage psychically :)" and we all know we're doing it, and we all hate them for it, and yet we can't stop.

Once again I have to mention that absolutely fucking BIZARRE interaction my bf had the other day. Someone he knew "liked" a comment that was spreading misinformation and a very anti-treatment sentiment about DBT. He messaged this friend privately to ask if they really thought that. They told him, "I dont know what DBT is. I just click 'like' on any comment someone I think is cool makes." When my bf pressed them further, along the lines of, "why would you do that?" They said "for engagement." This was not an influencer, this is not a brand or a page or a business account they were using. It was a personal account w a few hundred friends. I just CANNOT get over this. Clicking buttons just because they're there, "for engagement" lmao. Engagement for whom, my good bitch? They might be interacting with your posts, but this is not "your" platform. The engagement isn't for you, sweaty. But ok.

I dont have a conclusion or any suggestions here. Just an observation. What a fucking mess. Social media demanded that we all make ourselves available 24/7, trained us to React instead of to care, convinced us all that we are each some kind of personal brand that requires social marketing to maintain, got us to pick fights with each other constantly as a result, made the internet a miserable place to be, and we have thanked them for the privilege.

Anyway. No more letting the algorithm tell you what to care about today. Contact me thru a series of intricate rituals or not at all. If it's really that important you can send me a Neomail 👍

#me #internet #join me on neocities too btw. im horce-divorce.neocities.org #im probably also gonna make a new personal tumblr #this ones getting too many follows and i dont want my mom to find it

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sensoryseekinganakin · 2 years

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9. what is your favorite fanfic for the fandom?

I always love finding out about people's favourite fics!!! Especially when I really like their meta and takes its like premium reading list

Hiiiii ❤️❤️❤️❤️

If you like what I have to say about Star Wars, I have a feeling you will already have read a lot of these, but I've sorted out the best of the best. Some of these do fit the meta I post, and some don't at all... my guilty pleasures. Please read the tags on all of them on AO3 before reading!

your body's broken, mine is bent by objectlesson (Anakin/Obi-Wan)

A story that starts when Anakin is very young detailing him realizing he can hurt himself for attention, and later allow Obi-Wan to fall into harms way to be allowed to touch him too. I love the description and secrecy and shame in this. It all builds up so perfectly to the climax of the story and is so finely crafted. This is the fic that tipped me over the edge to start writing obikin fics of my own, and now I get to be friends with the author! I'm also obsessed with her other fics waking up beside you I'm a loaded gun, Untouched, and make them new born believers when it comes to cultivating the perfect obikin dynamic. Do not even get my started on abnormal obikin dynamic (Master Anakin/Padawan Obi-Wan)

The Jedi Code by draculard (Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan, Anakin & Obi-Wan)

Obi-Wan was sexually abused by Qui-Gon, this story covers how it affected him and how it complicates his ability to be Anakin's master. I especially like the scenes in this of Padawan Obi-Wan trying and failing to get along with his fellow Padawans -- the relationship he has with his master sets him apart from them in such a humiliating way. The ending of this is also so intense and had a huge affect on how I interpret certain scenes in Star Wars/OWK. The same author has a similar fic called The Living Force, which I also love.

Penitentes Orate by Blaaake (Anakin/Obi-Wan)

A very sexy AU that I think about all the time -- Medieval Catholic monk Obi-Wan being manipulated by Anakin, who justifies that sex with him brings them both closer to God. I love all of the little details in this AU and the language in it is so so so good. Anakin is sixteen, of course. Obi-Wan having Catholic guilt goes exactly how one would imagine. This is another author that I'm so happy and so stunned that I get to be friends with! I also adore her non-AU fics Into the Fire and The Long Game. The perfect amount of guilt and OCD for Obi-Wan.

who do we call at the edge of night by hidden_humours (Anakin/Obi-Wan)

I read the first chapter of this at a crucial stage in the formation of my obikin dynamic. Anakin is such a little question asker in this, constantly manipulating and badgering Obi-Wan for more and more and more. Obi-Wan tries to hard to keep an appropriate professional relationship with his padawan, but Anakin is someone who tries to take what he wants and thinks he deserves it, on his seventeenth birthday no less!

What Tears Me Apart by mashimero (Anakin/Obi-Wan)

This is a short one, but very good. Anakin asleep next to Obi-Wan and rutting against him, Obi-Wan having feelings about it, and feelings about his feelings.

should you need to come undone by zaecula (Anakin/Obi-Wan)

Another fic that I read really early on in my obikin writing journey, and this one is bottom Anakin. Anakin is manipulative and ignores boundaries in it, which I love. Obi-Wan has been masturbating to the thought of Anakin since before he was willing to admit to himself what he was thinking, and he feels guilty about it. Of course Anakin eats it up.

like what i like by blahzarry (Anakin/Obi-Wan)

This is so outside of the dynamic/characterizations I ever write, but so sexy to me. Obi-Wan and Anakin have a weird brother/father/son relationship, but they talk about sex and they're like... womanizers together, for lack of a better word. I love to see Master/Padawan as titles being used in a BDSM way in universe, which is a big part of what this fic does for me. I love that they both have no boundaries in this, because you almost never get to see Obi-Wan let loose in such a way.

Sacred Things by LuvEwan (Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan)

Qui-Gon takes advantage of Obi-Wan in this fic, and he knows it. Obi-Wan wants him and Qui-Gon is unable to deny himself, even though he knows it's wrong. I'm not used to seeing/thinking about Qui-Gon guilt, so it's really interesting to imagine that he might have moments like this. And it's sexy.

Fifty Shades by RexIsMyCopilot (Anakin/Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon/Anakin)

This series and it's counterpart Three's Company are probably the furthest from my regular obikin dynamic that you could get, and yet, I await each update with bated breath. It's really interesting to see the universe that this author has built and all of the moving pieces in it. Above all else, it's sexy, what can I say? This is another person that I've had the pleasure of talking to on discord, and that makes me even more interested in these fics to see the community surrounding them. It's also fun to see how people with different characterizations of these characters still agree on lots of details, Anakin has autism in these fics. My favorite RexIsMyCopilot fic outside of those AUs is when things go wrong, don't go with them, because it tickles such a specific obsession (fetish) of mine.

Sticky by NightshadeSmoothie (Anakin/Palpatine)

Anakin with strange specific fetishes -- YESSS (described as erotic fascinations in the fic)!!! This fic does such a good job of exploring Palpatine singling out Anakin and indulging him to keep him close, basically grooming him. Anakin wants to possess and rip apart and debauch everything he loves, and Palpatine encourages it. He's the only real non-Jedi influence in his life, and he's bent on indulging him in ways the Jedi won't allow. I found this story while searching for specific fetish content, but it's greater than I could have ever imagined.

Die Happy by fatanakin (Anakin/Ferus)

This is the last one on the list because it's so out there, but it has to be included as one of my favorite fics because... well... it is. There are aspects of the kink in this that I don't normally enjoy, but that make sense in this fic because it's Anakin. He takes everything further than anyone else would, to the point of absurdity, there's no reason he wouldn't here, too. It does a very good job of capturing being very young and fixated on certain fetish aspects, which I think is something that will stick with Anakin for life. And, of course, I love it because it scratches a specific itch for me.

