#(This post is NOT Inviting you to Debate. it is meant to Inform you)

[namelessweapons]

On Religion, Fictionkin, and the importance of 'Gatekeeping'

Long post. Under a cut. Herein when I say 'We' I mean the nebulous idea of a community, I will be using 'I' in this for us, for clarity.

I will be redacting the names of any people or events mentioned herein in passing. This is not a jab, a "Callout", or a focus on one person, event, situation, or otherwise, anything mentioned in passing as examples are just that, examples, and if you recognize any of the people, places, things, or events mentioned herein, you are invited to not name them, they are not individually important.

My last disclaimer is that this is an Essay, not a Debate, I will not be 'Engaging' anyone about it who disagrees. I will not be 'engaging' anyone about it who agrees either. Equality.

I state herein that I will be dropping the term 'Fictionkin', as it's been completely aided to ruin by people who aren't even Fictionkin, and that I place a new word down that I will be using, I will make another post just about this word as well, but do know I do that in this essay.

EDIT: Yes this is okay to reblog! No worries

When I say 'Spirit Animal' what do you think?

Your knee jerk reaction if you don't know me was probably to recoil, it's a term that's been appropriated to the point of near uselessness in conversations with people who aren't indigenous. My father is native, or rather, he's half native and half Salvadoran. But he has closer ties to his native roots, for this reason, I spent a lot of time with my indigenous nation on the reservation parts of my family lived on, and I've never been to El Salvador once.

Your next thought may be wondering why I don't drop what nation I'm from, it's because it's really easy to doxx people with that information, so I will not be doing so, it's not super important anyway, the only important part is that my people have a concept that has been appropriated into this nebulous concept of 'Spirit Animal', it's now a fundamentally useless word to me, and many other indigenous people as well, because people who don't believe the same things we do took a concept, and a word, and gave it their own meaning, and ran with it.

This post isn't about being native, and it's not about spirit animals, but it is about the idea of taking concepts and, more importantly, words that already exist and are attached to a belief system, and re-appropriating them into other meanings.

Where is this going? I'm getting there.

I've been out as 'Otherkin', specifically 'Deitykin' for around sixteen years now, and out as 'Fictionkin' for a large chunk of that. Before I continue I'd like to say that being Fictionkin is not 'A Delusion', it is not a medical condition, believe me I've seen therapists and psychologists, it's a keystone of my religious identity and spirituality, once upon a time I probably wouldn't have had to clarify that to my own community.

You see, it used to be that when you said you were 'Fictionkin' it mainly meant one of two things, either it was a religious belief, or you had caught on to the part of tumblr who began using it to mean 'I just really love and identify with this character, teehee!', and when that started happening, people for whom this was a religious belief, a deep an important part of their identity, pushed back, and said 'hey, we were here first, this is our religion, can you maybe get a new word for your roleplay?'

And that was the correct response, it is not only rude, but morally reprehensible to take something from people as important as a deeply set religious belief, and to say 'no, actually, you have to let us use it for this totally unrelated thing, that will make people assume the completely wrong thing of you'

It's this sort of colonizer mindset, this is why I started this off talking about the fact that I'm indigenous by the way, because I knew I was going to use this word as a comparison and I wanted people to know where I was coming from in regards to my relationship with it. But it is a very similar mindset, it's the mindset of 'I am going to use this, and you have to share, and if you aren't okay with that, you're an icky gatekeeper and the onus is on you to move'

No, it isn't, the onus is not on me, or anyone else for who this is a fundamental religious belief to 'move'.

Back then we were pretty good about setting boundaries, when someone would say 'I choose to identify as this character' or 'I just identify deeply with this character' the community was pretty good at standing its ground and going, no, that's not correct, there's no issue with that, but you need to get your own word, because this word exists, and we as a religious community are using it.

However I was recently made aware of the fact that apparently, somewhere along the way, some people decided that it was playground bullying to not allow people to appropriate spiritual beliefs and religion, now I'm not sure exactly when that started, I logged off the internet for a while to focus on my religion off the internet and also to deal with a fire and being homeless.

When I came back I still wasn't aware of it right away, in fact I wasn't aware of it until my spouse, who lives in the same home as me, attended an event and got to watch someone use the term 'Fictionkin' incorrectly.

Now I did not choose to attend this event, I work a very busy job, I also wasn't aware there was a discord for it or I may have joined to people-watch, but in the end knew it wouldn't matter, because my spouse and I live together, and I can community watch over their shoulder should I desire to.

Back to the situation, someone used the term 'Fictionkin' incorrectly, or rather they used a term other than 'Fictionkin' and attached the meaning that already existed of the word 'Fictionkin' to it, because at some point when I wasn't looking, Fictionkin were pushed out of their own words and their own spaces in favor of this new meaning, which seems to range from anything from;

'I have medical delusions about being this character' 'I choose to ID as this character' 'I just identify very closely with this character'

to a myriad of other things. I'll circle back to this, the point is I was completely taken aback when I saw the people in charge of the group wrist slap not the person who was using the wrong definition and implying by extension that everyone using 'Fictionkin' was delusional, or choosing their identity, or similar, but the Fictionkin who were attempting to protect their words from being appropriated.

This is, to me, morally disgusting. I find it fundamentally abhorrent, and I recognized something in it, that tiny sliver of a moment where I was like, oh, this is exactly like how white people took things from my culture and ran with them to the point where they're fundamentally useless outside of spaces that have been carefully screened to only include the original users, because outside of that everyone will make wild assumptions. I get the same roiling feeling in my gut when someone goes 'Oh, fictionkin, like the people who have delusions!/Really like a character!' as I do when Britteneigh who works at Holister overhears me speaking about [REDACTED] and goes 'Oh my goshh you're talking about spirit animals! my spirit animal is-'

Before anyone gets into a huff, no, I am not 1:1 comparing being fictionkin to the oppression my people have faced, so take your hands off the keyboard, because I wouldn't have replied to your lack of reading comprehension anyway to be frank. One situation reminding me of another does not mean I am 1:1'ing the situations and the fact I have to explain this here before it even happens says a lot about my faith in tumblr's reading comprehension. I know.

Back to my essay, the feeling was very similar, this was a word I had used for a long time, a word I was around for when it was created, and a word I had watched be kept very carefully so as not to be watered down, so that an already small and spread out community would have a way of discussing our experiences, feelings, and needs, without becoming scattered, lost, and lonely.

Because that really is the point of having specific religious denominations, my father was a hobbyist theologist, I grew up with bookshelves popping up around me filled top to bottom with religious texts. There are Christian denominations you can't even get to share a room because their root beliefs are so different, so they have different words. Imagine for a moment that an 18 year old walks into your catholic church -- you're catholic in this scenario -- and tells you, someone who has been catholic since you yourself were a child, the following:

"I think your delusional dependence on the saints is really quirky and cute, I've been in touch with God himself for two years now, but you're cool too"

You would probably not be entirely happy, and I think most people would understand why. It's more complex than that of course, ironically I'm watering down a theological belief to make a point about not watering down theological beliefs, I can be a hypocrite, as a treat.

Allow me to loop back to my original point. I came back, feeling lonely and eager to re-engage with my religious community now that my life was more stable, only to find that at some point my religion had been bulldozed over in the name of (misguided, I'll get to that) "Inclusion". I had been, have been, left Spiritually Homeless so to speak, never knowing if a place I popped my head into would be for people like me, or for people so fundamentally different from me that we effectively have nothing in common.

I don't have anything against people with delusions, I have non-religious delusions when my OCD peaks. I don't have an issue with people who relate very closely with fictional characters. I don't even really have an issue with people who 'choose' to identify as a character other than the core idea of this essay. I don't mind sharing casual non kin or non religious spaces with these people, why would I?

I would say 'after all, they aren't hurting me'

Except like, here's the thing.

They Are.

I came back to what I considered my home, my religious community, and I found that while I had been gone, I and people like me had been forcibly removed from the spaces we had made, pushed out overwhelmingly by either people who had either appropriated our word outright, or worse still, by people who aren't fictionkin, have no right to speak on fictionkin (much less the words we use or how we defend our religious institutions), and who have bullied us out of our spaces on this unacceptable, fundamentally selfish, colonizer-minded idea of 'Not Gatekeeping', of 'Radical Inclusivity'.

They are hurting me by depriving me of spaces where I am comfortable, understood, don't need to constantly re-iterate my religion, and they are hurting me by depriving me of a word that historically has been the only real word to get into contact with the few other people I share a religion with, and by telling people I have a disorder that I do not have, as again, I do not have religious delusions, I simply partake in a niche religion. There is nothing wrong with having delusions, there is something wrong with force-diagnosing me by proxy.

And guess what. Sometimes things just aren't for everyone. Sometimes things just aren't for you. And you have to be okay with that. Or if you aren't okay with it, you're going to have to deal with it, because it's just the way things are.

Now, since I know someone is going to get into it, what I'm talking about here has nothing to do with the queer definition of Radical Inclusivity, not relevant, not related, not a religion, not the same, do not bother bringing it up.

When I say, 'I am Fictionkin', I want people to know right away two things.

I am a fictional character (or rather, I resemble a fictional character and can be considered a nonfictional version of them for all major purposes)

For spiritual reasons, this is a religion for me.

I do not want, at any point, for any reason, anyone to have to ask or wonder, if this is a self ID thing, a medical thing, a love of the media thing, I fucking hate half my media, shining resonance refrain is dogshit and here's why-

Different essay. Sorry.

This is getting quite long, so I will now turn around and backtrack to my original point.

Thanks to a lack of gatekeeping, partially from the community itself, and overwhelmingly by people who paint themselves as having authority who aren't even Fictionkin forcing Fictionkin out of their spaces to make way for unrelated people, the word no longer has meaning, and despite being there when it first began being used, it is no longer a label that fits or that I am comfortable with.

For this reason, I will be hereby using the term Fictotheism, Fictotheist, Fictotheological.

{Use: I practice Fictotheism, I am a Fictotheist, I am Fictotheological}

My fictionkin status is religious, it is spiritual, I will be using this word because that point is baked in, it will be difficult to appropriate by anyone else, I have created this word to be like a bra; it should feel uncomfortable to use for anyone whom it does not fit.

I do not care if other people use it, in fact, if it does fit you, please do. I am not demanding anyone use it, it was created for me, and for me alone, as someone who was pushed out of my original community, it is too late I believe to reclaim Fictionkin, which is unfortunate.

My hope is that a new word will primarily give people a clear immediate idea of what I am, and that if for some reason others should begin using it, that it will create a community that is once again not only in-contact, but at less risk of being pushed out of our own community.

My only request to anyone who uses it, is that you gatekeep it. I am not only asking you to gatekeep it. I am telling you to. It must be in order to keep the definition intact. 'I identify as a character perceived as fictional for religious reasons', this is the definition, there are no other definitions, so sayeth the lord. This is a joke by the way, I'm not that pompous.

Not the demand to gatekeep this word however, that was genuine.

In closing, the word Fictionkin has been stolen from the people who originally used it, and I think that's quite frankly disgusting, but there is no fixing it now, the only way we could have fixed it was to gatekeep it when we first started being pushed out. Regardless of which word picks up traction next, I hope that this time we, as a community, can come together to keep people; especially people who aren't even fictionkin, from forcing us out of our own churches.

I will end on this note, partially for humor, and partially to nip this in the bud.

Spouse: 'People will definitely try to force you to use Fictionkind or say it already exists for this reason (despite it also being watered down)'

Me: Good, they can get fucked, this is my word for me baybee!!

[mysticalsoot]

This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it?

A/N: this was meant as my gift to my valentine for Grey's Valentine's Exchange but since it has been cancelled I decided to quickly finish it up and dedicate it to not only grey because they need it with how rough the exchange ended up being but also my new found friend on here! I'm really proud of this and Im very surprised at how much I wrote in such little time (5k is a lot okay lol) I hope you all enjoy it and happy early Valentine's! (I'm still gonna post a special Valentine's blurb!)

Pronouns: they/them, uses of y/n

Pairings: Cc!Wilbur x Reader

Summary: Wilbur and Reader have known each other since their early teens, and despite having painfully obvious feelings for the other, they ignore them in the sake of saving their friendship. James concocts an outing for the two and maybe it goes according to plan?

Warnings: swearing, angst but with a ton of fluff at the end! also there is a kiss but not detailed bc I in fact have never been kissed so I'm going off gut feeling lmao. also mentions of alcohol and drinking (I've also never drunk alcohol so I don't know much about that either so another guessing game there too).

Words: 5.3k

Dedicated to: @grey-rambles @loverboy-soot

masterlist

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

James had invited Wilbur, Ash, Tommy, Rue, and you over to his place to hang out. It was mostly Mario Kart and James fucking screaming the Wario sound, but it was fun. There was food and a few rounds of uno with Ash, Tommy, and Rue, but despite all the festivities, Wilbur hadn't joined in any of them. He sat in the farthest corner from you and the rest of the group, the corner of James' loveseat didn't seem very comfortable anyhow. But there he sat, hands folded and rested between his thighs, his eyes darted from the group to the wall, to the TV, and back to his lap. He seemed so dazed like he wasn't fully there in the moment like he was somewhere else.

The absence of his laugh and his smile...and his voice, concerned you. It wasn't like him to isolate himself like this, it was one thing to stop answering messages and hiding in his flat but straight out isolating himself at a social gathering was nothing like him. You wanted to find him in his corner, bring him away from the others and ask him what was wrong, what you did every time he found himself anxious and shutting down. But every time you tried someone would pull you away, ask questions or bring you into banter. Staring at him, contemplating doing something wasn't helpful so maybe engulfing yourself in the festivities around you would help. It was selfish, yes, but there wasn't much you could do. The chances of him brushing it off and saying he was fine and completely ignoring the subject at hand were much more probable than him stepping aside and delving into his anxieties with you. So you pushed it aside and focused on whatever shit James and Tommy were debating about at this point.

“James,” Tommy pauses for emphasis, his hands folded in front of his face and eyes closed, “You are one deaf fucking bastard.”

“I’m hearing you! I’m just saying your point is invalid and ill-informed!” James counters, despite the possible hostility of their bickering, it's known by everyone that it's just light-hearted poking and prodding at each other, nothing substantial to be worried about.

