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#this is so long and for what
charliespringverse · 7 months
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i've touched on this before but like . i really do think rowan's feelings get accidentally overlooked by readers that ,,, Aren't a bit obsessed and rereading for the nth time
and it's understandable because the version we primarily get of rowan is fereshteh's warped fanon & jimmy's longtime best friend mental illness riddled descriptions . and Because jimmy is unwell he almost idolises rowan in a way that holds him up as a pillar of stability and permanence — which is what jimmy needs and it's not a wholly negative thing, but he also inadvertently fails to accept any evidence to the contrary
whereas with lister we Learn a lot because jimmy is learning a lot — through deeper-than-usual conversations or blatant cries for help or very revealing behaviours — we don't get to discover anything new about rowan, and so when he's kinda mean or angry or distrusting it's easy to misinterpret that as him being deliberately and needlessly nasty
but if you stop looking at him through jimmy's lens, that boy has had an absolute bastard of a week . the jowan photo leak affects him as much as jimmy (arguably more so, because all the while he's dating bliss, jowan is an Active Lie rather than just an untruth), he's dealing with the same contract stress, his secret relationship has been exposed to the world, his girlfriend is ignoring him at a really difficult time, he's watching his two closest friends fall apart, he's learning that he really doesn't know one of them very well at all, his best friend is missing, the other is definitely an alcoholic making no moves to resolve that, his girlfriend has dumped him, he feels like they (and bliss) are being stalked by a member of a group he already feels like he isn't safe around, he feels like he's losing the two people closest to him
and all this time he's considering himself wholly and singlehandedly responsible for fixing all of this, feeling he has to hold himself and the world together . there's no real safe space for him to unload any of this because the three people he's closest to are either dumping him or going off the rails, and the only way he's ever known how to make himself comfortable is to have complete control over a situation, which just Is Not available to him here
it's not the fault of jimmy's narration that we never get to truly sit with the extent of what's going on with rowan, and in fact it really Really adds to the themes of being unable to truly know somebody and personal perception destroying objective truth
but GOD it breaks my heart to see people say they don't care for rowan, or don't like him, because he's snappy and sweary and short with people . because that's such a natural response to having that much shit piled on top of you in under a week AND losing your only coping mechanism (in this case, taking the weight of everything and moulding it into something tangible and possible to hold)
anyway. i am a rowan omondi stan first and a human being second and WOW rowan needs therapy and jimmy needs to stop idealising him
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So I made this post -> x and now that I think about it…. I don’t think Mav has ever slept alone in that bed
The thing is… they were together when they got the house, sure, technically it was under Ice’s name, and Mav still had his apartment, but it was theirs, they chose it together, they walked through the door together. The house was beautiful, it was one of those houses that Pete would pass on the street when he was a kid and think about what kind of fancy people lived there, people fancier than him that’s for sure, they had seen it before but now, all done and ready to welcome them, it was amazing, Pete was almost overwhelmed, trying to catch his breath while also trying to take on every little detail around him. Ice quietly wrapped his arms around him from behind, leaning in to kiss his neck “You like it?” Pete let out a laugh “Like it? I love it” he turned around to look at him “I love you” Ice picked him up as if he didn’t weight anything, fucker, and carried him all the way up the stairs, he opened the door to their bedroom, their bedroom, and he carefully dropped Mav on their bed, it was sweet, and domestic, and everything that Mav never thought he would ever get to have. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there’s that little red light that is constantly reminding him that he needs to be careful with this, no one can actually know, but at that moment it didn’t matter, they were alone, in their bed, in their room, in their house. They were there together from day one.