#fic rec #ask game #ask

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orangelittlepagan · 9 months

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Hey uhm, sorry if I'm bothering you but can I please get some advice? You're the only person I can find in here who I feel like I can ask about this considering you're posts, so uhm recently I felt a pull to worship tezcatlipoca but I don't know what to do and how to make sure that what I'm feeling is real. And since you seem more knowledgeable then me in the topic, would you mind please helping me out? And this isn't the first time I felt like this, this has happened over three times all months apart. I've always liked tezcatlipoca and always had a fondness for him. And I was wondering I you could give me some advice or something like that. That would be greatly appreciated thank you in advance.

Sorry for the waiting! Work has been a handful recently. There is no bother, no problem :>

Okay, so. Normally Tezcatlipoca's call is not easy to ignore neither to confuse. It's very particular.

The first thing you can do is try and light an incense, ease you mind. And pray for an answer. From a personal standpoint I stand with the people that says that, contrary to the popular belief, is not common for normal spirits or trickster spirits to try to pass as deities. So, normally you get a pretty stand forward answer if you ask.

But I recommend ask to another deity of your trust, Tezcatlipoca is a trickster after all. If you could try and ask Quetzalcoatl or Ometeotl (preferably The Ometeotl) it would be great, as I have said before Quetzalcoatl is really protective with humans but has a turbulent past with Tezca so their parents would be best me thinks.

You may also have been seeing signs. The most common are:

Suddenly you smell smoke

Suddenly you watch smoke

There is a lot of jaguar symbology, jaguar patters, or in general jaguar thing in you life suddenly

Sun is or giving you a hard time or a easy time

Your things are getting lost and you find them just when you don't need them anymore or when you get desperate

The jaguar thing but with owls, specially the ones that look like they have horn in their heads

Suddenly there is a good bunch of mirrors in you life

You feel more attracted to knowledge that normal and either anxious or relaxed about future

But hey, is not like a cooking recipe so you might feel things not listen here that says to you "Tezcatlipoca". I would recommend to ask.

Teotl Tezcatlipoca is a trickster, a playfully and mischievous one but he means no harm, if he is interacting with you is because he likes you or he is interested by you

Do not, really DO NOT give him blood. If you decide to work with him in the future and only after you two had constructed a firm relationship and you are pretty sure you want to, you can. But right now DON'T.

This is a general for most Mexica Teotls that actually liked blood in the past, is very easy for them to see that your offering your hand and they take the whole arm. Tezcatlipoca and Huitzilopochtli specially tends to be quite needy and entitled if you don't set boundaries first. Huitzilopochtli due to being ignorant to social clues and Tezcatlipoca because... It's his nature, he has always being spoiled.

And they can be and accompany you without you spilling a single drop of crimson liquid, don't feel ever pressured to give them.

Ah I have a lot of thoughts and experience to talk about the blood issue so I think I will expand in a post some day. General rule, don't give to them if you're a beginner or if you're trying to connect with them. And if you don't give GOOD there is no need

#tezcatlipoca #tezca #diary #deity work

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honorarycassowary · 1 year

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for the bingo: sauron and melkor

Sauron

Every so often I think about that tumblr post that went something like, "If you don't want people to ship your villains, you need to leave them unseen. Nobody writes slash fic about SAURON." (The rest of this post is Sauron slash fic justification.)

The #1 thing I think about re: Sauron is his basically entirely offscreen character arc. There are so many moments when he could chosen to do things differently! And the fact that so much of it is just stated to happen and has to be viewed through inference is actually a bonus for me, since it allows so many contradicting headcanons and fanfic to develop.

He was one of Aule's most powerful and trusted Maiar - how did his departure affect the other Maiar? Did any of them choose to follow Melkor because of him?

What were those early years with Melkor like? Tolkien wrote about Melkor gradually becoming more twisted into hate and cruelty and weakening as he poured his power into distorting Arda. I imagine the early years as Sauron and Melkor pushing the boundaries of what God intended, doing forbidden mad science, etc.

Then Melkor is captured and goes to naughty angel jail and Sauron singlehandedly maintains all his evil operations waiting for him to return. He didn't know Melkor would come back! Was he experimenting and developing the desire to rule the world in his name? Keeping everything in perfect stasis for his master? (This is also a character dynamic seen over in my Transformers ships with Megatron/Shockwave, which also abbreviates to M/S. COINCIDENCE??? Most certainly.)

His change of heart after the War of Wrath. It's FASCINATING to me that he spent millennia doing horrible sadistic magic science and then stopped! Was this purely out of fear of the Valar I think he genuinely intended for this to be a new leaf, but "I want to do good things now. No I don't want to think about any of the bad things I've done or help fix them or unpack any of that. Let's just act like this didn't happen." is an inherently untenable framework for a redemption. That said, I do wonder who he helped and when he went back to his old ways. The first time he ran into humans who weren't overawed by his divinity and questioned him? thearrogantemu's These Gifts That You Have Given Me proposes that he made it all the way to Ost-in-Edhil with good intentions which is so compelling to me.

Celebrimbor. Sorry dude you would not like to be OTPed with the guy who murdered you but them's the breaks. I love all permutations of their relationship. Sauron scheming to murder him all along? Give me all the dramatic irony. Sauron coming in with evil intentions but deciding Celebrimbor is so fascinating they should be bound together in a parody of love? Sure thing. Sauron actually loved him, flipped out when Celebrimbor was less enthused about loving a guy who enabled the murder of at minimum hundreds of people he knew? Delicious.

It is fucking hilarious to me that the Valar couldn't capture Sauron after the War of Wrath and Numenor - a kingdom of more-or-less regular old humans - kicked his ass so hard he had to go live with them as a prisoner. Comedy about an angel as old as the universe forced to hang out with Iron Age courtiers when.

That said, there is so much horror in you know ... capturing the head of a foreign kingdom and they're not human, they look human but they're wrong, and their very soul is permeating the land you live in and changing it.

Also I'm interested in the whole Melkor-worship thing he had set up. This certainly was a way to destroy and humiliate Numenorean culture, but I wonder if he thought/hoped that sufficient worship could be used to free Melkor.

There's some really good meta out there about Sauron forging the ring fundamentally preventing him from ever growing or changing any more. This is made physical when his 'death' after Numenor prevents him from shapeshifting but fundamentally it was there before; when he made the Ring to concentrate his power, he concentrated his soul as it was at the time - bent towards conquering, towards deception, towards Melkor and his domains - and made it static. After this, he can't redeem himself, even in the halfway, eyes-averted way he did after the First Age. Jewelry: not even once.

There's not a good place to put this, but I love the Finrod vs. Sauron song battle in the Lay of Leithian. Hands down my favorite part.

Melkor

I'm first and foremost a Sauron fan and therefore pretty much all my Melkor thoughts are already written up above. If I was invested in the other Valar, maybe this would be different - I need multiple characters to bounce around together like upsetting pinballs for real fannish thought to happen, and unfortunately for Melkor Sauron is better at interacting with other people.

