#but dear GOD is it fucked up sometimes
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hi bia, I want to know your opinion re eddie cheating and latino culture/catholicism. I feel like in many ways a man cheating is something so normal in latin families (idk how this applies for latin people in the us but it's definitely a thing when living in latin america) and that's something that doesn't cause as much struggle with catholicism and "sin", as being queer does. I find it interesting how of course there's a loss that eddie thinks may happen if he cuts that last link to his religion connected to latino culture by coming out/coming to terms with his sexuality, that just doesn't seem to happen with other "sins"... idk if you've watched Brooklyn 99, but in there there's a Latina that comes out as bi to her parents and in the scene they basically tell her they'd rather she was dating someone married than admit that she was queer, and I feel like that's it, even tho I'm not sure eddie is aware of, he's falling into this (i believe) specific latino man stereotype where it's okay to do a lot of bad things, things maybe not accepted by the religion but unfortunately accepted by the culture, as long as you DON'T do the worst thing ever, which is being queer... idk if this makes sense lol, maybe it's not a thing lol, you dont have to post it I just dont have any other latino people i follow that may understand it, sorry
god, yeah, it's totally a thing. i grew up in texas but i was born and now live in latin america and this is so, so true. there are sins men are allowed to commit in latino communities because the sins are still "masculine". cheating on your girlfriend (they're not even married) is nothing. who cares. it still aligns with the misogyny that runs so rampant in latino culture. eddie sleeps with multiple women even though he has a girlfriend? oh, she wasn't enough him. she wasn't doing her job to keep him satisfied. it's a moral failing on her part, not his. and eddie's not that kind of guy, we know that, but this is all he learned growing up. it's very, very easy to fall back on the excuses you've heard a dozen times even when you know it's cruel. eddie dates two women at once and doesn't tell either of them? he's a firefighter, he's a single father, his life is stressful enough. let him have two women so when one gets high maintenance and irritating he can go to the other.
this is real! this is so real! it's so fucked up!
eddie breaks up with both marisol and not-shannon and gets with buck, though?
that'd be a problem. i have no doubt in mind eddie grew up hearing gay as an insult and faggot thrown around casually because homophobia is casual, not only in latino communities, but in the american south in general. he saw the way men who cheated would show up to mass with their wife against their side. her eyes were always so heartbroken, but that's something he's allowed. it's his right as a man. how can you fault his nature?
queerness is wrong, though. it's an abomination. you can't even confess to your sins because the church won't let you inside anymore. eddie can feel guilty for cheating on marisol all he wants, but guilt over something he's allowed is still better than bone deep shame over something he has not control over being.
and eddie's gonna hate himself for it! he's done so much to unlearn the worst parts of machismo, the parts that hurt him the most as a child, but god is it easy to fall back on when you need an excuse. his dad was absent most of his life growing up, but that's okay because he was providing. men don't sin for no reason. their wife isn't enough, they need to provide for their kids, their kids are a little too queer and need fixing. a heavy hand is better than an eternity in hell.
it's so complex. it's such a complicated relationship with himself, with religion, with being latino. god can judge him but how will he handle the judgment from his family. the church can hate him all they want but how is he supposed to handle the side eyes and whispers when he shows up to his high school friend's wedding and there's no plus one because it's either show up single or show up with a man.
men are allowed sin. men are allowed moral failing.
men are not allowed queerness.
and as much as eddie has been doing so much good work to unlearn that, the nasty, nails in your skin part of growing up latino are just as impossible to shed as the skin that covers your bones.
(also, yes, i did watch b99 and i remember that!)
#do not get me wrong i love being latino i love my culture and my people and my community i wouldn't change it for anything#but dear GOD is it fucked up sometimes#bia gets mail#anon#eddie diaz#eddie & latino culture#<- that's gonna be my new tag for this cuz i love talking about it bad
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狐と蛍の物語 (the story of the fox and the firefly)
harrison; 4,064 words; fluff and angst
a/n: for @violettduchess and @aquagirl1978's summer days, sultry nights event -- prompt "fireflies" (obviously); i'm also gonna say this counts for my 31 days of au prompt -- reincarnation!au; inspired by hotarubi no mori e and catheryn m valente's deathless
and honestly, i'm so proud and happy with this one that i'd encourage you to read it even if you have no idea of the fandom/character. u__u i would love, love, love to know what you guys think!
once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there lived a girl who only danced to the firefly’s light and a fox who could tell nothing but lies.
01.
for as long as you can remember, there’s always been the wood. and it has always been behind your house, it’s leaves and branches foreboding in the winter wind, and somehow less so in the simmer of mid-summer afternoons, when the sunlight dappled light across the soft, forest floor. it isn’t a very large wood, but it’s a wood nevertheless, and deserves all the respect and fear afforded to bigger woods in faraway places. woods that warn of teeth and terrors, woods that hide both dreams and monsters.
you’d been wandering the wood from when you were a little girl, and to you, there’s not a single rock you don’t know, a single tree you haven’t tried to climb. and the forest knows you, as forests do the people who frequent them, and it welcomes you with open arms, it cradles you to its chest, whispers stories into your ears, carves itself open to show you it’s secrets —
“you’re late.”
you crinkle your nose at the familiar voice, letting out a huffing breath as you drop your picnic basket in the middle of the small, sun-lit clearing, taking your time with laying out the checked picnic blanket and two cups and saucers for tea, and finally, pulling out a tray of confections, covered by a thin, linen baking towel.
