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dtkqer · 29 days

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wait why ranboo (idk much abt him)

ESSAY WARNING AHEAD do not fucking repost this shit anywhere holy fuck i will kill you!!!!!!! respect my boundaries :((

ok my thought process was somewhere along the lines of

rboo (kid wanting to blow up as a mcyter during summer 2020) getting attention through making fan content of dream smp (also trying to write themself into the lore) -> dream (kid who blew up as an mcyter before the pandemic hit, getting even more insane numbers) sees himself in rboo, adds him to the dream smp

-> path 1: parasocial stan delusion - ran is both viewer and cc, relatable to viewers in a down to earth way while gaining an insane amount of success very very fast -> heightened scrutiny to not fuck things up because his audience is full of normal people who care about social justice on paper (part of dreams influence in having a gender and race diverse (somewhat) audience) -> growing importance of boundaries (tm) -> fandom becomes insanely blue haired liberal and jumps on every mistake, demanding quick and GOOD apologies for both inane and serious shit -> fandom becomes volatile and creates disproportionate responses to everything -> they (rboo) become spineless -> this attitude and spinelessness leaks over to the whole of mcyt since most of dsmp shared an audience at that point -> feedback loop we see today (sidebar: growing media illiteracy combined with volatile reactions extend to lore shit on all ends and was absolutely compounded by their joining -> "sanctity" of the lore -> michael -> dsmp audiences split over the parasocial belief that character = content creator's thoughts beliefs and actions in real life instead of. acting)

-> path 2: control and queerness - branch off from blue haired liberal -> viewers have good intentions in wanting more rep in the cc space (queer and women, not so much race) -> marginalized communities cant afford to make mistakes as much as white men in the space -> disproportionate amount of criticism for both white men and marginalized ccs -> viewers attempting to take control of ccs due to ran blurring the line between viewer and cc during lockdown/most viewers' formative social years being taken from them -> not much education about queerness in the first place -> queerbaiting discourse and queer being a symbol of goodness -> people seemed to want dream to be straight and evil and ran to be gay/queer and good -> double standards when dream and ran come out because of dream's perceived power, status, and past growing up in conservative florida he had already been addressing, but ran gets a warm welcome because of bending to the audience more than dream has and past not holding as many mistakes meaning they could claim queer as an identity -> selective biphobia because if dream is queer hes a bad queer so everything he does is evil

-> return to main thread - brighton bastards formed, beeduo date and break up, everyone becomes bitter boots after lockdown ends and dream abandons his adopted bastard child he came to love that george originally gave birth to -> october and drexodus -> quackity resentment somewhere in there behind the scenes, dtkq breakup -> former audience split over lore comes back into -> qsmp shit -> dream and by extension dteam/munchy is evil except badboyhalo who supports dream but is still on qsmp because hes a lore andy -> schisms from the past continue to grow, new schism of q's side vs dream's side appears (secret third challenger of brighton floptopia) -> people air out their dirty laundry and snide comments -> november and december -> relative peace -> march-> karl gets hit by a car -> present day -> dnf sextape

i may be wrong for quite a bit of this but this is how i saw it . again this is a tumblr exclusive if you repost this anywhere even iwth my url cropped i will fucking kill you.

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 2 months

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personal growth is that as i'm like scroll-hopping because i don't want to decide what to do next i hit on something i suspected would annoy me and when i got to the part i KNEW would annoy me i closed the window. but i'm a work in progress so i AM going to complain about it on tumblr. i saw someone say that mass illiteracy in the US is because it serves the interests of the ruling class and then as proof gave the contrast of literacy rates in cuba which is insane for a lot of reasons but the key one that jumped out to me is that english is literally harder to learn to read in than spanish is

#if a kid can sound out the equivalent of 'cat' in spanish they can read Literally The Entire Language #in english they can't even read most of the most commons words!

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foreverforgally · 1 year

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In The Garden

A Gally Fanfic; Chapter 3

The Tension

Summary - Quinn Abigail Allen is the first female ever to grace the presence of the Glade. At first the tensions between her and keeper Gally are high, the enemies to lovers trope creeps through her life. Will she give into the trope? Or will she chose the love triangle?

Warnings - Maybe smut in different chapters or hints of sexual activity. Fluff! Angst! I am definitely not a good writer!

The next morning I woke up in my hammock, head pounding from the night before. “Rise and shine cupcake, it’s time to start our day.” Newt passed through the hammocks, chipper as ever this morning.

“Leave me alone please, I still need brain cells to understand your illiteracy.” Groaning I put my arm over my eyes and rolled to my stomach.

“C’mon Quinn you’re starting in Building today, and Gally’s a sucker for good attendance.” I could hear his footsteps walk around my hammock, fixing and tying loose ends here and there.

“Well you can tell that shank beauty rest is important.” I muttered, “heavens knows he needs it.” I snuggled back into my warm blankets.

“What did you say about me?” Suddenly my warm blanket was ripped from my body and I was rolled onto the ground. I landed on the dirt with an umph.

“Aren’t you just a sweetheart” I mumbled, rubbing the dirt off my scuffed hands that i landed on to catch my fall.

“Get up my lady, Gally waits for no one.” He scoffed out, his way of speaking makes me dumber and dumber by the second.

“First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, did you just speak in what, the third person?” I glanced up at him, my face contorting in disgust at his presence.

“Whatever, let’s go hurry up.” Newt waved at me in condolences as Gally dragged me away. He grabbed me by my arm and walked fastly back to his post as keeper. Along the way I almost trip a couple of times, his legs were so much longer than mine and he towered me a good foot or so.

“So greenie, what we do as builders is we gather supplies and we build off of those supplies,” He directed me towards the different stations, showing me how everything worked.

“Haven’t we already established that I have a name?” I huffed out, I’m not a greenie anymore, I’m Quinn. One thing Ive learned about Gally, was his need to always be stubborn.