#liesmyth #cassowary conversation

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cptsd-ala-feels · 2 years

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I haven't written a blog post here, a true one, in so so long.... but I think I'm at a stage in my life when I want to blog more. maybe? to try to facilitate recovery. would be nice to be healthier.

so. a lot has happened to me recently. I had major surgery (large fibroid removal 🎉) and went to live with my parents to recover. I was going to move back in with them for a year anyway, since my apartment's rent was being raised and finding somewhere new in my area is prohibitively expensive.

and then within six days my father lost it on me. and a few days later I attempted to set a boundary... and he lost it in the worst way I've ever seen. and, because I've been seeing this fantastic person who has gotten me to realize I'm *allowed to have feelings*, I realized that I didn't have to put up with that shit. I could just. fucking leave. my independence has been growing over the years and I suddenly realized all the obligation I felt to my family was for naught if they treated me poorly. so I went to my partner's place for a few days, and now I'm living somewhere else with very kind people.

the problem is, now that I'm out, I'm realizing just how bad it was. how bad it ALL was. I've been finally opening up about things that have happened, ways my kindness has been taken advantage of, and the people in my life have been appalled. and now that I'm out and healing, all my emotions that I didn't allow myself to feel are alllllll coming in, at once. I get these terrible emotional flashbacks that have lasted days, triggered by tiny things that leave me shaking and heaving sobs. thank god for my partner who's been holding me together through it.

I'm awaiting stability but it's such a long road ahead. realizing, and admitting, that I've been traumatized, that I have complex PTSD, is an important first step. and I've been looking for online community, and resources/book recs, which is all very helpful. but fuck is this shit hard

#cptsd #vent #long post #typed this on mobile so forgive any mistakes lmao #emotional flashbacks

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chibimyumi · 3 years

Note

Hi, I hope you're doing well and staying healthy. I've read your post about how Elizabeth attacking ciel is sexism. What about Sebastian getting bully by Frances? Frances is a noblewoman grabbing a servant's hair in front of other people. And fans (including me) are like: oh! What a lioness! Even the devil himself is terrified of her! what if it was the other way around? The idea of a nobleman grabbing a governess's hair calling her nasty and indecent makes me uncomfortable and even angry.

【Response to post: Sexism against men and Kuro Sexist jokes】

Dear Anon,

I’m doing well, thank you very much. I hope you too ^^

Your question is a very good one, and it really had me thinking for a while! I myself admittedly do laugh very hard at Sebastian getting a hard time from Frances. But indeed, like you said, it is still bullying, and bullying is bad. In this post-feminist era, we have been so trained to see women bullying men as ‘funny’ or ‘empowering’, but women getting bullied as unambiguously bad instinctively, that sometimes we forget to check our double standards.

Feelings are feelings, we can’t help what we feel. But how come then that to many of us, Frances bullying Sebas is so funny, but Lizzie almost murdering O!Ciel and Nina bullying men not? This post is merely an attempt to explain this feeling for myself too, but hopefully we can all reach SOME explanation together as well???

Let us first look at in what ways Frances has been making Sebastian’s life hard. From all the interactions we have of these two so far, her main points of criticism seem to be his hair and his lack of professionalism.

Slovenly Hair

Sebastian’s hair is something we’ve gotten quite used to now after more than14 years. In Sebastian’s time however, his hair really would have been the height of impropriety for his profession.

Just like I translated O!Ciel’s looks to 2020 standards, I quickly translated Sebas’ hair to 2020 standards as well. Very clean, innit?! Very professional, innit?!

Even without the translation however, if we look at the worst of wigs from the Kuromyus, we can also see how Sebastian’s hair would be atrocious in any formal setting. Look past the fact that these actors are supposed to represent a drawn character. Just imagine being in a fancy restaurant and encountering a dead-spider feather duster on your waiter’s head.... erm....???

Something that is objectively bad on Frances’ end however, is that chapter 14 is not the first time that Frances has seen his ‘slovenly hair’. If his hair really is so unacceptable, as an authority figure Frances has the right to say something about it. However, as it seems, until this point she has never communicated at all (no, “hinting” is not the same as communicating), so Sebas had no way of knowing what he “did wrong”. She immediately grabbed for Sebastian’s hair without mercy, probably because her crept up frustration got the better of her. This is indeed entirely too harsh for a first time call-out, and entirely on Frances.

Much later in the story Frances criticises and touches Sebastian’s hair again, and this time in public while he was infiltrating as a teacher. Here Frances is even publically humiliating Sebastian in front of his students and other high ranking guests.

Especially when you keep in mind that Frances is a noblewoman and Sebas a mere servant, Frances is indeed abusing her power against a servant who cannot strike back at all.

This is indeed power play. However, though it does not justify anything, in the very least her criticism does have ground; Sebas’ hair is by all measures inadequate for any professional setting. Just be nicer about it, Frances.

Useless Butler

Now, let us look at the other reason Frances disapproves of Sebas. Sebastian is a very competent butler according to most people. To Frances however, this claim is empty. When she arrives, parts of the estate have been destroyed and something very literally exploded in her presence.

Even though Sebas is not the person actively causing the explosion or the destruction, as the senior servant of the household, it is literally his job to manage the other servants. So yes, here too, the fact that things can be destroyed in the household because he either hired inadequate staff or because he mismanages his household, DOES INDEED prove he fails at his job. As the aunt of O!Ciel who cares about her nephew AND her paternal home, Frances is in her right to be concerned and call Sebastian out for NOT doing his job.

In chapter 14, Sebastian’s schedule was all over the place and kept changing the plans for Frances. It is no wonder that she would be quite annoyed and doubt Sebastian’s adequateness. When you know your 13 year old nephew’s household is in the hands of somebody so apparently inadequate, anybody would probably be concerned. However annoyed though, Frances does not overstep any boundaries about this specific issue; she is simply supremely unimpressed. Fair enough?

Compliments where due

Something that is quite interesting though, is that despite disapproving of Sebastian, Frances does also know when to compliment him when due. After Sebastian has saved Lizzie’s life without boasting, Frances recognised how the butler does indeed have some value and the correct attitude as a servant.

She says “though you look indecent what you say is true,” and it is yet another jab at the demon’s expense. But here she is also showing that she is willing to acknowledge somebody’s achievements, looking past appearances.

Before Frances leaves, Frances jabs at Sebas a bit again, but she really is not doing anything dickish this time. Instead of making Sebas think she’s simply chosen him as target to be a prick towards, she concretely states why she doubts his professionalism. She mentions the smashed tea set, bare garden and burnt food; mistakes that are objectively unacceptable. Instead of yelling at him, she actually gives him constructive criticism. So here too, Frances is quite stern, but her grounds are solid.

In the Campania arc Sebas shows up again with the hair Frances disapproved of. Frances clearly wants to do something about it again because in her eyes, the butler simply won’t learn. But given the circumstances and Sebastian’s proven usefulness, Frances actually does shelve her agenda. Just like above, here too Frances shows that she is capable of acknowledging somebody despite their looks.

Later when the zombies dramatically outnumbered the living humans, Frances sends Sebas - who had come to her aid - back to her daughter and nephew. By sending Sebas back, Frances also shows that she in fact trusts this ‘slovenly butler’ with the lives of two children she loves deeply. Sebastian protests, but Frances immediately replies: “don’t you trust our ability as swordsmen?” Here what Frances is functionally saying is: “I trust you with your abilities, so you can trust us back.”

In short, Frances is harsh and doing power-play against a servant, but she can shelve her agenda, and does acknowledge Sebas when due.

