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#I mean I will keep the man
ultimateaclrecovery · 4 months
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I keep waffling endlessly on whether or not I want to try and get an iud
On the one hand I really don’t want to get pregnant and condoms aren’t foolproof
But on the other hand iuds make me nervous. The insertion sounds awful and then if ends not working for your body you have to wait and schedule a removal. And I haven’t a good time and previous bc (Nuvaring and a very brief stint on the pill) and there are so many horror stories about them (maybe I should stop reading redit) and while the odds are really low, you can still get pregnant on them! But honestly the thing that really makes me nervous is the comments of people going “I loved it!! It was so great!! Except for [horrifying list of side effects that I could never deal with]” because it’s like is everything is just terrible and all the people who are very satisfied with it just don’t mind the suffering because everything else is somehow even worse for them??
The more I read about birth control the options the more I want to throw the whole man away and go back to single. Ugh. Why is it so terrible to be a woman
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Begging swifties to understand that Taylor didn’t write reputation and Lover with the knowledge of how the relationship was going to end and that trying to “excavate” those albums for evidence to prove a specific theory as to why it ended is not how they should be viewed. Taylor wrote those songs feeling a very specific way because that’s what she was experiencing and she is now reflecting on them with hindsight and relates to them differently than when she first created them. These conflicting emotions can exist; how she views it now doesn’t diminish how she felt about it when she first released it.
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inkskinned · 7 months
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it is totally okay to be hurt and tired and fed up with the american schooling system but i need you to understand that we need to be better about loudly and routinely defending public education.
yes, many teachers suck, many schools utterly suck. i also got bullied and was absolutely not given the right support for my needs. i am not defending public education because it was kind to me. i am defending it because it needs to exist.
right-wing republicans do not want an educated population. they want kids to be homeschooled or in private school. there is a huge religious undertone to this.
the most common argument is that despite high costs, the "result" is not "good" enough. they point to failing schools as proof that public education is just never going to work out. there will be arguments made here that you actually agree with: that teachers can be bullies, that we taught online for 2 years and still charged the same amount of tuition, that we have no recourse for students to actually have agency or a voice, and that schools are now unsafe for kids due to risk of illness and gun violence.
these are all placing the blame in a fraudulent way, one intended to get your parents to homeschool you. the less kids in a school, the less federally-awarded funding for that school, the less any school succeeds. they will not mention the fact it is their legislation that takes away important funding opportunities, that teachers are living at or below the poverty line, that buildings are not kept up to code, that administration is overpaid and forces specific curriculums, that corporations like (my personal enemy) Pearson Education control certain classroom goals because teachers can't afford other options. they pretend to be ignorant of the gun violence and say "oh just get a gun" - but these are the same people who will be sending their child to a private school with a bulletproof backpack. they don't care if your kid dies, though. they "don't believe" in covid, but they did get their kid vaccinated, because of course they did.
it is a closed loop. conservative parents hear the fearmongering and remove children from the system. frequently these parents are also deeply religious. the kids are raised without access to other media & learn to parrot their parents. you have now created a new generation of conservatives. additionally, one of the parents/caregivers must stay home and homeschool the children, usually for free. i will give you 1 guess which parent tends to stay home to homeschool the children. these parents are encouraged to have many, many children. those children are most likely not getting access to safe sex ed.
we might laugh at fox news suggesting teachers are forcing children to use kitty litter but: first of all, there is kitty litter in the classroom. it's part of an emergency kit in case children are locked in due to a shooter. so that's fucking dystopian, and the fact they've completely reimagined the scenario to somehow make the teachers look bad when it's instead a fucking huge symbol of our failure as a country to protect our children.... it feels a little intentional.
secondly: don't just dismiss the situation. because, yeah, obviously, no teacher is encouraging kids to be a catboy. but the actual undertone that fox news is trying to sew is an outright distrust of teachers and of public education. they rely on the dehumanization of trans people as a common touchstone to hide the fact they're pushing two agendas at once. (which is ironic. because the thing they accuse teachers of. is pushing. an agenda.)
