#AND YOU WANT TO SHAME HIM OUT OF PARTICIPATING IN A COMMUNITY HE LOVES

[gaymcr]

Hey I noticed you follow padawanryan / textsfrombandom on here, he ships and writes porn about real life siblings. His ao3 is linked in his carrd if you want to check for yourself. I assume you didn't know about this disgusting behaviour so I'm letting you know now <3

SORRY, WHAT WAS THAT? I CANT HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MINDING MY OWN GODDAMN BUSINESS

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - PART FIVE*

Summary: “Y/N hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, but it seems like she is not the only one overthinking this time…”

Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry

Wc: 3k

Warnings: smutty scenes, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, teeny tiny bit of angst ig

A/N: I AM BACK! I finished my exams today and I hurried home to write the rest of this chapter bc I have been itching to do so for the past weeks. I will try not to put as much time in between the next chapters, sorry about that! Love you all and enjoy!!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It had been three days. Three entire days since the kissing-in-the-car debacle that Y/N had participated in, and she still wasn't over it. How was she supposed to act normal at their class tomorrow? It had plagued her mind ever since she walked into her apartment that Saturday night.

All weekend, she had been contemplating different things. Saturday and Sunday, she was sure she wanted to never see his face again because she couldn't stand the embarrassment. But when Monday rolled around and re-thought everything after coming back from work, she realized that she should probably be mature and talk to him.

However, that resulted into her pacing around her room like a maniac with the phone in her hand, his number ready to dial. For the past twenty minutes she had been trying to convince herself to just press that call button and get it over with.

"C'mon..." Y/N growled to herself. She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, and finally called him. Her hands were sweating as the dial tone sounded over and over again, and the nerves she felt were sure to explode her stomach, but she kept breathing and waited for Harry to pick up.

The distant sound of a phone ringing took Y/N’s attention away from her own attempted call. Her heart began beating even faster as she walked towards her front door, and sure enough, when looking through her peephole, she saw Harry standing in front of her door.

As she took the lock off, Y/N broke up the call and putting her phone in her pocket. Harry's eyes were wide at the door opening all of a sudden, but he still managed to muster an awkward smile amidst his shock before he greeted her.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"Hi." She greeted back, unsure of what to do or say or feel. "uhm, what are you doing here?"

The question came out so soft, as if she was scared to ask it, not ready for the consequences his answer may bear. Maybe it was true; she had always had the feeling that her body was better at communicating her true feelings than her brain was.

"I need to talk to you." Harry said, his tone serious enough for Y/N's chest to start pressing on her, but a soft edge to it nonetheless. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, opening the door wider and letting Harry inside her apartment. He walked in and silently observed the place. Y/N felt oddly tense as she waited for him to take it all in, but he was quite quick to turn around. In the seconds that he stood there, entirely quiet, Y/N deduced the obvious: he was awaiting some instructions from her.

"Go sit on the couch, do you want something to drink?" She asked, already heading for the kitchen. Harry sat down like she told him to, but shook his head.

"No thank you, just wanna talk. Can you... sit down?" His difficulty to meet her eye and the apprehension behind his words had Y/N immediately head for the couch and sit down next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked innocently, like she wasn’t the reason this awkwardness existed in the first place.

"About last Saturday." He answered. You began to shake your head, cheeks already reddening from the shame that washed over you.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Just— hold on," He interrupted her. "I said something, that night, I can't help but think that you didn't take it how I meant it. And it has been eating at me all weekend because I'd hate to be the fool who accidentally rejected you."

Harry's eyes bored into Y/N's until she couldn't take the intensity of it anymore and looked down. He leaned forward, putting his hand on her leg. She studied his fingers as they slowly caressed her skin.

"Harry, it's okay. I misinterpreted it, you don't have to make excuses to make me feel better." She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to prematurely dodge any bullets that might have ended up with her crying otherwise.

"I'm not!" He protested. "I— Y/N, look at me."