Everyone fights, they’ve fought many times over the years, but they’ve never slept in separate beds after a fight, it never mattered how angry and frustrated they were, it’s their bed. There was one time, it was a long time ago, Mav can’t even remember what they were fighting about, something stupid for sure, something that just got a bit out of hand, whatever it was it was bad enough to make Ice slam the door as he left the house in the middle of the night, Mav stood there frozen for a second, he slowly grabbed a cushion from the couch and screamed into it, he sank to his knees as he let out all his tears and frustration, he eventually walked back to their bedroom, he stood at the door for a while, just staring at the bed, Ice wasn’t back, he thought about it but it just felt weird, it felt wrong, lonely, so he grabbed a blanket and made his way to the couch, it was a very nice couch, still not good enough to sleep through the whole night, but he was not gonna sleep in their bed alone. He does wake up there though, wrapped in Ice’s arms, Ice was awake, half awake at least, just running his fingers up and down Mav’s spine, taking in the warmth of the morning sun, Mav snuggled closer and whispered “I’m sorry” right into his neck, Ice kissed his head and nodded “I know, I’m sorry too, we’ll talk about it later” much, much later.
Mav never slept in their bed when Ice was out for work, he tried, he really did, but he can’t, it’s a whole thing, he rolls around for hours, he looks at the ceiling, he reaches over to Ice’s side only to find nothing there, at least in the couch he can get a few hours of sleep. When Bradley moved in with them Mav never considered that it might be weird for him to see Mav sleeping in the couch, it was a bit of a habit by now, so when Bradley wakes him up one day and asks “why are you sleeping in the couch? your bed is really really big” Mav realizes that he’s never had to explain this to anyone “well… I guess I’m just not used to sleeping alone in that bed” and that’s it. That night, as Mav is walking to the couch, he’s intercepted by Bradley, the kid takes his hand and leads him straight back to his bedroom, they get inside the bed and he says goodnight, he doesn’t let go of his hand until the next morning. It still takes him a few hours to fall asleep but it’s better than the couch.
The first time Ice gets sick Mav never wants to leave his side, he never wants to waste a second, except at night, that’s when he struggles the most, he lets Ice fall asleep next to him and then he leaves. He’s not sure why he does it, that’s actually a lie, there’s just a lot going on, he doesn’t want to disturb Ice, he doesn’t want Ice to hear him cry, he doesn’t want Ice to worry about him, to comfort him, he shouldn’t, Mav isn’t the one that has fucking cancer, Mav shouldn’t be causing problems. After a while it becomes obvious that he’s not sleeping very well, I’ve noticed, of course he does, but he also knows that this won’t really be solved with a conversation, so I’ve wraps his arms around him, Mav is taken by surprise, he was still waiting for Ice to fall asleep, they haven’t done this in a while, he’s been avoiding this, mostly because he just wants Ice to rest, but when Ice kisses his forehead and whispers “You’re gonna hurt your back, old man, just stay here, it’ll be ok” he understands that he can’t let Ice in their bed alone either.
They come back alive, Mav lives but then it hits him… Ice is dead. The house was already a struggle, so quiet and and big and lonely, he walks through the hallways and everything reminds him of Ice, but the moment he walks into their bedroom he looses it, it’s just as Ice would’ve left it on any normal day, it’s painful because his glasses are on his nightstand but no one’s there to wear them, and his book will be left unfinished, and his pajamas will be folded for god knows how long , and Ice is never going to step inside that room again. He sleeps on the couch, well, sleeps is an overstatement, he closed his eyes for a few minutes and the sun suddenly came up, his back hurts, his eyes hurt, his heart is broken but he will not sleep on that bed.
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wvthering · 30 days
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kingdom of one
– in response to the house of black and white event prompt (tw: mentions of death, blood and self-harm)
nara knows what is coming.
when day starts turning into night she can feel it in her heart, the calling. there is no fighting, she learns it the second night – she will fall asleep and she will dream, what will happen next will depend on the dreamweaver.
the third night she dreams of her father's funeral, of sitting in shock next to her siblings. it was expected, in a way, but still, the weight of it all falls on her: the new head of house choi. the truth is that she doesn't remember much of the funeral, but in the dream it's recreated in painful detail, from the creased fabrics of her clothes where she clutched to them to geonwoo, silently standing by her side. maybe she reached to him in real life, maybe she tried to find any words of comfort, but in the dream she stays quiet, unable to say a word.
no, in this dream all she does is listen.
to her siblings crying, to other lords and ladies telling them empty words, gossiping behind their backs. she is not ready, they say, she will be eaten alive. if they truly said that in reality she doesn't know, but in dream the words echo through her mind, making her curl into herself, gripping her skirts.
you will fail, the voice of dreamweaver whispers close to her ear, you will let them down, you know that, it continues, you're weak, you're nothing compared to the other noble houses of hari bulkan.