whenever someone tells you they want you to read less, you should be suspicious of that. when someone tries to separate you and your education, you should be suspicious of that. i don't even like incel rhetoric nor would i want my kids exposed to it - but i would not take away my child's (age-appropriate) access to the internet. i would just provide more educational materials, not less. the difference here is that i believe we can resolve ignorance with knowledge; whereas conservatives believe that ignorance is bliss.
they misappropriate funding and demonize teachers. they pull the same trick each time - the same thing we are seeing with anti-trans rhetoric. they do not want you to have access to safe sex ed, so they act horrified, claim sex ed teaches you how to thrust deep, claim that we have no idea what "age-appropriate" means. since the mid-nineties, the united states has spent at least 2 billion dollars on abstinence-only education, even though to quote the above link: "a preponderance of studies has found no effect of abstinence education at reducing adolescent pregnancy". conservatives want you to think less of any person struggling with addiction so they can continue their racist "war on drugs", so they spend up to $750 million dollars a year on the DARE program which has absolutely no effect. acting like teachers "must" be "grooming" children is just the same thing - so they can demand that funding either goes to their causes or the funding doesn't "exist" ("i'm not paying for our kids to learn that thing!")
and they want you to feel uncaring about this. they are aware that you will hate some parts of your school experience. pretty much everyone does. they want to lean into the parts that you hate so that you don't put up a fight about it when they take it away for not being "good enough."
i know i maybe sound like a conspiracy theorist. but truly. truly. it is beneficial for conservatives to reduce your faith in the american public schooling system.
one of the explicitly stated campaign promises of the conservative party: to axe the Department of Education in 2024.
i know we are all tired and burnt out and there is so much else wrong with their entire platform. but maybe just - pay attention to this one.
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ruporas · 1 year
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i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun#despite it all though badlands rumble is like. the only universe where we get wolfwood thinking vash died first... and i think that means a#lot to their relationship and how it may bloom if there was more to badlands rumble considering vash literally saw wolfwood carrying a piece#of vash after his supposed death. u know! despite the short time they were together vash still meant so much to wolfwood that he couldn't#just move on or forget him in anyway. needed to keep a piece of him for himself and the rest of his days. but ofc vash lives and wolfwood#was like ill beat ur fucking ass into tomorrow. there's just so much honesty in vash being able to see that gesture bc he wouldnt know#otherwise just how much he might mean to him. ANYWAY. trimax with with the eternal pining featuring the two chapters where imo#where the both of them really fell for each other... i wrote my thoughts about this on another comic i did before#but vash solidifying his feelings during the hospital arc -- ww solidifies his when he realizes his allegiances are permanently with vash#98 my lovelies but also to me they are so one-sided bc ww pined like no tomorrow and vash only realizes after ep 23?24? his heart did tickle#whenever ww complimented his smile though#and tristamp vw my beloveds. it really just feels like they get the  chance to be closer and closer and more honest with each other#with every version that comes about. in trimax they knew how little time they had but struggled so desperately to get closer. in 98 ww felt#more willing to forsake for vash. in badlands rumble theyre Angry but as mentioned earlier ^ more blatant truth... due to circumstances#mainly but has the chance to lead to discussions and tristamp literally. first day of knowing each other ww saves vash - 2 days later vash#saves ww like. Man. AND NOW THEY MAY POTENTIALLY GET EVEN CLOSER!!!! with s2....#ruporas art
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truly-sincerely · 2 months
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Obsessively reading everything in game by and about Gortash and the dude is
On a philosophical trajectory that ends in immortality thru technology / the machine
Doesn't have an original bone in his body, but he can backwards engineer anything
Halfway to being a decent scientist but doesn't have the education and is deeply impatient
Overconfident in the veracity of his own results and conclusions
Accurately predicted that the brain would metamorphose and become more difficult to control and then did nothing about it
Outsources his propaganda / arts and humanities
Charming, but he got there in a Pavlovian way (learned from trial and error and probably doesn't consciously know how he does it)
Vindictive af (learned / reinforced)
Darwinian (in the worst way)
Sociopathic, obviously, but extremely Rationalist about it
Never asks questions he doesn't know the answer to and probably thinks this makes him sound more authoritative
Completely incompetent as a strategist (but doesn't know it)
Not nearly as narcissistic / full of himself as he pretends to be
Thinks what he wants is praise but it's never enough because it's not actually what he wants (he wants to be wanted)
Bane makes him feel wanted (conditionally)
Durge made him feel wanted (unconditionally)
Understands intellectually that Durge got ambushed, but he feels abandoned
See also: thematic parallels between Gortash and
Silouv Yali (the Adamantine Forge & the construct Grym)
Oliver (in the shadow-cursed lands)
Astarion and Gale, obviously
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maryonnaise · 5 months
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the fanartist struggle
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redysetdare · 9 months
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A character looks straight into the camera and says "I'm not interested in romance" and people will still say "No, it's not confirmed they're aromantic!!!" "They could change their mind!!!" "it's a challenge for them to overcome!!!" "They'll have character development that makes them fall in love"
It's like they are given the most blatant answer to a character romantic orientation and they actively ignore it. all the while all it takes is subtext for people to speak as if it is fact for a character to be any other sexuality.