When she didn't instantly comply, Harry's fingers traced up to her chin and redirected her face towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb slowly stroked her chin as he took in every inch of her face.

"I wanted it." He said slowly, making sure she heard every word he says. Slowly leaning in, he added: "Really bad."

His lips hovered near hers, so close it was nearly sending her into a frenzy, but far away enough for him to assess her reaction on his movements. But Y/N was an open book, a reactive person when it came to these desires. She couldn't feign disinterest as she had never felt this strongly about someone in such a perverted manner before. Harry mouth slowly curled up into a smirk.

"Can I show you how badly I wanted it?" He asked, the heat of his breath reaching her face and making her core pulsate. The only thing Y/N could do was nod, and before she knew it, Harry's lips closed in on hers.

A soft whine escaped her throat as he kissed her, the desperation of her body unshielded under his roughly delicate touch. Nothing seemed to make sense as he slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth and pushed her back on the couch, nothing but him.

Harry leaned forward, not taking his mouth off Y/N as she sat against the armrest. He hovered over her, his body between her spread legs. One of his hands was holding onto her waist, while the other one kept him up by holding onto the armrest.

As their tongues danced around each other, Harry's hand slipped down from her waist towards her inner thighs, and Y/N felt her panties getting wet at the suggestive caresses of her skin. She put her hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him back a little bit, their lips now apart. Still caught up in the heat of the moment, Harry mindlessly trailed his kisses down her jaw and then onto her neck.

"Harry." Y/N tried to get his attention, but his name sounded more like an erotic plea, and caused a growl to sound from his lips, followed by a rougher treatment on her neck. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as his lips sucked at that sensitive skin of her, and a small whine fell from her as he bruised her neck.

"Ha— hmm... Harry!" She exclaimed. "S— stop."

Within a millisecond, or at least it felt like that, Harry's hands and mouth were removed from her. His face was filled with worry as he took in hers.

"Are you okay? Did I go too far?" He began asking, but she was quick to shake her head.

"No! It's just— I haven't really, done much of this before. I don't have a lot of experience and uhm, I just wanted you to know that before we... proceeded." Y/N explained, voice near trembling as she spoke. Harry's eyes softened, and his face pulled into a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me." He said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss before pulling back, sitting up straight. "I just have one question, though."

Y/N nodded, big doe eyes staring right at him as that innocent smile transformed into a smug grin.

"Can I show you what I actually wanted to do last Saturday?" He asked, stroking her already spread legs. Before she knew it, the answer fell from Y/N's lips.

"Yes."

He let out a satisfied hum before his hands grabbed at her shorts and pulled them down along with her underwear, leaving her bare cunt to be exposed to him. Y/N blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how exposed she was, but the fascination that twinkled in Harry's eyes washed most of her insecurities away. She watched carefully as he leaned down and his fingers began stroking her folds.

Y/N held her breath in anticipation, curiously waiting for Harry to continue, and when he finally put his hands on her clit, she couldn't help but shift in her seat a bit at the tingling sensation.

"O— oh!" She shrieked when she felt Harry's tongue attached itself to her clit, his middle finger now paying more attention to slowly beginning to slide in and out of her. Y/N tried to control her breathing to the best of her abilities as Harry explored her sopping and pulsating core.

Y/N's mind had gone all fuzzy from the sweet feeling of his touch on her sensitive parts. It was impossible to focus on anything else than Harry, and even if it was, she wouldn't dare take her eyes off of him anyway. It was addictive, the way he was ravishing her like she was a culinary meal, and it felt glorying.

Harry temporarily removed his mouth from her heat, and looked up at Y/N before saying: "C'mon, angel. Tell me how it feels."

Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname she'd grown to love ever since the first time he said it, and she tried to control her whines as she responded.

"So— ah! So good..." She managed to reply, her knuckles turning white from balling up her fists in an attempt to not come too early. Harry's tongue swept over her clit in such an intoxicating way, and his now two fingers pumping in and out of her was only getting her closer to her inevitable climax.