“Sorry my lady, shalt I fetch thy some refreshments.” He spat as he curtsied teasingly, what a dick. I pushed him down to his ass and stood over him.

“Earth is full, go home freak.” I spat directly at his left eye. He groaned and cussed, he grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. At this point, we were causing a scene and other people started to pay attention.

“You’re the freak, what’re you even doing here? this is a maze full of boys, you don’t belong here.” He said accusingly, he had a point but he needed to stop being such a dick. I didn’t ask to be here.. I don’t think?

“Hey! Break it up you two,” Alby came running over. “Whatever tension you both have needs to be set aside, you’re both,” he emphasized, “Acting like shanks.” he stared at us both.

“Well?”He asserted. Sighing in frustration, Gally and I held our hands out to shake. My heart jump a notch when his came into contact with mine, his hand was rough and callused from building for so many years.

The contact between lasted a second or two longer than needed, the action going unnoticed, hopefully. “Good, now get back to work everyone. Nothing to see here.” Alby dismissed everyone and back to work we went.

“So, what’re we working on today?” I questioned, seemed like there was a big project going on from how particular Gally was when he yelled at the builders.

“Well Quinn, we’re building you your own special room in homestead.” He was annoyed, why would he be annoyed?

“I don’t need my own room, i’ve got my hammock, real cozy.” I danced on my feet, swinging back and forth. I felt embarrassed that they were making me my own area.

“Alby’s orders, said a lady shouldn’t sleep with a bunch of hormonal boys that haven’t seen a women in their lifetime.” He bickered with me on my own area. If it was from Alby, I guess I had no say. I should have one though. I nodded along in acknowledgment.

Wordlessly, he picked up an axe and handed a smaller one to me. My eyes grew a bit in confusion and I grabbed the axe, and followed him in silence as he led me to wherever.

“This, is the deadheads. It’s where we bury dead Gladers and get our wood from.” He mumbled out as we walked over to a tree and started to chop away.

“Should I uh.. Should I cut too or?..” I stuttered confused at what I should be doing. Annoyed, he looked up at me like I was dumb and continued.

I scoffed in disbelief again, “Alright dude, what is your problem with me?” I slammed my axe into a tree stub. His grasp on his axe tightened and I could see his back tense. He stood in silence for a few moments.

Out of no where, he dropped his axe and stomped towards me, and backed me into a tree. Gally punched the open tree space by my head and got close to my face, glaring into my eyes.

“I know you, I don’t know how I know you but I do and I can’t get you out of my head” He said this so softly but venomously.

“You,” He grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest, “Do things to me that I don’t like.” His heart was racing, I felt so out of place and confused that mine started racing faster than usual.

There was no other statements, my breathing grew shallow and I traced my eyes to look at both of his. Out of my mind, I let my gaze drop down to his lips.

The only thing you could hear were the chirps of birds in the trees and the shallowness of our breathing, I could feel his on my nose.

Slowly, I let myself get closer to him, lifting my back off of the tree and placing my hand softly on his cheek.

“What are you doing.” He sounded scared, but he never moved or turned away from me. His face grew softer and red, his freckles darkening from the hue.

I closed my eyes and leaned in, our foreheads making contact. “Now what do we have here?” Newt’s voice was so loud, we immediately jumped away from one another.

“Uh I was just,” Gally paused pointing at the axes, “He was teaching me how to chop the wood.” I nervously played with the small twine of string I had wrapped around my finger.

“Ah yes, morning wood.” Newt smirked at his joke, Gally muttered frustratingly and walked off in a heat. He left me to deal with Newt, typical.

I coughed off the energy, “I should.. finish getting this wood.” I turned around and started awkwardly looking at the trees and picked up my axe.

“Oh, so that wasn’t a metaphor for something else? Could’ve fooled me Quinny.” He was relentless, Newt seemingly wasn’t going to drop the topic anytime soon.

“It wasn’t anything Newt.” please please please drop it, this had to be one of the most embarrassing things i’ve ever been caught for.

“Don’t think I didn’t catch how long that handshake was either, and the suffocating tension the two of you had at the bonfire.” He started to walk around, picking up this and that as I chopped my wood.

“Ok and so what? I’ve been here for two days it meant nothing.” I brushed him off, gathering my wood and starting to head back to the Builders.

“Oh come on Quinn, You have to be blind if you don’t notice that he’s into you.” He jogged up by my side and I was coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to let it go.

Heat rushed up from my neck to my face, he wasn’t into me, that’s just ridiculous. “Whatever Newt, He’s Gally,” I said in distaste, “and I’m.. well I’m me.” I shrugged and dropped the wood by Homestead.

The sun was blazing and my tight ripped pants were making me sweat. “Newt, get back to your station.” Alby yelled at him from across the field, my savior.

“This conversation isn’t over Quinny,” He emphasized, “I mean it” He said, jogging backwards until he turned around and picked up his pace.

“I’d rather be caught dead” I muttered, taking a rubber band and putting my long hair into a ponytail. At some point in the day, I can’t tell time, my room in homestead had been built.

We built dressers, light jars, and different things I didn’t know was possible. The last thing was the bed frame, and my mattress was no tempur-pedic. The mattress was made from various feathers, grass, cottons, etc.

The bed frame only need two people to build it, so Gally dismissed the rest of the Builders to go work on other projects. It gave us the room, it left us alone.

“Hand me the plank please.” Gally asked softly, his demeanor was still rough but he was different. “Sure.” I huffed, neither of us made eye contact as I handed him the wood but our hands would briefly touch in the process.

“This silence is killing me, you know that right.” I leaned onto one of my dressers, watching his back muscles move and stop when I spoke up.

He turned around and faced me, I forced the eye contact. “I don’t know what you mean.” He ignored my under line question, picked a tool up and continued.

Sighing, I scoffed to the side and lined the inside of my cheek with my tongue. I picked up a tool too and walked over to help. I stood right next him, my leg rubbing against his.