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r-aindr0p · 21 days
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the wotr creatures
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sage-nebula · 1 month
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"Suffer No Fools" - Shiver vs. Marina Analysis
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It's been a few days since "Suffer No Fools" released, but I wanted to go ahead and release my analysis of Shiver's and Marina's verse since that's the one that has caused the most discussion within the fandom. I've seen a lot of debate over Marina's section in particular, with people unsure whether she was being sincere or sarcastic, and I think the actual answer is a little more complicated than one or the other, at least with regards to the first couplet of lines both she and Shiver sing. Of course, people are free to interpret this song however they wish, but after seeing numerous interpretations I personally didn't vibe with, I just wanted to put my own out there, breaking it down line by line.
So! Here we go.
Exchange 1:
Shiver: "Your haunting voice -- there's no escape. How nice it must be for your fans." Marina: "You're far too kind! I love your vibe. I can learn so much from your style."
Analyzing from dialogue only:
Shiver is insulting Marina's voice by calling it haunting and saying there is no escape, insinuating she wishes there was one. She says how nice it must be for Marina's fans, again implying that she isn't one.
Marina says that she loves Shiver's vibe, which on the surface could be a compliment, but given the context (a music battle) it could also be a Mean Girl "ooh I love your [thing] :)" passive-aggressive drawing-attention-to-something-ugly insult. More direct though, is the "I can learn so much from your style"; you can learn what not to do from someone just as much as you can learn what to do from someone. Marina's engaging in plausible deniability here.
HOWEVER. Lyrics are NOT the only thing that need to be analyzed from this first verse, which is arguably the MOST important exchange between these two. Instead, we need to look at how these lines are delivered.
Shiver is singing in a traditional Japanese folk singing style, specifically a style based on Shima-uta, which her voice actress has a background singing in. Unfortunately, I don't know the actual term for this style of singing, only that it's not kakegoe, something Shiver also does that is different from this. Anyway, in these lines specifically Shiver is singing in her Shima-uta style, a style that she has presumably been practicing since she was a small child, a style that is probably culturally significant to the Hohojiro clan. Singing in this style is not something that just anyone can do. It's completely different from singing in a (for lack of a better word) "western" style. The way you breathe is completely different. The way you incorporate your voice into your breathing is completely different. So by singing in this style, which Shiver has been doing practically her whole life and which, presumably, only she of the four there can do, Shiver is FLEXING on Marina regardless of what lyrics she chooses to sing.
But then Marina, who grew up under the domes in Inkadia, who presumably has never heard Shima-uta before she started listening to Deep Cut and heard Shiver sing, who presumably has had absolutely no training whatsoever on this style of song . . . mimics it perfectly and flexes on Shiver right back.
Could Marina's words to Shiver be interpreted as passive-aggressive in turn? Yes. But does it matter? No, not really. Because in this first verse, Marina's ACTUAL comeback is to take the style of singing that Shiver has been perfecting her entire life and throw it right back in her face despite having never (as far as we or Shiver know) practiced it herself. Shiver was flexing by presumably doing something Marina couldn't do, only for Marina to do it flawlessly, being every bit as divine with a voice so fine as Pearl said she was previously. Marina says "I love your vibe" so she takes it. Marina says "I have so much to learn from you" but does she really, when she can already do exactly what Shiver can, and has, just now, right in front of her?