“no, i’m not! you just want me to think i am so i’ll give you more than half of the sweets.”
a boy settles over the picnic blanket, cocking his head at you before you narrow your eyes.
“well? isn’t that true?”
“ahh… i wonder if it is…” he says, but you can hear the grin in his voice, even through the material of his fox-faced mask, which, after a few more seconds of posturing, he pushes up onto his forehead. he shakes out his milk-tea hair and slates you a poison-ivy grin. you know that grin like you know the woods— and you know the woods like you know the backs of your own hands. better, even, you think sometimes.
because for as long as there’s been the woods, and as long as you have wandered it’s depths, the boy with the fox-faced mask has always been there.
“there were fresh strawberries at farmer’s market today,” you say, setting up the tea service as you nudge the opened picnic basket towards the boy with a foot. he peers in with wide, curious eyes before letting out a soft noise of contentment as he reaches in to pull out a slice of freshly baked strawberry cream cake.
“your grandmama makes the best pastries in the world,” he says, and there’s such sincerity in his voice that for a moment, you almost believe him.
but you nod and take the compliment in stride, “she sure does!”
he digs in with gusto even when you tut that the tea hasn’t steeped properly, but you laugh as he smears a large dollop of whipped cream across his cheeks. you point it out to him with a dainty finger, and as always, you fight the urge to reach over and wipe it off for him. instead, you hold yourself still and sigh as he finally gets to it, smudging a bit into his hair in the process.
“clumsy fox,” you giggle, pressing a hand up to your lips.
“picky girl,” he snipes back, but there’s that full, sated grin on his own lips as he leans back, his elbows propped up on the soft grasses of the clearing.
after a moment of pleasant silence during which the leaves sang on their trees and the grasses swayed beneath the breeze, the boy turns towards you.
“so. no dancing today?”
you turn your head towards him before casting your eyes up towards the still bright blue sky.
“you know it’s not time yet.”
the boy heaves a melodramatic sigh, sound much bigger and larger than his 14-year old body should be able to hold.
“ah… right, right — because you can —”
“— only dance by the fireflies’ light — yep!”
the boy regards you with an imperious sort of look before breaking into a fit of bright, open laughter.
“you’re the strangest girl i’ve ever met!”
“just you saying that tells me it’s not true,” you stick out your tongue at him, even as heat washes up into your cheeks.
the boy shrugs, lying back down on the picnic basket, “i don’t always have to lie, y’know.”
and it’s your turn to regard him with the imperious look, and, a the cock of a singular eyebrow, his lips tug into a lopsided grin. his eyes flash, the color of budding spring.
“liar,” you say, but you’re smiling too as you lie back down to watch the clouds pass.
he makes no sound to correct you.
02.
once, you’d asked him what his name is and he simply shook his head and said —
“call me whatever you’d like.”
“but i want to call you by your name.”
“what’s in a name anyway?”
“uhm… nothing’s in it but…” you’d frowned then, your eight year old mind spinning to try and catch up with this strange, strange question and this strange, strange boy.
“see? so why should it matter what my name is? just… call me whatever!”
but you’d only frowned hard enough for him to roll his eyes.
“fine then — uhm — what’s the name of the current prince?”
you’d blinked, “harry.”
“then call me that.”
“but is that your name?”
“well, now it is.”
you hadn’t been convinced but you liked it better than not calling him anything at all.
“harry, then,” you’d said, smiling. and the boy — harry — had smiled too, slipping his fox-faced mask back in place as he led you further into the forest.
03.
“y’know…” harry says, his voice light as the sun dips beneath the horizon line, leaving behind a blaze of reds and pinks. you turn your head, eyes catching on the shape of him, inked out against the dying light.
“you’re the only person i’ve ever met who’s wanted to be cursed.”
you take a long breath and turn your eyes back up to the bleeding sky.
“well. you’re cursed, and you seem just fine to me,” you try to keep your voice strong, resolute and steady. grandmama had always said that if you keep your voice strong, people are more willing to believe your words. you wonder if that’s why harry’s voice is always soft, always lilting, his words slippery as moss-covered stone.
“yeah, but you can’t even touch me,” he says, and for once, his voice is harsh, his words sharp and hard as broken glass.
“that’s okay though — once i get my own curse, i’ll be able to touch you, right?”
harry fights back the urge to turn, to take you by the shoulders and shake you till you push him away. he wants to scream, to howl at the moon like the mother wolves and the hungry cubs that live in the heart of the wood. he wants to run through the woods, crash into things, climb up the trees and shake off all their branching leaves.
but he can’t, and so he doesn’t.
instead, he turns to look at you and look at you and look at you.
he wonders if it’s a strange thing, to like looking at someone so much, to find something new about a face every single time it’s looked upon — the wisps of hair fallen loose to frame your face from the velvet ribbons holding it back, the curve of your button nose, the dip of your cupid’s bow. he wonders if this is a normal thing, the thick weight of it in this chest, the truth of his curse sitting heavy on his tongue.