"maybe so," nara says, forcing herself up. "but i will never know if i don't try, will i?"
she pushes herself up, doesn't look at anyone, lest her siblings' faces will make her stay again, and runs.
on the sixth day she wakes in a large chamber, so luxurious she has no doubt of where she is. a servant pushes the door open, gasping when she sees nara wake.
"your grace, i'm sorry i'm late!" she bows deeply and nara stares at her, heart already racing.
a dream it is then.
nara gets up from her bed, noticing how her robes are made of finer silk, the embroidery in it showing dragons, not an armadillo bear. oh, what a dream this one is already.
her chambers do not have the modest table and cosmetics that she has in feastfires. no, here she has countless combs, hairpins, the finest jewelry. she sits in front of a mirror, looking at herself. something is different – nara doesn't recognize the coldness in her own eyes, the glassy way they look at all her belongings.
the servant stands behind her, already brushing her hair. "you always look so beautiful even after waking up, your grace." she carefully disentangles the knots in nara's hair, hands delicate. nara's mother used to do it for her, and later nara did it for both aera and yura.
"my siblings," she says and even her voice sounds different. "where are they?"
the servant continues brushing her hair. "at their positions in court, of course, your grace," she says. "after all, their sister is the future fire lady."
of course, nara thinks, never moving so the servant can style her hair. she married the prince, now she remembers. this is her life now, attended all the time, living in a palace, rulling over the fire nation.
the servant starts talking about her commitments for the day and nara nods along, smiling. all she has to do is host tea parties, talk to other ladies and be presentable when her husband is back from his own duties. no more firebending lessons, or worrying about her lands of firefists, or making sure they have enough money and her siblings are doing fine. the servants hands in her hair are making her feel sleepy. her eyes start to flutter close again and the servant chuckles.
"what a nice life, isn't it, your grace?" she asks.
nara open her eyes, something in her voice doesn't sound right. the servant's smile turns into a grin and she grips nara's hair tighter.
"sleep again, your grace," she says. "you still have time."
nara almost does so – suddenly she feels so, so tired – but instead she reaches for a hairpin, stabbing her own hand. the pain makes her aware of her surroundings, the blood dripping down her palm pulls her back to the reality that this is nothing but a dream.
she gets up, blood dripping on the pristine floor, and smiles at the servant. "you'll have to do better than just nice to keep me here," she says before running to the doors.
on the seventh day, her mother waits for her in their garden.
"nara!" her smile is blinding. "come play pai sho with your mother."
this is perhaps the cruelest of the dreams. nara controls her own expression, smiling at her mother. "of course." she sits down, looking at the pieces. "your first move is always so bad."
her mother chuckles, waiting for nara to make her move even though they both know she always start with the earth piece – for no other reason than it being her favorite when she was a child. when playing with others nara puts more effort, but it has never been about winning or losing with her mother.
they play in silence, stealing glances at each other. this is how nara learned how to control her expressions, making sure her mother never knew her next move.
nara destroys her mother's lotus piece, smiling at her. "i won again."
her mother chuckles. "you were always good at this." then, her smile turns warm. "you're good at taking care of your siblings too," she says, serious. "you're doing a good job."
nara allows the tears to fall, just this once. "i know," she says and gets up. "it was nice seeing you again, mother."
she walks out of the gardens and doesn't look back.
when she wakes up again, her room is covered in lotus flowers. nara smiles just as a servant enters the room, gasping and dropping her tray at the sight of the flowers.
nara gets up of bed, stretching. "i'll take my breakfast in the dining room today," she says. "i feel much better."
she leaves the room, not looking at the flowers.