And Shiver noticed, hence:
Exchange 2:
Shiver: "You remind me of my neighbor's little daughter . . . What's that saying? 'Octo see, octo do.'" Marina: "Glad you approve -- your praise has left me moved. Thanks to your notes, I'll find my groove!"
Shiver drops the Shima-uta singing, because now there's no point. Marina can also sing in that style, so it's no longer a flex. Shiver lost ground on that one, so instead we're back to the same (again, for lack of a better word) "regular" style of singing that everyone else is using. For that reason, we can go back to analyzing purely based on the words alone.
Shiver is calling Marina a copycat, essentially, because Marina copied her Shima-uta singing style in the previous verse (hence why Shiver had to drop it, as previously noted). Marina then gives her "glad you approve -- your praise has left me moved" . . . basically noting that by Shiver accusing her of copying, Shiver is saying that Marina -- someone who just tried the singing style off the cuff right there on the stage for the first time -- was just as good as Shiver, someone who has trained in that style her whole life. The audience saw for themselves that Marina was able to emulate the style, but Shiver saying, "you copied me!" is basically admitting that Marina was just as good as her in Shiver's own eyes, and Shiver is a pro. That's Shiver's aggravation handing Marina the win and Marina smiling wide as she accepts it.
Exchange 3:
Shiver: "Oh, look at the time. Isn't it getting late?" Marina: "Not at all! I could go on like this all night long."
This one doesn't even really need an analysis. For all that she prides herself on being "so cool even sharks call her cold-blooded," Shiver is known for being easily irritated and riled when she's losing due to her competitive nature. Marina successfully got under her skin, and this is her trying to end the battle fast because she didn't have any further comebacks. Marina, meanwhile, gives the classic "I could go on all night" because she's not riled at all, and is instead perfectly comfortable in this environment, knows what she's doing, and has had the upper hand from the start.
It goes back to another post I made about Experience vs. Inexperience. Shiver and Frye are still new idols, whereas Pearl and Marina have been at this for a long while. And while off the stage Marina is a sweet, kind, gentle person who will go out of her way to help others, and can sometimes be a little spacey or naive, she's also a 23-year-old literal genius who has been in the music industry for years now and knows full well what a rap / music battle is and knows her way around a stage. Personally, I found it to be a little infantilizing to insinuate that she "didn't realize Shiver was insulting her," when not only do I think she knew full well, but also she was the one with the upper hand not because of sick burns (that's Pearl's department), but because of sheer innate musical talent.
But those are just my thoughts! Everyone else is free to have their own.
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shadowphoenixrider · 16 days
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Look, Episode 5 of X-Men '97 was tragic and emotionally destroyed all of us, but can we all agree it's actually kinda funny that Gambit threw a motorbike at Rogue just to keep her safe.
Like no hesitation at all: 'nah she'll be fine, don't worry about it'
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portalmonsterrr · 9 months
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getting stuck in your own head
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tatakaeeren · 1 year
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I can't get these two scenes out of my head. His eyes and lips say everything without saying a word.
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attleboy · 2 months
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okay you guys get another little treat today!! i would've just saved it for a doodle dump but if i did it wouldn't be relevant anymore... :P
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biblically accurate ragatha valentine a la gooseworx last year... i was bummed i'd probably never get a ragatha one but then i remembered i could literally just make one myself!! so i did!!! however i also remembered i'm not funny and couldn't think of a good caption so i played it straight... sorry if you wanted a silly joke i got nothing
here's a blank one and an alt with a concerned expression in case someone smarter than me wants to take a crack at a funny haha caption
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you’re an angel, i’m a dog ; satoru gojo
synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.
word count; 4.3k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.
a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…
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satoru thinks you deserve everything good.
”haah…”
— the sigh spills into the air, dripping with exhaustion, a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching.
just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.
another sigh. deep, exasperated — from satoru, this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 
”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”
you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.
”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”
he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”
then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.
even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.
but you just won’t listen.
”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”
a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.
”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”
at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.
”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”
and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.
time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 
of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.
still, though.
”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”
you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”
”my little night owl.”
that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.
with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”
satoru softens. 
(always so good to him.)