Contrast to Nina and Lizzie

So now we have seen how Frances bullies Sebastian, and her motivation behind all her points of harshness. As we have seen, Frances’ only points of criticisms are concrete ones; Sebastian’s lack of professionalism in looks, and his lack of professionalism in management. She goes about them too harshly, but all points are legit criticisms, and something Sebas CAN and probably SHOULD work to improve.

Nina

This is in stark contrast with the way Nina bullies her victims. As far as we have seen, none of Nina’s victims have offended her in any way, nor does she ever give any concrete criticism. She has just decided that because men are men, they don’t deserve proper treatment. Even when providing clothes for men is literally part her job, she refuses to provide the ‘professional service’ she is being paid for. And because she is AN EMANCIPATED LESBIAN!!!!!!! #FEMINISM, it’s FINE (!?!?!?)

Unlike with Frances’ criticism of Sebastian’s inadequate hairdo and managing, being ‘men’ is not something any of these men can do anything about (except Sebas, but Nina doesn’t know). Bullying is always wrong, always low. But it’s EVEN lower when you bully somebody for who they are, and not what they do wrong. What does not help is that Nina seems to only be capable of treating people nicely if they happen to be sexuality-wise compatible with her... but if you are, you’ll get molested. What is wrong with you, Nina????

Yes, Frances is saying: “you are a man, and yet your fringe is so long”. So on the most surface level, it is a woman saying this to a man because he is a man. As we later get to know Frances a bit better though, she would be harsh to anybody who looks slovenly. She just has different hairstyles which she considers appropriate for men and women respectively. Had Sebas been a woman and his hair was the ‘feminine equivalent of slovenly’, Frances would most likely have acted exactly the same. So in this sense, unlike with the jokes using Nina and Lizzie, it is not purely: “Haha, girl bullies boii, lol.”

Something else that is terrible is that what Nina does seems to be systemic. Logically it checks out too; it can’t be that only since the past few weeks she’s decided only women and young boys deserve her kind treatment. For all we know, Nina’s been treating the male Phantomhive staff like this for 2-3 years. Sebastian’s comment about Nina thoroughly ignoring men again with “as always” further supports this theory.

With Frances in contrast, in chapter 14 (so barely a year ago in story time), Sebas seemed to have no clue whatsoever about Frances’ terrors. Sebas announced Frances’ arrival to his master and is very calm about it. It was not until O!Ciel alerted Sebas about his aunt that anybody even guessed what hurricane was headed for them. As such, we can safely conclude that Sebas had only been subjected to Frances’ criticism a couple of times, unlike having had to bear with Nina for years.

Yes, Frances still should have communicated, but I already addressed the details above. Still, the point remains that even though Frances is overstepping boundaries and abusing her power, her criticisms are at least not empty.

Lizzie

Lizzie too just like Nina, had zero grounds for showing that much aggression. She did not give anybody the benefit of the doubt, did not communicate, or even so much as give O!Ciel any chance to explain the situation. So far O!Ciel has given Lizzie no reason to think he’d cheat on her, and yet she hurled so much aggression at him Sebas had to intervene.

Still, Lizzie is marginally better than Nina because she is not systemically bullying O!Ciel. It is a one time event. However, this one makes me more annoyed with Yana because it means that even Yana had to use this stale, stale trope of “LOVE TRIANGLE COMEDYYYY”. Have I ever mentioned how MUCH I hate love triangles and jealousy???

Conclusion

Feeling wise, the most important reason for why Sebas being bullied by Frances is funny is probably because of who Sebas is. Sebas is otherwise an all-powerful demon, but to see him inventing colours to shit at Frances - a human Sebas could crush between his fingertips like a cookie - is just hilarious. Had Sebas been a human though, I would not have laughed so hard personally.

Rationally however, Frances is doing power play against a servant who cannot talk back, so it is still bullying, and bullying is inexcusable.The only bit of “right” Frances has is that she does not seem to be systemically bullying Sebastian, and that her criticisms have some ground.

So if Nina and Lizzie’s behaviours played for jokes are like... a -7 and -9 respectively, Frances’ at least scores a -2 for me?

(Yes, as we’re talking about bullying anyway, I just have to make a jab at Vincent.)

Afterword

Something not really related to why “Frances:Bad”, “Nina-Lizzie:Worse”, but I do wish to mention is Yana’s improved drawing skills. I have no proof, but I think it MIGHT have been where this Frances-joke originated.

Yana’s time in the more traditional mindset of manga-worldview really showed, especially at the far beginning. Besides, she was still in the process of finding a way to draw handsome men. In the more traditional mindset of the early 2000s, handsome men were just not supposed to have slicked back hair - “that was reserved for old men and nasty dudes!!” Yana’s discomfort with drawing handsome men with slicked back hair was clearly visible in Sebastian’s early appearances, and making the ‘”hair, back!!! says old-fashioned lady” was potentially even a way of Yana to laugh at herself.

I don’t know who else is old like me and grew up with 80s to early 00s manga, but at the time, hair for handsome men was a BIG deal. In that world ‘slicked back hair’ just carried a certain laughability about it; a “rule of not-cool”. To me at least at the time this ‘laughability’ really resonated with me, and Yana probably also trusted this same ‘unspoken rule’ to resonate with her audiences.

Much later though, Yana clearly grew more comfortable and maybe even fond of slicked back hairstyles as she confidently chose to portray Sebas as ‘appealing’ while wearing his hair in the style Yana previously disliked.

Again, I have no proof, but I can’t help but think that if Kuro had started 10 years later, the running gag revolving Frances might look altogether different.

What do you guys think? ^^ Cheers, and stay healthy!

Character analysis Nina Hopkins

Character analysis Vincent Phantomhive

Sexism against men and Kuro’s sexist jokes

MASTERPOST Gender in Kuroshitsuji

MASTERPOST Analyses & Info

#Kuroshitsuji #Frances #Midford #Sebastian Michaelis #hair #joke #funny #tw bullying mention #Lizzie #Nina Hopkins

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alirhi · 3 years

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How I'd have done TFATWS pt 1

Okay, I am such a whore for positive attention that, yes, it literally only takes one person expressing interest to get me to do something lol. So, for the lovely @goblin-tea, here is how The Falcon and the Winter Soldier would have gone for Bucky if I'd been a writer on the show!

Also, shoutout to @gunshou, who popped up showing support when I was in the middle of writing this lol 😘

Episode 1: New World Order

I actually love how most of this episode was handled; it's what drew me into the show in the first place, and gave me such hope for the rest of it. Most of the changes that I'd make here are pretty minor, tbh.

I'd specify the setting in some way for Bucky's nightmare. Obviously, since he was there and knows what happened, when, and where he was, it wouldn't be like the setting changes in movies where they slap a big, bold title card over the scene. Still, I'd probably open with a brief establishing shot showing the city skyline or something; some identifying feature so that viewers can work out where this happened without needing a direct statement from Marvel (note: if you need to directly address your audience to clarify something from within your story, you're a bad storyteller). What year did this take place? I show technology from the time; perhaps a dated cell phone in someone's hand. The point is to establish where and when The Winter Soldier killed RJ Nakajima, without detracting from the emotional impact of the scene. Why does it matter? Because we should know why. Why is Bucky dreaming about this particular incident? Was it his last mission before the events of CA:TWS (a theory I see frequently repeated but with no evidence to back it up)? Was it earlier on? Is RJ only on the forefront of Bucky's mind because of his (unhealthy, but we'll get to that) friendship with Yori? How long has Yori been suffering under the weight of his grief?