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gabrielmorelos · 2 months
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CLOSED STARTER for @exsassins. WHERE | WHEN: Gabriel's flat apartment, evening.
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There are a million and one guidebooks on how to be a parent. What to do, what not to do, how to handle difficult situations, how to keep your fucking cool when faced with one. Yet, Gabriel can't seem to recall a damn thing about what you do when you learn that your own child is, for all intents and purposes, a bully. It's not a phone call he ever wanted to receive, an irritated and concerned staff member telling him that Simón was caught fighting with another kid. Not fighting, more so beating the shit out of another schoolmate, similarly to how he used to when he was younger. It's a shock to his system, and he's certain it's one for Taís as well.
They had already talked to the school assembly, explained how they would talk to their son next and rectify the situation as best as they could. Now came that time. It was going well initially, the two parents making progress, until he fucked up by saying something about not picking on others smaller or weaker than you. Simón, as if on fucking cue, shot back with a comment of ‘so it's only okay if you do it?’ and he had to step out of the living room almost immediately. He knows he had to, Taís knows he had to, by the way his fists clenched and his entire being became filled with tension.
“What the fuck are we gonna do, Taís?” A pause, as he leans against the dresser in his bedroom and stares down at the wood, overly focused on the cedar as his grip finds it. How is he supposed to pretend that his own shortcomings aren’t so blatant? When his son will see him with a busted and bleeding lip, a cracked and bruised orbital bone—his knuckles raw and fucking obliterated. When the boy was younger, the lies were easier, but omitting the truth is not an option anymore.
“What the fuck am I gonna do?”
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goremet-chef · 3 months
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mannnn me and my friend. teehee
we play games together all the time and we're doing minecraft rn and idk i FEEL like its too sappy to tell her "hey i like how we are" okay like i can tell itd be hard to phrase that in a way that she wouldnt be like ".. thanks?? " OKAY SHE DOESNT MEAN IT we just. IDK how to explain it. so ill just talk about it here 😁😁
we just flow really well together, she can entertain herself mostly and i can be there and we bully the shit out of eachother and god its so fun its genuinely. i told her i was planning to tunnel into her walls but secretly, so she didnt hear it from me and she went "what?im not paying attention to you" i feel like. to other people that would sound bad but i just teeheed so hard man like . QUIETLY THATS WHY IM WRITING THIS we're still in vc but man
its really hard for me to be comfortable in vc with anyone, even if i really want to, but me and her? we just fit man. ive known her for like. 8 years at this point?? maybe a little less but either way. shes the only one of my friends that i can be alone with in vc comfortably as of right now, like IDK i never expected this but im not complaining. like even my friend ive known for 11 YEARS, i love them to bits id do anything for them, but the reality is that we are just AWKWARD PEOPLE and awkward people are sillay when they talk okay its the same with my other friend like we are just very awkward by nature so our awkwardness duplicates when we're alone, to the point where its like. he thinks its awkward and it is but its so awkward that its fucking hilarious i think its so funny man
love my friends with all my heart but something about me and her? like WE'RE SO GOOOOD we werent even that close when we first met? like she was my friends friend and became my friend by proximity but now we're tight bro we get drunk together we get high together i love that for us. i couldnt have guessed it would go this way, but thats the beauty of life 🥳 chaotic and unruly, i wouldnt have it any other way.