”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”
in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.
he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.
satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 
satoru thinks you deserve everything good.
it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.
so he’s been worried.
it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.
he just doesn’t trust your professor. 
that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.
it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.
(it was only a matter of time.)
satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.
and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —
it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.
it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 
there’s only one way to satiate it.
so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.
then he grabs his coat and slips outside.
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the moon is visible through the window.
a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 
(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)
”who… w — what are — ?”
satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 
just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 
he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.
he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.
he just can’t bring himself to care.
”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”
silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 
it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.
satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”
another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.
then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”
the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.
before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”
it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 
he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 
but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.
a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.
the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.
finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 
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three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 
there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 
that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.
(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?
it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)
there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.
and there you are.
on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 
you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.
suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.
“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”
his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.
“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 
he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 
but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.
satoru would never cage you in. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 
so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.
(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)
“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.
“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”
“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”
satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 
and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 
“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”
and he grins. like clockwork. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”
again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”
“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”
and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.
“right! i almost forgot!” 
then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.
he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.
but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 
satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.
you, you, you. the only thing that exists.
all of him is for you.
”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 
”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting, slipping from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”
”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”
another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.
so precious that he forgets about everything else. 
this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 
you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.
it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 
(something worth cherishing, no matter the cost.)
as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 
satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.
“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”
satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”
“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“
“— yet.”
a pause. 
satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”
a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 
he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”
a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.
“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”
satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.
”you’re so gross.”
a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”
”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 
”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 
”charmer.”
”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”
and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything that’s good, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches a flicker of joy dance within your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.
the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 
satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back. 
so why not bear the weight of your burdens?
all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.
he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.
“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”
he prays it never will.
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transmascissues · 5 months
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just had my 3 week post-op and i’m officially done with the bandages! i’m so glad i can really enjoy my chest now and not have it covered up 99% of the time. i still can’t believe how good it already looks, shoutout to my surgeon for doing a fucking incredible job.
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siriusly-the-best-bi · 9 months
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wow so I have like 3 analysis in progress that touch on this topic but I really need to just talk about it rn with its own spotlight.
Aziraphale has this entire life that he's built for himself on earth, after armageddon he's thriving. When we catch up with him in Season 2 his first scene is literally him going to check in with one of his tenants, and throughout the season we see that he has a decent relationship with nearly Everyone on the block. He has an entire life for himself all hashed out and pretty.
Crowley... does not. His cold open in Season 2 is back in St. James park, checking in with Shax, finding out the gossip on Hell. He doesn't have his apartment, he only has his Bentley and the few plants he could fit in it. He doesn't have any other human friendships. His entire life and everything he loves to do is built entirely around Aziraphale.
This is something that I just find so fucking thrilling because when it comes to their characters and where exactly they are in their arcs right now, it's essentially like looking into a mirror.
Aziraphale knows exactly who he is when he's on his own. He nurtures his own relationships with humans he sees often, he's a nice landlord, he loves books and classical music, and hot cocoa. But, Aziraphale still holds onto the ideals of heaven. He still cares about doing good and being forgiving. He still cowers and jumps at the opportunity to help heaven, not because he wants to but because he's supposed to because he's still an angel.
Crowley has nothing. He has his car, which he drives to a secluded location to park every night, only to drive it right back in the morning. He's only even vaguely recognizable because people associate him with Aziraphale and this is fine for him, he could care less. He doesn't really need to know who he is or process his traumas, why would he when he can put all his attention and focus and love and care directly into Aziraphale? His friend, who has always been his friend, the one person who has always stood by him. Who cares about heaven and hell, he has Aziraphale.
When we finally see them on their own and without the influences of their head offices, we see the opposite of what we'd expect, and nearly the opposite of the outcome we see in episode 6. Crowley is the one constantly checking in with Hell (wether he likes it or not), and Aziraphale is the one who's living care free without even thinking about heaven. When he does something good that he wants to report, he just calls Crowley.
this whole dance of Crowley not knowing who he is without Aziraphale and Aziraphale knowing who he is fundamentally but not knowing how to break free from the confines of Heaven that stop him from truly embracing Crowley in the end, it's just so delicious.
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