Something you could slip away from easily…

“Says the man who is convinced that the creeper is the elite hostile mob in Minecraft?? It blows shit up and is extremely difficult to kill at the start of the game! The true elite mob is the zombie, they are slow and easy to hit.” Tommy then stands up and his face plastered with a smug smile. He knows he's right even if the topic at hand is trivial and childish at best.

"You're an asshole, Thomas Simons. I'm right, you're wrong." James is quick to poke at him, and you catch a small, soft smile forming on Wilbur's features. He's gazing at the chaos in front of you, no longer on his jeans or the spots on the wall. It's on the people now. His friends.

The thought brings a glimpse of hope to you, maybe it's just a fluke and he's okay. Nothing to worry about, he's not being self-destructive right now. It's okay.

It wouldn't hurt to get him to join the conversation, would it? "What do you think, Wil? Who's the most elite hostile mob?" You pose the question with a smile on your face, eyes locked on his, gauging how he was feeling by the way his eyes went wide and his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. Anxious, noted, not anything new and revolutionary but something to note when speaking to him.

"Um, Skeletons I guess?" His answer is unsure and it's probably because he wasn't really listening in the first place, just observing his friends having fun and bickering, doing anything he can to keep his mind off the anxiety dwelling in his head.

“Skeletons? That is the most basic bitch answer! Also, it’s invalid because they can shoot you from sixteen blocks away!” Tommy counters his answer and he gets riled up again, rushing to pull up some sort of resource list as if this was a school assignment.

Wilbur’s face drops again, but his eyes are still trained on the group as they begin bickering again. Rur and Ash decided to chime in this time, both with their own very opinionated thoughts on the matter. It began to get tenser, despite the laughs and smiles, the abrupt yells were enough to push anyone already on edge even further.

It was best to get him out of there, even if it was for a moment. So you stood from your spot at the sofa to walk over to where Wilbur placed himself. Pushed into the corner of the loveseat farthest from the group. Now that you're closer, you notice how straight he's sat, his whole body is tense and his face is flushed.

You put your hand out to him, an offering, “Come on, Wil,” It’s muttered as a mere whisper, but he hears it. His head tilts up to look at you, eyes still wide and overflowing with unease.

“Okay,” He whispers, taking your hand in his and standing up from his own spot. His shoulders slouch, making him seem slightly shorter --- he still towers over you, but it makes him seem vulnerable and small.

You tighten your grip on his hand, in a comforting way and lead him out of the living room, through the hall, and into the dark kitchen. No one seems to notice the absence of either of you, they're too busy arguing over a block game to think about much else. He lets your hand go after the door is closed and he goes to sit on the floor in the corner of the room against the kitchen cabinets. Wil pulls his knees up to meet his chin and he wraps his arms around his legs.

“Are you okay?” You slide down the cabinet to sit next to him, your hand resting on his knee drawing circles with your thumb.

“Mmm, ‘m fine.” He mumbles, his head between his knees and his face hidden.

“As your best friend, I do not believe that.” You try to lighten the mood, be playful in hopes he’ll at least crack a smile.

“I’m fine.” He lifts his head and looks to you, despite how hard he tries it's not convincing.

“Yeah, yeah, and the queen’s alive. Come on, Wil.” You laugh, moving to card through the curls atop his head.

"I'm okay." He tries to fake a smile to rid your concerns but it's not that easy anymore.

"You don't have to tell me, but you can admit when you're not okay, love." The pet name was merely a slip for you and when you noticed you used it, you wanted to crawl into yourself. Hideaway and forget everything you said. Surely to others, it's not a big deal but it's not like you can give any hint at your feelings for him, feelings you know aren't reciprocated.

He simply hums in response with his head back between his knees, and you take your hand away from his hair and drop it on your lap. You want to help him, make him feel better but this is making you feel so hopeless. You can't let him wallow but he's stubborn, it's not easy to get through his shell.

"Wanna tell me about the French Revolution?" The question was merely a suggestion, a bribe to get him to speak in more than two words per sentence.

And it worked, his head lifted up almost immediately and his eyes were wide with excitement, "Really? Are you sure?" His voice is soft but you can practically hear the joy in the way he spoke.

"Of course, tell me all about it." As you mutter the last bit, you lean your head against the cabinet and gaze up at him. His smile is wide and he's now let his knees fall to where his legs are stretched out in front of him. Stupid lanky bastard.

"Okay so, the revolution of 1789 had maaany different causes, primarily economical and political," And so he went on for what felt like hours, but you enjoyed the chatter. You liked seeing him so giddy and happy over something he loved like this. He's an absolute history buff and most people don't care to sit still long enough to listen, except for his brother, you, and sometimes Ash. So you let him talk your ear off, you asked questions, and let him tell you all the little details and factoids he's learned over the years.

After a while, your eyes began to droop and feel heavy, and you kept having to pull your head back up to keep yourself awake. So you settled with resting your head on Wilbur's shoulder as he continued telling you about one of the many corrupt French kings. You wrapped your left arm around his middle and your right hand rested on the shoulder you laid on. You were comfortable and he didn't seem to mind the contact.

"Sleepy?" He breaks his info dump and runs his hands through your hair. You were far too drowsy to think twice about the action or to get nervous about it as usual, so you just hummed and nuzzled further into him.

"Keep talking." Your words were muffled by his sweater but he understood, and so he did just that. He continued on about the revolution and everything that came after before he himself began to doze off. His head leaned against yours and before he knew it, he was passed out too.

----

"Hey, has anyone seen Wilbur?" James chimed in, the Lion King plays on the TV, and everyone groans, and Tommy pauses the movie.

"Dude, it was the best part!" Tommy exclaims and dramatically throws his head onto the back of the couch.

"Sorry! Wil just disappeared, so I was just wondering if anyone saw him." James reiterates, hands in the air in surrender before dropping them to the floor on either side of himself.

"I'm sure the guy's fine, he's probably somewhere with his best friend anyways," Rue reassures James, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Those two are inseparable," Ash adds.

"And they are so obvious too! It's annoying." Tommy grunts in that typical little sibling way.

James frowns, clearly not satisfied with how calm and not worried his friends are. Ash notices and pats his friend on the back, and James' shoulders slump.

"Dude if you're so worried about them, go find them." Rue leans against the back of the couch, crossing her ankles and resting them on the coffee table. James growls and shoves her feet off the table, Rue then rolls her eyes. "So mean.."

“Fine, I will.” James groans and lifts himself off the floor where he sat and he as well makes his way out of the living room. He heads through the hall, peaking into the dining room; nothing. He checks the guest bed next, also nothing; and then his office, still nothing. He checks every room before he settles on checking the kitchen- the last spot he expected to look. The moment he peaks his head through the door he catches a glimpse of both you and Wilbur cuddled against each other, sound asleep.

“Aww, cute,” Rue whispers behind James and he jumps, yelling a slew of curses at his friend. She simply laughs in response. James looks back to be sure the interaction didn't wake the two of you, and surely it didn't. He would have never been so thankful for how heavy of sleepers you two were.

James backs away from the door, being sure to close it as slowly and quietly as possible, and then he ushers Rue down the hall and back to the sitting room where the rest of their friends were. He then happily plops down onto his sofa, right next to Tommy.

“So, are they okay?” Ash’s expression is one of concern, but calm still.

“Oh they're fine,” James takes a swig of the drink he left on the coffee table, “But we have some matchmaking to do.”

----

“We’re meeting at the pub around the corner, that's right, James?” The entire situation is confusing and getting a confirmation out of James is the worst hell that you desperately want to crawl out of.

"Yes, yes, that pub. I told you like ten times already." James sighs in a loud obnoxious way and if it weren't for the fact you loved him, he would be dead on sight. Or on sight when you both got to the damn pub.

"It's not my fault you give shitty instructions and clarification!" You do your best to whisper yell through the phone, he may annoy the fuck out of you but you don't hate him, and if he lost his hearing because of you—you couldn't mess with him.

"Oh my god, stop whining and get your ass over here." You're about to snap back at him and then he hangs up just as quickly as the words roll off his tongue.

You groan and drag your feet on the sidewalk, desperate to make your trek longer so you can postpone seeing James a little more. I mean, you love him but fuck can he be an annoying little shit sometimes. He's really good at it too and you don't know how he manages it.

Unfortunately, you're in front of the pub way quicker than you thought you would be. You're quick to open the door, and rush in before you push through the crowd to find any inkling of where your friends have situated themselves. James didn't mention which table the rest of their friends sat at, so you assumed he didn't know either seeing as he was on his way here as well.

You're about to give up when you spot a familiar Pinterest hipster across the pub. Wilbur is sat alone at a booth, holding what seems to be a simple water as he himself eyes the tables and bar as well as the sea of people standing around the place.

You smile and wave your hand at him, signaling that you're there. He smiles too, waving back and then gesturing for you to sit with him. You're quick to shuffle through the people surrounding you, muttering excuse me and I'm sorry's whenever you bump into someone or get just a hair too close to them. By the time you reach the booth, you're out of breath from swimming through the crowd. You plop down on the spot next to Wil and you rest your head face first on the table.

"Why is James so annoying?" You pose the question, all muffled and not really meant to be answered, simply spoken into the void.

"Hell if I know, he told me the rest of the group was here but I couldn't find them." Wilbur speaks in such a nonchalant way that you would think he did this often, wait for his friends to be there and either be late or not come at all. But you know he doesn't do this often, I mean it was more common in middle school and high school, but now he's an adult and you know his current friends wouldn't do that. I mean you're his best friend after all, you notice way more about him than you would care to notice.

"So you think they've ditched us?" You move your head to face him, eyes looking up to him and his own looking down at you. You swear you could see a smile forming on his lips.

"Hah, maybe." He laughs and then switches to gaze at his hands resting in his lap.

You lift your head up, and lean against the back of the booth. You rest a hand on his shoulder and he looks to you, "You're my favorite anyway." You pat his shoulder before removing your hand only for it to find great interest in the sleeves of the jacket you wore out today. One of Wilbur's old jackets his arms were too long for. It's oversized but it's comfortable and a hundred percent smells like him, so it's comforting.

"Ash isn't even your favorite?" He's smirking now and you can tell he's almost completely forgotten about James and the clan.

"He's a close second." You throw a soft smile to him and you can feel your cheeks warm and turn red.

———

"Wow, France is fucking shitty." You let out a soft laugh, taking a sip of whatever alcoholic beverage was the special—you didn't care, it tasted good and didn't burn horribly so it did just fine for you.

"I know!" Wilbur slurs and then laughs, throwing his head back to lean against the back of the booth. He turns to face you, smile wide and face pink from being a bit too tipsy.

"You're smart, Wil. You know that?" You rest your chin in your hand and look in his eyes. You never really noticed how rich and…deep they were. It was endearing to look at.

"Not really, I just know a lot." He shrugs, gaze dropping and face draining from positivity.

"Isn't that the definition of smart?" You reach your hand out to rest against his arm. He doesn't move or flinch. It's like your touch is second nature.

There's a silence, he doesn't say anything, you don't say anything. Your friends still aren't here and it's been an hour and a few drinks in—you're beginning to wonder what James' intentions were.

"They ditched us didn't they?" You lean your own head against the backboard.

"Oh they sure as hell did." Wilbur lets out a soft chuckle and the sight makes your heart flutter.

"Wanna go back to mine?" The question is simple and you play with the idea of looking away from him, to dull the sting if he says no—or rejects you without even admitting anything to him—but you decide to turn your head and gaze upwards at him.

A soft smile, a breathy laugh, he turns his head to face you, "Of course,"

It takes a good twenty minutes to get back to your flat, which is only a ten minute walk from the pub James tricked the two of you to go into, but with both of your slighter drunken states, it was safe to say it took a lot longer. Stumbling, giggling, slurred speech, a hand on the small of your back, your arm around his torso. There was no such thing as a ten minute walk on your minds.

The walk down the cobble path to the door of your flat is a tricky one. Wilbur only had a few shots but he hadn't been drinking in a while so his ability to handle much alcohol was severely lacking at the moment—so he was stumbling a lot. He nearly fell in the bush a few times but you were able to keep your grip on him, keeping him steady. You yourself weren't in the best of shape either, but you managed. Surprisingly neither of you had felt the least bit nauseous yet, which was a tremendous thing.

You struggled a few moments with your keys before Wilbur got off the wall where he leaned and said, "Here, lemme try." He was quick to find the right key and turn it in the keyhole. The door clicked and Wilbur turned the door knob and pushed it open. He stepped aside and bowed, his right arm over his stomach and his left out stretched in a gentlemanly manner. "Royalty first, as always." You smile and are sure your laugh is heard by the man.

"Why, thank you kind sir!" You exclaim, folding your hands like a queen in a ball gown and dramatically walk in the door. He laughs and follows you in, closing the door and locking it behind him.

You lead him to the living room just to the left in the corridor and curl up on the couch and shove your shoes off your feet. Wilbur follows and does the same, his head next to yours and his legs curled up next to him.

"Hi," He whispers to you, smiling softly and gaze set up on you.

"Hi," you pause, readjusting your legs to be held against your chest. "I'll take the couch, you take the bed, that cool?" Your eyelids begin to feel heavy and so you rest them, unable to spot the reaction Wilbur gave you.

"No, not cool." He states plainly, your eyes shoot open. Did you upset him? What did you say wrong? Your mind runs wild and he seems to notice your anxiety bubbling. Your slightly tipsy self, not doing a great job at hiding it. "I take the couch, you take the bed."

"No, you take the bed, I take the couch."

"Darling," He warns and the pet name shocks you both, and it seems as though the alcohol has an effect on both of your filters, his and yours.

"I said what I said and I stand by it!" You cross your arms over your chest and playfully move to look away from him.

He groans in an artificial annoyance and you smile to yourself.

"How about this," He begins and you turn back to face him, he's sat up now, legs pulled up to his chest still. "We both take the bed? That way we both win."

"Mmm, as long as you're okay with it, I am."

Wilbur smiles and nods, "It was my brilliant idea, now wasn't it?" A smirk forms.

"Goddamn, you and your stupid ego." You roll your eyes and Wilbur huffs.

"Oh shut it." He snaps back, going to stand and walk out the door and across the hall to the bedroom. You follow him and quickly go to the cupboard on the left beside the door. Your bed is prepared to warm one person, not two, so you need extra blankets and maybe another pillow or two.