she comes home and tells me all her work drama and then we just pick on eachother for several hours and its so funny to me every time i dont care how many times we say the same things its always funny im always gonna make myself laugh when im mean for no reason and ill always laugh when shes mean back like IDK thats just our friendship and we like it that way its great
also shes been just like? IDK we are all queers (except one of us hes our token cishet i guess) she doesnt even remember my deadname anymore despite knowing me by that for most the time we've known eachother its great. and honestly? this is kind of embarrassing to admit but sometimes when shes making fun of me for being dumb she says 'sillay boy' in a little tune and when i get really stressed out i call myself that in my head to calm me down a bit like. NOTHING ID EVER TELL HER but we know we love eachother teehee. IDK i feel like i just express a lot of gratitude towards my other friends but not much to her, probably cuz we talk so much it just feels agiven like i cannot stand her she sucks thats why shes my bestie 😁😁
like MAN idk theres so much shit i could talk about. we fight and i propose to her in lethal company with the ring and then shes mad at me and divorced cuz i sold our ring to meet quota like. STUPID SHIT LIKE THAT. this is gonna sound weird but i just like being bullied????? like ill always throw it back is the thing we work great cuz its never one sided its a mutual thing. if i go first she say 'shut up dominic' and im like NO fuck you like . to an outsider we do not like eachother but i promise we do its making me like. GIDDY RN i love thinking about it. she just made fun of me for being on tumblr instead of building my GAZEBO but im talking about you dumbass!!!! (she doesnt have a tumblr so. what does it matter SKFJS)
i dont know its so fun for me, im just surprised that like. someone i initially didnt know all that well is now my ride or die and we fit SO GOOD like i genuinely couldve never expected it back in middle school but im glad we are the way that we are. love talking to her, love making fun of her, love when she calls me stupid and WHATEVER ELSE like god its so funny. love ignoring her and harassing children in roblox with her like we have such a good time no matter what
shes one of the very few people i can like. just get in a call with for no reason, like if she has drama to tell me and we arent really doing anything else ill still join for what i think is like 10 minutes and leave 2 hours later 💀 love leaving her too shes so dramatic she knows by the tone in my voice when i say her name that im gonna leave call and shes always like no dont do this to me gurl bye!!!!!i got better shit to do!!!!!!! (lie) love to betray her also she sucks
i remember she invited me down (like an hour drive) to watch mario movie and she took me out to olive garden and i CRIEDD it was the first time i went to olive garden and it was so good and she laughed at me. that high is like. I DONT KNOW i feel like im explaining it POORLY its just so silly to me, its so fucking funny
grining right now. im not even tired weve been playing for hours and im not tired at all. love bothering her she deserves it. like would i lay down my life for her? yes absolutely. would i also insult her randomly while shes not doing anything? yes absolutely. i guess its cuz i know she can take it, thats why she does the same to me. idk its just how we're comfortable, we like it this way!!!! hhehehheehee
this is far too sappy to share with her but we love to hate eachother so i think im doin a pretty good job
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pyrriax · 4 months
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apologies o7
lets try this again.. (i was looking at the wrong post lmfao)
13, 24, 7??
IT HAPPENS SOMETIMES!! dw :D
Ask game!
13. What’s your shortest work of the year?
Shortest (published) work is Places Where Home Is Not at 772 words! Normally I don't post anything under 1k aside from my old drabble collection, but this was for an event challenge which meant I couldn't repeat words, so it got a little over the absolute minimum word count, lol
24. Did you receive any gifts this year?
I did! I received A dog on a doorstep during the MCYT Halloween exchange :)
(I sign up for a lot of exchanges! I love writing fics as gifts for people and it also is a fun challenge.)
7. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?
Oooh! If we only count published works? Then that'll go to Clown & Branzy (though most of them are actually intended to be slash fics I was just afraid of shipping in a fandom I was new to, lol)
But, if we count unpublished works? Absolutely it's Mapicc/Roshambo/Zam (but I think it's most likely Duality Duo, or Mapicc&/Roshambo)
^ I don't have as good a statistic for that one, since most of my writing recently has been in a vault where I don't meticulously tag character centricity or relationships since it's all set in one AU where I already have it all established in my head ^_^
((But also I actually wrote mostly Pandora/Ozzy [OCs] stuff for most of the year and basically all of it is unaccounted for because I will never truly admit or share that stuff lol; I only mention this because I post that AU on AO3 so it counts. To me.))
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endlesslycoffee · 1 year
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song recommendations?