Harry moaned at her verbal approval, and picked up the pace of both his mouth and his fingers, leaving her nothing but a whimpering mess under him. This was surely going to be the death of her, wasn’t it?

"Harry— I think I'm going to..." She ran out of breath before she could finish your sentence, and she began convulsing around him, legs trembling as her orgasm began to reach her like a wave building up. And then just like that, it crashed.

With a cry of his name and a few profanities that followed, the sensual waves of her release hit Y/N. The release was slow and long, and one of the most satisfying ones she'd ever had. Harry's touch stayed on her skin, helping her ride out her high.

When he finally backed away, Y/N was still breathing heavily from what she had just experienced. Wide eyed, she observed how he licked his lips before he looked up at her. She could've come again from the sight of that alone.

"D'you want some water?" Harry suddenly asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to your kitchen. She followed him with her eyes, mouth agape as he went through her kitchen cabinets until he stumbled upon two glasses and filled them with water. As he returned to the couch, he raised a brow, indicating that he was still waiting on an answer.

"Uhm, yes, thank you." Y/N stumbled as he handed her the glass. She took a few sips, scanning him while she drank. He was so casual all of a sudden, leaning back against the couch with his legs spread like that... there was something cocky about it and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to roll her eyes at it or jump his bones.

Possibly both, at the same time.

Y/N put her glass down and slowly crawled over to Harry, who sniffed a laugh at her wobbly movements on the way too squishy couch. She hoped it would at least come off as cute, now that her attempt at being sexy had been trampled by her own furniture.

As the laughter from both parties died down, Y/N took it upon herself to slowly start kissing Harry's neck. Her heartbeat rose when she felt him shifting in his seat, a pained sigh escaping his throat. Meticulously, she dragged her hand down his chest until it reached his pants, and she began unbuckling his belt.

She was surprised when she felt his hand pull hers away, and stopped her actions to see what was going on. When she saw his clenched jaw, she frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"You don't have to do that angel." He said, tilting his head a bit. She slowly shook her head.

"Oh, alright." She said, and felt a pang in her chest at the idea that she could've done something wrong. Harry took both of her hands, cupping his over them.

"I’d like to save it for next time." He suggested, the slight raise of his brow adding a certain playfulness to his reply. The hint of a smile on his face filled her with a warm feeling, and she quickly found herself nodding at what Harry had said.

“Plus, I have to get my beauty rest… I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I teach this private self-defense class, client’s got me working till late.” He joked, eyes beaming when a giggle fell from her lips. Y/N took her bottom lip between her teeth, stomach fluttering as she took in the painfully beautiful, funny, charismatic man in front—or well, under her.

“Really? Is she any good?” She teased back, brows raising in surprise when Harry nodded.

“Difficult to teach tho.” He responded.

“Why’s that?” Y/N questioned, genuine curiosity dripping from her tone. Harry took his eyes off her and shamelessly lowered his gaze to her body as his hands, that had dug into her waist, slowly began to trail down to her ass.

“‘S just so hard to concentrate…” He said lowly, and she felt her core heating up again at the sole sound of Harry’s voice. Her cheeks flushed alike at what he was implying, and she felt like an animal with the way her body reacted to him.

Y/N remained as quiet as she could, savoring Harry’s touch on her bare skin. She would have closed her eyes, had she not been too mesmerized by her face to do so.

Nerves swirled in her stomach as she watched Harry’s stare trail upwards again, only to stop at her lips. Gradually, he leaned forward, closing the gap between the two’s mouths. Y/N couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when Harry put his lips on her again, and much like the touch of his hands on her, she relished in the way his tongue circled around hers, and she was surprised at how well their bodies captured the connection that she had been unable to explain in words.

It was safe to say that Y/N was disappointed when at last Harry pulled away, but she couldn’t be mad at him, not with that face of his.