"Dude, when's the last time we shared a bed?" You break the silence, chuckling to yourself as you hear Wilbur shuffle around the bathroom—presumably to find his old toothbrush he left at your place that one time he stayed for a week six months ago.

"Like the last time I stumbled to your door drunk as fuck?" He sighs before exclaiming an Aha presumably because he found the toothbrush he was looking for.

"You really need to stop drinking that much, especially alone. I'm not always gonna be here to be a pick me up for your sorry ass." You throw the blankets you pulled out onto the bed and jumped in face first. "So comfy." It's meant as a whisper, but Wilbur manages to pick it up.

"Save some blankets for me, meanie." He turns on the faucet and he's then silent for a moment before the sound of brushing sounds from the bathroom.

"No, they're mine. I bought them with my money, dickwad." You grunt and turn over, wrapping yourself in a little blanket cacoon.

Wilbur lets out a laugh, and the faucet sounds again before the tapping of the toothbrush on the side of the sink. Before you know it, the other side of the bed dips and you feel a blanket being snatched from you. You don't have the energy to fight it, so you let it go.

"Wow, my best friend being generous to me? What world do we live in.." He mutters, laughing more to himself than anything.

"Too tired to care."

"Not because you love me? Oh my heart!" He dramatically clutches his heart and lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Only because tired." Your words become more slurred and they're muffled by the pillow you have your face in.

"Yeah, yeah." He sighs, and then tosses around a few times, getting comfortable. The bed creaks with his every move and you can hear him groan in annoyance at the sound.

The creaking stops, and Wilbur stops moving. He's situated now, but he's on his back staring at the ceiling.

Many thoughts run through his mind but one in particular stands out; Should I tell them?

The concept is foreign, expressing undiscussed emotion that could be detrimental information if provided at the wrong time—it's scary. What is he meant to do? Lye around and pretend he didn't get nervous at your touch, or your pet names or the way you willingly am letting him sleep next to you—and while the latter wasn't unusual in the past, it was now, given the two of you being in your early 20s and having been avoiding sleepovers since you turned 18. Although there was only so much you could do when Wilbur came stumbling to your door pissed out of his mind.

He bit the bullet. What's the worst that could happen? A Lot actually.

But he figured he should give context first, background.

"Do you know why I was sulking that day at James'?" He breaks the comforting silence that fell between you two. He doesn't mind it but he figured he must act now before he chickens out.

"I figured you were just having a bad day, and once I offered a France info dump you seemed pretty okay. Was there something I missed?" You turn your head back to face him, eyebrows knitted in genuine—sober—concern.

"I was upset," He pauses, beginning to place the pieces in his mind of what to say next and then after that and then after that and so on. "It's kind of stupid, I guess-"

You cut him off, "Nothing, and I mean nothing you say is stupid, Wil. I promise." You're sitting up now, crisscrossing applesauce on the bed, your body facing him but your eyes trained on his own eyes. "What was wrong?"

He closes his eyes, "I guess, I was getting sort of fed up with myself. See, I really really like this person—" He pauses to sit up himself, he gazes down at you as he leans his back against the wall. He reaches for your hand and draws circles on your palm with his thumb, his eyes painfully focused on the lines drawn in your skin. "They're wonderful, and one of my closest friends. I've liked them for a long while, love them even but a part of me knows they don't reciprocate my feelings—so I was feeling sorry for myself. It had been years and no moves had been made and so I felt hopeless. That person was so happy that day, and I was pissed I wasn't the reason for their smile." He sighs, letting go over your hand and leaning against the headboard, eyes closed shut.

Your voice is but a whisper, "Who is this mystery person?"

He hesitates for a moment, but he's this far already, there isn't any going back.

"You." The answer is simple, straightforward and blunt but it hits you hard nonetheless. Handfuls of emotion are thrown at you like confetti and you can't even begin to sift through and identify them all. You're in shock, that's for sure, but everything else? There's no telling.

You smack his shoulder, "William! You should have said sooner, you asshole!" Your tone is playful but your words would say otherwise. Elated.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He rubs the side of his arm, wincing for a split second before meeting your eyes.

"Not telling me." Frustration.

Silence, no more words slip from either of your tongues. It's simply quiet, the humming of the fan you set up hours ago, sirens sounding outside in the city —your breathing, his breathing. Fear.

"I like you too, you know." You look down, despite him already confessing to you, admitting this is still terrifying, and odd to you.

"Oh, I know." He smiles, and you mentally smack yourself for saying something you know would get some stupid snarky comment.

"You and your damn ego, Soot." You shake your head, smiling fondly at him.

"Oh but don't you love my ego, my dear?" The man is still tipsy.

"Hey, why don't you shut up?" He smirks, and you immediately regret your words, well, partially — he reaches his hand up to rest on your cheek, and he brings your face closer to his, lips millimeters apart and breath fanning on each other's faces.

"Can I?" It's a simple request but you nod, smiling whilst your heart warms. He leans in closer, your own lips meeting his in a soft loving exchange.

You smile into the kiss, giggling a few times throughout. You rest your hands on the back of his neck and his own hands fall to rest on your sides.

It's not as dramatic as you imagined, figuring if he felt the same he would have some grand confession —but you like this, you really do. It's calm, private—it's tremendously better than a heated confession in the rain, at least in your opinion.

You both break apart, smiles wide as ever and you're out of breath. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around him and your head hitting his chest, settling into him. It takes him a moment to reciprocate but when he does, his own arms snake around you, pulling you closer to him.

Wilbur's head dips down to rest on top of yours and you hum happily. This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it? Warm arms around you, the sound of his beating heart—he starts to hum, what sounds like one of his songs.

The night goes on like this, the two of you wrapped around each other, Wilbur humming songs he knows or wrote and the occasional comment on how long it took you two, followed by laughter.

This was joy, he was joy.

The next day, you awoke to your phone buzzing like no tomorrow. You were groggy and really didn't want to even bother looking, but the sound managed to send you into a slight panic. Your legs were still wrapped with Wilbur's, and his head was resting on your chest and his stupidly long arms were pulling you into him. You looked over at the end table on your left and snuck your phone into your grip.

You groaned as you pressed answer on the incoming call that created your woken state. It was James.

"What do you want, James? It's 2am." Your tone is that of a very annoyed person, and James winces over the call.

"I hadn't heard from you and Wilbur's not answering his phone or his door, so I figured you two ran off and died." His words all jumbled together and you laugh much to his distaste, "Be serious here!"

"We should've run off, honestly. Maybe we would have gotten some peace and quiet then." You set your gaze down at the man with his arms around you, and you smiles sweetly.

"You're a dick—are you two okay? Do I need to send like a police force or something?" James is still frantic with how he speaks but you can tell he's calming down by the second.

"We're fine James, okay? We're at my place. We drank a little last night and my apartment was the closest." You pause, but before he can get a word in, "Thank you for setting us up." There's a smirk on your face and James can hear it in the way you spoke.

"What—I, I didn't set you up!" He's quick to his defense and you laugh.

"Yeah, no you definitely did."

"Did it work?" He asks, ditching the defensive attitude from the moment prior.

"Yeah, yeah it did. Thank you." You lean your head back, phone still pressed to your ear and your free hand carding through Wilbur's mop of curls.

"Good."

[fan-goddess]

This is just what I have to say.

I’ll be honest when I say I don’t know what it exactly it is I want to talk about in regard to what has recently come to light in this fandom. Quite frankly I’ve been debating on whether to do something like this since the situation came to light. I was aware of certain arguments between people, and I was aware of blockings and accusations etc. Yet when I found out about this recent situation, regarding people who I have actually talked to and those who I call my friends, I was actually horrified and disgusted by what I saw.

This place was meant to be a safe space where we could come together and talk, and yet it’s now hateful and vile and god damn fucking awful. I want to stay neutral in this whole thing and not take sides when I say Bel was someone who I thought of as my friend. We talked not a lot on tumblr, pretty much only when I sent a request not on anon and she’d come to my dms and talk to me about it or when she’d invited me to a discord server or too. That is where we pretty much conversed in main conversations, but it was mainly on tumblr reblogs regarding stories we talked and became quite friendly.

I don’t know if she has talked about me or not to other people, nor do I know if anything like what has happened to other people, has happened to me. But when I say I saw the screenshots that have been shared about the things she has said and what she has done i was completely shocked and quite frankly disgusted as these to me just sounded so different to how I talked to who I called my friend.

To all those who have had things said about them, or had their information spread and shared without consent I want to say that I myself hope you realise what has been said is not true and that you are all wonderful writers, gif makers and in general wonderful people. You should not be bullied or harassed or have anything like what has happened happen to you without your consent ever.

I don’t want to really discuss this further than this post, but I want people to know that my dms and my ask box is open in case people would like to ask anything. I hope you all have a good day. I suppose really just wanted to say my say in this matter.

~El

[fluffypotatey]

Macaque Book Club AU

He’s the only one asides from Tang probably who has read JTTW. So in his little book club because let’s be honest, between the theatre and the graffiti lego set, he seems like the kind to have a couple modern day hobbies in the arts like your grandma who has a bunch of friends to gossip with at the knitting meet or the greenhouse. He’s the only monkey actually using his human disguise actively so, I imagine they get together at the local library, someone brings refreshments Macky is allergic to by virtue of being a monkey but they get him addicted to (insert snack/drink of your choice) and he gets into fandom discourse at the book club with someone whose like “the 6EM from the book was a one off villain who died ages ago, get over it” but to him, on the worst nights it all comes back. (And maybe this is recently right after Shadow Play so.) oh wait pff, we’re going to need a new recent trigger I forgot he gets kidnapped right after 😭 okay so maybe this person is what pushes him to write the play. I hope you know the exact like of fandom discourse I’m talking about bc I’m really pulling from people who are like??? why are you hyperfixated on this one thing? And maybe Tang eventually puts the pieces together about who this guy is. I also can’t help but start thinking about how lonely Macky might actually be, because you’d THINK he’d be the anti social one but Wukong is the one isolating himself for a thousand years with 13 cats, I mean a bunch of baby monkeys. Meanwhile, Macranberry is out there in Six Earred Hearing Hell in the city and super chatty whenever we see him. He wasn’t as chatty around the Brotherhood. Only with Wukong as needed who was full out dancing on the tables lol, things change eh? Even defeating the smoke monster feels like an attempt at catching up to your friend who got a real job while you’re just starting college. (Aka when Wukong and his shiny new hero legend status sealed the Bull King.) He says there was nobody who could stop the two of them in the Celestial Realm or on earth but we know that 1) Macky doesn’t like the Celestial Realm. 2) They definitely weren’t spending all day there back then with the overthrowing plotting and also got defeated hard. 3) They weren’t actually vigilante heroing back then if Wukong picked up his demon defeating status after the journey. 4) Would Macky ever do that on his own or was it always with Wukong until he tried it out post-resurrection like everything else presumably new about him. He probably meant “nobody could stop Wukong’s mischief that I helped him out with but he mostly did all the big things like immortal peach stealing and the book of the dead himself and I was there for uh, moral support. And baffled that he did that. But I’m going to pretend to MK that we were a cool team and equals and this wasn’t just a precursor to our eventual fall out. Sorry Mr. “yeah you always did have a sidekick kinda vibe.”

careful, anon, he could hear you 👀

but lmao i love this au!!!! also, since Tang is in the same book club as Macky (and i kinda want them to always get into “scholarly” debates when it comes to jttw because it’s Tang’s favorite book and….well, Macky has a monkey problem…..), Tang is invited by Macky to the shadowplay, so end of 2x07 is basically

MK: uh…so that’s Macackle— Tang: MY BOOK CLUB NEMESIS WAS FHE SIX EARED MACAQUE THIS WHILE TIME??? MK: yeah, he— sorry, book club? Tang: THAT BITCH HE FUCKING LAUGHED AT MY ANALYSIS ON THE MONK AND WUKONG!!

and then you’ll just have Tang screaming at Macky throughout s3 about how he must answer for his “crimes” of withholding valuable academic information (3x08 is just them arguing about the content in jttw but it’s not actually about jttw rather about Macky himself and his blind anger obscuring his memories. they just use the book as a cover for the true conversation)

[pemokiandkenacia]

A More Thorough Introductory Post:

Hello, friends, and welcome to our semi-official P&K content blog. I'm @smzeszikorova, and I'm working with @adrielcastlyre on a series of four books, currently titled Pemoki & Kenacia, though that name may be subject to change. We've spent about ten years world-building and character-building. Not an ideal timeline, but I regret nothing. The joy's in the process.

We've laid out the foundations for all four of our books—made the transition from pantsers to planners. The outline's all there, and though there's a few important details to work out, we know what direction we're taking. Phase one's complete. Once I've submitted my thesis (UPDATE: SUCCESS) , we'll be set to hammer out our drafts.

For newcomers:

Pemoki & Kenacia's a bit ambiguous, genre-wise. The closest thing to it's probably hard fantasy. As for our target audience, I'd go with "adult". our POV characters' age range is pretty broad, and their interests and concerns vary accordingly, but they're written with adult readers in mind. I'm cautious to reduce P&K to a string of TikTok tropes. That said, here are some things you can expect to find here:

Multiple protagonists. Our cast is large. We've got approximately 90 named characters in-universe whose appearances in the end product are more or less guaranteed. Granted, most of these aren't central to the plot. But our main cast is on the large side. Each book generally has one to two protagonists; they change from book to book.

Multiple POVs. And to ensure that each character's arc comes to a satisfying conclusion, I switch between points of view somewhat regularly. (My tendency's to head-hop. For college degree reasons, I read a lot of old-timey Russian literature in the vein of Anna Karenina, and it influences my style, but I know head-hopping's a bit of a controversial writing choice these days. Whether we'll try to shift toward a purely omniscient style is currently under debate. Regardless, expect to get to know a lot of characters.)

War and international conflict. Our story's very concerned with the personal struggles of our characters—familial conflict, romance, friendship, betrayal, etc.—but it all takes place within the broader backdrop of these warring countries we've invented. And the war takes center stage often.

Deep worldbuilding. This universe is large—well suited for such a large cast. Currently, it involves five multinational regions, eleven countries, and nineteen cities. With limited space to explore all these places, we highlight what's essential and let the rest inform the narrative in subtler ways.