“What’re you doing.” He stopped and asked me again, he loves to ask me that doesn’t he. I feigned innocence, “I’m helping you, that’s my job isn’t it?” I questioned through my eyelashes.

“I’d be damned if you ever made it as a builder.” He scoffed, continuing his work and keeping the contact we had on our legs.

“Ah but you would like that wouldn’t you? me and all my distractions?” I said seductively, my only intention was to tease but it seemed like i got under some skin.

“Jesus Quinn, would you give it a rest.” He called me by my name, not only that but he was fidgety, his adams apple bobbing and his tone was shaky. Gally was nervous.

I giggled, giggled “Stop slacking off and help make my bed.” I teased him, picking up the other end of the heavy post with ease. He was shocked at my apparent muscle mass and came over to carry the other side of the post.

“Please it down over here.” He quided me over to where the rest of the bed was, the soft light from the light jars made him look soft, his freckles softer on his face.

“You have a nice face.” I casually stated, looking down to pick up a tool. Crash, he dropped his s’aide of the post.

“Can you mess off greenie, l'm trying to do my work.” He was upset but that didn't stop his face from reddening and it definitely didn’t stop my grin from forming.

"I'm trying to do my work too; you should really stop distracting me." I bantered with him, the look on his face making me enjoy being a Builder

He grabbed my chin and backed me into my dresser. "I've had enough Quinn, you need to knock it off.” He professed. It was such a shame the both of us were so stubborn.

“And if I don't?” I asked softly, whispering in his face. His eyes glased over; he gave that look again. His eyes repeatedly traced from my lips back to my eyes. Is demeaner was strong but his silence asked me a burning question.

"It's okay.* I said, catching on to his question on whether or not I wanted this. And like in the Deadheads, we got closer, forehead to forehead, shallow bresthing to shallow breathing.

His hand moved from my jaw to the back of my neck and his other hand cupped my waist. It was happening

“Ok we really need a system.” Newt had caught us again.

"Jesus Newt, can’t you learn how to knock?" He leaned against the door frame. Just like last time, me and Gally flew apart, the awkward energy taking its toll again.

"Well love, it's not like you have a door yet innit?" Newt smirked from his position, he was having so much fun being a total cock block

"You're uh bedroom is done" Gally growled awkwardly, clearly feeling the same about Newt in this moment that I had. "Right right. I'I see you later?" I asked him, hinting something deeper in my words.

"Uh yeah maybe" He nodded towards me, his lips clenched together in a long line. "Newt” he acknowledge as he walked out. Newt nodded and winked in his direction.

"I really hate you, you know that right." I flopped down onto my new bed. The mattress wasnt as bad as I had previously thought it would have been. "C'mon Quinny, you could never hate me, you need me." He flopped onto my bed aswell laying next to me as we turned to look at eachother.

"Good night Newt." I protested, Exhausted from working so hard and going through Gally’s mood swings. "Night shuck" He patted my head, Pulling a couple of blankets he brought with him over me.

"Put that door on the hinges on your way out please." I mumbled out in a hurry, I didn’t want to be watched as I slept.

He chuckled before walking out.

#tmr fic #tmr x reader #newt tmr #tmr gally #the maze runner #gally #gally imagine #gally x reader #gally x y/n #fanfiction #fanfic #will poulter #foreverforgally;itg

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eumeliafeu · 9 months

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Resident Evil Characters as stuff my friends and I have said(modified slightly for some characters)

Piers: Don’t stick your dicks in lollipops!

~♡~

Claire: I’ve been flashed by satan!

~♡~

Chris, about his musical illiteracy: SHUT THE FACK UP!!! I HAVE FU KI V DISLEXIC!!!

~♡~

Sheva: I can’t help that I’m a fucking clairvoyant-

~♡~

Moira, about her guitar: Why does it not wanna play.

~♡~

Ada: Idk just feel like jumping off a cliff casually ig.

~♡~

Jill, about Carlos flirting with her(a substitute for the "fuck you" line): Ew. A man.

~♡~

Ada: "I'm 99% sure Leon S. Kennedy is straight" Leon: *Comes out a little later as gay*

~♡~

Luis: It's a baby with a tampon, it's armed and dangerous.

~♡~

Sherry: Who needs social interaction, when I have the little gay people in my phone.

~♡~

Hunnigan, when one of her agents ignore her orders: I've about Mcfucking had it!

~♡~

Claire, about herself: The religious trauma is strong with this one.

~♡~

Emily(Tundra): Mickey d's, home of the clown.

~♡~

Barry, about watching Rebecca shoot a gun for the first time: It's like watching Bambi's tiny little ankles.

~♡~

Chris, about Jill: Your everything is tiny(except for yo tits gah damn 🥵) [I am not a Valenfield shipper.]

~♡~

Ashley, when Leon or Sherry joke about their trauma: If you didn't lip bite it could've been angsty.

~♡~

Helena, when cooking for her sister when they were younger: I'm 15, not a world class chef.

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stargirlfeyre · 11 months

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People are so weird when they use Feyre’s illiteracy as a weapon to mock and belittle her. Don’t they realize that the only reason why she was illiterate in the first place is because her family failed her. Her parents neglected her but somehow had the foresight to educate their other two daughters. Elain and Nesta were so self-absorbed that they didn’t even notice that Feyre couldn’t read. And the same people who lock Feyre about her illiteracy blame her because she refused Tamlin’s help in the first book, but I don’t blame Feyre for being reluctant to accept his help. Firstly, she was raised to believe that the Fae would exploit her every weakness to hurt her. Secondly, for years she was mocked and ignored by the people who’s supposed to love her the most - so of course she’s not going to trust that Tamlin would teach her without making fun of her. And let’s not forget that Tamlin literally kidnapped Feyre and took her to a strange place with no way to contact her family or the outside world. Honestly, Feyre being illiterate says more about her family, including Nesta and Elain, than it does herself. And I know people like to argue that Nesta and Elain don’t owe her anything, but as sisters - or even as someone who is only alive because someone else is taking care of them - shouldn’t you at least know basic things about the person who is feeding, clothing, and sheltering you? It makes it even worse knowing that Nesta and Elain know how to read and that Nesta loves reading and yet Feyre didn’t know how until she was nineteen/twenty. Her illiteracy is a failure on her parents and her sisters - not on her.