Her eyes widened when he got up all of a sudden, hands still holding up her thighs in the few moments before she wrapped them tightly around him in response to the sudden movement. He sniffed a laugh, which Y/N was only able to hear because her arms were locked around Harry’s neck and her face was only a few centimeters away from his. The urge to smile almost prevailed over her shock.

Harry’s hands let go of Y/N’s thighs, and she lowered her legs in response, putting her feet on the ground again and removing herself from his touch completely.

As they walked towards the front door, Y/N found herself to be a bit gloomy. She didn’t want him to leave, he was so fun to be around. He made her not worry, which was a miracle because Y/N always worried. And she knew she’d go back to worrying and overthinking the second she’d be alone again, so the prospect of Harry going away was not the most fun. She had to remind herself that she’d see him tomorrow, though.

Y/N opened the door, waiting as Harry put on his coat. When he finally had, he turned to her one last time.

“Sleep tight, angel.” He said, and with that, walked right out the door. Y/N croaked out a weak ‘bye’, but she was pretty sure she’d heard the elevator ding by then.

It took her a minute to recover physically before turning off her lights in the living room and floating towards her bathroom, where she smiled like an idiot all the way through brushing her teeth.

It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow that what she dreaded came along again: that tiresome worry. Thoughts and scenarios filled her head as she lied in bed, watching the ceiling as if it would grant her answers, or peace.

It was as if, with Harry, nothing else truly mattered. Not necessarily in the corny, dramatic way, but rather in the sense that it felt like the outside world wasn’t that much of a factor in Y/N’s decisions, nor did she have the feeling that it should be whenever she was around him. But when he was gone, it would all start to matter again and suddenly she found herself doubting whether dating Harry would even be a good idea.

What would her parents think? What would Sophie think? Would she be viewed as less professional by her co-workers for dating her trainer? Would it impact Harry’s reputation—

She stopped herself. Probably not, considering Harry was a man.

It was with a frown that Y/N eventually dozed off into a deep slumber. Not even in her dreams she was safe from the anxiety that plagued her, a nightmare about being fired stirring her awake at around four in the morning. She was more exhausted when she woke up than when she went to bed.

But despite all of it, her body still buzzed in anticipation of tonight’s class…

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @bitchidontpost @lomlolivia

[mudandmire]