More reality than fantasy. People who’ve had a look at our works in progress say that we’re pretty grounded in reality for a couple of fantasy writers. All our main characters are human. Magic is a genetically-inherited phenomenon with rules loosely based in science. And while none of our fantasy regions, ethnicities, or religions are meant to be read as directly analogous to any real-world ones, they do draw influence from the real world at times. I’m sure you’ll notice this in the Russian-based languages of the Sitrii Elariny, the English-based language of Kenacia, and the language of Qhiron, which draws from both but perhaps not quite so obviously. In our worldbuilding, we make a point to give our invented nations believable complexity, heterogeneity, and political and economic motivations. We’re not too big on the “This region is inhabited by the stouthearted, down-to-earth Welverpeople who universally prefer farming tools to swords, are warm and inviting to outsiders, practice simple domestic magic, and make for extremely loyal allies” vibe.

Conlang. Fairly self-explanatory. Usually I'll just say, "[Insert sentence here]," Character X said in Pemokese. But now and again, when I feel it enhances the narrative, I'll leave it in my invented language and let readers draw their conclusions about the meaning.

Problematic characters, dark topics, and complex, incomplete redemptions. It's very important to us that we approach our darker topics with caution and sensitivity, but we're not writing Aesop's fables. Don't expect comfortable, obvious answers to the ethical questions we pose. Folks looking for escapism or retributive justice narratives should probably look elsewhere.

Queerness; disability; ethnic, racial, and religious diversity. Our story isn't really about these elements, per se, but our characters come from a variety of backgrounds, both real and invented, and it does inform the story. (We're both white and culturally Christian, and in terms of our relationships with queerness and disability, we'd both make for lousy representation, so we're operating with the understanding that we're gonna need hella beta reading once all this is done.) And on a similar note . . .

We take some unusual liberties with our world. Fake religions (Dzulyan, Kvotian, etc.) coexist with real ones. And though our languages and cultures are obviously influenced by the real world, they're all explicitly invented. We're not too concerned with making our universe consistent with real-world history, so while we do touch on issues related to queerness, ethnicity, etc., we don't go out of our way to align the experiences of our cast with those of people living within a certain real-world time period. When we decide what scientific knowledge and technology to include, our key is internal consistency. We'll guide you through the rules of this universe as needed, but if at any point you find yourself wondering what time period we're supposed to be in, just know that the answer is "none of the above".

Now, with all that said...

What are you likely to find on this blog?

Updates. If you want to know how P&K's coming along, here's where we'll ramble about the process.

Art or other related side projects.

Requests for beta readers, once we get to that stage.

This blog's a writeblr of sorts, but we won't discuss anything unrelated to P&K here. My coauthor's not very involved with social media in general, and I'm in and out of the writers' community on this site. So if you're here for tag games, community events, etc., @smzeszikorova's where you'll find all that. This blog's essentially a dumping ground for P&K materials. I can't imagine it'll be too effective as a hype builder, but once our books are released, everything we post here will be available for our readers to see. And on the off chance that our books get big (which I'm not counting on, but it'd be pretty cool), those of you who join in the fun now will have special clout. "We were here from the beginning." Do with that what you will.

We take asks! If you're interested in putting our characters in (non-erotic) situations, feel free to send in an art prompt.

As for the books themselves, I've tried to be sparing about plot reveals. (That'll be truer from here on out than it was on my other blog. Current mutuals, I swear I'm not kidding when I say all those art posts, quotes, and snippets I used to post are basically void. That's how much we've changed over the past few months. But the first book's premise remains the same:

As the threat of war looms on the horizon, Catherine Leures, an impoverished Kenacian woman living in the north of Pemoki, enlists in an effort to pull her family from the depths of financial ruin.

(I think I'll hold off on descriptions of the other books for now. They'd be pretty spoilery. But I'll post more thorough blurbs as I start getting these published. We do have titles for the second, third, and fourth books: Fledgling's Descent, Stirrings of a Silent War, and The Fallen Star of Thaeryvon.)

What do I mean when I say everything's changed, then?

I mean the process of filling plot holes, removing extraneous plotlines, and accounting for sensitivity in our characterization has resulted in a good number of our characters' personalities, relationships, and arcs being completely revamped. Lucky you! Aside from knowing the names, national and moral alignments, and general appearances of most of the first book's main cast, you'll be on about the same page as new readers if/when P&K gets published.

Before I go, a couple updates about P&K:

Since I started writing my thesis, my writing style has changed significantly. We've been making stylistic revisions to our original draft. Thankfully for our future editors, our first draft's gotten a lot more concise.

All the canon events are essentially set. The "outline" I did for my thesis is basically one long synopsis. All that's left for our first draft is to fill everything out with dialogue and detail. (Easier said than done, but I'm excited anyway.)

My coauthor and I have been playing with the idea of a character narrator: someone with a personal investment in the story. We're not sure yet, but it's a fun experiment.

If you've gotten this far, thanks so much for reading this incredibly long post.

[warmth-and-wonder]

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION TO ARTHURIAN PAGANISM

Do you like digging through rarely translated Welsh manuscripts and crusty PDF’s searching for a little known truth that cannot be found? Do you enjoy wild goose chases but religious this time? Do you want a spiritual practice focused on digging in and coming to your own conclusions? Do the legends of King Arthur and his knights inspire a spiritual admiration? Then, you’ve stumbled upon the right tumblr post.

This is meant to be a base level introduction to Arthurian Paganism, an open path anyone from anywhere can follow. I am not an expert, and and do not wish to be treated as such. However, I do think I have enough information to springboard someone else’s journey.

Let’s gets started!

WHAT IT IS

Many religions have a concept of hero worship or hero cults. Worshipped in the terms of divinity or pseudo divinity, sometimes compared to the concepts of local gods and Catholic saints, but not exactly. It could be said this concept dates back to heroes like Gilgamesh and Enkidu, all the way back in 2900 bce! Such, Arthurian Paganism is the tradition of revering Arthur and other Arthurian figures just as one would revere other ancient heroes.

The historicity of Arthur has been subject to lengthy debate. Evidence can point to him being a Briton chief who fought back an Anglo-Saxon invasion shortly after the fall of Rome, or point to him not existing at all. That mystery is a piece of what makes Arthur unique to practitioners who revere him. We will never know the real truth of who he was until his messianic return. (If that even occurs as well!)

It is also worth noting the Christianization of Arthur’s story. The Anglo-Saxons won the war, and with them brought ancient Christianity. Fairies became demons and queens became virgins, and those virgins bore pentacles on their shields. This strange melding of Pagan and Christian symbolism merged into a story that could survive. Christian authors contributed to and thus preserved Arthur’s story through centuries of distance. This merging of legends and religions is an important part of this path. Practitioners wishing to stray further from Christian symbolism must do a bit more digging to access the Pagan meanings underneath.

Because of the lack of a solid ground line, historical or spiritual, this is a branch of worship filled with personal findings and UPG more so than any other form of Paganism. Arthur expects you to quest for what the truth is, who he is,who you are and what you believe. It’s up to you in the end regarding the heroes, villains, and relationships wound up in this tale. We quest just like the knights who scoured for the Grail and the Questing Beast, and we come up short like them as well.

“So many scholars have spent so much time trying to establish whether Arthur existed at all that they have lost track of the single truth that he exists over and over.”

-John Steinbeck

WHAT TO DO

Interacting with heroic figures is done similarly to how we interact with spirits and deities. Create them an altar, leave them offerings, wear devotional jewelry and listen to songs with spiritual significance! Invite them to reveal the unseen to you, and to work with you in spells and rituals. These figures, Arthur, Guinevere, Merlin, Morgana, Mordred and more, they can interact with you as any other spiritual being would. Invite them in, and develop a personal and unique relationship as you progress on your never ending quest.

As is good advice with any unseen being, start with a tarot reading or a prayer. Sit with them, introduce yourself, state your curiosity and intentions. Doing a tarot reading is how I got started!

There are also several ways to include these figures in your craft. Biblomancy using Arthurian literature, calling upon them in spells, and keeping a chivalrous code of honor in your magick. Also use Arthurian symbols such as red dragons, grails and goblets, circles or spirals of stones, triskelions, celestial bodies, fairies/faeries, and the general aesthetics of the knights of yore.

If you believe you are being contacted by an Arthurian figure, I encourage you to listen. Merlin sent me hawks, Arthur appeared in the clouds. These signs can be invitations! Don’t be afraid to accept, for the thing awaiting you just might be the holy grail.

INCOMPLETE BEGINNER BLIOGRAPHY

Arthurian Magick: the complete book of meditations, rituals, and visualizations- John and Caitlín Matthews are wonderful sources, but I will only put my favorite books of theirs here for brevity’s sake. This is the big book of Arthurian spells and the perfect place for anyone interested in him to begin.

Arthurian Tarot- also by the Matthews’. This deck is one of the most visionary, insightful, and detailed I’ve ever worked with. Jam packed with Arthurian symbolism and the history to back it up. There is a digital version available as an app that is my favorite digital divination method ever, and is excellent for witches who cannot have physical decks for any reason.

Temples of the Grail: the search for the world’s greatest relic- again, by John Matthews and Gareth Knight. A very detailed history of the Grail and what it could be, a subject of fierce debate and incredible importance!

Histories of the Kings of Britain - a pseudo historical list of kings written in roughly 1136 by Geoffrey of Monmouth. More often considered an epic rather than a historical document, and is considered to be the text that introduces Merlin into Arthurian mythos.

Gwaine and the Green Knight - written by the mysterious Gwaine and/or Pearl poet in the 14th century. Perfect example of the merging religions I touched on earlier.

the Four Ancient Books of Wales - four important 13-15th century texts that contain some of the earliest mentions of Arthur in Welsh.

King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and Le Morte D’Arthur - both by Sir Thomas Malory in the 1400’s. Both contain important stories and even important prophecies!

SOME EXTRA RESOURCES

Masterpost of Arthurian offerings- a work in progress for ideas and inspiration for items to fill your altar spaces

My devotional playlist- devotional playlists are excellent for meditation, shufflemancy, and spiritual mindfulness. This is the one I use

FINAL NOTES

First, thank you for reading this far! I hope I managed to impart even the slightest semblance of useful information.

Secondly, I wish you luck on this never ending quest. If you have any other resources, tips, or guidance to share please discuss it in the notes! If you have questions, my ask box is open.

All of magick, and perhaps even life, is an eternal search for more knowledge. Arthur himself was placed onto the trail of an unobtainable, impossible quest too. It matters not that his attempts can be described as futile, for the futile is sacred. For each and every aspect of his life and longer reigning mythos was foretold in prophecy. For even today there remains those who seek the same impossible journey to find the king, the grail, the truth, and simply the journey itself.

[chaoticgeminate]

Kinktober 2022 - Day Eight

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (If that was not entirely clear)

Series Summary: You're a fanfiction writer turned novelist, which was great since it was the path you wanted your writing to take you down in life. What you never thought would happen was meeting the Javier Gutierrez, who you actively write smutty fanfiction about from his film with Nic Cage, and you especially didn't expect him to have a crush on you.

Fast forward several months of dating, with a good chunk of your relationship being distance due to his constant traveling and having to go home to Mallorca, when he surprises you with a prompt list and a vacation planned around exploring it.

You haven't even worked up the nerve to tell him about what you write and post to Tumblr about him as a character yet.

Notes: Going to be using prompts from @ the-purity-pen for my meta as hell indulgence! There are feelings in this (I have no idea how they got there) and I may end up removing some possible chapters here and there depending on how I'm feeling, I apologize in advance if that happens because my brain is super mean sometimes.

Possible Warnings: None, just mega fluff and implied smut! These two are the softest 💙

Interlude (941)

Javi’s day was taken up by phone meetings with the studio that picked up his newest project, you hadn’t been able to follow every little bit of what he’d told you was happening because of how quickly he was rushing to get ready, and you decided to take the day and write as many drabbles as you could to post for your mutuals and readers online. Why he had to do all this on a Saturday you would never really know, you had thought it would be handled by people with a nine-to-five schedule Monday through Friday but evidently you were wrong.

So, writing it was.

There wasn’t much point working on your novel, still far ahead of schedule and unable to look at the sex scene without cringing, so in a spur of the moment bit of fuck it energy you’d reached out to your fellow conspirator in all things sexy -your darling Tumblr wife- and asked her to read over your slowly developing rough draft to get her opinion on the sex scene.

The professional editors that you’d sent it to had all been very vocally approving, it made the scene “more widely acceptable” in its symbolic nature versus a descriptive nature, but when you’d pushed back with the reminder that this series was meant to be darker and grittier and dirtier than what you’d already published they had tried to claim it would ruin book sales.

Maxie had tried to push you to conforming but you just couldn’t do it.

The rougher, harsher, pace and more descriptive sex scene felt integral to showcase the characterization of the male lead through the eyes of his female partner.

Why was it so hard to publish through a company?

The idea of cutting ties and self-publishing was starting to look really appealing. Especially with the information you had from the convention panel.

You grumbled and returned to your tablet where a blank page was waiting for you, opening up Tumblr on your phone and grinning at the shower of notifications, and it may have taken an hour to get through all the well wishes for a good vacation that you spotted a reblog from Amigo-con-cage of your vacation announcement.

‘You deserve a vacation, constantly providing us with immaculate stories, have a good time!’

Whoever this reviewer was you appreciated them, a lot, always offering support and kindness on just about everything you posted; you’d tried to invite them to your Discord server with your closest mutuals but they’d refused. Which was fine, you hadn’t pressed and they’d said the invitation was very sweet but they were too shy.

Shooting them a DM to thank them, mentioning you were indeed having a great time and that you appreciated their sweet message, all your focus went back to your tablet where you debated making Joaquin the subject of the random kinktober bites you were plotting. All your content for him had slowed to a grinding stop when Javi had asked you out, the only fic you were still writing for him was the series that wasn’t quite done yet, and until you talked to him about your hobbies… it felt weird to think about posting another update.

But that meant admitting to Javi you were writing smut content about him, since the film was based off his actual life and events that actually happened.

Whoreno hours it was, you decided instead.

Tapping away at your Bluetooth keyboard as you lounged on the padded bench under the shade of the gazebo, a double walled bottle of water and a chilled drink beside you, the drabble turned story began to come together easily enough to your relief. By the time you’d finished giving it a read over, making the post, and then scheduling said post for the correct day a few hours had passed and you were starting to feel peckish.