I would not have had him crash through the wall, btw. As cool as that shot looked, let's try to remember that The Winter Soldier was a ghost story for 70 years. Ghosts don't leave giant gaping holes in hotel walls. I'm not saying brazen wholesale destruction is out of character for him (obviously not. I've seen CA:TWS lmao. many times. this moment lives rent-free in my brain:

found on google without credit; pls lmk if it's yours so I can credit.

but you don't become a "ghost story" if you always leave that much evidence, ijs)

I'd leave the terrible therapy session alone. That scene was beautiful. Beautifully shot; I loved how claustrophobic it felt, and it really did a wonderful job of showing how Bucky felt on the spot, scrutinized, almost put on display for this bitch woman. This scene establishes Raynor as clearly wrong, and an unprofessional mess, and Bucky calls her out on it. I fucking love that!

lmao gods, I love his painfully awkward forced smile... Guys, this episode is fkn great. (betcha weren't expecting so much praise from me, were you? 😂)

"You're free." "To do what?"

👆👆👆 In my show? That would have more of an impact on Bucky's arc. That question would be one of the underlying issues moving his whole story along. Twice in this show, he's told that he's free, but no one addresses what he's free from, much less what he's free to do next.

It's a minor thing, but when Yori tells Bucky to ask Leah out? I'd have Bucky do more than just shake his head in silent horror. Not much more, just something that matters to me as someone who's worked in the service industry for many, many years and dealt with too many creepos: Bucky would flat-out say "she's at work! that's harassment, Yori!"

Yori can still stomp right past that boundary, and Leah can still smile and agree. I just really want someone to verbally acknowledge that you don't fucking ask someone out when they're at work. Ever. Bucky cringing and apologizing puts the power of the conversation back in Leah's hands; it gives her an out to politely decline if she's not interested, and just laugh off Yori's flirting on Bucky's behalf as a senile old man being silly, so I'm actually fine with how this scene turned out. I just would personally have gone that extra inch there for the idiots in the audience who don't get Bucky's subtle "wtf" reaction and why Yori's suggestion was so bad. If someone's livelihood depends on being nice to you, keep your goddamn distance. Flirting with them or asking them out when they're at that big of a disadvantage and have virtually no power to say "no" is harassment.

Here is where I'd make one more subtle change, too. When Yori sees the mochi and is reminded of his son, and tells Bucky about his death, I'd just slip in a time frame. "x years ago, my son was..." blah. (Guys, it really bothers me not knowing when that scene took place rofl can you tell?)

One complaint I've seen a lot online about this show is how it's a bit murky on just how well known Bucky is in-universe. He can walk around Brooklyn with more or less total anonymity, but he's also recognized as "an Avenger" (when he was never actually technically in the group)... but honestly? I think it's actually pretty realistic. Just because someone's famous doesn't mean every single person on the planet knows who they are and what they look like well enough to instantly recognize them on the street. People look different in photos than in person, and pre-Blip, Bucky had the complete Jesus look - long flowing hair and a full beard. In TFATWS he's a little scruffy, but not this:

Sebastian looks like about 10 different men from one moment to the next just irl with a change in haircut, lighting, expression, whether or not he got enough sleep the night before... 😂 I don't really find it hard to believe that people not expecting to bump into an Avenger would have trouble seeing Bucky post-haircut as anything other than just another attractive white guy.

Anyway! Sorry for the segue lol. On to the date!

Earlier in this very same goddamn episode, it is established that Bucky can remotely operate a car with a tablet. This is not a technologically-inept geezer. This is a 30-something nerd who loves new technology, who, yes, is facing a brave new world and a whole lot of new technology, but has never shown any issue picking it up. The crappy flip phone he handed Raynor earlier? a burner to keep her out of what little personal life he does have (we never see it again in the real show, anyway). The "tiger photos" line? Stays, not to show Bucky's floundering ineptitude with technology, but as a little nod to his bisexuality. (don't like it? don't wanna see Bucky as bi? go watch the show and read Skogland's borderline-offensive interviews. This isn't "how I would pander to a homophobic audience" it's "how I would have written it." the "Bucky is bi" interpretation is super fucking common and has been since TFA so bite me 😁)

Tiny nitpick, but I'd also have the Battleship boards actually set up properly lmao. What even was that? Anyway...

I don't think I'd have Leah get all ranty about Yori and RJ. That's not first date talk, for one thing. For another, let's ease up on the beating Bucky and the audience over the head with that one incident in a single episode, shall we? Instead, I'd have her stick with the date questions - she asked his age, asked about his family; I'd have her follow it with questions about what he does for a living (giving us a chance to not only actually have that question answered for us - how the hell does Bucky keep himself from being homeless? lol - but also set up...)

He shuts down a little when she starts asking about his past; she's innocently curious, just trying to get to know him, but he's flinchy and deflects with questions about her. The date is awkward, but doesn't abruptly end with him running away lol. He walks Leah home, like the old-fashioned gentleman he is, goes home, himself, and end on him grimacing in his sleep, in the clutches of another nightmare: not as much detail as the RJ murder scene, we see disjointed, disorienting images of fluorescent lights glinting off of machinery, the occasional shot of Bucky writhing in the chair, a shot of that damned notebook (to remind the dumber audience members why Raynor's passive-aggressive notebook thing was so triggering for him), and we hear echoes of a couple of the trigger words, and Bucky's screams.

#tfatws #tfatws critical #how it should have gone #if i'd written it #bucky deserved better #bucky was a victim #victim not villain #take your victim blaming bullshit and fucking choke on it #episode 1

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dorminchu · 3 years

Text

ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE

The war against Paradis is over. Eren and Annie are forced to confront their mortality in a world that seems to have no need of them, and their significance to each other. [Post-Canon]

I didn't know there was an ereani week this year until a couple days ago, but I figured: cool, I should probably post something. Title comes from the track of the same name by The Killers.

The prompt is: Day 3 (4/12): "I love you" / "I loved you"

[Ao3 | FFNet]

When the war was over, it was Armin who took the glory. That was a new look for him, Eren thought. Smart but eternally overlooked until he inherited the role of the Colossus Titan. Willing to carry the burden of humanity's savior without much complaint, unlike his teenage self who had always been plagued by doubts and fears. Eren wouldn't have thought Armin would be ready to chew the bullet while he quietly slipped into the background—but he was the leader, and Eren had always been accustomed to his status of figurehead.

Their roles had inverted with age.

As part of an overarching deal with Queen Historia, Eren was granted quarters—a cabin ten miles from the border of what had once been Wall Rose—and a modest pension, as long as he held his tongue and did not make any attempt to intercept the negotiations between Paradis and the surrounding countries. Eren put in an application for professor at the local military academy and spent the days trying to record what he could remember of his experiences in Marley.

The cabin had been around since the start of the war. About ten or so miles from the nearest village. Perhaps even before Eren was born, when Paradis was just a penal colony in name and the boundaries on inhabitable territory were less strict. The pipes still worked and there was evidence of an outhouse as well as quarters for a small animal—he wondered if it had been a hunter’s lodge.

