Dwoality2123 - Dwoality

So my delusional self is thinking that MCU Flash will be the bridge for MCU Peter to reunite with old friends. ((Currently writing a fic about that but who knows, might finish it in five years.))

My SpideyFlash-loving heart melts at the thought that Flash is technically one of the most constant person in his life. They've known each other since they were young and became good friends as they grew older. Flash has known Peter longer than anyone else in the coffee bean gang. So, like, Spectacular Spider-Man where Peter and Flash are childhood friends and Peter gave Flash his nickname—

INDIKA is a masterpiece, IMHO. It's a one-of-a-kind game with a one-of-a-kind story. It's a game that asks questions that makes you wonder. Honestly, I just vibe with Indika. I wish it was more mainstream because I want to see people's thoughts and opinions on the game as well as their analysis and essays on the game. It has so much potential for discussion

What if Jetko and "Rewrite" by Rosendale

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What if Draco Malfoy cast obliviate on his friends because they were willing to help Draco but he didn't want to put them at risk so he made them forget him? Or maybe he just pushed them all away.

Honestly, I imagine his friend group to be pretty big. Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Millicent Bulstrode. Maybe even add Lorenzo Berkshire and Mattheo. But, personally, I feel like Blaise and Draco started off with not liking each other before they became frenemies out of obligation and started to warm up to each other.

I'm pretty.

That's what they tell me. People like me, they like my face. They say I'm beautiful. But it is as they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Those are not my eyes.

For when I see myself, I see a horrendous amalgamation. I stare into my reflection and I see the rot of a hateful person. I always wonder how people can see beauty in that face. The fat in my cheeks, the uncanniness of my face, the creepiness of my big eyes, my oily nose, my big chapped lips, my cheeks filled with imperfection. I don't have awful break outs, I don't have awful acne.

I can say I'm thankful for that.

But sometimes, there would be a too red spot in my cheek, or a red dot accompanied by two others. Sometimes my pores look too big. My lips, chapped and dry and ugly as I am on the inside.

They say I'm pretty.

I say thank you, but I don't see it.

I know what lies beneath that deceptive beauty that I cannot see. What lies underneath is hideous, repugnant person whose heart is filled with hatred that it drips out of every pore on her skin, rotting her teeth, wrinkling her skin, greying her hair. Her hatred so abundant that it fats her up.

She's ugly.

I'm ugly.

Why can no one see that?

The ugliness she harbors, why can no see that!?

Pretty? Is this what beauty is? The cruel, violent, angry thoughts that floods her mind constantly until she hallows herself out with how deep she buries her hatred and her anger and her emotions; she buries it so deeply that she digs the hole to the other side of her and it drips out for the entire world to see.

I can't see that "pretty" that they speak of. How can they say I'm pretty? When I lash out, when I speak with vitriol lining my every word, when I stare with swirling storms of vexation. What is pretty in my ugliness? What is beautiful about my hatred?

How can they see beauty in me, when all I see is every single negative thing to exist in the world in every piece of me?

They don't know me.

They are so blind as to who I am, to what I am, that they can see my being in rose. And I wish they will never take off those glasses. I cannot bear for them to see what lies beyond the rose hue of their view.

I'm pretty, they say.

It makes my skin crawl with disgust, my mind cloud with disbelief, yet it warms my heart, makes my stomach giddy. I am giddy. I am disgusted. I am an amalgamation of contrast, of duality. I smile, say thank you. While the monster that is my reflection stares at me, a constant reminder that I am an imposter of beauty.

I'm pretty, they say.

And I pray,

That in their eyes, it stays that way.

fear 🪡

“The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver.

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY ACE!!

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Flash frowns internally—or maybe he does it externally, too—as he stares down a guy who has obvious interest in his baby sister. The man in front of him—Graydon or something—returns his gaze with no sign of backing down. "May I ask...what's your relationship with Jesse?"

Flash raises a brow, "are you that curious?"

"I am, yes."

"Well, I've been curious myself. What do you think of Jessica?"

"....She's my friend."

"Is that it?"

"Are you looking for a different answer?" they challenge.

"Yes. A manlier one."

"A...manlier one?"

"Yeah, you know, direct to the point, leaving nothing for you to guess, that sorta answer."

They blink and lean back, having leaned forward during their daring conversation. "I..." they mull it over, looking for the proper words, "I want to be the one she loves."

Flash stays silent, searching their face for deceit. Slowly, he nods, and looks away, arms crossed as Jesse returns with their ordered beverages. She looks between the two of them, noting the tells of displeasure in her brother. She smiles and starts up a conversation with Graydon, not caring for her brother's lack of input for now.

She smiles as Graydon looks at his watch and excuses himself, having errands to run. She waves him goodbye and watches him drive away. Only then does she look at her brother who's already staring at her, knowing that she'll want to speak with him. "...You don't like him?"

He sighs and sips on his coffee, watered-down with melted ice, "not satisfied with him, no."

She purses her lips and nods, sullen at the admission. "What is it about him?"

He peers up at her, "just...suspicious of him. Plus, I didn't like his answer."

"Well, what do you want him to do..?" she inquires, hopeful but clearly upset.

Flash shrugs, "treat you well."

"He does, though."

"Then date him."

"But—" she exhales loudly.

He sighs after a beat of silence, "do you like him?"

"Yes," she says, resolutely.

"Then date him, even if it might hurt in the future."

She frowns deeper, "it's like you want me to be hurt."

"If I wanted you to be hurt, you wouldn't be asking what your boyfriend or whatever can do to make me like him. You wouldn't even ask me."

She exhales, her brother has a point.

"It's not that I want you to be hurt, I don't. I'm your older brother, I want to protect you from harm, it's basically my duty."

She glances at him.

"But, I can't protect you from every harm without doing the damage. It happens, we all get hurt, no matter how careful we are. If I try to protect you from every thing that might hurt you, you'd be hurt. If I didn't, you'd be hurt. Doesn't matter what you do, you can't live a painless life. What matters is how you overcome those painful times. That's what I'm here for, I'll always be here for you."

She smiles tearfully.

"Date him if you like him, maybe it'll be the greatest choice you make. Some things are worth the pain, in the end. And if he ends up being an ass, then I'll be here for you. Point is, you'll get hurt no matter what, maybe you two would argue, maybe he'd treat you badly. You'll make mistakes and you'll learn from them, you'll get hurt and you'll be stronger. As long as you get out of there when it's getting...toxic, then be with him. It's the happy memories that matters, in the end, right?"

She nods, "yeah."

"Promise me you'll leave if it gets toxic, though."

She holds out her pinkie, linking it with his, "promise. And I know that you'll be there to pull me out."

He smiles, "make good friends, yeah? Good ones, the ones that'll stick with you no matter what."

"I will, I do....Thanks, Flash."

He smiles, "anything for my sister."