“yeah… probably,” he says — and the lie is smooth as milk, sweet as just-spun sugar.
“good. then we won’t have long to wait, hm?”
04.
there’s a story, so you’ve been told, of a fox that lives in the woods — and the fox can tell nothing but lies, lest the truth cut open it’s throat. and when it bleeds, because even monsters bleed (oh especially monsters), it will bleed in blue and silver, which everyone knows is the color of magic.
“but why would telling the truth kill it?” you’d asked, your eyes wide and round as the full-bellied moon.
your grandmama had sighed, rocking you in her lap as the forest outside shivers and shakes with the steps and breaths of creatures unseen.
“that’s what curses do, my sweetest… they’re unfair things, they are. and they don’t like to make a lot of sense.”
and that had been that. she’d moved onto a nicer story, a sweeter story, a story that was not so much truth and mostly lies — because the truth, as your grandmama had said, is sharp and unfair and makes so very little sense.
lies are much, much the better for the makings of stories.
05.
he has never complimented you on your dancing, not even once — not in all the years you’ve been dancing for him, by the light of a million and one fireflies.
you’d been eight when you made the promise, it’s been ten years since then.
and at eighteen, you wonder how many more years it’ll be before the moon or the forest or whatever it is that chooses people to curse will take pity on you.
it’s just after sunset, and you’d just finished your customary sunday afternoon picnic. harry is sprawled out on the picnic blanket, his fox-faced mask lying in the soft, long grasses, an arm thrown over his eyes. you wonder if he’s asleep, though you don’t think you’ve ever seen him fall asleep, not in all the time you’ve known him.
“music, please…” you announce to the clearing, and after a long pause, as if the forest itself is coming to life, the wind picks up — the leaves rustle on their branches, the birds sweep up into a twitter wingbeats and song, the grasses around the clearing hish and hush the thrumming baseline to a music that only you and harry and the forest can hear.
slowly, harry pushes himself up, making a show of rubbing his eyes, and in the darkness you can only see the shape of him.
you don’t see the prickle of tears at the edge of his eyes as he wipes them away.
instead, you close your own eyes and wait.
and wait.
and then — at the first flicker of a firefly’s light, you lift your hands and start to dance.
06.
once, you’d asked him how he’d gotten cursed in the first place.
“it’s a long story,” he’d said.
“i’ve got a long time,” you countered.
he’d crinkled his nose, pursing his lips as the pair of you hopped over a narrow stream, him watching as you teetered on the edge of the water.
“hm… well, if you do something a ton of times in the wood… the wood decides that that’s all your good for, and it becomes your curse!”
you’d blinked up at him from over your shoulder, a soft smear of mud on your cheeks.
“oh… it’s that easy?”
“easy?”
“i mean, to get a curse.”
he’d narrowed his eyes, “why would you want a curse?”
you’d straightened up, pressing your palms down your rather sullied dress.
“because — you said that i can’t touch you cause i’m human, right?”
“uh-huh…” harry had nodded, uncertain of where your child-logic had taken you.
“but other cursed things can touch you, right? like the wolves and the shadows and the queen of ravens.”
harry bit his lips. but you seemed to have taken his silence for consent and happily skipped off further into the forest. he’d never corrected you even as he heaved another world-weary sigh and followed after you. because technically, you hadn’t been totally wrong.
and his curse was only that he couldn’t correct you.
07.
your mind wanders as you begin to dance, and these days, it’s been doing a lot of that — wandering. so your grandmama says that it’s a part of growing up — learning when to let your mind wander and when to reign it back in, hold it on a tighter leash and tell it to wander no more. it’s a blessing to be able to let your mind wander, and so you do.
it’s just that these days, you can’t help but notice that it’s less of wandering and more of… well, a straight-shot descent to a well-known destination. and you know from a whole childhood of actual wandering that if you know the way and you know what you’ll find at the end, then it’s not wandering at all.
it’s just going.
but still, you let your mind go where it wants, and lately, it’s been going and going and going... to harry.
harry and his soul-soft laughter, harry and his knife-edge smiles, harry and his loose, lethargic movements, unhurried and always so certain. back when you were both still children, he’d led you through the forest with nothing but his voice, spouting out random facts that were much too outlandish to be true, and later, when you were both a bit older (and you’d long since memorized every bit of forest there was to memorize), he’d walk alongside you in companionable silence.
you knew his favorite trees, his favorite flowers, his favorite birds and colors, his favorite season, his favorite sweet, his favorite fruit and so many others.
and still, it feels as if you don’t know him at all, even though you’re certain he knows everything there is to know about you.
except…
you spin out on the long grasses, the light of a million and one fireflies dancing across your skin, dancing with you, singing with you as the forest does. and above you, a crescent moon cuts a sinister smile into a lonely, starless night.
years later, you’d wonder if the night had known — if the wood had known (of course, of course it had known, because there are no secrets the woods do not know, no secrets the waning moon doesn’t keep from the sleeping earth), if the entire world had conspired against you and for you that night.
when you finish dancing and the last of the fireflies flicker down to rest on the long, soft grasses, you’re breathless with exertion, luminous with exaltation and drunk on the song of the forest and a million and one lightless stars.
in the middle of the clearing, harry is smiling, you can see it even from here, and for the first time since you’d danced for him the very first time, he brings his hands together and claps.