Checking the time, glad to know you had managed to work through most of the hours Javi was supposed to be busy with calls, you stretched out and let the warmth wash over you for just a little longer before deciding you could get a little something to munch on and maybe check in with Javi to see if he needed anything.

Snagging some of your favorite snacks, since Javi had insisted on them being stocked for you while you were here, a genius idea crossed your mind before you dialed Lorna about good takeaway in the area.

One order from a place called Agave later, to be delivered by eight or so, you began throwing together everything you needed for a movie night in the private theater and set up the most amazing blanket fort with a massive grin on your face. It was perfect and Javi was in for the biggest surprise ever, he’d spoiled you rotten so you were absolutely returning the favor.

You remembered him mentioning he’d never made a blanket fort before so it was time to remedy that.

“Solecita, what is-“ He came in about ten minutes after dinner had arrived and you’d set up the theater room with fairy lights and had the movie queued up, and your giggle made him look at you as you tugged him to get into the fort with you.

“Blanket fort! Figured we could watch some movies-“ He cut you off with a kiss and you yelped when he pinned you to the cushions you’d set down, one of his big hands holding your hip as the other held him up a little, and dinner was forgotten when he pulled your underwear down your legs and decided to start with dessert.

All Fics Taglist: @hardc0rehaylz @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @musings-of-a-rose @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @AynsleyWalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

Kinktober Only: @nicolethered @katareyoudrilling

[briamichellewrites]

36

After coming out on Instagram as gender fluid and bisexual, Elliot received support from celebrities. It all started when he posted support for same-sex marriage. Everyone should be able to get married. In his post, he implied he was gay and the media started speculating. Was he trolling or was he simply just trying to gain support for his political beliefs? No, he was coming out. He added information about being gender fluid in his post to educate what it meant.

He was both masculine and feminine and went back and forth between the two. Gender was not just male and female for some people.

elliotryan: Everyone should have the freedom to come out without repercussions to their physical and mental well-being. Nobody chooses to be gay, bisexual, lesbian, or transgender, and being so is not a mental or physical illness. The only choice is intolerance, violence, and discrimination. If you are debating whether to come out, know that nobody can make that choice except you. If nobody has told you they love you today, please know that I do. “All young people, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, deserve a safe and supportive environment in which to achieve their full potential.” – Harvey Milk

Everyone who knew him could not be more proud of his post. He was mature and it showed by his character and how he had compassion for others. His voice was being used to spread awareness and reach out to kids who were struggling. Phoenix jokingly texted him to stop growing up!

One minute he was ten years old and playing with Barbies with a curiosity about everything to living his dream of being a producer. How was coming out? He didn’t see it as a big deal because he had spent years becoming comfortable with who he was. Though, he did appreciate and acknowledge the support he was receiving. He did it to clear the air more than just wanting attention. Brad told him how he was so honored to be his father and that it had been a pleasure watching him grow up.

He credited Jason for helping him understand the LGBT community and the differences between gender and sexuality. Having him meet him helped significantly because he was able to see that he was just like him and that being gay was not a big deal. George and Matt also told him how proud they were of him through text messages. Being LGBT was not a choice, coming out was.

Mike read what he posted to the band while they were waiting backstage to perform. They were going to be away from their families, while he was going to be gone from his pregnant girlfriend. She was four months along and he had given her permission to find out the gender without him. They were both anticipating what they were going to have. His parents were going to check on her to make sure she and the baby were okay. They even invited her to stay with them for a weekend.

Brad and Rob were openly talking about wedding planning whilst Chester and Joe were goofing around. While scrolling around on his phone, he came across his post. They were proud of him for coming out and the way he went about it. They knew he was gender fluid and bisexual but they never made it into a big deal. He was who he was.

Because of how open he was, it influenced Brad and Rob to finally realize their feelings for each other. They both remembered when it happened. Brad had invited him over to hang out and he said yes immediately! He met him over at his place and they went into the kitchen to make dinner. While they were talking, they both noticed something between them. Rob was the one who acknowledged it. Without saying anything, Brad kissed him. Rob could not believe that the man he looked up to was kissing him!

Things heated up and they forgot about dinner because they were hungry only for each other. In his bedroom, he closed the door behind them before they started taking their clothes off. Neither of them had been with another man, so it was a little awkward as Brad got on the bed and Rob got on top. They decided to let their bodies and instincts tell them what to do.

They spent the rest of the night taking turns making love with their bodies. The next morning, they woke up with only the bed sheets covering them. It had been the best night of their lives and they both felt a love that was not brotherly but romantic and sexual. This was not going to be a hookup. They couldn’t admit it right away because of the uncertainty of their sexuality. While they took a break to figure things out, Brad hooked up with a woman to test if he felt anything.

While he was with her, all he could think about was Rob. Finally, after a week, they met at Rob’s to talk about what happened. Rob confronted him about being scared and it ended with him admitting that he was. He was terrified! What was he so scared of?

“Losing you! What if I admit I’m in love with you and all I can think about is you? What if you don’t want a relationship and you just want to hook up?”

“Brad, I’m not looking for a hookup. I’m scared too. I’m scared that the guy I’ve looked up to since high school will look past me because I’m not good enough for you. I don’t want anyone else. I want you as my boyfriend.”

I love you. They shared a kiss before Rob asked him to be his boyfriend. Yes, I will. They kissed again before going to his bedroom. That was how it started. They went on dates around LA to vegan restaurants, the beach, art shows, services at each other’s synagogues, and other activities the band would find boring. But they were part of who they were. They also found different things to love about each other.

The drummer and the guitarist. Two years went by so quickly and getting engaged was the next step. Brad had proposed to him because he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with anyone else. Their families loved them together because they made each other so happy. They came up with a routine to spend one holiday with Rob’s family and the other with Brad’s. At home, they split bills and chores. Did they argue and disagree? Of course but they were adult enough to admit when they were wrong.

Sometimes they played music together in their living room. Brad looked over at his fiancé and smiled. He wanted to bring him somewhere private and love his body but they couldn’t. They snuck kisses when they could. Phoenix teased them but not it was not malicious or homophobic, just brotherly. Okay, you two.

They would laugh it off before going their separate ways. Joe asked how old Ellie was. She was twenty-three years old. When did she grow up? They laughed. Mike didn’t know. He blinked and she was sixteen. Rob patted his shoulder to comfort him. Thanks, Bourdie! They laughed again. Did he want a daughter? If she turned out like Ellie? He was okay with not having kids yet.

Ouch. Chester thought they were going to get together. No, he was Brad Delson sexual. Phoenix thanked him for sharing. He was more than welcome. They laughed again.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[ok-mongoose]

Mel’s Angel: Part 2

Mel Medarda x reader

Notes: sorry it took so long to post the 2nd chapter I kinda forgot about it. Unrelated, tomorrow is my birthday.

Previous chapter:

You woke up at 7:30 in the morning, to the dreadful sound that was your alarm. As you slowly lifted your heavy eyelids, dreading the day ahead of you, you remembered last night. Specifically your talk with Mel, you couldn’t contain your excitement, as you quickly removed your covers. You did your normal daily routine except today you had a little pep in your step.

You were making breakfast and humming a little tune, when you got a message from Mel. To your surprise it was signed ‘Mel’, you thought it would be from her assistant or something because it’s not like you're a high ranking official or anyone important. But it did make you kinda excited that you got a letter directly from her, but that wasn’t the most exciting part.

The letter had all the information for the tea date you and Mel had planned the night before. You were supposed to meet with Mel where she lives by where the council meetings take place.

She said she would meet you in the front and take you to ‘somewhere beautiful’ not that you know what that entails. Of course you were even more excited than before because; 1. You get to have tea with Mel Medarda, 2. You got a personal letter from her and 3. She invited you to her house. Needless to say, you couldn’t wait.

After a few hours of anxiously waiting It was finally 11:40, the time you needed to start walking to get to Mel’s house on time. You quickly left your apartment and started speed walking down the street.

————————

As you were walking up to the front door of Mel’s house, a few minutes early, you saw the door opening and the gorgeous green eyed woman, you’ve wanted to see all day, stepped out.

“Hello I thought you’d come early” Wait what does she mean by that, do I look too eager? Am I too eager? No she probably meant no harm in it, you think, still having your doubts. But just as you were about to start overthinking again she snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Are you feeling unwell? Would you like to reschedule?” she said with a look of confusion in her eyes. Probably as to why you were staring blankly at her.

“Yeah I feel just fine, I just spaced out a little, sorry.” You started freaking out inside wondering if she was only asking that because she wanted to reschedule and was just hinting that she doesn't want to go on a tea date with you. You decided to push those thoughts away so you could focus on Mel.

“Good, I wouldn’t want you getting sick when we are supposed to have our date” she said with the sweetest smile you’ve seen. You got excited finding out she thought it was a date too. You didn’t even realize that Mel was walking towards the house until she said,

“You coming dear?” It took you a few seconds to realize what she just called you. Dear!? You were about to faint right there. You’ve waited ages to be called dear by Mel Medarda.

You started following her inside her home, it was very fancy yet still homey. There were a few paintings on the walls. You wondered who the artist behind these paintings was because they were beautiful. Something about them made you feel some sort of way.

“It’s just past these doors” Mel said, watching as you looked at the paintings. You hoped she didn’t think that you were judging the paintings, but just in case you said,

“The paintings are stunning” you saw her lips curve into a small smile. You never saw her smile genuinely like she does with you. It made you feel happy inside to know that she enjoys being around you just as much as you enjoy being around her.

“Thank you, i’m glad you like them” you were debating whether to ask who the artist is but before you could finish that thought she started speaking.

“We’re here, I hope you like it,” she said with a nervous smile on her face. You looked around and what you saw amazed you. You entered a room full of flowers of all kinds, different sizes, shapes, and colors. It was the most beautiful garden you have ever seen, but then again considering where you grew up, you haven’t really seen that many gardens. Which made you wonder why she would be nervous about whether you would like it or not.

She led you to a little table in the middle of the garden, where there was some tea waiting for you guys.

“I thought this would be a nice place to have tea” you almost forgot about the tea, you were so preoccupied looking at and thinking about Mel.

“I agree, it's beautiful,” you said, looking around still in amazement. When you looked back at her, you could see a smile on her face while she was looking at you. You stayed there for a few seconds just gazing in each others eyes, no one saying a word until,

“We should probably drink the tea before it gets cold,” you said ruining the moment.

“You’re right, and i'm excited to get to know more about you,” you got little butterflies in your stomach thinking about the fact that she wants to get to know you, it made you feel special.

You guys sat down and you started talking about your life but you left out some important details. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship you just started with the woman of your dreams.

————————

A few hours passed, after talking about all sorts of things, from your favorite color, to your hopes and dreams for your life, your conversation started to focus on the paintings from earlier.

“I saw you looking at the paintings before” you could feel your cheeks heat up. You wondered why she was bringing this up now, but this was the perfect chance to ask who the artist is.

“Oh yes, they are very beautiful, who's the artist?” she could hear the curious tone in your voice, like you were actually interested in the art and the artist.

“I am” your mouth dropped slightly, surprised at this hidden talent. You never would have pegged Mel to be an artist as she's usually really busy with work, but the more you think about it the more it makes sense. Art to you too is also really relaxing, you paint whenever you have free time. It's like an escape from the real world and you can make it any world you want to.

“Wow they are amazing” you hoped that came off as sincerely as you meant it to, but you’ve always had trouble expressing your emotions, besides anger, you’ve expressed that a lot in your life.

“Thank you, would you like to see something?” She said with a bright smile and a little twinkle of excitement in her eyes.

“Yes of course” again you started worrying about being too eager. You didn't want to scare her.

“Ok then follow me, I think you’re going to enjoy it” you started to get curious, wondering what this surprise is. You went through the possibilities of what it could be but it was not anything that you could have ever imagined.

You found yourself in a hall with paintings lining the wall. They had all sorts of colors and shapes, it was gorgeous. They all had the same style and brush patterns so they were made by the same person. This person must have been a really creative person to make such amazing and imaginative work.

“Do you like it?” Mel said, you could have sworn there was a hint of uncertainty like she needed you to like it. But nevertheless you gave her your true and honest opinion.

“Yes I love it, it’s beautiful” you said while looking into her eyes.

You could have sworn you heard her sigh in relief when you stated that you liked the art works. You never thought she would care about the opinion of some nobody she just met, especially since she’s so confident, why would she want the approval of someone. Then again you never know what’s going on in someone else's head.

“It’s like a getaway from all the stress of the council” she said while looking at the painting before her.

“Is the council usually stressful or is it just around progress day?” You wondered if she was usually so stressed because you could see her body all tense.

“Well you know, there are always problems, Salo and Hoskel are always arguing and no one can ever agree on things. So it’s hard to get things done, but it’s not as hard as most jobs so I don’t really have room to complain.”

“So why are you showing me this?” You were wondering why she would confide in you with such a personal thing.

“I don’t know, I guess you just make me feel like I can talk to you about anything, I feel comfortable with you” that was one of the most heartfelt things you’ve heard in years. It made you so happy to hear that she felt like she could trust you.

“I feel the same way” you said quietly while looking into her eyes. Of course that was only the half truth. You couldn’t tell her everything about yourself. Otherwise she might hate you and that's the last thing you want to happen.

————————

After talking for hours about art and hobbies by the time you guys got back to the front door it was already dark. Mel offered to walk you back home just to see you get home safely but you refused, you didn’t want her to see where you live. Not that you were ashamed of your home, you worked hard to get it, just that you didn’t want anyone that lives near you to see Mel. You didn’t exactly live in the most safe neighborhood. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Mel started speaking.

“I really enjoyed today” she enjoyed it! A wide smile spread onto your face. You saw her with an equally big smile. You were glad she enjoyed the day just as much as you did.

“I did too, I hope we can do it again” you said the last part in a low voice, half hoping she hadn’t heard it. Your mind kept running, thinking about Mel and how maybe she doesn’t want to hangout with you again, but was interrupted by Mel.

“I’d love to. How does next Saturday sound?” you were taken aback. You didn’t actually think that she’d want to go on another date.

“Amazing“ you said with a big smile, still surprised that she wants to go on another date with you. That's what it is right? A date? Your questions were soon answered.