It’s like Nesta and Elain are allowed to have negative characteristics born from their trauma but as soon as Feyre has them, it’s grounds for her to be made fun of. We’re supposed to respect that Nesta lashes out because of her trauma and Elain ignores it all. But people can jump down Feyre’s throat and make fun of her and we’re supposed to look the other way because “it’s just jokes”.

They hate Feyre for being “the perfect protagonist” then they shit on her when she acts like anything but that. Nesta is allowed to hate Fae because that’s how she was raised but as soon as Feyre does it she’s an “ungrateful pick me”.

Idc what anyone says I will always hold Elain and Nesta accountable for Feyre’s treatment in that cabin as much as I hold their father accountable. Those girls have some nasty spirits and they don’t deserve the lifestyles Feyre is providing for them.

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pearlstarlight5 · 5 months

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I watched Wish yesterday, yipee:

+ I expected Valentino to be annoying like everyone says but I actually like him, he's a literal baby goat!

+ But I hate the Grumpy and Sleepy knockoffs so much holy shit.

+ The script's tendency to repeat itself and over-narrate was actually alienating

+ I didn't listen to the songs beforehand, they were quite underwhelming. That said, I loved At All Costs, but I wish it stayed a romantic duet between Asha and the shapeshifting star boy

In fact, if only they hadn't scrapped the shapeshifter, the idea of a Disney romance between 2 innocent and perky characters in the modern times sounds wonderful.

I later went back and listened to the songs... and binged Encanto songs afterward and the jump in quality was night and day

+ Too much protagonist-centered morality. Disney characters can be selfish, but there's usually consequences. Asha only looks out for her family and never has that epiphany that others' wishes matter too that I was expecting her to have. She sings about helping her people, but this doesn't translate in her actions since she only bothers stealing her grandfather's wish and intending on coming back for her mother's wish.

Overall, I didn't like this movie, but by god, I will defend it with my life against media illiteracy because some of yooz need to go back to English class.

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mzminola · 1 year

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Now I'm thinking about which comics titles I've read and what I'd recommend to people jumping into DC comics. These are all in the Post-Crisis Pre-Flashpoint era, so not only are they finished running, the universe they're in is closed too.

Robin minis I, II, III: 15 issues total, from 1991 - 1993.

Establishing character stories for Tim Drake as Robin, with some interesting geo-political time capsule elements because they're all from the very early 1990's. This is when Tim is a relatively new vigilante, and each story has a reason for Batman to be mostly out of the picture so we see what Tim is like by himself, rather than as Batman's Partner. Spoiler: Tim by himself will always find people to team up with, and not just other capes! Very much plays into the struggles of having a double life.

Also serves as a good introduction to the city of Gotham & the crime stories the Bats handle, covering the mafia, international organizations, and various levels of Rogues.

Young Justice 1998: 55 issues, 1998 - 2003.

Fun ensemble cast, whacky adventure stories, with a solid emotional core running through it. In an era when more adult oriented comics were trying for realism by going Grim & Gritty, Young Justice said "How about we tackle realistic Teen Issues by putting them in the zany shenanigans that the golden/silver age would've had?"

This can create some mood whiplash, but also really works. Probably because that's often what being a teenager is like.

Batgirl 2000: 73 issues, 2000- 2006.

Speaking of what being a teenager is like, Cassandra Cain's Batgirl run my beloved. Lots of snark. Both Cass and her primary mentor are disabled women, and though Cass's disability is based on Comics Logic, it's internally consistent for the story, and her illiteracy has real effects on the plot and her life. Coming of age story, gifted kid burnout, the lengths you'll go to to get being the best back, wrestling with guilt, heroism, & self-worth.

Cass has a language disability and is one of the deadliest physical fighters in the world. Her mentor Barbara Gordon is paraplegic, a librarian, and information specialist. They have some shared experiences and values, and some wildly different experiences and values, and they clash! They care about each other deeply! They tease each other! Barbara fucks up sometimes, and also sincerely apologizes when she does.

Huntress: Cry For Blood: 6 issues, published in 2000.

Solid short noir mystery & rehash of Helena's origin story. Has a very poetic vibe. I was able to follow it after only seeing Helena in crossovers rather than reading her solo series.

I got the number of issues from the fanwikis, and should note that Young Justice & Batgirl issue count does not include crossover events, where issues in other titles may be needed for the full story. I found Batgirl mostly understandable without reading the crossovers, but with Young Justice I needed to either track the issues down or search fanwikis for context.

What are some titles or story arcs you all recommend?

#DC #Min reads Comics #Young Justice 1998 #Batgirl 2000 #Robin I #Robin II #Robin III #Huntress Cry For Blood

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kinnoth · 4 months

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I'm wondering if people's general illiteracy/media illiteracy is affecting their ability to read cause/consequence into their own lives

Like, how many r/aita threads do we see where OP is like "I don't like cooking, I've never liked cooking, but my friend's girlfriend loves cooking and makes really good food. I've started inviting myself over to their place before they get home and eating her food because it's so good. She didn't seem to mind because she never said anything, but then I find out that apparently she badmouthed me to my entire friend group, calling me a creep and now they're all mad at me. I think they should be mad at her because she's the one who badmouthed me behind my back" or like "my parents refused to get me a pet when I was 10 because they said they couldn't handle any more responsibility between our sick grandparents, my newborn sextuplet sisters, and my oldest brother going to rehab. Now, 12 years later, my grandparents have died, my brother is stable, and I've moved out of the house. My sextuplet sisters recently asked for a cat and my parents immediately got them one. I want to go no contact because what the fuck, it's like they hate me or something?"