After growing up in the back end of Shiganshina for the first nine years of his life and living in barracks and halfway houses for the next ten, it was a lot quieter. He felt oftentimes as if he were on a permanent state of leave, awaiting orders that would never come. There was so much time to fritter away now, without a war on the backburner.

ii.

In a bid to lessen the severity of his scarring, Eren tried growing a beard. He couldn't sprout a full one like Zeke could, just the chin-hairs, an innate reminder of his days in Marley. Most often he kept his hair pulled back in a short ponytail or else cut it short in the warmer seasons, though never as short as it had been in his days of adolescence.

He'd regenerated his leg and other limbs since the ceasefire, regained his motor functions in a week-long, agonsing process that he was sure Hanji would've loved had she been alive to witness it—but a day or so after settling into the cabin the old pain was flaring up again. He had a vivid memory of asking Commander Hanji once, at seventeen, after exhausting his father’s journal, but the only conclusion either of them could come up was phantom pain. Even if he were whole and unmarred, he did not anticipate sleep as any source of relief. Colours in his right eye gradually turned dull and it was getting harder to read even by candlelight, disorienting to walk out into harsh sunlight. Eventually he just began wearing a patch for the sake of simplicity. His other eye was unaffected.

He could still remember Ramzi's face better than most of his dead Scouts and it kept him up at night for hours. His way of life—the Titans, ODM gear—was quickly being phased out, trading blades and canisters for rifles and ammunition. His place among the armistice seemed moot.

Eren thought more often of his father. He did not wish to, explicitly, but the memories of him that popped into his head were usually indecipherable and triggered by stress.

The doctors in Marley would define this as shellshock. Other times they left impressions like the outline of the sun under closed eyelids; warmth, family, agony, guilt that would eat away at him for the rest of his remaining life.

Eren was, at least, confident in the fact that he was nothing like his father. He didn't pretend he was doing anything morally righteous, nor had he allowed himself to be molded into a pariah like Zeke. He had only accomplished what those same men were afraid or unable to do. It was nothing to crow about. He did not blame Zeke for that upbringing. Eren had taken action, knowing he would be hated and feared by his own comrades. He could only leave behind his memories in print, and if by some Godforsaken chance they somehow managed to fall into the hands of a like-minded company—well, perhaps one day he would be understood or misconstrued further. Rotting in the ground he could not defend his truth or bias.

But while he was alive, he could not rest. He knew better than most that all of this was fleeting.

It wasn’t as though he was out of shape with all the walking. He still stuck to drills in the morning to keep himself busy; awaiting orders that would never come. It sounded like something Armin might say. But Armin was content to busy himself with the sons and brothers of deceased bureaucrats; the succeeding generation to the brilliant men and women who'd led them right into the mouths of hell and out again.

Commander Hanji was dead. Commander Irvin had been dead four years now. Captain Levi was on his way to retirement and attempting to get Mikasa to replace him.

After seven years of military service his soldier’s inclinations remained unshakeable. He'd wake up every morning, going through the motions as though he were still a stowaway in Marley. He'd never allowed himself to consider a life beyond the pretext of enlistment and eventual expiration within the Scouting Regiment, much less the seemingly endless war between Paradis and the rest of the world. In the best case he had assumed he would die eventually, of old age or a more unheroic death out in the field. He'd never allowed himself to be ruled by that fear of mortality because he had to eradicate the Titans first—it was a child’s logic that had gotten him through military academy. Yet here he was, nineteen, with four going-on three years left to kill. Annie had three, going-on two. That was the only certainty she'd admitted to him without need for prying.

So Eren had to be sharp for the rest of their sakes. The war on Paradis had ended and brought with it economic turmoil. A mourning period that seemed to extend indefinitely. The next decade of prosperity would not be won in a year, nor three, and it would come on the backs of the losing side and breed the same old resentment, and then inevitably the same slow descent towards outrage and madness and oppression. Always in the back of his mind like the learnt urge to drink, or his inherited memories—he could almost convince himself of his hard-won stability. It was a good enough reason as any to stop answering Mikasa's letters.

iii.

The door opened to reveal the very last person he had ever expected to see again. She was every bit the woman he had seen in Marley and little of the girl in the crystal remained. What could he say to a four-year old crush-turned-heartbreak whose face he could scarcely recall among the hundreds of thousands of other casualties? "You shouldn't have come back."

When he moved to close the door, she stopped him with her heel. "I'm no longer a Warrior, nor a soldier. I have nowhere else to turn. You and I understand each other, so there's no point in bloodshed."

He gauged this, chewing his tongue. "Did someone send you?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "No one you'd know."

"I suppose you were sent here to finish the job for Marley?"

"No." Bluntly, she forced herself into the doorway. "I came here on my own. I just—"

"—all right, it seems like there's been some kind of miscommunication between you and whoever sent you."

"I was told you'd be able to accommodate me."

"I don't need anyone else here."

Annie squinted at him. Her hand was clenched tightly on the doorjamb. "You must get bored living up in the mountains. And you could use another pair of hands if you're not regenerating." Eren said nothing. "Did you carve your eye out again?"

"Goddamn you," he growled, and wrenched the door open.

He let her walk past the threshold. Looked at her once, and then away. "I'll set a place aside for you to sleep," indicating a well-worn sofa, "you can stay as long as you need to until you find somewhere you like."

"I don't know why you're so upset. You could have killed me years ago. You've had every opportunity, and yet—"

"—I've moved on." He said it flatly, almost resigned. "You haven't, obviously."

Annie didn't flinch. "So you're just going to stay here and wait to die?"

"I keep myself busy."

"What do you do?"

"I teach the new cadets over at the Academy. It's about two hours from where we are; nothing special, but they seem eager to learn."

"I see."

He turned finally to face her. "What about you?"

Annie hesitated. "Used to work with the other displaced soldiers up until a few days ago."

"How'd that treat you?"

"It was all right. Why, are you too good for it now, now that you're a war hero?"

Eren ignored the barb. "It's been a while since everything settled down, so I wondered how you would fare."

"What, so you just popped up in this house?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. There was a tribunal, and it was decided to let me live on the condition I'd be kept far away where I wouldn't bother with anyone. I can't say the same for the others."

"You sold them out?"

He chuckled. "I didn't have to say much. They did it to themselves. We shared a common goal at one point but never the same ideology. At the very least, I can say I took no pleasure in what I—"

"—Ackermann gave you an out?"

Eren gauged the sharpness in her tone, the stiffness of her posture. "I didn't ask her to." He frowned. "You never told me how you got here. Did Mikasa have something to do with this?"

Annie froze, then averted her eyes. "I didn't have much of a choice. It was either come here or work myself to death doing manual labor. I wouldn't have minded that."

"Why didn't you tell me that she sent you?"

"I don't know. She seemed to pity you."

"Oi, it's not your fault. She can feel however she wants." He sounded bemused, scowling. "What the hell else she she think I'm going to do in four years? I have no plans to start another war."

Annie finally eyed him in her peripherals. "We didn't talk much other than that."

Within the next few hours he'd gotten a few more details out of her. In exchange for agreeing to be quartered here, her record was wiped clean. She had recently reapplied for the MP brigade under a new name and secured a position as secretary in the Karanese district headquarters. She had also admitted to him that she was dying to get back onto the streets again.