Contrasts

Azris Week - Day One: Contrasts

~~~ Hello hello! I found the Azris ship and the community this year and have absolutely been consumed by it. I love this idea, I love these two characters, and I love that there's so much potential between them and for them to feed and inspire such a wonderful community. I've never participated in the acotar fandom apart from this, and I'm so excited! Thank you so much to @azrisweek for putting together this event, I have had so much fun letting my brain run free like a dog off a leash with these prompts :D ~~~

Tell me

Azriel calls him tatlım, and Eris doesn’t know what it means.

It’s a secret, he supposes he can accept it—relate to it. Nooks and hidden corners itch and snarl with the weight of his own. An enchanted drawer he keeps in the washroom holds his greatest wonder and his greatest shame.

The journal weighs heavy in Eris’s mind. He traces back the parchment pages with intangible fingers during lulls in his father’s council meetings. The drone of bees, lazy and fat in the afternoon sun becomes the hushed whisper of a canyon gale through dried grass. The lines he inks, stroke by stroke, Azriel matches in full, thrumming strides. Words next to his are clean, unbroken, while Azriel’s remain thick, written in charcoal with smudges at the corners from where his fist has run over the line.

When it’s dark, a time when even shadows cannot creep and loom larger, Eris presses his own fingertips to those words. The smears of charcoal because Azriel had told him early on in their budding friendship when they were young that he can’t use quills.

“They're too thin, my hands shake too much.” A smaller version of Azriel speaks the memory into his mind. The whorls and pockmarks on his hands hidden between the gap of his thighs.

Eris had taken it as a challenge—and now he revels in it. Azriel is messy with his charcoal pencil, too free with his mistakes and smudges and it leaves Eris half a country away and entirely breathless.

‘Tell me what bothers you, tatlım.’ Azriel had written him earlier, the familiar scrawl of his heavy hand appearing stroke by stroke in the filled pages of Eris’s enchanted journal.

Two were made, Eris gave one away. He could not bring himself to regret it even if his life were on the line.

‘Tatlım?’ Eris had asked, his letters looped and coiled together in the way they get when he rushes, when he needs answers.

There was no sound save for Eris’s own steady pulse, the whistle of air through his nose as he waited for a response. And yet he could’ve swore he heard Azriel’s laugh, the breathy one, brush against the point of his ear.

The words appear in the space between one breath and the next: ‘Maybe one day, gach’lilit, I will tell you. For now, stop avoiding my prying.’

Eris places a hand on the rise of his chest. Holding in something that seems to be rising from his stomach to his throat and lands gently on his tongue like the orange and black patterned butterflies in the garden.

‘Tell me now,’ he begs, ‘and I will tell you whatever you wish, Azriel.’

‘Come back to visit me, sweetheart. That’s all I ask.’

It had formed a pause in their effortless back and forth. Eris wanted to—Azriel knew that. No, the issue wasn’t in Azriel’s plea, he knew just how much Eris longed for the little village in the Illyrian steppes. The stable in the field and the small, knobby kneed, black lamb that follows Azriel around like ducklings in the Forest House pond in spring. He misses the creeping, ruby red moss and the yellow and sage aspens that crop up from out of the golden plains like the jagged teeth of a cliff.

Most of all, most desperately of all, he misses Azriel. There is not one inch of his soul that doesn’t.

The inked tip of his quill hangs over the page, a knife poised for the final push. Through skin, muscle, bone, to the heart of everything—the rot that waits, festering under the floorboards of his adamant desire to run. It is one thing; it is also a collection of things Eris has stored like the most gruesome of trinkets, the most harrowing of trophies.

Because Azriel calls him sweetheart. He writes in his tongue letters of longing and punctuates them with words like tatlım, and gach’lilit. As much as Eris wants to stitch those given titles to his chest, he already has one.

Eris Vanserra. Heir of Fire. Son of Autumn.

Sweetheart. Tatlım. Gach’lilit.

He cannot have both. The heir who wears the crown, who feels it’s golden spiked thorns pierce the thin skin of his head knows this. Eris Vanserra was not born with room on his chest for titles other than this: his father’s son.

When his quill meets the page, a heaviness in his hand that wasn’t previously there, he knows Azriel already knows what he will write.

‘Soon,’ he lies, ‘when the festival of the summer sun comes, I’ll visit.' Eris Vanserra cannot flaunt about the wilds of the Night Court without purpose or reason. Even less if the hint of the reason is his desire to see an Illyrian male—but he can set out on inter-court business to strengthen alliances, break down information, and gather intel. Eris Vanserra cannot winnow straight from the quilts of his bed into the hay-strewn floor of Azriel’s stable.

No matter how much he wants to.

His chest pinches, a sharp point digging into the sensitive skin between his ribs when Azriel takes a minute longer to reply. The page remaining horribly empty with their spare words, their delicate dance.