And it's like, how do you self report the story you self report and not understand that and not understand the sequence of events leading you into your current position. Like, putting aside the assumption that everybody on r/aita is probably a troll, how do you read the story you wrote and not understand the sequence of events that lead to your main character's current misfortune?

Do you live your life with the blissful inability to understand causality? How is every piece of new information like a monster jumping out of the dark to you?

People on Reddit like to put it down to "lack of empathy" but I don't think it's that. I think it's like, some sort of basic inability to remember old information and formulate new information, just like how people who can't parse a written passage are only able to read each word individually without the ability to string words together into a sentence.

Then again, people have been fucking stupid forever, and illiteracy is only recently on the rise again, so what do I know

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lesbiancolumbo · 1 year

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my roommate told me tonight that a friend in film school currently told her that their class thought nope was one of the worst screenplays of 2022 which like.................... the cinematic illiteracy just jumped out

#like sorry but the worst screenplay of 2022 was 100% THE MENU

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sociieties · 1 year

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@peachmuses: 5 times touched but make it a five times mako read I ripper around niji

i. tiger, tiger. it's the very beginning of the book. page four and five / makoto doesn't necessarily understand, but he's intending on reading this book through. ( he's barely nine / this book has big words in it and scenes he doesn't understand but he's reading it anyway. ) nijimura -- shuuzou -- is the only person in the class that has neither been mean to him, nor been kind to him. shuuzou is the only kid in the class that hasn't interacted with him.

not too long after this, makoto's on chapter 15, it's a diary chapter. makoto's last read page 102 / murder is descriptive and makoto wonders what prostitutes are. maybe he'll ask his mother after school. he does not. this is the day makoto's called weird by half the class / it's the day shuuzou jumps off of the swing set to come to the rescue of a boy he's never properly spoken to / it's the day makoto makes friends with shuuzou and the day shuuzou is brought home with him to meet his mother.

page 106 and the book is back to jeb. makoto doesn't particularly like jeb, but he understands the obligation. this is the page he's on when he makes it home with his new friend and his mother meets them in the driveway. makoto introduces his new friend to his mother while she looks over his battle scars. ( he's since forgotten that he was planning on asking her something. )

ii. " ... as has been said, 'down on whores,' and butchers them with such grace that he has yet to be caught or even seen. " that's how the last sentence ends when makoto's dragged towards the tubes by his best friend for whatever reason. it's the last thing he remembers reading before he's incidentally bumped by another kid on the way over and the book falls out of his hands and into the mud. it's the fourth year of school and it's only the second time he's read this book.

it's the book makoto's reading when he's kissed in front of about half of the school and claimed by shuuzou, his best friend in the entire world. it's also the book he'd been telling shuuzou about two days ago when shuuzou asked him what he was reading and the teacher tried to take it from him when he mentioned whores and murderers.

how strange / makoto's made it to the 39th chapter when he's come to realize that no one has tried bothering him after shuuzou kissed him. it's been a day. makoto doesn't remember what page he was on yesterday, but he's sped past a great many pages since then. he reads so much faster now. this chapter is short, a diary chapter, something about mary jane.

iii. at the end of their sixth year, shuuzou tells makoto that he's going to teiko middle school. he's told that some coach wanted him to play for their basketball team and that he's going to go. makoto and he agreed to go to different middle schools so they could play against one another.

makoto doesn't remember where he is in i, ripper, exactly, but he knows he's reading it again and he remembers something about someone being dyslexic so he knows the book is almost over. this is how makoto's learned about dyslexia, through a book about murder and prostitutes and detectives / learns that dyslexia is some type of illiteracy that a person cannot help because their brains are wired differently. he thinks, maybe, shuuzou is dyslexic, and that would explain a few things. he says nothing about it. instead, he tells shuuzou about the school he plans on going to and they fistbump over the promise of a middle school career of competition.

iv. first year of middle school / ten days into october. this is the day makoto begins to understand the differences in attraction. he's a bit late to it, he thinks, but he doesn't care and doesn't talk about it. it's a weekend and just the day before, some girl in class was talking to him about crushes and asked him if he had any. he told her no / he meant it. mostly.

the way to get people to stop asking questions is to answer them simply, so he told her no. he'd been busy reading when the girl walked up to him, her sticky hand pressed flat against page 218 and he looks from hand to face to see her and her friend group circle him as they start asking him if he liked any of them. he'd rather get back to the conversation in the book. ( jeb and the professor were talking about guns and makoto thinks that the professor thinks that jeb is a grade-a idiot. somehow, though, the conversation reminds makoto about moments when he are shuuzou are plotting something and shuuzou's reminding him to not forget something. )

page 290 and someone's talking about sherlock holmes and special branch and moral obligations. makoto's sitting at the court he and shuuzou play on in their free time, hand gently bending the cover of the book inwards as shuuzou makes a nothing-but-net basket and makoto only looks up when he hears the ball hit the ground. shuuzou's wandering towards him, casting a shadow over him and makoto snaps the book shut before his best friend's sweat ruins the pages.

fingers rhythmically tap hard cover as he leans back, head tilted, and wonders if shuuzou is still friends with him out of obligation. ( we have a moral obligation to do so. it's the last line he read. ) he knows that girls are attractive, but he's coming to learn that he's attracted to shuuzou. if shuuzou's only sticking with him out of obligation, then -- he's snatched out of his thoughts by shuuzou telling him that he heard that their schools will be playing against one another in two weeks. this will be their first official game. the rest of the day is a good day.

v. makoto's read i, ripper a few times in shuuzou's absence, but he's older now and understands it for what it is. the winter cup of his second year ended a month ago and now it's janurary and there's a knock on his door. his house smells cinnamon and his favorite book is on the counter with a bookmark between page 96 and 97 when shuuzou enters and makoto punches him in the face.

it's still the great jeb who came up with jack the ripper, but let's mangle the punctuation. it's the last thing he read before he went to answer the door / page 96.

shuuzou would walk back into his life when he's reading this book, wouldn't he?