“Well good night and I look forward to our next date.” she said with one of the most charming and gorgeous smiles you’ve ever seen. With that you left and started heading to your home.

————————

You finally got back home and quickly got ready for bed. When you got in bed you let out a big sigh, like you do to wind down from an eventful day.

While lying there you couldn’t help but think about Mel, she’s the most beautiful and intelligent person you’ve ever met. Just being around her makes you feel good.

It was hard for you to wait 1 day to see her, you can’t imagine what it will be like to wait a whole week. You wish you could see her every day. Maybe she feels the same way, maybe she wants to spend every waking second with you just like you want with her.

That night you fell asleep happy thinking about Mel and your day with her. She’s the best thing that’s happened to you in years. You’ve fallen hard for this wonderful woman and there’s not a bone in your body that is not happy you get to spend time with her.

[palestinianliberator]

To be Palestinian is exhausting

You will not find a single Palestinian who hasn’t had to endure all of the following and more:

Constantly having to prove our existence

[This is going to be a tremendously long post, but I implore you to read through what you can]

Constantly having to educate everyone around us on our history and people while we continue to be slaughtered

Constantly having to combat Israeli propaganda and dehumanization campaigns against us

Constantly having to combat liberal propaganda from those who simply cannot understand the pain and damage they are doing

Constantly having to defend ourselves from the overwhelming forces that stand in our way, from the Israeli forces to the global institutions that help support it to the structures in the US that mean that any Palestinian who dares speak out risk both their lives and livelihood

Constantly in fear of whether or not you’ll end up on another “list” as a result of daring to speak out

Constantly having to do it all again as soon as we’re back on the news

Constantly having to answer for all other Palestinians in a way that nobody else is expected to

Constantly being seen as the “crazy one” when trying to share your narrative, having to defend against an endless barrage of accusations of antisemitism

Constantly being put into situations by bad-faith actors who attempt to engage in “debate” or “discussion” or “dialogue” with talking points that demean and duhamanize you, all while being expected to maintain a smile and cool composure while someone literally debates to your face your own existence or how “actually it’s YOUR people’s fault you’re being slaughtered! Israel isn’t the bad guy here!”

Constantly being forced to choose between engaging in bad-faith debates framed in a way to make you look like the unreasonable bad guy while the person implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing is made to look like the “rational good guy” or looking after your own mental health, knowing that even refusing these “invitations” is itself a mark against you and your people

Constantly being told that you’re too “biased”, too “close”, too “emotional” about the literal slaughter of your people to be seen as a valid source, while Israelis and complete outsiders are given all the space they want to speak for us endlessly

Constantly seeing people being actively mislead and wondering if you have the capacity to reach out to them and attempt to share your narrative with them, knowing that if you don’t, they’re going to go on to propagate the same lies justifying your ethnic cleansing

Constantly having to combat GENUINE censorship throughout the media, social media, and society itself. It’s a fact proven by former Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Youtube employees that Palestinian voices have their reach censored in a way no one else does, which is why it’s so important to amplify and actively share Palestinian voices rather than just liking or indicating support

Constantly being told you don’t know your own history by people who’ve educated themselves on Youtube and Wikipedia despite having lived the reality yourself and dedicating your entire life to studying every single aspect of it

Constantly seeing those who have the courage to stand alongside you being shut down with accusations of antisemitism and seeing them lose their courage to stand by you out of fear of their own image and livelihood and having to rush to their defense as well

Constantly having to see photos of your people, sometimes even people you know, maimed, injured, murdered, or burned to ash by Israeli aggression but knowing you have a duty to share what’s happening and must stomach the images to show the world the true extent of the suffering we endure

Constantly having to worry not just for your own safety, but the safety of your family and loved ones who can be punished or targeted because of things you yourself say

Constantly wondering who you can actually trust, from new friends and acquaintances to professors to even other Palestinians because we’ve been so heavily infiltrated by Israeli intelligence looking to blackmail Palestinians using anything from their sexual orientation or even made up “evidence” meant to ruin their lives

Constantly having your heart sink every notification you get wondering if it’s news that a loved one has been killed

Constantly seeing the corpses of loved ones shared on social media and reliving the trauma all over again, yet again knowing that you WANT the world to see what’s happening

Constantly seeing the effects this has on your own family and feeling helpless to do anything

Constantly on alert for the FBI at your door as they often “visit” Palestinians who dare speak out, myself included on numerous occasions 

Constantly wondering if your advocacy for your people is going to result in the loss of your job, scholarship, license

Constantly being asked to “humanize” and “feel for” those who live their lives day in day out completely unfazed by your suffering despite living in a society that couldn’t even FUNCTION without our subjugation

Constantly being told “don’t blame regular Israelis, blame the government!!” as if the state itself wasn’t founded on our ethnic cleansing, as if it isn’t “normal Israelis” who make up the entirety of the Israeli Military and have actively brutalized you and your people

Seeing allies you fought for suddenly SILENT when it’s their time to speak up

Studying on a US campus where those SAME SOLDIERS WHO ENGAGED IN YOUR PERSECUTION AND ACTIVELY SERVED AS THE ENFORCERS OF YOUR OCCUPATION then re-enact the trauma against you and you’re meant to simply ignore the fact that THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO MURDERED YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY, and not being allowed to even be ANGRY at that

Trying to navigate this half-life in the diaspora where it’s a struggle to connect with other Palestinians given the distance between us and yet not being able to connect with anyone around because, again, they simply can’t understand

Constantly being expected to simply give up your time to those who demand you answer them and debate your existence and narrative with them, who them take you blocking them for your own mental health as a “victory” to be lorded over you when you simply can’t take it anymore

Constantly having to EXPLAIN all of this because nobody but other Palestinians can truly understand just how pervasive, overwhelming, and incapacitating this unique form of exhaustion is

Constantly seeing your erasure and ethnic cleansing defended all over the media, all over social media, throughout your academic career, while those ENGAGED in your ethnic cleansing have the audacity to claim that the media is biased against THEM

Constantly on guard with everything you say and write, knowing that unlike those promoting our ethnic cleansing, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or getting lazy in our writing and advocacy. One mistaken source, mistaken information, being imperfect is enough to discredit your voice entirely

The crippling obligation you have to share the narrative of your people, knowing that so many people will view you as the spokesperson of your entire people, knowing how unfair it is, but also knowing that if you DON’T speak out, nobody will on your behalf, and even the most well-intentioned, involved allies can simply never understand how it all truly feels

Seeing the entire world stand by and do absolutely nothing while your people are slaughtered time and time again

Seeing your history misconstrued by people implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism

Knowing that our parents have been through this and more, seeing them have to go through this yet again while still being forced to go about their daily lives and given no time to mourn or recover

Not being able to even share our culture without being attacked for it

Knowing that so many of your friends and family won’t ever be able to return to their homeland while foreigners from around the globe are flown into Israel free because it’s their “birthright”

A “birthright” denied to even my own parents, born in Jerusalem yet unable to enter it

Having even self-proclaimed “allies” question Palestinian resistance, policing our tone, never /really/ understanding our pain and anger and how they themselves contribute to it

Screaming from the moment you can about what’s happening to us, desperately trying to get people to CARE, and having it often fall on deaf ears

Knowing that if you’re not the source of information for those genuinely seeking to learn, they may find themselves mislead by sources that claim to be fair and balanced while imprinting subtle lies about Palestine and Palestinians on those they engage with

Not even being able to find the energy and ability to respond to genuine messages of love and support, which are greatly appreciated, and feeling bad about it because you don’t want to seem like you’re not genuinely happy to hear it

Feeling a sense of overwhelming exhaustion in times like this while at the same time being unable to sleep

Seeing the effect all of this has had on your people, knowing your people have among the highest rates of depression on the planet and yet we’re all suffering together with no way to ease the pain

Being constantly exposed to the ways in which your people are erased and questioning if you have the energy or sanity left to deconstruct such aggression to help outsiders understand the severity of it all

Seeing allies suddenly call for “peace” when Palestinians are finally fed up enough to rise up and fight back against an overwhelming military force

I could go on, but in case you it’s not already clear, I’m tired and exhausted

Always wondering if any of this is even worth it when the world has ignored your slaughter and ethnic cleansing for nearly 8 decades, knowing that nobody is about to step in to help now.

Constantly wondering if any of this is even worth it, and then feeling inspired by fellow Palestinians, our resilience, the fact that despite ALL of this and more, we continue to fight.

Despite all of this, I would never even consider or entertain the thought of being born as anything other than Palestinian

[lovee-infected]

Hello Geo-san, just read your post on Malleus's birthday. It says that his only relative is his grandmother and she still rules the Valley of Thorns. There are theories that his grandmother is none other than Maleficent herself. If that's the case, there are two options here, either she survived her encounter with Prince Phillip or the TW timeline is following the 2014 film. Where she's still alive and ruling the Moors, maybe renamed as the Valley, alongside with Aurora. We'll just wait and see.

I've actually been thinking about this myself, that was much of a shoking reveal!

Aside from revealing the fact that Malleus's parents are dead, this somehow dropped a bomb on "Maleficent being Malleus's grandmother theory"

The main discussion going over the fandom regarding the topic is whether his grandmother is Maleficent or not, which is a really important question!

As someone who strongly supported this theory before this reveal, I can't say I wouldn't be disappointed if Maleficent isn't actually his grandmother, but on the other hand, the possibility of her being Maleficent and still alive would face some strong contradictions in the story:

First off, let's flash back to where this theory begun in the first place:

In Malleus's personal chats, we can find Sebek complimenting Malleus's performance after the classes, telling him that he'd even surpass the witch of thorns herself one day!

Malleus immediately objects to it, saying his powers barely come close to his grandmother's.

Well, to think that they were actually talking about Maleficent but all of a sudden Malleus mentioned his grandmother instead, left us qith a great possibility of him being Maleficent's grandson, to the point that many, including me, considered this theory as canon! But now I highly doubt this theory, even though I wanted it to be confirmed true so much. But since we have more information to seriously discuss the matter right now, here are my thoughts whether this theory is still acceptable or not, which is mainly explaining what would happen if they're actually using the 2014 and 2019 live action movies as a reference:

1) Maleficent being alive would totally WRECK Silver's character development and design!

Come to think of it, there would be no Silver if Maleficent is still alive! Silver's twisted logo is the sword, and the one and only famous sword in the sleeping beauty classic AND the live action movie is the one which slayed Maleficent.

So... If Maleficent's still alive -> There hasn't ever been a sword which slayed her -> Silver doesn't have any special or specific symbol/ character which he is twisted from!

While his name might have something to do with the live action version, where they strongly used Silver to defeat Maleficent, it can also be referring to the fact that dark fairies would immediately be wounded if touched with Silver, which is most likely because of Yana's studies in the fae mythology field (Like how she chose ice cream as Malleus's favorite food since fairies love cream) which isn't necessarily bound to the live action version. But since the sword is Silver's most important role in the game, we can't really stick with the live action version because not only didn't we have any special swords in the live action version, but there also would be a big confusion if there hasn't ever been a sword which slayed Maleficent and Silver is twisted from!

In summary, I'd be honest and say this out loud: Maleficent HAS TO be dead because we need the Silver sword to exist somewhere in the story!!!

2) History of 'Classic Maleficent' vs 'Live action Maleficent'

one of the main points which needs to be considered in this matter, is how different Classic Maleficent and Live action Maleficent are. Maleficent is the very first Disney live action to present a totally different face of a well-known Disney villain such as Maleficent, which also led to a considerable growth in both "Maleficent" and the classic version of "sleeping beauty"'s popularity at the same time! But while 2014's Maleficent was an absolutely amazing movie (to at least) and nearly turned Maleficent into the most beloved villain of Disney's history, the live action (especially the 2019 version) received some strict critiques regarding how they pictured Maleficent: Many of the fans were familiar and attached to the original Maleficent, the mistress of all evil who had control over the powers of hell itself. A REAL villain and an absolutely perfect one. But the live action Maleficent wasn't meant to be a villain, the live action narrated a totally different story from what the classic was.

Though it didn't really lessen the movie's popularity, there were fans who begun to dislike this version of Maleficent after the 2019 version and their reason for disliking the movie actually made sense, the live action went TOO FAR with creating a second Maleficent, almost to the point of not being anything similar to the original, that strong villainous sense they were expecting to see in Maleficent had disappeared.

Now let's talk about twst, what is twst about? Villains. It's basically the world of villains. We need that evil, menacing and demonic sense of villains to be brought back to life through this twisted vessels, as it's confirmed that this school's students have villainous souls. From the Heartslabyul chapter till now, the Pomefiore chapter, his is all we've dealt with: Absolute villains. Each chapter is about a dorm leader (expect for Kalim) discovering and revealing their villainous spirits, which leads to an overblot. They want them to see just as evil and reckless as the original villains, which is why they put them into a mode such as overblot, where they're controlled by a puppet in the shape of one of the great seven.

Is such a story, where they need to make each of the main characters be as evil as possible, choosing live action Maleficent (who is a half villain, half hero character) not only is debatable but ia also a big contract to the previous chapters as they all followed the original villains' stories!

I guess we can all agree that Diasomnia's quite special compared to the rest of the dorms, but going as far as using a different source in character development and plot design compared to the rest of the characters and dorms seems to be a bit too much- I don't think Diasomnia's design and development is planned to be THAT different.

3) Key points about fhat has been officially mentioned in twst

Personal chats are VERY important to go through while doing a character analysis, they're such a wealthy and perfect source of information regarding each and every of the characters!

As for Diasomnia, each and every of the members mentioned something about the witch of thorns and her background, which directly leads us to how and who is the twst's Maleficent:

Lilia: Explains how Maleficent's Chronicles spent 16 years looking for a baby in a cradle -> This only happened in the classic! Live action Maleficent never sent any of her minions to look after aurora as she never had any!

Silver: Explains how the King of a well-known kingdom forgot to invite Maleficent and offended her with this, he wonders what kind of King would ever do such a disrespectful thing? -> Original Maleficent was offended and mad just because she wasn't invited, while the Live action Maleficent was betrayed by the King Stephan, Aurora's father who intentionally refused to invite Maleficent. Keep this in mind that Silver said forgetting to invite her, which is exactly what happened in the classic and King and Queen seriously forgot to invite Maleficent, not to intentionally avoid and decide to keep her away from baby Aurora like what happened in the live action.