“that was… beautiful,” he says, and his voice is deeper now, supple and sweet with the night air.
“th-thanks! phew — i really think that might do it,” you say, plopping down on the picnic blanket next to him, spreading wide your arms and staring up at the velveteen sky above you.
08.
once, you’d been told another story, though you don’t quite recall who you’d heard it from. maybe your grandmama, and maybe the old man who sits in the village square after all the longest days of the year, smoking his pipe and telling his stories.
“do you know why the cursed forest creatures can’t touch humans?”
“why?” a village boy had asked before you had the chance to.
“because… if a cursed creature touches human flesh, the cursed creature will die.”
“oh…” you said, clutching your hands to your chest, and you’d never really thought about dying. because really, what ten year old in their right mind would? but you knew of the concept from when grandmama talked about grandpapa — how he was there one day and then the next day he just… wasn’t.
“he died in his sleep,” she’d said, a tone of sadness in her voice that you’d never heard there before and wished you’d never have to hear again, “it was the best way to go.”
you’d wondered then if there’s really such thing as a “best” way to go. wouldn't the “best” thing to be not going at all?
“then… do the cursed creatures get to live forever?” you asked, before the village boy could cut in.
the old man took a long sip from his pipe and blew out a few concentric rings of smokes before coughing and waving it all away.
“no… you see, if the cursed creatures get to pass on their curses, they’d get to be reincarnated into being a human once more.”
09.
“do you… really want to be cursed?” harry asks as the pair of you share in the silence after your dance.
you suck in a long breath before pushing yourself up to sit in front of him, careful to keep your knees from bumping his.
“of course i do! it’s… it’s what i’ve been trying to do since i was like — eight!”
“but… why?” and harry’s voice is small, smaller than you’ve ever heard it, even though now, his eighteen year old body should carry a much heavier, harder sound.
“because,” you say, resolute as you’d always been, “once i’m cursed, i’ll be able to touch you.”
“and why… is that so important to you?”
harry casts his eyes towards you; you catch his gaze with yours, holding it steady. and in that moment, you mind lets go of the story that the old man told you. because it was a long time ago, and the story was so, so far away. and sometimes, the mind chooses which truths it wants to listen to, which truths it wants to believe in.
sometimes, it chooses truths that don’t look like truths from the outside in, but from the inside out — they’re the truest things to ever be true.
like this one —
“because i want to touch you. because… it’s what i’ve wanted since i was a little girl. because… sometimes, i think i want to do more than touch you — sometimes —” your voice catches on a hitched breath, lost somewhere in your chest, somewhere between your heart and your throat.
but then, darkness descends over your vision and it takes you a long moment to realize that you’re staring at the inside of a mask, thin but solid — the fox-faced mask that harry always wears.
and then pressure, and warmth, right where the fox’s dagger-carved grin usually is, so close to your own lips you can feel the heat.
it holds for a long, long moment, and then it’s gone.
the light returns as harry tugs the mask from you, grinning that teasing, lopsided grin of his, though there’s something about it tonight that makes your heart seize.
“tell me, one more time…” he says, and his voice is jagged with something that sounds painful and true and so, so terrible.
“i — i want the curse…” you say, before you really realize what you’re saying, and it takes you a moment to realize that this too, is the truth.
“okay then… it’s yours.”
and he leans in to press his lips to yours.
the truth, harry realizes, is always bitter, and harsh, and much too sharp. when he pulls back, he presses his palms to yours and lets the moon wash the clearing in blue and silver. you gasp as you feel the magic creeping into your bones, tugging you under, dragging you through the cracks in the world even as harry is tugged away from you back to the world of the living.
“w-was this all a lie?” you ask, because inside you, your heart is fighting for it’s last few beats.
“no,” harry says, his voice is pained, and his expression even more so, because every truth he tells cuts him a little deeper, and he feels his throat constrict over the words, “your dance really was beautiful… and…”
he swallows hard, feeling the knife-edge of this one final truth slicing through him, sharp as moonlight, sweet as the lightless stars.
“i love you. please… don’t forget me.”
and already, you can feel the truth starting to hurt, starting to constrict inside you like a curse. but still, you force it from you as harry flickers and fades along with the light of a million and one firefly lights.
“i — i won’t.”
10.
“but how exactly do you transfer a curse?” the village boy asked, his voice loud and jarring.
the old man takes another long sip of his pipe, puffs out a few more smoke rings.
“through a kiss,” he said.
you blinked. a kiss?
“ew!” the village boy recoiled then, shrinking back from the thought of kissing — because that’s what children are taught to do at such grown-up concepts as kissing.
you, on the other hand, you stayed right where you are, but a frown has creased your tiny, child-like brow.
“and the trick,” the old man continues, his smile going wide and a little lascivious, “is getting someone who will take their curse willingly… to accept the kiss.”