#there is more to life; ! answered #hanamiya makoto // ic #peachmuses #peachmuses: shuuzou #smtz!#❥ x shuumako . peachmuses #drabble.

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talesalexandria · 10 months

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Staying Kinky with Kink Trauma

Strong trigger warning: mentions of emotional/physical abuse from family, immature (non-sexual, consensual) incestuous BDSM, homophobia, transphobia, emotional bullying, immature exposure to porn/sex, sex-negativity, immature (non-sexual, consensual) homosexual BDSM, and eating disorders/forced feeding. Reader discretion is HIGHLY advised.

Hello to my friends and readers,

This is not a pleasant journal entry in any way, so please be warned once again since you’ve read past the trigger warning. If you want to keep reading, please buckle up and hold onto your blunts because this is going to be a rough ride into dysphoric/abusive parts of my past that have been brought up when trying to approach what I thought was a safe kink space. If you want to know why I’m sharing all this, understand now (if you haven’t already) that my personal story and my novels aren’t sex-crazy erotica devoid of trauma, abuse, and strong emotions. If you want to read my novels, understand I’ve used them to deal with the abuse I’ve faced and these themes will be reflected throughout the narrative.

My first exposure to non-consensual BDSM was my mother spanking me or even belt whipping me when I (or my sister) misbehaved from two to maybe six years old; these are also some of the most vivid memories I have of my mother. The abuse hardly ended after that, though, and I can clearly remember threats meant to keep me in line and some queries if “I was thankful she didn’t use the belt anymore” growing up.

The first time I consensually practiced BDSM was when I was around four. My sister (N, she/her) and I played a game that started out as ”cops and robbers” (child-proof handcuffs and jump rope were my tools of choice) which devolved into me just tying her up in various ways (sometimes outdoors or even in our front yard, devolving further into exhibitionism). We played these games for a few years but (thankfully) stopped long before either of us understood what kink or (especially) sex was.

I should mention now that even in preschool I was starting to show signs of being feminine/effeminate, despite a great deal of external effort (mostly familial but peers shouldn’t be discounted) to suppress that and keep me “masc.” The most vivid sign is being on the wrong/girls side of the “which pop is better: Britney Spears or Backstreet Boys” class argument, which I believe sparked the bullying I received through pre/elementary school and killed my interest in most music genres I considered “girly” for decades. I was an outcast with the boys, weird to the girls, and the pick of choice to the class bully for eight years before I begged to leave before my last year after N graduated (arguably a worse choice, as middle school was even more abusive; I got to choose between two equally oppressive schools, a lose-lose situation).

The next time I practiced bondage and the first time I experienced homosexual (technically speaking straight knowing I was girl all along) feelings was in middle school, where I went to an all boys catholic school. I was cut off from all feminine figures, including N who was a grade above me in the same pre/elementary school. In the midst of an enormous amount of ostracization and non-physical bullying (so as not to alarm the faculty) that started day one, I made a few friends second semester and a few more second year; after I got exposed to pornography by several students that got through the school’s internet filter or just talked very openly around my absorbent “I need to understand the sex that’s not my assigned” brain. I thankfully bullshitted my way out of a dicey situation because of my parent’s tech illiteracy when my mom caught me looking at porn, but she never stopped looking over my shoulder and was especially harsh about suppressing any sexual interests I expressed afterwards. I still never got a “bird and the bees” conversation from either of my parents, though. From what my mother bitched to me about her divorce from my father years later, I think I actually knew more than both of them about consensual sex at that point.

Three of my friends I question if I had feeling for, as they are three of the only “masc” people (mildly effeminate like myself at the time) I’ve made an emotional/intellectual connection with (the only other was a foreign friend in elementary school whose company I adored and was a welcome reprieve from the bullying, but he left quickly and well before I was mature enough to understand my feelings). One was my first friend (M, he/him) my counselor finally introduced me to, while the other two were a foreign pair of brothers (B, he/him, and his younger brother, C, he/him) I met in my second year.

M and I have a long and complex history: we made “joking” passes/flirts at each other (including some physical contact), he dated N in highschool and college (their breakup was more unpleasant than their relationship; M and I were roomates in the college dorms), and I “slept” with his then girlfriend (they had an open relationship) but couldn’t openly talk about it with either of them because I lived with N at the time and only saw them with her.

My relationship with B and C was a little simpler: they were both more sex/kink-positive because of their upbringing and helped me understand that my growing interests were healthy. What was less simple was that comfort brought about the three of us practicing bondage on each other. It was all for the sake of practice or the fun of it, but it no less increased my affections towards them and made it hurt more when they left.

High school was less eventful as I begged to go to a local public school (the bullies actually had different priorities and there was some LGBT+ acceptance, which I didn’t feel comfortable approaching). My “friends” abused my physical boundaries, though, and caused a lot of physical triggers I still have today. My home life was much less eventful: my parents announced between freshman and sophomore year that they were divorcing (not actually separating until my sister left for college my senior year) while I became the battleground for my parents’ (previously absent) affections. My mom confided in me they almost aborted N, how horrible her sex life with my dad was, finally “joked” that I was an accident and only took it back when she saw my reaction (I fully believe it after everything else my parents confided in me), and tried to ignore all the yelling/”passive aggression”/spanking/”belt whipping” (or threats to do so) she’d done before or continued to do; my dad was just as bad even if he wasn’t physical with his abuse. When I got together with my first girlfriend senior year, both my parents (ESPECIALLY my mom) were careful to watch our private habits and make sure we weren’t getting sexual (despite my gf being strictly catholic/chaste and ignoring/attacking any sexual advances after we were both were legal).