Malleus: In his chats with Lilia, he mentions how The witch of thorns once invited the prince of as enemy Kingdom into her own castle -> This is again, something which only happened in the classic, referring to the scene where Maleficent captured prince Philip and imprisoned him inside her castle. Live action Maleficent didn't even have a castle to begin with, note that all she did was to take Phillip to Stephan's castle to give Aurora a chance to live.

Malleus: He explains how The Witch of thorns could turn into a dragon -> Live action Maleficent never turned into a dragon, she just once turned her crow, diaval, into a dragon (2014 ver.) and turned into a phoenix (2019 ver.). The only Maleficent which could and did transform into a dragon is the one we know from the sleeping beauty classic.

Hitting with the lighting: This is something Malleus is capable of doing, he both did this to Sebek back in the manga anthology and threatened Rook with it -> Again, this is something which the original Maleficent and herself only could do.

There are quite a few of other orginal Maleficent references you can find if you carefully go through the story and voice lines, but I'm not going to mention each and every of them because I believe I've already discussed this enough. Note that while there are tens of original Maleficent references in the story, there hasn't been anything mentioned about the live action Malleus so far expect for fan content and stuff.

Obviously, they're using Original Maleficent as the main reference. The question is whether they're using the live action too as a reference or not.

4) A summary + Existing debates

Aside from all of the current theories and headcanons, I guess this is all we can tell about the canon information revealed so far. But before we end, I'd like to add a few of small notes:

Lilia has never referred to the Witch of thorns as Queen of thorns, it's not quite specific to tell but it seems like Queen of thorns and Witch of thorns are indeed to different people.

But then again, why does Malleus bring his grandmother up in the middle of a discussion about Witch of thorns? Could it be that he just used her mother as an example since her too, is a very powerful magician but not exactly the witch of thorns herself, or...??

There hasn't been any information revealed regarding the great seven's current position in twisted wonderland's history, how long ago has their stories taken place? Could it be that some of them are still alive? Did their stories end just the same as orginal stories or did they decide to twist the endings as well?

The main reason why I think Maleficent cannot be alive now is not becuase she died in the original story, it's becuase of Silver, which has already been explained in part (1)!

At last, I'd like to add a final note to this piece: Even if the "Grandmother Maleficent" theory turns out to be wrong, many of the fans are already enjoying the eixisting fanon twst content which are using the live action as a reference! The most popular reference is probably with Malleus's back, where many artists decide to add two wounds on as a reference to what happened to Maleficent's wings in the live action. This is personally one of my FAVORITES and I just love it when artists draw the wounds, though the possibility of Malleus actually having wings is pretty low! We can almost call it impossible lol. The thing is, from how the story has gone so far we can assume that they aren't going to use the live action at all, but if they do, that'll be quite amazing and interesting to discuss!!

[bi-bi-richie]

Honestly Patty and Richie are both absolutely batshit 😌 they get wine drunk while they plot how to get Stan and Eddie back, bc they refuse to even thinking of the possibility of them not. Like, it just isn't an option

Richie and Patty share their experiences with Stan, to catch each other up on his life, and they both talk about their loves. It's a meant-to-be friendship, and she's a Loser that's just a little late to the game

Stan and Eddie also get a major bollocking when they get brought back, then they hug and cry

Okay I really didn’t expect that post to blow up as much as it has so I decided to write this out! Hope you enjoy it :) also based on this post

The Derry Townhouse was, in short, filthy. It clearly hasn’t been maintained in years, the building itself has such an aura that screams get out. But, thankfully, the liquor is clean, or that’s what Richie told her and at this point, she’s inclined to believe him. Truth be told, it was quite a shock to Patty when she found the washed up comedian sitting at the bar unaccompanied. Its been three months since Stan died, three months since this so-called Losers Club (of which, Richie was apart of, that much she knew) reunited only to disband again, yet here he is still drowning in his own sorrows. It was even more shocking when he recognized her, or at least her name, and invited her over for a drink. In the past months, any of Stan’s old friends she got ahold of brushed her off or simply begged her to stay away from this topic all together, but here’s Richie, paying for her drink and indulging her.

“So, you’re the famous Patty, huh?” He questions, a half-hearted smirk resting on his lips.

“Famous? We both know that description fits you better, Mr. Tozier.”

The formality makes him scoff, “please, Mr. Tozier was my father, or some stupid shit like that- the point is, we’re all very interested in Stan-the-man’s wife. He’s the only loser that didn’t seem to have divorce written in the stars.”

Immediately, Patty wants to call bullshit on that claim. She’s talked to every other loser save for this one and they’ve wanted nothing to do with her other than warn her of a terrible danger. She opens her mouth to argue, but snaps it shut in favor of reasoning with herself. Regardless of how they’ve brushed her off in the past, she’s finally found someone who won’t, someone she can get the tiniest bit of information out of if she plays her cards right. She doesn’t say anything, just nods along and judges her next words.

“Gotta say, you’re no regular tourist,” she tells him, raising her glass to her lips, pretending to be uninterested.

Richie doesn’t say anything for a moment, pursing his lips before lamely replying, “I grew up here.” He takes a rather large gulp of his own drink before continuing, “and I could say the same about you, couldn’t I? I mean, hanging out in the Townhouse makes you quite suspicious.”

She shrugs, “Stan grew up here... and this place is cheap. Lets just say...” She pauses, feeling unwanted tears well up in her eyes and threaten to flow over. “Lets just say I’m mourning...”

Richie watches her with intense eyes, carefully considering her reaction and, at least it seems to Patty, debating on what to say. He eventually decides, “yeah, well, you’re not the only one...”

In his eyes, there’s pain. Terrible, terrible pain and sorrow, something that makes Patty shudder. There’s no doubt in her mind when the following words slip from her lips.

“It was the clown, wasn’t it?”

And from pain to terror his eyes go in an instant. He gapes, struggling to find the words and failing with every second that passes. Bingo, Patty thinks, and reaches into her purse, pulling out a rather large notebook that she then slides over to the comedian. Richie, still unable to convey a sentence, opens the first page with shaky hands that he can barely control, he even drops it at first. On the first page, in big, bold letters, is written PROPERTY OF MIKE HANLON.

“Did...” Richie chokes out, “did you steal this!?” Upon turning the pages, it becomes very apparent that the contents are all about the supernatural elements of Derry, specifically the clown.

“Richie,” Patty says in an almost exasperated voice, “one minute, I’m planning a wonderful vacation with my wonderful, loving husband. The next, he’s taken his own life, only leaving incredibly vague letters addressed to friends I’ve never met. When I reach out to these friends, they shoo me off with warnings of a great danger I can’t possibly understand. Believe me when I say it’s true, this is a danger I don’t understand, but something tells me you guys don’t either.” She takes a pause, forcing her voice to stay still as it threatens to crack with emotion, “I will find out what happened to my husband, and I’d like to ask for your help.”

Richie doesn’t say something for quite some time, only looking over the pages with great horror but determination all the same. “Do you even have a plan? A means of finding answers?” He whispers, perhaps rhetorically but Patty doesn’t take it that way. She reaches over and flips to a bookmarked page where the grand photo of a turtle overtakes most of the page, vaguely gesturing to it with her hand as if to say read it yourself. Richie does, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady. Eventually, he looks back up and meets her gaze with his own watery eyes. Eyes that are so damn hopeful but terrified to be so at the same time. “You... You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. You can’t possibly know what you’re going up against.”

“If you’re describing hell,” she cooly replies, “then I’ve already seen it. Nothing can be more horrific than seeing the love of my life bleeding out in our bathtub.”

Richie purses his lips, eyebrows meet in the middle with frustration before he blurts out, “I’ll help you, but you have to help me too.”

Patty nods, expectant of giving something in exchange. “What do you want?”

“To find my own love. I need answers just like you.”

She nods again, “who was she?”

“... his name is Eddie.”

They share intense eye contact for a moment, something that speaks more than anything they’ve said in the past hour. Patty holds her hand out, indicating a handshake, which Richie takes but pulls her into a rather breathtaking hug.

“Please, bring my Eds back to me,” he shakily whispers, voice thick with sadness, but a hint of hope slips with it.

“Only if you bring back my Stanley,” she replies, wrapping her arms around him to return the hug.

They’ll get along just fine.

[words-for-holland]

Christmas Admirers Teaser |T.H.

Pairing: Fratboy!Tom x Reader

Summary:  Tom Holland and Y/N have never crossed each other’s paths in the 3 years of their college career. but can a silly letter change all that? 

Loosely Inspired by Dash & Lily and every other cheesy Hallmark Christmas Rom-Com Movie out there. 

A/N: This wont be a series but this story is going to be really long when it’s done but tbh not sure if Im really like how its coming...Ha...ha.. But I’ll still do a taglist for this when it’s completed so feel free to add yourself if you’d like.

Taglist

Wanna Play a Game?

All it took was one bright red letter and four words to intrigue the most beloved, foreign exchange student of New York University, Tom Holland. If his name sounds familiar to you, then you already know the answer to the question that just popped in your head. Yes, not only was Tom Holland a well renowned actor, he was also a student exploring the wonders of college along with his best friend Harrison. Some say he was only attending to prepare for a role, others say he did it to have his fun with sorority girls, and a very small percentage believed he was actually trying to get his degree in theater. Whatever the reason, college life suited him well, being the head of the Beta Gamma Sigma Fraternity, living the bachelors life with a new girl around his arm every week, but it was all the same...until he found that red letter sticking out of an abandoned shelf in the Potter’s Library.

He remembered it clearly, the day he found it. Tom had reluctantly arrived at the Library assuming his mates would be there to actually study for an exam they had this upcoming week. Lord knows if they didn’t pass this final with at least a C this semester, they would surely relive the nightmares with Professor Gonpu in the next. Yet to no surprise, none of them came and ditched last minute as the pool of messages started to flood his phone.

“Great.” Tom muttered to himself as he took a seat at the far right corner of the library. The area was empty, and as he slouched on the wooden chair and pushed it back, the boy hadn’t realize how close to the empty shelf he was. With a single thud, came a small red letter floating above and gently making its way down to his lap. The inviting words peaked his interest, and while he checked both front and back for a name, the letter should have been addressed to...there was none. He unfolded it and read it to himself.

Do you want a play a game?

You seem like the type of person that has nothing better to do, so let’s make it a little more interesting. I wont tell you who I am, but if I deem you worthy...I just might.

Still with me?

I’ll give you five clues to figure out this location. Everything you need is here in the Library. And...if you even think about using that phone, you might as well put this letter back where you found it. After all.. you’re in a library and it’s got all the information you need. Ready?

Tom looked at it puzzled by the words. “Do people actually do this shit?”, he thought to himself. He continued to read on, examining each clue and the 5 lines next to them.

1. You’ll find your first clue, deals with a tragic romance. He had all the money in the world but never ends up with the one he loves.

“Too easy.” Tom smiled to himself as he quickly looked for The Great Gatsby. He referenced the red letter seeing only 3 spaces for the first clue. “Jay” he whispered to himself, as he triumphantly wrote out the words.

2. Know what else is more shitty than dying and not having the love your life? Writing a depressing poem about the love your life dying. Or as Poe would imagine, a beautiful maiden by the sea.

He smirked at the line, knowing fully well the poem that the mysterious letter was referencing, and quickly headed to the poetry section. Tom scanned the row of books, until the black book with white lettering caught his eye. Flipping through the broken pages, he found exactly what he was looking for. “In this kingdom by the sea, but we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee.” he muttered the lines, a smile slowly creeping up. Tom writes out the word “Lee” in the 3 lettered blank. “Tragic Romance, how typical.” he says to himself. Though his voice was laced with disinterest, it was Tom’s favorite poem, but he’d never tell anyone that.

It continued on this rhythm of deciphering clues and running around the Library like a chicken without a head to figure out what the letter wanted from Tom. He had been so focused that his plan to study for Gonpu’s final and meeting with the fraternity has completely flown out the window. As of now, Tom’s main priority was to find the answers to the letter’s puzzling challenge. Maybe, if he answered it, he would know who the mysterious writer was.

Then it happened. The last clue was solved, as Tom quickly wrote out the final word, examining his work and trying to make sense of what he found. There were no other instructions left on the letter which only made Tom more puzzled. It wasn’t a name. It wasn’t a thing. It was a place on campus. Jay Lee’s Coffee Lounge, the most serene coffee spot you’ll ever find in NYU. It offered all the essentials needed to focus and complete your work all with a side of great cold brew made in house. People say it’s NYU’s best kept secret, but really it’s because students will rarely go since it’s so out of the way.

He made it to the shop after thirty minutes, and stepped into the calm atmosphere. The smell of gingerbread lattes hit him once he opened the doors, and soft chatter between students filled the air. He looked around the area in hopes to find the person who wrote the letter. Perhaps they were waiting for him, but it was unlikely since Tom wasn’t even sure if the letter was written that same day. For all he knew, he could be wasting his time, and yet....it didnt feel like it. Almost as if he felt he was meant to be here.

“Mate, what are you doing here?!” Tom followed the robust British voice as he whipped his head to the counter. His best friend Harrison, dressed in a Jay Lee’s short sleeved shirt.

“Harrison? You...work here?” He asked voice filled with confusion. Not once did Harrison tell Tom about his side job. In fact it was almost offensive to think the blonde hair bloke would even it hide it from him.

“Yeah...I didn’t really tell anyone because well you know, it’s the last place people would expect a frat to be working in. Reputations and all...What about you? I didn’t think this place was your type of thing.” he asked.

“It’s not...” he paused for a moment, debating on whether to tell Harrison what he found. If it led Tom here, Harrison might know who wrote the letter. He hoped it was girl...God he really hoped it was. “Actually, I was at the library today waiting for you divs --”

“Oh yeah sorry mate.” Harrison looked at Tom apologetically.

“No, its fine really. But I found something interesting, and --”

“Tom, if it’s another blonde wannabe model, I --”

“Bloody hell, Harrison just listen to me. I..” Tom paused for a moment to quickly check his surroundings before pulling up the red paper. “I found this red letter. Made me go on bloody goose chase and led me here. You dont happen to know anything about this do you?”