OH! ohh get ready for the weirdest ass list of music
mitski is like the only person to ever be a human so literally [insert everything she ever made] then i absolutely adore 80s pop/rock/grunge/synth
and lastly these are the very specific emotion of losing the people you care about the most due to time
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coffinwoodx · 4 months
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ok so for those of you who don’t know, there’s this twitter account of a japanese local hero mascot named dentman who went viral recently due to this tweet
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but yeah he saw the tweet. and his response went viral as well (which is how i found his account)
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and he just has like. hourly posts reminding you to brush your teeth
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oh and his rival? his name is mr. mutans. whenever dentman posts he makes a post of his own, ofc
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but THAT’S NOT ALL. literally while making this post i found a THIRD ACCOUNT that’s all about taking your meds
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safe to say i’m losing my mind
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anyway the point of all this was that people are ALREADY beginning to draw them ship art 😭
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and the reactions are everything
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I CANT ADD ANY MORE IMAGES BUT TRUST ME THIS IS SO FUNNY
toxic one-sided dentman yaoi wasn’t on my 2024 bingo card but it DEFINITELY IS NOW!
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sparebutton · 10 months
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(Across the Spider-Verse spoiler)
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ardri-na-bpiteog · 30 days
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Also increasingly aware that a LOT of people "manage" getting through the 40+ hour work week by sleeping less than is healthy and relying on stimulants like coffee and energy drinks to keep them going.
For people who are unwilling or unable to do this...work really does just dominate your life. Like we really should not have to rely on unhealthy practices just to have a social life or keep on top of housework or whatever.
I know I post about this a lot but I'm so TIRED all the time and it's just so depressing that this is how we're expected to spend the one life we have.
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Of the 19 hijackers who carried out the Sept 11 attacks:
15 were from Saudi Arabia (a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)
2 were from the United Arab Emirates (also a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)
1 was from Egypt, 1 from Lebanon.
None of the hijackers were from Iraq.
None of the Sept 11 hijackers were Iraqi.
None of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq.
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beyejun · 1 month
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HWANG YEJUN AUDITIONS FOR NEXT GEN SEASON 2
CH. 00 - THE FORM
"if i do this," he speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully as he stares at the screen hangyeol has placed in front of him, prompting him to fill the form out for himself, "i'll have to skip at least the next semester. maybe drop out." he's already registered for classes he doesn't want to take, the start of the school year looming just a few weeks away. if only missed academics was the worst of it, though. "my parents won't support me. i don't have a job, i don't have any marketable skills." i'll effectively be kicked out, penniless, homeless. the threat looms over him, always unspoken but present nonetheless.
yejun has always wanted to sing. he's always wanted to stand on stage, to share his voice with whoever spares a moment to listen to it. there's comfort in music. there's hope, there's life. but he made a deal, one he intended to honor. he had his chance to pursue this life, to try to stand on stage on his own. he had failed so many times that yejun has convinced even himself that he doesn't have what it takes.
"there's room in my family for everyone," hangyeol tells him. yejun feels his heart melting, something bittersweet. "you deserve to be happy, yejun. do what makes you happy. the universe'll take care of the rest."
he can't agree. it's not the universe that will be funding his living expenses for an indefinite time. as much as hangyeol insists that it's fine, that it's what friends do for each other, yejun can't help but feel like a burden. how selfish you are, he tells himself, memorizing the way the bluish glow of the screen paints hangyeol's face silver, the way a lock of hair curls against his forehead in such a lovely way that yejun thinks it would be a shame to move it. how dare yejun desire more than what belongs to him.
it takes both hangyeol and yura to convince him to submit the form. in fact, it's yura who actually clicks the 'submit' button for him, his resolve faltering at the last minute. at that point, it's too late.