01.
for as long as harry can remember, there has always been the wood. and in the wood, there’s always been a girl with a fox-painted mask who danced to the light of the fireflies.
once, when he’d gone exploring (even though his grandpapa had warned him time and time again about going into the wood by himself), he’d nearly run into her and she’d cocked her head when he’d fallen face-first near the bank of a tiny stream, smearing mud across his cheeks.
“you’re strange little boy,” the girl said — and she could be no more than his age, harry thinks.
“and you’re a weird little girl,” he counters, his eyes catching on the bright red of the fox’s painted mouth.
there is magic at work here, harry knows, though he doesn’t know what kind, and all he really wants is to explore the woods behind his house, to know all there is to know of the world, and perhaps — he thinks as you turn and make your way deeper into the forest — to one day hold the hand of the girl with the fox-faced mask.
but that’s a wish for another day, he decides as he follows after you, jogging to catch up and ask for your name.
“ah… what’s in name,” you say, you voice light and languid, even as he frowns, “you can call me whatever you like.”
02.
once, harry had asked his grandpapa what the truest feeling in the whole wide world is.
and his grandpapa had answered —
“that, harry, would be falling in love…”
“falling in love?”
“yes, my dear boy — and the thing about love is that it’s like a curse… but it’s also like a blessing.”
“but… how can a thing be a curse and a blessing?”
then, his grandpapa had smiled, a smile that is starlight and wolfsong and all the secrets the forest ever has to tell.
“because we are doomed to always, always fall in love, my boy — and it will always, always be like handing someone and knife and asking them to cut open your throat.”
#harrison gray#ikemen villains#ikevil#ikevil harrison x reader#ikevil harrison#harrison gray x reader#ikemen series#summer days sultry nights ccc#angst mcgee#floofy floof floof#uHM i refused to apologize hoLY shit you guys i fucking adore this story.#fUCK goddamnit i am so high rn on having written this u__u but like PLS dear god tell me what you thought i have SO MANY THOUGHTS AS WELL#here are some concepts that i rly fucking adored: the ease of lies and the difficulties and harshness of truths#the fact that loving someone will always be the most painful thing you'll ever do#and that sometimes a thing can both be a lie and a truth -- or a lie that becomes the truth#and GOD it is not a sin to want things because sometimes the world wants us to want things that we shouldn't want#and sometimes the world wants us to want things because there are stories carved into the grooves of the world#stories so old that the world would end before it stopped telling these stories and children have been getting lost in the woods#since the inception of humanity itself u__u and that's a story that always needs to be told#because isn't that what growing up is about? the realization that not all truths are true and not all lies are all the way lies#and that most things actually live in between? uGH#anyway u__u im emotional and tired#pls read this <3
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mini rant sorry
#i just find the entire experience of trying to find images on pinterest so fucking frustrating#for the most basic things#it's always the thin pretty white girls like you type in xyz aesthetic and BOOM! white girl#but what if i don't want to use that jfccccc why do i have to scroll and search for hours just to find one image i might like#and you type in xyz aesthetic brown girl#AND GUESS WHAT SHOWS UP#WHITE GIRLS WITH A SPRAY TAN#????????????#pinterest you are so frustrating to me sometimes like it's a nightmare trying to find images for a reader insert fic dear god#personal posts
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i often find myself questioning reality and i'm thinking that maybe people shouldn't let their 8 year olds watch The Truman Show (1998) because it might actually create lasting psychological damage
#anyone else see The Truman Show as a kid and still catch themselves wondering if the entire world is a Set Up or nah?? 👀#like i know it's a pretty narcissistic concept to believe the entire world revolves around you lmao but i mean. the paranoia sometimes...#i genuinely 100% blame that movie for this#like i actually think that if i'd never seen that movie then i would just dilly dally on my way through life#never questioning the very fabric of my existence#...i mean realizing that christianity was bullshit might've still ended up doing a number on me#but like. HELL what if watching that movie opened my brain up to be ABLE to consider that my concept of reality (in which YAHWEH is real)#was actually bullshit. and i needed that movie in order to be able to eventually break free from the bullshit.#who knows lmao#but dear god... the other day i was driving#and i noticed that most of the cars would like. ease off the brakes jUST BEFORE the light turned green. like they KNEW.#and logically i'm like. 'that is because they are watching the cross traffic slow down and anticipating their turn.'#but Truman Syndrome Brain was like 'THEY HAVE CUES. THE DIRECTOR IS TELLING THEM TO GET READY TO GO.'#which is dumb bc if i were running a large scale program and had actors driving around i'd just tell them to follow the basic traffic rules#but ya know. the 'Truman Syndrome' or 'Truman Show Delusion' is a legit thing. there's a Wikipedia article on it. lmao#that shit done fucked some of us up :|#unreality#unreality tw#my posts#ramblings#my life is not nearly interesting enough to warrant a tv show#...but then again neither was Truman's. which was the point.