Harrison took the letter and examined it thoroughly reading the lines word for word and the notes Tom made next to them. He was just as intrigued, but unfortunately shook his head, unsure of the answer to Tom’s question as well. “Sorry, Mate. I have no clue. Never seen anyone here writing out a red letter before.”

Tom held the letter, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Was this it? Did he really just waste a whole 3 hours in the library and 30 minutes worth of gas for nothing? “I just dont understand.” he muttered.

“Look if you really think the person that wrote this letter wanted you to be here, why don’t you just write a message in it and post it on the corkboard? Im working the entire week, so I’ll keep an eye on who grabs it and let you know.“

It didnt seem like a half bad plan, Tom nodded in agreement and grabbed a pen from his bag, writing his reply in the empty space, the mysterious writer was so kind enough to leave. He posted it on the corkboard, and turned back to his friend.

“Dont forget.” Tom pleaded.

“I wont mate.”

[yootaesowlwrites]

I’ll Be There - [11]

Series Masterlist.

To becoming part of the taglist either like this post, or send me a message.

TAGLIST:

@taichoushadow​ // @vanessa1102​ // @melissa-anderson // @dybalalover10​ // @lostdreamsinpaper​ // @kirschy21​ // @farmgirlfinna​ // @marfld​ // @distressedhollandfields // @because-i-can-stuff​ // @flyawayprincess​ // @exubcrxnt // @flashcal​ // @eveieforeve02​ // @crazy-violin​ // @nightbaroness12 // @myaestheticidk​ // @reggxe​ // @hellie98​ // @twess​ // @lu-bxby​ //

The room was spacious with light brown coloured walls a large bed filled the room, the bedding was a cream colour, matching the single-seater couch in the room, a spacious bathroom was connected to the room, but what was she supposed to change into after taking a long shower, so instead, she avoided it, for the time being, she was seated on the single couch, staring out the large window that displayed the large background.

Her mind replaying the events of the day, the restaurant, the men with weapons, Max actually being one of the most dangerous men in the country, if not the world, and now she was in his house, not knowing if she would be allowed to go home, allowed to leave alive.

Fuck, why did you have to come to Velours? Of all place, (Y/n), why Velours, look at the mess you’re in now fuck… I should’ve stayed in canridge, fuck, fuck… she thought to herself, her lips formed in a pout as her brows furrowed together, her eyes squinting out the window, frowning at the situation she found herself in.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door, she takes in a deep breath while turning her head to the door, staring at it, she didn’t want to see anyone or deal with anyone in the household, another knock sounded on the door making her sigh, she stood from the couch and walk towards it, she unlocks it and opens it a tiny bit, she looks at the person and wanted to slam the door shut.

“I brought food,” Max says. “And one of my members went to retrieve some clothes for you.” She pulls the door wider, feeling anger bubble inside her.

“You sent one of your men to go through my things?” (Y/n) asks, all fear disappearing from her body. “To go through my undergarments?” She could feel heat moving up her neck, her frown turning into a glare. “Fuck, that is so fucking wrong!”

“I need you to calm down, (Y/n).” Max calmly says. “I sent Tatiana, one of my women members.” She could feel herself slightly relax, but what had stopped him from snooping the bag hanging over his shoulder. “I didn’t open it, I trust that Tatiana brought all the needed things.” He slides the bag off his shoulder and extends his hand out to her, she carefully lifts the bag from his hand.

“You have women working for you?” (Y/n) asks as she takes a step back, Max took this moment to step into the room. “No, wa— I didn’t invite you in.” Max walks towards the single couch in the room and placed the plate of food down on the small coffee table.

“It’s my house,” Max states as he turns around to look at her. “And of course I have women workers.” (Y/n) lets out a frustrated sigh and walks deeper into the room, leaving the bedroom door open. “I know how the male brain works, some of them are disgusting.”

“I get it.” (Y/n) says as she drops her bag on the large bed. “You use women the lure in the men you want to kill.” He clasps his hand in front of his crotch.

“I leave that work for the women in my strip club,” Max says, his eyes never leaving her, her muscles tensing for a moment. “They lure in the men I want to kill, but women like Tatiana and the others, they blend in easily, they gather the information.” (Y/n) slowly sits down at the edge of the bed, her eyes meeting his blue eyes. “When I need dirt on someone, I send one of them, they know how to get information out of men, cause most men use their dicks to think, and if they’re smart enough, then they extract the information by force.”

“Are they trained?” (Y/n) softly asks, Max turns the single couch around to face the bed before sitting down on it.

“Everyone that is part of this organisation is trained,” Max says. “When they first get here, asking for work, we go through everything, we ask for everything.” Max licks his lips as he placed one leg on top of his knee, leaning back into the couch as he relaxes. “We run background checks, make sure they’re not working for the cops, we make sure we know where they come from, and why they want work before we start training them in everything.”

“Everything?” (Y/n) asks. “What does that mean?” She was most likely asking too many questions, but she was curious, probably too curious for her own good.

“We need to see what they’re good at, where they would fit in best, hacking, selling, fighting, or training the newbies,” Max says. “I can’t put someone that is horrible at fighting in a fight against someone, I would be a fool to send them on a mission to kill someone if they can barely throw a proper punch.” (Y/n) nods her head she understands what he meant, you wouldn’t send a hacker out to go get what you need from someone, it would be a stupid move.

“In which category would I fall?” (Y/n) asks, she needed to know… was he really in love with her or did he just say that to scout her, to trick her and convince her to work in one of his clubs. “Because you said you had a job offer for me.” She placed her hands on the bed and gripped the edge of the mattress as she leans forward. “Were you going to offer me work in one of your… clubs?” Max remove his leg from his knee, he leans forward and placed his elbows on his thighs.

“No,” Max says. “I wasn’t going to offer you work in one of my clubs, nor in the casino.” His eyes move lower for a split second before looking back into her eyes. “I own several restaurants, and I was going to offer you work as a hostess at one of them, you’re far too beautiful and innocent to work in any of my other business places.” She could feel a lump forming in her throat, how many businesses did he own? She shouldn’t… but she had to know.

“Ho… how many…” (Y/n) begins but stops, he stood from the single couch.

“How many businesses do I do own?” Max says. “And what type of business are they?” She nods her head as she looks up at him.

“Yeah.” (Y/n) whispers.

“There are a lot,” Max says. “And it’s a conversation for another time.” He pushes his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans. “Eat something, take a long shower or bath and then get some rest, you had a long day.” She quickly stood from the bed, ready to protest. “This isn’t something up for a debate, (Y/n), get some rest, the next couple of days might be long.” She lets out a huff and nods her head. “I will see you in the morning.” Max walls towards the door, his fingers curl around the wood of it.

“Good night.” (Y/n) calls out, he freezes in place, it had been years since he last heard those words.

“Night,” Max mutters and closes the door, (Y/n) shuffles towards the door and locks it, not needing anyone to just walk in on her at any time, she turns around and leans against the door, thinking about the conversation, was she really ready to hear about all the business he owned? Perhaps he knew she wasn’t and decided against telling her for her own good, but that wasn’t his choice to make… was it?

She pushes herself away from the door and walks towards the single couch, she picks up the plate of food and walks towards the bed, she carefully climbs onto the bed, making sure not to spill anything on the bed, the mashed potatoes with steamed mixed vegetables and steak on her plate looked mouthwatering delicious, hopefully, it would taste just as good as it looked, not stopping to think twice, she took the fork and scooped up some mash before shoving it in her mouth, she had been so hungry, the last time she had eaten was that morning, it was only a small bowl of cereal.

The mattress felt soft and the covers that she had pulled tightly against her reminded her that she wasn’t in her apartment when she woke up, she had forgotten the close the curtains when she had decided to get into bed, watching the half-moon slowly rising in the sky while drifting off to sleep, she now glared at the rising sun as it slowly begins to light her room, cursing at herself for not closing the curtains, she turns around, pulling the covers closer to her body.

“Ugh.” (Y/n) groans and reaches for her phone, only for her to sit upright as she realized she didn’t know where it was, her eyes widen in panic. “Phone, phone, phone.” She pushes the covers away from her, moving to the edge of the bed, she quickly stood from the bed and begins moving through the room, looking for her phone, hoping that she had it and just misplaced it, she steps into the bathroom before feeling panic run through her, it was missing and the last time she remembered having it was the morning before, she leans over the bathroom sink. “Dammit.” She reaches for the toothbrush, thankfully Tatiana remembered to pack her toiletries, she would have to prepare for the day before she could go face Max, and ask him about her phone’s whereabouts.

(Y/n) carefully steps down the staircase, the empty plate from the night before in her hand and her other hand holding onto the railing, she could hear more voices in the house as she reached the bottom, more men and for the first time, she heard a woman’s voice, she had no idea where she was going, but the voices became louder as she approached a room, she stops before moving into another direction, not wanting to disturb the group of people, Max steps out from another room with a plate in his hand, he stops once he sees her.

“Morning,” Max says, she stops in place and turns her body to look at him. “I see you ate your dinner.” She slowly nods her head. “I’m surprised you did.” He pushes the door behind him open. “The kitchen is this way.” She quickly walks towards him and enters the kitchen, spacious, that seemed to be the theme of the house, everything was spacious. “I must say, I’m more surprised you came out of your room.”

“Why?” (Y/n) softly asks as she lowers the empty plate into the sink, her eyes leaving him for a second as she did, she turns back to him and watches as he placed the plate down on the table.

“After yesterday, I thought you wouldn’t want to leave the room,” Max says.

“I meant why are you surprised I ate the food?” (Y/n) asks as she stays in place, she was certain that the plate was for her, but she didn’t want to approach unless she was sure.

“No reason,” Max says as he pulls the dining chair out for her. “I was on my way to bring you some breakfast.” She slowly nods her head and begins approaching the table. “Did you have a good nights rest?”

“I guess.” (Y/n) softly says and takes a seat on the chair. “Uh, have you seen my phone?” She picks up a spoon, she turns her head and lifts her gaze to look up at him. “It’s missing.”

“It’s not in your room?” Max asks, she shakes her head. “Not in your bag?”

“No, I looked everywhere.” (Y/n) says, Max nods his head.

“I’ll ask one of my men to go back to the restaurant and see if it’s there,” Max says and faintly smiles at her, she nods her head and turns her attention to the plate in front of her. “If you can excuse me for the morning, I have to attend to some matters, but feel free to roam around, explore my house.”

“Oh, are you sure?” (Y/n) asks.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure,” Max says. “And if you need anything, ask anyone, they will come to find me or give you what you’re looking for.”

“Okay.” (Y/n) says. “Okay, will do, I’ll keep that in mind.” she turns to look back at him. “I ha—“ She stops when she noticed he wasn’t there anymore. “Have more questions, I have more questions.” She turns her gaze to the plate in front of her. “Whatever.”

(Y/n) quickly became bored as she aimlessly walked through the large mansion, could it even be called a mansion? No, possibly a castle, but a castle was larger, this was a mansion and everything looked expensive, which it most likely was, she had stayed in the halls, too afraid to open many doors, but as she was making her way to the staircase a cry caught her attention, causing her to stop in her step, she slowly turns around, it was the door she was approaching earlier the morning before deciding to change direction.

What could be behind the door? And who could have cried out in agony? She should have ignored it, she should have turned around and continued her way up the stairs and back to the room she stayed in the night before, but instead, her curiosity got the best of her, and before she even realized it, her feet had carried her all the way to the door, her hand shakily reaches for the knob and carefully wraps her hand around it, she almost jumps away when another scream came from it.

RUN, RUN, DON’T LOOK BACK, GO!

She should have listened to her mind yelling at her to run, she pushes the door open, several eyes turn towards her, but her eyes widen in fear as her hand goes up t her mouth to cover it, she wanted to scream, instead she turned around and bolted away and up the stairs, to the bedroom, locking the door once she was inside.

The sight of a man tied to a chair, bruised and beaten, blood surrounding him, it was a miracle he was still alive, but for how long, the sight… the sight was burned into her mind, the fear in his eyes, staring at her, and all the men surrounding him, and Max… knife in hand, blood splatters on his suit, blood smeared on his arms…

How could she feel safe with him?

[withpaperrings]

swiftie symposium: a fundraiser for black trans advocacy coalition

tumblr swifties, my name is kendra. i tend to hang out on twitter, but i’m coming your way today to tell you about a project i’ve been promoting over there to see if anyone here may be interested.

two days before the murder of george floyd, i quickly organized an event called “swiftie debate night” - a zoom meeting where me and 100 swifties (!!!) logged on to share hot takes in the fandom in a funny, lighthearted way. this event was periscoped live and created a lot of buzz, and i quickly started working on another one before dropping that idea quickly to turn the conversation towards racial injustice.

after a few days, i realized i had created something of a platform, so i reorganized an event i renamed swiftie symposium with the same general concept in mind, but instead i opened the floor to both lighthearted hot takes (album rankings, funny theories, ex discourse, etc - nothing cruel or meant to single anyone out) and to real issues both within the fandom and beyond it, including things like race, homophobia, sexism, etc - things that are not up for debate. i am inviting only black and lgbtq+ presenters for this event, but anyone is welcome to attend to listen to what they have to say and to participate via chat so long as they are civil.

i wanted to share both the link to sign up to present with you all, and the fundraising link as well. i have a goal of $2000 for the black trans advocacy coalition - an amazing org that works to provide resources and grants to black trans individuals across the country, and advocate for their rights on a systemic level in senate and congress arenas. no one is required to donate to attend or present, but a few awesome crafters and skilled designers did offer up some of their art as incentives to donate. i’m also giving away a pair of lover fest east pit tickets away to someone who donates as well, even if that donation is $1.

here are the links that flush it out a little more. i’d love to signal boost this so that anyone who is interested can ask questions or sign up to present, and so that I can up my donation goal. i am prepared to match 100% of the donations that come in, but please know i understand that times are incredibly tough and not everyone is able to donate.

here is the link to sign up to present (where it says twitter handle, please leave your tumblr url!): https://forms.gle/owP6ZTquNitSxxZaA

and here is the link to the fundraiser: https://www.gofundme.com/f/swiftie-symposium-fundraiser-for-btac

please please message me with questions or see both links for more information - happy to take the time to talk about this with anyone here who might have more to say.

if you made it to the bottom of this post, thank you. i’d love for you to share it if you’re at all interested in helping me meet my goal, but even a like would make my day.

-kendra