As a bedfellow Annie was, in some ways, more than he could've hoped for. Despite the introduction, she talked far less than they had as cadets. She did not seem particularly happy or unhappy, just neutral. She woke up each morning at six hours and left to do her drills. She would come back in an hour and offer to help him with whatever menial tasks needed doing, as if they really were holed up together in the remnants of a cabin lost ten years ago to a threat that would live on in sordid, haunting memory. The kind of life one would find beyond the realm of a weathered photograph.

Unobtrusive without becoming idyllic. The best outcome he could afford her was three years of uneventful domesticity.

They didn't spar anymore. Not for lack of want, or kicking the habit. Eren just couldn't keep up with her the way he used to. His leg was shaky and she pointed it out first. It would have an impact on the kind of punishment he could take as opposed to when he was fifteen and shrugged off every injury like it was nothing. His eye was not healing.

Annie was in better condition. Just by studying her gait it was obvious that she'd taken better care of herself. She had not had to bunk up with a gang of stinking, vulnerable soldiers riddled by shellshock. Trying to communicate with them in German worked, but it got him a lot of funny looks and no end of comparisons to fathers and grandfathers enlisted or long since dead.

Annie wasn't interested in his stories from Marley but she didn't brush him off either. She just tolerated it in a much more polite way than Mikasa or Armin would.

At twenty years old she came up to his chest. Either the crystallization had stunted her growth or she was naturally short. She was also scarred enough down her face but it was of the same sheer consistency as her hair. You would only know what she was if you were paying close attention.

She got skittish and temperamental if he tried to push his luck training with her. Initially it had pissed him off:

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

She'd looked at him bluntly. "You're still recovering. Why overexert yourself?"

He'd never told her about his injuries but the idea of her picking up on it this quickly rankled for reasons he did not care to discuss. "I'm not a kid."

Something flashed in her eyes. "I'm not going to push you."

And that was the end of it. He'd decided that this ritual mattered more to her than him, and respected her space. He still did his own drills.

But every time they locked eyes now he'd get that same, absurd itch in the back of his mind from a year ago. Sharpened his tongue and made him want to speak in ways he didn't think he should attempt to justify whilst sober.

iv.

Days passed. He did not always see her until late in the evening.

In the middle of the night he rolled over onto his bad leg and the pain woke him. In silence he got up, not enough to require medication but still pretty uncomfortable.

“Eren?”

He went still. Annie was up herself, over by the window, staring at him as though he were on his deathbed. In the low light her eyes looked strange and luminous. “Does it hurt?”

“Does—what?”

“Your leg.”

Eren sat up slowly as not to aggravate his condition. She didn't say anything else. “It’s not so bad that I can’t sleep.” He studied her face for signs of age, finding naught but scars, a weariness in her eyes he could speak to. She didn't frown. She just watched him coolly. Eren shrugged. “You can’t sleep either?" No answer. "Thinking about to-morrow?”

“I can get you something for it.”

Eren shook his head. “That's not necessary."

"Don't be stupid."

"This isn't something I can just take pills for.”

"It's chronic." Her tone pregnant with incredulity. "Why haven't you seen a doctor for this?"

"Annie, what the hell is a regular doctor gonna do for either of us? We already fix ourselves. There are other veterans that have been stranded here, they aren't growing their limbs back. They need all the help they can get. Anyway, it's only, what, three more years of living? I can take three. Fuck, I've taken ten."

The more he kept talking, the darker her eyes became. Clench in her jaw, tautness of her shoulders, pronounced enough to notice from a distance—an involuntary reflection of his own revulsion.

"I don't know how you managed to win one war, let alone, if you can't even prevent yourself from running into the ground." Her voice was icy and distinctly contemptuous. She stalked over to him. Cold fingers dug into the meat of his naked shoulder, pushed him upright between the wall and headboard; tight, controlled movements. "Four years later and you still want to pretend you're a fucking martyr. It might've worked on Mikasa, but I'm not your sister. I'm not going to help you hurt yourself."

She kneaded at his leg in a much brusquer way than the way the orderlies in Marley. Eren didn't argue. She was not going to take no for an answer. When it was done she coaxed him to lie down again. He stiffened as he felt her weight join his on the mattress, curled almost tentatively against his chest. She didn’t try to hold him, just huddled as though for warmth. She did not explain herself.

Eren had a vague recollection of the last time this had happened. Back then she came up to his chin, rather than the middle of his chest; their disparity was only thrown into relief. He could feel the human warmth of her through the thin undershirt, the softness of her hair on his cheek. He’d dreamt about this a lot when he was sixteen, while the tragedy of her betrayal was no longer fresh but still painful in his mind. He had no energy left to hate her then, for she was not his enemy.

He heard her breathing even out.

She had stayed this long. There was no sense in abandoning her now.

Sometime after that, Eren started noticing her in more tangible ways. Smell of her hair. The subtle glint in her eyes in lieu of a smile. She'd wait up for him in the mornings before he left. He'd tell her good-bye.

When he came home he’d catch her eyes lingering on him in profile.

Just one day too many of the same quiet inactivity. The fact that they had slept in the same bed was just a catalyst of how familiar they were with each other already.

She woke up an hour later than usual and, fuming, went out to train. A light rain had started. Eren made breakfast. Over the next twenty minutes the light sheet became much more torrential. Annie came back in about half-an-hour, dripping water all over the floor. He would've told her off but she grabbed his wrist. He turned as she leant up and took his face in her hands and kissed him like her life depended on it.

Maybe the situation had always been building to this. He had forgotten about its immediacy until the moment presented itself. But now there was nothing left to say. So he gathered her up and placed her on the counter, kissing her breathless, bunching up her threadbare shirt, palming her tits through the military-issue brassiere—he muttered, "see, I thought you were just being nice," and she scoffed, set her heel to the small of his back even as he put his mouth on her. She was chilled from the rain; it was not yet summer. Half-dressed and needy, he took her right there on the countertop. Afterwards, there was no shame or lingering uncertainty that would have been present as cadets. She pressed her cheek to his.

"I'm going to be away for a while. It's higher pay if I stay in Karanese. Maybe two or three weeks." She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright but her tone was stoic. "I just…" She trailed off because he was only looking at her face. Eren smoothed her damp hair away from her cheek.

"I love you." Then he stopped. Like he was finally coming to grips with the idea. Annie blinked rapidly. A crease formed in her brow. Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Eren kissed her chin. "But, if you're gonna be trackin' mud everywhere you'd best clean it up after yourself."

She finally came back to herself. Shoved him lightly in the chest. "Fuck off." Then hoisted herself off the counter, fixed her trousers, and asked in a dry voice where he kept the washbasin.

vi.

On his own the cabin felt distinctly empty. Sometimes he'd wake up hard and just—take care of it. Annie on top of him. On her knees. Pulling him up to her. He missed her a lot more than he'd care to admit to her face and it wasn't just in the sense that she was available. She'd probably just smirk at him anyway.

But when she returned it was nice to have her around, even for a little while. She kept to herself and he gave her space; it was as though she had never left.

It was still morning. He was working when he felt her come up behind him, hands slipping over his wrists. “Oi,” he muttered, “I’m a little busy.”