CH. 01 - LIME ENTERTAINMENT
there's so many children here, he realizes. and yet, still somehow less than he expected. yejun was convinced that he, hanyeol, and yura would be among the oldest auditionees present, separated from the teenagers by just a handful of years of extra experience and wear and tear from the world. in some ways, they are; there's far too many school uniforms milling about to pretend otherwise. in other ways, they fit right in with a number of other young twenty-somethings who haven't given up their superstar dreams just yet. somehow, it makes yejun feel guiltier. had he given in and given up too easily? how many auditions have these people attended in the years he holed himself up in library books, abandoning music for the life his parents wanted him to lead?
yejun hasn't told them yet. there's no point unless he actually makes it on the show. this is still just an audition, no guarantee that he'll actually make it onto tv. or maybe he's just delaying the inevitable hard conversation. maybe he's already started moving some of his more precious, sentimental things into hangyeol's apartment. just in case.
what a blessing it is when he realizes that he and two of his friends will be in the same audition group. he realized he probably should feel bad for ahyoung, left behind by one number, but... in the moment all he felt was relief. he has enough negging little thoughts in his head; he doesn't need hers in his ear too. not today. when the guitar case on his back shifts as he moves, he feels the layer of nervous sweat already soaking his t-shirt.
at least part one of the audition is the part he's most confident in.
they sing or dance or rap one at a time. how odd, yejun thinks, that they compare apples to oranges like this. it strikes him after hangyeol's dance performance how different their talents are. yejun has a sense of rhythm, obviously, but he's never had the fluidity of motion that his friend is a master of. he has his voice instead and the guitar he bought with his own allowance in middle school. she's seen better days, scuffed and imperfect even when he first got his hands on her, but oh has she been loved.
yejun is ready when his turn is finally called. he clears his throat before he introduces himself: "my name is hwang yejun," he bows respectfully to the staff evaluating him in greeting. "today, i'll be singing talk by khalid."
his fingers dance across the strings, sliding up and down the frets with each chord. the tempo is just a little too fast, both out of nerves and perhaps a selfish desire to fit in the best parts of the song in the mere sixty seconds he's been provided. he's practiced this, of course, for days leading up to these auditions. and yet yejun can't help but think he's rusty. even in the bands he's played in, he was never a vocalist. how long has it been since he sang in front of an audience, even a small one? the thought almost makes him want to cry.
but the song ends, the last flick of the strings fading into quiet. he watches the staff as they scribble notes, he glances around at the cameras, at the other hopefuls in the room. no one gives him any feedback in the moment. something still feels incomplete.
CH. 02 - SR MEDIA
there's hardly any time to dwell on regrets before the next contestant is called and yejun is busy packing his precious guitar away in her soft case, tucking her in gently like putting a baby down for bed.
honestly, he's just grateful that he's not first in the next round.
thinking on his feet has never been yejun's strongest skill. so he listens, taking mental note of the questions that are asked of his peers, remembering the ones that are asked of multiple auditionees, trying to come up with what his answers would be on the spot as the others give their own response. somehow, none of that helps when it's his turn. his palms are wet with nerves and he rubs them against his pants anxiously, trying to rid himself of the clammy feeling.
“what was the first thing you thought about when you woke up this morning?”
i can't believe i'm not dead, the thought flicks through his mind immediately, though yejun knows better than to truly give his honest first thoughts in this situation. it's an interview, he knows. like a job, but for finding the 'best' personality among the crowds gathered here today. he doesn't know what makes up the criteria for 'best' though; is it the funniest? the most relatable? the most interesting? he can't even begin to guess. being true to himself is probably his best bet even if he has to water down the darker thoughts in his mind.
"that... i can't believe i'm going to be here," he speaks slowly, measuredly. maybe it's not the quick responses they want but it's always been important to yejun to express himself accurately. he's never been interested in being the first voice or the loudest voice in the room. "like, auditioning here. i didn't expect to get a callback and... i thought my performing days were over. i thought this was a dream i already gave up. but... i'm here."
a flush colors his ears, still a little too honest than he may have been comfortable being in front of strangers. he can't tell the whole story, not in the little time he's been allowed, but it's... something.
“what can you bring to the table that we won’t see in any other contestant?”