If you're wondering where the eating disorder part of my trigger warning comes in, my parents (along with ignoring/punishing any signs that I was effeminate/transfem/lesbian) ignored any food preferences I had. As late as 20 when I visited my mom in college, I was forced to eat foods that made me nauseous; my dad never cared or learned (which made it a little easier to pick around the stuff I didn’t like), but my mom intentionally pushed these boundaries. My most vivid memory was the last time my mother pushed this boundary: she put raw onions in my breakfast and explicitly said it didn’t have any; I threw up chewing the first bite and my mom finally got a little less invasive in putting some ingredients I hate in my food. It didn’t matter what my boundary was, though; they always pushed it to make me “right” in their eyes, and this gets reflected through MANY of my characters.

This all culminates in my college graduation; N and I shared an apartment for three years and we graduated together because she got held back for a year. I was tasked to hide N’s graduation present and my mother went looking for it the day of our graduation. Instead of asking where it was and finding it, she searched my closet, finally finding my kink stash which was less obviously hidden than the gift. There was a lot of rope, numerous sex toys, many implements, condoms, and “a funnel” that “forced” my mother to confide in my sister: was I gay or a rapist? After a very awkward conversation with N (reluctantly bringing up our “cops and robbers” games and other kink references in pop-culture we knew) my mother never brought it up again.

When I finally realized I was a transgender woman and a lesbian at 29, I only kept it from N for a few months before finally felt comfortable confiding in her. Her reaction was visceral, though, as she wasn’t the first person I told and she didn’t know how to process her “brother” becoming her sister, despite all the signs I tried to point out. I eventually came out to my mother (as my relationship with my father was absolutely wrecked a few years before) but she mourned the loss of “her son” and hardly made my sister change her ways. To this day, N is still the only one I’ve spoken to who’s been outright transphobic at every turn, even after several attempts to reach out, and I’m too afraid to really talk to any of my family after my “most accepting family member” keeps outright rejecting me.

It’s been over a year before I’ve spoken to any member of my birth/blood family and, if I’m being honest, it’s been the most accepting year of my life, despite all the hardships.

My past is filled with abuse (all less apparent compared to more explicit/”visibly physical” abuse), which is strongly reflected in my characters and their journeys. Extreme spoilers (even for those who’ve read my story through Chapter 14: The Sinful Tormentor) and know about Saoirse’s abuse from her father, but after Elva has her flashback in Chapter 11: Hellfire, Saoirse vomits/purges because of the intense fear she tastes when coming out of the memory of Elva’s grandmother being murdered and the abuse that came after. Saoirse is reminded of the fearful energy her father forced her to eat during her upbringing torturing rapists (per the traditional image of Hell I evoke), reflecting my own food issues from being forced to eat “normal” foods. Spoilers for Chapter 14, Saoirse’s encounter with her father was directly influenced by my coming out to my sister.

There’s more nuance than I can possibly explain in my writing (which only worsens the more I learn my own past relates to the narrative I’ve created); I only hope I can touch people enough that they can recognize the healthy/unhealthy behaviors I write about and keep it from perpetrating into their own lives. For your own sake, please only tolerate people who add benefit to your life; from my own experience, letting/keeping abusive or boundary-stomping figures have a say in your life will only hurt you, most especially in the long run when you try and process all they’ve done to you. Saying this, doing this, and processing the emotions that come with it are all completely different tasks with their own challenges, so please don’t get discouraged if you struggle like I do.

Take care of yourself, and if you follow my story, understand there’s pain to come but joy/acceptance as well.

With love, Alexandria

#lgbtq #lesbian #transgender #transgender woman #abuse #complex ptsd #eating disoder trigger warning #forced feeding #childhood trauma #bullying #transphobia #queerphobia #homophobia #trans issues #sex-negativity

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danoshanter · 10 months

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Perhaps someone who isn't such a Tublr noob can explain this one to me.

If I don't have any messages, then why in hell is there the number "1" next to my main blog in the list? I HAVE been on quite a few similar websites and that usually means you HAVE a message.

And if Tumblr works differently than the usual standard, why don't they tell you that right up front in a place where someone new to the site will know where to find it ... no, because if you don't know the issue is a problem you won't know you need to look for the information. It should be right up front in large letters in a screen you can't avoid looking at sometime during the process of signing up.

And if a certain troll thinks that my posting this still further confirms their opinion that I am "completely internet illiterate" and that reading my posts and replies "is like watching somebody talk english in china and expect to be understood" (and why do you want to insult the chinese by supposing they're as ignorant as you are and don't bother to learn other people's languages just because you're too arrogant to?), well, I really can't do anything further to rescue them from the pit of festering inbred stupidity and nastiness they seem to prefer to remain in;

when the ONLY thing I might have done to even close to deserve the flame - maybe - is to point out that all the people who were burbling on about Lot Lot Lot in a post where anyone who really knows the Bible story of Lot and Abraham would think it pretty obvious that it couldn't be a picture of Lot given the position and gestures of the individual involved, and must therefore be a picture of Abraham, are showing the Biblical illiteracy and ignorance that people who are actually IN the field are pretty well agreed is endemic in America. As the son of an Episcopal minister, I think I'm better qualified than you are to make that statement.

And as an autistic man, my brain maybe jumps around a little more than other people's. If what you don't like is my posting several replies as I think of things, that is showing still further how far you have your head up your ass that you don't even realize this is a disability issue and what an asshole you're being for shaming me for it on a public web site.

#confused #tumblr is weird #and please don't flame me again just because i'm asklng a question YOU consider obvious #still mad as hell

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ocbykamaete · 11 months

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COPPER | He/Him

copperkit | copperpaw | copperstrike

[Confident] [Competitive] [Determined] [Action-First] [Fickle] [Self-Centered]

➽ Skill Set

Strengths Tracking: Copperkit has a sensitive nose and he's fairly in tune with his other senses. In the nursery he occupies himself by sneaking up on other kits and stalking small bugs. He's currently trying to study pawprints, though so far he can only tell if they were made by a kitten, an apprentice or a warrior. Learning New Things: This kit always wants to be ahead of the curve and seeks out knowledge where he can. If a cat has something to teach him, he'll sit and learn it. He mostly thinks current warriors are the only ones who can teach him anything, as kits are too young to know anything, elders too old and queens are all busy taking care of kits. He's fairly quick at learning as well, which he takes pride in.