“You’re just sitting there.”

He scoffed. “Really? How would you know what I’m doin’?” No answer. Eren closed the book. “You really are demanding, ain’t you?” Faux-annoyance. But he turned.

She looked prettier in uniform. Hair pulled back into less of a bun, more of a severe ponytail. She was looking him up and down as though deciding something for herself.

She leant down, kissed him firmly, nipping at his lip until went with it, half-amused. She stepped back, breathing evenly, eyes glinting. She cupped his face, a vestige of tenderness he did not anticipate.

Then her eyes shifted, something empty, strange. A harsh crack against his jaw he could not anticipate and he took it, worked his jaw, blinking rapidly. “What the hell are you—?”

Annie jerked her head back slightly, fixing him with the same expectance he realised he’d completely misinterpreted. “Hit me.”

Eren didn’t move. Her jaw trembled, then set. He caught her wrist. “That’s enough.”

“Why?” She sounded annoyed. “It’s all right. I can take it.”

“What is this?”

“I’ll be dead before you anyway, it would be easier just to take—”

“—I said that’s enough,” he said, terse. “I’m not going to do anything to you."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought you understood.”

Eren just stared, fighting to keep himself calm when he wanted to grab her shoulders and demand her to justify why the hell she wanted to be hit. "What am I supposed to understand?"

Annie’s eyes darted over his face and then to his wrist. “I want you to hit me back.”

“I’m not going to do that.” He cupped her jaw and she almost flinched; his stomach twisted. “Do you understand me?“

Silence built up between them. "I know you’d stop if I asked you to.”

“I’m not going to wait until after I’ve hurt you to stop.”

Annie pressed her face into his chest. He took her by the shoulders, watching her stiffen.

“Do you hear me?”

She nodded.

"Why d'you want me to hit you?"

"Do you want a list?" He gripped her tight enough to make her flinch and immediately regretted the look of fear that came across her face. He let go of her. "I’ve been complicit in the death of your comrades.” Her voice thickened. “And I’ve taught you everything I know. You don't need me here for anything other than your own gratification.” Returning to the facade of impassivity with unnerving ease. “So, there’s no point in comparing our tallies.”

“Annie—"

“Are you stupid?” Annie spat, the most emotion she had exhibited thus far. “You've taken my country and my life and my father and you—now you want me to love you back. You want to marry me as if we're ever going to—I'm the one who killed your friends, why would you ever want to be reminded of—"

"You love me." She looked helpless in her vulnerability. "What? What's the matter?"

"Why would you want me? I—I can't even have children. I'm going to die in four years. I'm going to watch you die unless I kill myself fir—"

"—Annie—"

"—you could fuck anyone you wanted!" she exploded. "Why does it have to be me?"

"Because you don’t have to earn anything from me! I just want to be around you—can’t you accept that?”

Annie kissed him hard. He trembled though he was holding her.

“Take me to bed." Eren opened his mouth and she kissed his chin. “I want you to take me to bed. I—”

Even then, he was hesitant to touch her. She led the way, stripping down to skin and splaying on his bed. He caressed her when she asked him to, a gentleness in his hands that betrayed his own sympathy; for once she didn’t chastise him.

Her scarring was far more pronounced in the light. He'd noticed before, briefly on the counter and more clearly with enough attention, but not like this. It clustered around her sternum and down her spine. He wondered, briefly, if that was why she'd wanted to do it quickly. Now her eyes were bright and shimmering but she took him into her, reached for him.

"Is this OK?" His voice was a croak.

Her eyes flickered to him. Cautious, sure. "Yeah."

He was on his knees, lifting the small of her back, working her towards a much sweeter surrender. He slid one arm around her waist to support her and touched her breasts, the side of her neck, cupping her jaw. His thumb ran over her scarring.

“Annie.” She gasped at the sound of her name. “Ann. Look. Come here.” She was biting her lip. Head fallen back, her hair was almost diaphanous in the light. He murmured her name and she was shivering with emotion. She turned into her elbow and told him in an unsteady voice to go faster, and the bed creaked to match him.

Her body arched, jaw slack. She wouldn't stop shivering. Her voice did not rise in expectation. It just wavered, edgeless.

He took her wrist away from her face and—she flinched. This serrated, ugly, sound that jerked out of her body. He pulled out, holding her. “Look at me,” his voice hoarse and horrified, “please.”

Annie curled up against his chest and shook. Eren just kept apologizing. She didn't push him away.

Eventually she stopped. Raised her head. Their eyes met and she lost composure again. He brushed her hair from her face. “Stay,” she croaked, “please. I need you.”

He kissed her brow. She almost flinched. He tucked his chin into her shoulder, arms around her back, until she’d calmed down.

"You don't have to do anything," he said quietly. "Do you understand that?"

"I know."

Laying prone, she only came up to his sternum. Annie sat up first. She got to her feet and went over to the window. Her shoulder was parallel to the glass. His attention stayed firmly on her profile. “You’re gonna get colder than hell. Come back here.”

She turned and glanced at his forearm curled half-surreptitiously against his stomach. Scar tissue along her breasts was prominent. In the dead light of this cloudy, April afternoon she finally looked her age.

There was a naked uncertainty in her eyes that made him freeze. "You're not my father and you never will be. You've been kinder towards me than I deserve, given the circumstances. I wish I could despise you."

Eren rolled his shoulders. The silence held for a while. "I don't know if what either of us have done can be forgiven. But, as long as you’re here, I want you to know that I don't hate you." All she did was stare, a slight crease in her brow. “I never could.”

“You love me,” she said. Not with scorn. Like she was testing the idea in a way they would have shied away from as kids. She averted her face towards the window.

She watched him get up and tensed. He limped towards her in a couple strides and draped the blanket around her shoulders with the same tentativeness. She did not put her arms around him. She pressed her face into his shoulder. His arm came around her back and she closed her eyes, just existing in the cold slats of wood against her feet and the rise and fall of his breast.

He put the blankets around her and laid beside her.

He’d always supposed he would heal with enough rest. He didn't know how to put what he felt into words, but eloquence had never been his forte. It was not unlike laying on your deathbed, mulling over all the things that hardly seemed to matter until there was no time left to spare.

There was no pain now, just certainty in the presence of another—the old urge to drink was absent.

This is a cleaned-up version of a couple tumblr WIPs + some old/new material blended in for fun. Think of it as a pilot episode for a much larger fic.

For what it's worth I did like the ending of AoT. Elements of that ending will likely factor into the aforementioned larger fic. I am totally disinterested in arguing about ships or wasted potential—at this point, I’d rather write whatever seems interesting, and leave it at that, canon or not.

And hey, if you think acknowledging canon will override my crippling addiction to the "morally challenged antihero/problematic blonde" dynamic… I really don't see that happening. Even after exiting this fandom, it's like, ALL I've been writing for a year (looking at YOU Insult to Injury) and I feel like I'm going insane. Back on topic though: Now that AoT has concluded, I find I am far less stressed at the prospect for writing for this series again. It won’t be my main focus, but I do like this fic’s concept enough to flesh it out.

#ereaniweek2021 #ereannieweek2021 #eren jaeger #annie leonhardt #ereani #ereannie #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #apologies for any disparity between canon #I'm a bit behind but I have the jist of what happens #fanfic #fanfiction

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