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#mica rambles#yknow how sometimes you can tell youre about to get really obsessed with something and its going to consume you for the next weeks to come?#currently feeling that way about kanata#i knew from DAY ONE that this was coming. he literally checks all the boxes for me to be unhinged about him#(silly guy with fucked up backstory. isolation. the Sea. disconnection from his humanity. weird relationship with god)#and the only reason ive managed to avoid it til now is bc ryuuseitai went completely over my head when i first started playing the game#could not have been less interested about them#but now that im more invested in the story and every unit.. dear gods help me for whats to come#i really hope im going to be wrong about this i cant afford to produce someone else oTL knights already drain my savings enough PLS
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((dear god i'm so tired))
#squirrel speaks#it sounds like walking. but it's MUCH too constant#and sometimes it's interrupted by a loud thud as if they had dropped something heavy#or slammed a cabinet door shut#dear god i have not had a full night's sleep because of them in weeks#i've gone up to complain to them. they're denying everything#i know they're lying. i KNOW they are.#i complained to the landlord. the superintendent. even our other neighbors can tell and feel it.#they too are complaining about it.#nothing is happening#how the fuck can someone be so equally bloody LOUD at 10 am 5 pm#AND ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE NIGHT#TILL 3 IN THE BLOODY MORNING#ONLY TO START AGAIN AT 6 AM#I have already started to sleep with earplugs in but i can FEEL THE BED VIBRATING#i want to cry i genuinely do#it JUST doesn't hit the decibel threshold for us to be able to submit an official noise complaint#i am never moving lower than the top floor of a building again#never ever ever ever
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after a billion yrs i added a lil line about my gbf verse.....<3 one day i might flesh it out to something in-universe, but since gbf is so "oh ure from another world? ya that happens..." i....am gonna keep w that..........(also cuz i do think discussing the different ways of magic, moon-enemy & this n that is more fun like this
#stardust speaking !#i do wanna write but im unsure when ill do so#anyway i need to talk abut that one 1.5 moment with that weird car horn sfx after murrs fancy speech cuz i#was thinking about it again due to one of the descriptions in the alterego event#i still didnt check the website btw is it available info why snows adult and whites a kid or is that a waiting game cuz#that.....#sometimes when i think abuot paradoxroid i think about them. that one was fkd up#snow&white r so fascinating to me#snow & white & figaro & oz are even more fascinating#oz who only started learning abut the world because arthur asked things about the world.................#oz who made arthur pancakes.................................#they make me ill. figaro feels like he should be the most welladapted cuz in some ways he IS. guy who lies about his power and age and love#humans and that one offhand line in 2nd anni about how he has cared for kids!??!? dude i need to reread 2nd anni did that ever get brought#up again#but figaro & love is................guy who leaves when he thinks he isnt loved anymore#<-guy who was taught by snow&white who valued e/o the most#2nd anni makes me lose my mind. figaro and fausts convo. both who felt like it was the other who left LIKE FIGAROS SURPRISE WAS UNREEEAAALL#somethings deeply wrong with him i am so intrigued#i need to go reread his pt2 parts like what the actual hell dude#the mental gymnastics he does in one part is ? id like to study u and the twins under a microscope#this is all shallowly/casually speaking about it btw theres a lot of things left&right about all of these topics that makes them very yummy#i think what gets me the most about pt2 is that a lot of it is things that we alrdy knew regarding characters feelings etc. such as figaro#but seeing them say it themself makes me faint#OH MY GOOODDDDDD THE FLASHBACK CONVO WITH OZ AND FIGARO? ABOUT WOULD U SAVE THE PERSON U LOVE OR THE WORLD#AND HOW FIGARO ENDS UP FALTERING DEAR LOOOOORRRDDDDDDDDDDDDD#fucked up family (affectionate)#i need to think of modern aus again i thought about arthur calling snow & white granpa for one second and everything hrut#ok im sorry i dont know what possessed me. i promise ill be rereading stuff soon#one more thing. fausts part in pt2. god. but in this cursed world the sage trusted me...
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If Post-COIE/Pre-Zero Hour Batman found a broken time travel device, re-made it, traveled through the time stream to a few minutes before his parents were murdered, stopped Chill from killing them by violently punching the thug, but not killing him, went back to the time stream before he vanishes and ended up in a different present time line than the one he'd existed in (with another Bruce there), what would the Dark Knight do next? Btw, this scenario takes place shortly after Batman: Year One.
Watch his parents die as an adult instead, if it's the new timeline created by stopping Chill. His family line is cursed thanks to him, remember, and curses cannot be dodged so easily.
Before we argue the pre vs post and whether or not that would negate the curse, the curse has always been on the Wayne bloodline ever since Anna put it there, regardless of whether or not Bruce had gone back in time yet. Considering the rule of paradoxes, he's already gone back in time because he always will do it/has done it/is destined to do it.
Now in the event that he jumped to a different timeline entirely; if it's year one Batman and current Batman Year One Batman would absolutely try to punch him in the face.
He would lose, of course, but he would try.
After that, Year One Batman...hmm.....
I dunno. I don't really like him, so I never really got into his story. When people tell me year one, I tend to think irl chronologically. But like, legit "Year One" Batman was way too edgelord for me.
I think Jason would love to have a go at him, though.
Only one person may hold the crown of supreme edgelord, after all.