Weaknesses Emotional Illiteracy: Though Copperkit likes to talk (about himself) he doesn't like talking about his feelings or listening to other cats talk about their feelings. As far as he's concerned, the only emotions are bravery, admiration and rivalry. Scared of Water: Something that Copperkit tries very hard to keep under wraps is his fear of deep or moving water. Rain, puddles and shallow ponds are unnerving but he can mask his dislike. However, the mystery of deep ponds or lakes fills him with a numb sort of terror (what's under there?) and the inexhaustible movement of rivers and streams fill him with a sense of inadequacy (I'm not strong enough to swim in that, I'll get pulled under) Impatient: Copperkit doesn't have much patience, and botches timing on his jumps/(play)attacks. He tends to do things too fast versus too slowly, though occasionally he'll try and wait and end up waiting too long. He also has very little patience for other cats, and if they talk a lot about uninteresting things, take too long to do something or drag something out, he'll get frustrated and call them out on it or leave.

➽ Personality

As Copperkit grows and develops, his personality traits may rearrange or change. [Confident] Copperkit is very sure of his abilities and limits. Even if he overestimates, he projects confidence that he knows what he's doing and that faith should be put in him. He loves show boating and can be very annoying when talking himself up. He's rather assured that he's the best kit that ever walked and isn't afraid to vocalize that. [Competitive] Along with being confident, Copperkit loves challenging others to games and contests and play fights. It's an opportunity to show off his skills. He's not an ungrateful looser per se, but he does sulk and he becomes very self-loathing when he does as he sees it as a personal failure. He doesn't stay in these moods long however, before he decides to push himself harder to win next time. [Determined] There's not much that can keep him down. He'll drive on through and keep on going even if he's about to fall down because that's what he knows. If you beat him, you can be sure he'll come around later looking to prove himself, and if you beat him again he might even get off his high horse and ask to be taught. [Action First] Copperkit acts first, thinks later, which can often lead to regrets. Most often this applies to social interaction, which is his weak point. He enjoys the company of other cats, but his over confident, competitive personality can push others away. He likes to follow his instincts and leaves the deeper thinking and interpretation to more ... intellectual cats. Not that he's not smart, it's just not a trait he focuses on or values at the moment. [Fickle] Though he doesn't have a particularly short attention span (for a kit) Copperkit will easily flit from cat to cat, trying to befriend one and getting sidetracked by talking to another. If something more fascinating/important to him comes up, he has a tendency to leave others in a lurch. His feelings towards others is also fickle, especially at first. He may claim a cat is 'really cool and fun' one moment and 'a bit boring' later, once he's bored himself. [Self-Centered] As a kit, Copperkit thinks mostly of himself first. He's loyal to the Clan and all that, but on an interpersonal level he tends to focus on himself and his own goals. He takes kindness for granted and often doesn't show his appreciation.

✎﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍

SYMBOLISM & THEMES + Races & Competitions + Board Games + Snakes & Reptiles + Rivalries and Foils

#oc #original character #warrior cats #warrior cats oc #cat #feline #designed by: Em-pyre #copperstrike

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yundk · 6 years

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My weekends are actually pretty busy now, which is a drastic change of pace from just a couple of months back. On a typical Friday night, we’ll go out to grab a bite to eat and chill out after training, and Saturday or Sunday, we’ll regularly take day trips out of the city, our tradition being to Tela, the nearby Caribbean beach less than an hour away. I now understand why everyone vacations in the Caribbean islands – the first time I went to Tela, I approached the water as usual, and before lunging into the water, I braced myself to prepare for the impending chilliness that would inundate my body. I jump in for a mini-dive, guarded by that armor of bodily tension to bear the cold, but when the water washes over me, I realize that it was unnecessary. The water is warm and pleasantly refreshing from the get-go, a lovely surprise that never seems to cease to be one. I savor it every time I plop into the beach’s waters, even when it’s past midnight. That occasion was during, of course, Semana Santa, when we took night trips to Tela for a full night-to-dawn of dancing and reveling in the festivities of one of Honduras’ most popular Semana Santa party destinations. As this was my first spring break outing in the typical college style, it was quite a sight and experience for me: the boardwalk jam-packed with thousands of partygoers rambling about from bar to bar, club to club; the shore lined with make-shift tents, hammocks, or minimal blankets; and no shortage of music and alcohol. This was never really my kind of scene, but you know what? It was spring break, and we are young, wild, and free. All night we danced and partied and played the fool, and as the sun’s rays peered out from behind the mountains, we followed its rise back to El Progreso.

One thing that surprises me is how many people I’ve met here who do not know how to swim, considering that going to the beach, river, pool, balneario, and throwing oneself into the water seems to be the most popular weekend kick-back activity. It may be that swimming as a sport is virtually nonexistent here and that translates into how (un)regarded it is as a skill. This, compounded by the cycle of familial inexperience, where, like illiteracy, if there is no external institution to close the gap, the disparity simply rolls over to the next generation. Whatever the reason, I’ve found it handy whenever I go on trips to the waters with my kids from the school and the children’s home. Sometimes, I want to be away from the stormy splashes of the rowdy kids, and I drift away from the shore or the poolside and unwind in the stillness of the deep waters. Refreshed, I return to the kids and resume our horse-playing and them jumping and me catching and throwing them. I try to teach them how to swim and we run through some drills, making incremental strides of progress here and there. One day, they’ll swim better than me (which is actually not that hard to do). I take a pause, and upon looking around and seeing the dozens of laughing, boisterous kids and family members delighting in the simple pleasures of water, I smile to myself and to the crazy rascals to my side. I’m in Honduras, and this is a typical weekend for us.

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