"uh," he thinks for a moment though a thought comes to him too quickly: "i've already completed my military service. oh, i mean, someone else also might have, i don't know. but it seems like most of the men here are very young. so if i do make it onto the show, or even into one of the companies, you wouldn't have to worry about losing me for eighteen months. and i follow orders well." he gives a half-hearted smile as some of the male staff in the room seem to smile appreciatively. even if they're strangers, they're all bonded by their mandatory conscription experience.
“what two things do you consider yourself to be very bad at?”
everything, the mean voice in his head whispers at him. you're terrible at everything you do. give up. yejun swallows thickly; this is the type of question that there's no good answer for. "studying," he says instead, choosing something he doesn't like to do instead of something he's truly horrible at. "i, um, well... i didn't do too well on my college entrance exams so i had to retake them to get into a decent school. i'm never going to be a doctor or a lawyer but that doesn't mean i haven't tried my best... i just don't think i'm very good at school."
"and whistling," he adds suddenly, the thought dawning on him more quickly than he thought it would. "i can't whistle. i've tried to learn, but no sound ever comes out." he attempts a demonstration, his face turning red when he realizes how stupid he must sound, especially after admitting how bad at school he is. ah, well, at least they might find him an interesting character.
CH. 03 - STUDIO DELTA
if the questions from the sr media portion of their auditions weren't nerve wracking enough, somehow studio delta's request for a special skill seems even more daunting. he can't play the guitar again; they've already seen that. he didn't prepare anything cool, like yo-yo tricks or bird calls or something. yejun has no personal talents to speak of, no notable impressions or interesting jokes. there is nothing that makes hwang yejun very special. but he has to show them something.
it's worse when the others in his group are actually talented. hangyeol is an amazing teacher, engaging not just the staff but also their fellow auditionees as he teaches them what's probably the scariest dance move yejun has ever seen (he's actually pretty grateful not to be included in that, thank you). but how does he follow that act? how does he do something interesting enough to stand out?
put on the spot, yejun can't help but freeze up for a moment. if only he had a prop... but then it comes to him like a vision. how many years did he play in eat schmidt alongside joomi? how many guitar strings broke in practice or on stage? enough that yejun got into the habit of always being prepared. there's extra strings, clippers, a winder, all in his bag right now.
somehow, yejun was blessed with deftness of hand. this might be kinda weird, he thinks to himself, but it's all i've got. "i'm... very quick at restringing guitars. maybe the quickest in the world." he's not, he knows he's not, but he also knows a little bragging is what gets a person noticed in this situation. "i have a guitar in the bag on my back. it's strung right now, but i think i could replace any one in under a minute."
he pulls the guitar out of the case as well as his emergency string kit. and then, as much as it pains him to do so, he hands the wire clippers over to one of the staff, taking a page from hangyeol's book to get more people involved in the demonstration as he asks them to cut any one string. "we can pretend it snapped while playing," he says, maybe to appease himself and take his mind off of the intentional desecration of his precious instrument. "it happens all the time."
of course, they cut the high e string. yejun saw that coming; easy to access on the edge and thinner and less intimidating to cut than the low e. "alright, um, if anyone has a clock, you should start... now." he starts work immediately, unstringing the broken wire and prepping the new one. he fumbles, of course. he's nervous on the spot like this and his hands are still too sweaty to get a good grip on the package as he tries to free the fresh string. he ends up having to rip it open with his teeth. i must look like a savage, he thinks distantly.
but true to his word, the string is replaced (though it takes him two minutes, not less than sixty seconds as he had promised originally). he even tunes it, listening by ear until the pitch sounds right before marking the completion with a few rapid strums. "there," he slaps the strings into silence. "how long was it?"
and just like that, it's all over.
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endusviolence · 14 days
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Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?
I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?
In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".
Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.
This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.
Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.
The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.
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[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]
There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.
This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.
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[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]
As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.
But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?
Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.
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ash-and-starlight · 4 months
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humble contribution
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sexygaywizard · 11 months
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Walk into the apartment and my roommate says "Mike Wazowski only has one eye??" and I say, "WHAT are you talking about, of course he only has one eye. Only having one eye is like his whole fucking thing. Why would you think he has more than one eye" and she flips her phone around and shows me this
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