#asks#like batman is edgy all the time#but year one batman was a whole other level#“i know pain. i know pain. and sometimes...i share it with people like you.”#bro what the fuck#like tell me which batkid wouldn't kick the shit out of him#or try to#if he spoke like that#like even damian would be annoyed#“father please cease that drivel at once. Todd is enough.”#todd went through all the trouble to making an exact replica of his old robin suit to wear under his new get up#all to prove a point#jason won edgelord supreme guys#steph and dick would absolutely just tell him to his face to go see a therapist#current bruce would be hiding in shame#like when u find that old OC u wrote when u were thirteen#and u immediately delete the files because dear god why#anyways original batman for the win#the fucking turn from “sometimes i share it with people like you” to batman kicking two police officers in the face and parkouring#out of a window while shouting “i'm not getting arrested today chums!” is fucking wild#very first issue he did that#that's my year one batman y'all#kick cops in the face and parkour away#go batman go
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hi if u know me DONT FACKING READ THE TAGS I need to shout into the void ok? love you. have a puppy picture
#vent in tags#……………………………………………………….#…………………..……………………………………………#…………………………………………………………………………….#ok . GOD i fuckcdd up bad *head in hands* guess what idiot !!! you were living in a false anxiety fueled reality for god knows how long and#now you’ve gone and rocked the boat in about the messiest way you could have#and now all you want is for it to go back to normal? come onnnnn dude#you can’t get all weepy and clingy and crawl back when it was YOU WHO SUGGESTED A [REDACTED] YOU FUCKING ASSHOLEEEE#dear lord. get your shit together man#sometimes you are the problem . go look in the mirror and internalize this instead of biting off the head of someone you love bc you’re#convinced you’ll always have the moral high ground . dear fucking god#when is everyone going to#finally wake up to the type of person you are . that you’re not always the sweet little lamb#including you#(note; the ‘you’ in all of these is me)#Gwuh. deleting this later I just needed to shout into the void sorry
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bluh 7.30 rn and i need to go to bed but how can i go to sleep when i just had that experience at the bus stop fhfjfh
#you think people are weird only at night?#WRONG#6am dude was being a fucken weirdo and. larping??? as someoen of indigenous american descendant???#like he was veing a fucken racist charicature and claiming the he was the creator and some cheif and speaking in what sounded like a very??#butchered?? spanish???#i could be wrong yk like my knowledge of languages isnt as expansive as i maybe want to be#he was also rmabling about the bible too??#and something about how we tell our true ages is wrong???#indont remember what he fully said this was over and hour ago now but like???#also rambled about how his true eye colour is on a different spectrum???#and then when i got on the bus he apparently was getting on the same one as me#and usually yk i look up briefly if someoen walks past me just as a general see if their approaching me specifically#bc it happens sometimes someone needs help#motherfucker looked at me and said something in what was probably actually a vastly incorrect indigenous american language#no idea what he said but he was definitely trying to get my attention like he was at the bust stop when he very loudly said good morning to#me (i just nodded at him lol. i just got off of work im not in the mood to interact unless someone needs directions)#(i ignored him when he spoke to me on the bus lol dont worry)#BUT THEN THIS FUCKER SITS IN THE BACK AND STARTS. LIKE STOMPING AND CHANTING AND JUST. BEING A STUPID FUCKING RACIST CHARICYATURE AGAIN#AND THEN#AND FUCKEN THEN DEAR GODS THIS DUDE#has the gall to start pestering some poor sap who happened to sit too close to him about jow the cdc is bullshit and how he himself is the#cheif of medicine or what have you of the state i live in#i just??#gods i need a drink after this morning dude#i dont normally mind if someone is being loud and disruptive#i tune it out and its bound to happen takin public transportation. its kinda whatever. thats their business#but this shit took the fucken cake dude what the fuck#anywyas good morning lol i guess#tldr i had the displeasure of dealing with a freakazoid racist at the bus stop this morning after work
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hope you guys know that i could not give less of a shit. on that note please give me attention until i cannot breathe i want that shit like an anvil to the cranium.
#🌫️#it’s 11:30 at night and i’m feeling so so lonely#my best friend has not texted me or been in my notifs for ten days and i miss her so much :[[#i probably did something stupid and fucked up#i fucking hate myself dear god#i’ll probably be deleting this post sometime soon.#i’m not a good person. i do not deserve this.#but here comes time anyways. that son of a bitch.
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you know i mentioned last night that i realized only *after* i started rereading david copperfield that since i recently became an aunt, i was gonna see the story from a whole new angle and start relating more to betsey trotwood. i didn't even think about how at salem house i was gonna be poor mr. mell...
#i mean i didnt really think about mr. mell much because he's more of a minor character#he doesnt come back throughout david's life like steerforth or traddles or emily or agnes or#or or or all these other dozen major characters#in fact i only think of salem house as a minor part of the book. the shit we gotta get through to get to aunt betsey again#in a sense i cant wait to be done with it again#but oh my god reading about the rowdy schoolroom and how he's hardly managing to handle his stress#MEEEEE!!!!!! ME AN EDUCATOR#diana rereads david copperfield#literally just let me fucking play my flute badly in peace#you know i really have grown up a lot in the past 5 years bc all the adults used to just be caricatures to me#in the sense that all of dickens' characters are kind of caricatures. theyre exaggerated and silly#whether theyre supposed to be archetypal good or bad people.#because the way dickens uses hyperbole. sometimes it's just too true!#like the assholery of steerforth. how disingenuous but charming and persuasive he can be#that is SO true to how it feels to look up to older people as a young child. david copperfield's yielding to him is so realistic#david copperfield's own childish innocence throughout the early chapters seems comical but is emotionally true to how childhood feels.#these were the parts of the novel that resonated with me very deeply at 19. and they still do#but oh now. now i understand the position of the working adults. especially since i work w kids now how different it all feels.#and have worked w kids for several years too. but only about a year after reading dc. actually almost 2 years#im one of the bumbling incompetent adults. oh dear. oh lord.
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super busy but hi i miss ffxiv i played again today raghh happy 10th anniv the rising event makes me cry i love ffxiv :(( but anyway! bg3 thoughts in tags!
#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#meow :3#my approval w shadowheart is so high lol ... she & my tav are a couple. of bestiesss <3#astarion is amazing bcs i got bit the 2nd fucking night of playing and just before that too lae'zel wanted to get in my pants#IT'S AMAZING what the first cutscene i got for long rest was wyll already turning into a devil bcs i had all origin charas alrdy#and then after that ?? astarion bite scene. he didn't even talk abt the stars anymore or whatever he just jumped straight to biting my tav#oh my god and lae'zel wanted to get it on w my tav SOOO badly ... her dialog is so funny i love her#anyway :3 my tav is a slowburn w astarion but they r fr getting there. sometimes rising sometimes going down but it's been rising more#lately and teehee <3 my tav also thinks karlach is the sweetest and ADORES her. you can see him making soft heart eyes at her always.#also got the learning magic moment w gale and god it's so dangerous for me to get gale cutscenes tbh bcs i'm trying not to favorite him here#he has. what. stuff w magic and stars. shut up. i can't handle that rn or i'll fall in love LMFAO <3#wyll ..... i don't use him in my party good gods and he Still remains the character i know the least even tho i know him a lot more now#but i REALLY like him. i would say he's my 3rd fav after karlach who is after astarion but so are shadowheart and gale and lae'zel... so.#i'm. not forgetting anyone right#but yeah basically all of them r my favs <3 and my tav gets along w all of em p well tbh#he's a good nice person but chaotic (he's my bard baby boy <3) so it's REALLY fun playing bg3 w him as my tav ... apollo my dear#i should make an elf oc named emil. give him brown hair. be even more self-indulgent thru making more & more charas.#btw i saw a painting of apollo online today. as in the god. and almost cried (positively) bcs my tav named apollo looked so similar#amazingly w the slightly curly hair blah blah blah and the general colors. apollo just. generally means a lot to me ok. anything w apollo.
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one more day. One more day of testing and having to do thing and then i can sit down and think and write for 12 days straight. One more day. Only one more day.
#sitting here going wild#i need to make that proper post about mike representing hope so people get it#like im so fucking serious that is his role in the show#he is the hope. he is the leader he’s the light at the end of the tunnel he pushes people up the ladder#he looks to his left and to his right and he sees the beauty in the people around him#i HAVE to talk about it i cannot keep mildly including it in small posts#he IS the hope I DONT CARE !!!! I don’t care.#also desperately need to talk about the stuff with victor and lonnie’s guns#i really need to finish that overkill lyrical analysis explaining mike’s trance#i have the goal of hopefully having a full draft of the religious imagery analysis done by the end of break but maybe if i work fast…#there’s so much and ive been seeing more people talk about it and sometimes I am like YES and sometimes i am like oh dear god no#also it’s just something i need to get out of my head#im having a hard time getting all the pieces to fit#bc i don’t think it’s a 1:1 parallel type thing#i think multiple characters are multiple things
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i had to collage them bc tumblr kept rotating them and i was so close to deleting my entire blog out of anger.
but anyway!! i met them and i DID cry a little. they also all asked if my name was irish and i just,,, no i’m just gay, sir.
i also met this little guy. i miss him.
#━━ ❛ clown hours : ooc.#okay last ooc now FOR SURE#i'll clean my blog up tomorrow sometime bc dear god#but but but#it was so fun#robin was so sweet and talking to people for so long. he said he loved my hair#a riddler cosplayed went in for a photo with him and he said 'hello old friend' to them#and idk about them but i would have passed away if it were me#hope they're okay now#david was so chill. he just did whatever#a jerome cosplayed wanted a photo of them doing the mirror punch fest scene#and he just got on the ground and did it#cameron was so sweet and his favourite is jerome#so to the jeremiah likers. get FUCKED#i say that as if i don't love jeremiah#jerome is 100% love and jeremiah is 98%#anyway it was fun and i'd go again if they were going#but i'm kicking and screaming and crying into my pillow that corey wasn't there#could have had him sign the os/ed picture. would have made me so happy#okay i'm actually don#e#i feel a little feral rn. but watch ever ounce of personality get sucked outta me the moment i go back to class tomorrow lmao
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WAOT A GODDAMN SECOND. i forgot people can enjoy me
#sorry if i have ever clammed up when you notice something about me#its called in my experience 'you sure talk about [xyz] a lot haha' has always been a tactful way to say 'dear GOD please shut the fuck up'#and i just re-realize sometimes Wait. that can be a neutral observation or possibly a nice thing .#pussygator proclamations
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