‘Then I will just have to hold onto these words a little longer, besheirt. I wish for you to hear them in person, for they are as sacred to me as you are.’

Something cracks, folds then splinters and out pours a smile like evening sunlight through the painted colors of autumn leaves in the canopy. The tension building in his shoulders leaks down and pools around his feet, an unwanted puddle he completely forgets about. Eris may be an heir, a son of autumn, and child of a loveless, forced marriage; but he is also sacred. Something holy and divine by only the rights of Azriel, and Azriel alone.

Eris has his titles. The stitched corners of his heart taken up piece by piece, but he will forever play the game of keeping himself in between the two if it will let him keep Azriel.

He has his own titles to give him.

~~///~~///~~///~~

(Key for words:)

Tatlım - ‘Sweetheart’

Gach’lilit - ‘Firefly’

Besheirt - ‘Notion of a soul mate, but mostly means Intended in terms of spouse’

aH. Alright okay cool I'm so normal about them. This is a short little thing, and it doesn't follow canon lore lol sorry about that. I really loved the idea of contrasts because for me it's what first drew me to this pairing. At first it seemed like there were too many contrasts for them to even be compatible, and then through softening my perspective of both of these characters and their flaws (and no small amount of delusion in which we merely squint from afar at SJMs portrayal of these characters) I found that maybe these contrasts actually enhance their chemistry. what crazy imagine that.

[petrichorium]

pluvi!! i know that capitano is (lowkey, not really) a patient man when it comes to you. but how does he persuade you while courting you? 👀

Oh,,,,,, truly he has Run Out of patience at that point I fear,,,,,,, but he’s very good at going through the motions 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ comes off as a real gentleman, if a bit eager to Get Married.

I kinda shut down for a few months after my second husband’s death—it’s just so sudden and so soon after the wedding it shocks me greatly—and he doesn’t wanna scare me off so he waits twiddling his thumbs until I finally attend a dance, and he pounces then without a Teaspoon of shame LOL makes his interest very apparent by asking me for a dance and blatantly keeping by me the whole night………

The gifts start appearing at my door after that, mostly flowers and little impersonal things like perfume or sweets. As it continues he makes them more directed towards me, lots of writing supplies and books, and often he’ll have annotated the books. He refrains from sending letters which is a bit odd but he doesn’t trust himself enough to initiate that kinda communication 🫣

He also starts popping up Everywhere. Hes not big on participating in court culture but for the months he’s courting me he shows up at p much every event I do, and I kinda gaslight myself into thinking it’s just coincidence LMFAOOOOO he’s always a bit rigid himself except when it’s a hunt, where he is quite Visibly more in his own element. I find it kinda adorable.

But he’s actually very charming I feel!!! Again he plays the gentleman part very well, he’s already quite observant and pretty attuned to what makes me comfortable so within a few meetings I’m very at ease around him. He is Very careful not to seem too eager or like he knows too much even tho he like. Has known everything about me for years oops but it works out well. Hes actually a bit touchy too—hands lingering even when we’ve stopped dancing and on more than one occasion feeding me things. If the dragon arms instead of gloves concept is real this is Even More insane bc I think he’s only touching me w gloves on and later learn oh he was just. rawdogging that shit the whole time right out in public Jesus Fucking Christ

(If we assume he’s from Natlan, I think he actually just doesn’t rlly vibe w court culture that much, it’s all very stifling and prevents one from expressing themselves well. In my head we have a little discussion where he “jokingly” implies he has to resist the urge to just take me and stop bothering w any pretense, which I much later on realize Was Not At All A Joke)

And he def makes visits to my house 🥺 those r his favorite parts icl. Hates having to put on a show in public but loves being able to just sit across from me and get me talking……… at this point he’s giving me those books in person and tbh I think sometimes he insists I read them there as he sits and stares at me silently 😵‍💫 freak behavior truly.

My family does approve of him but we all also know it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t…….. he’s the first harbinger there’s not much to be done if he wants to marry someone. We r all just happy he’s going through the proper motions and seems to be focusing on earning me the right way (not that his reputation would imply otherwise but it’s just smthn that Lingers in all our minds). I think he’s probably proposing within a month or two, and then the wedding ends up Additionally expedited, so it’s all quite fast pfft. And then it’s….. the two or three years of us being married but still kinda avoiding each other rip LMFAOOOOOOO anyway ty for asking!!!

[swifty-fox]

Send me a fic of mine and I'll answer...

A Kingdom for a Kiss?

THIS GOT SO LONG I AM SORRY

My favorite scene

oh god that is so hard to choose.

I think honestly chapter eighteen/the second sex scene is my favorite scene. It is the culmination of so many issues in Gale's psyche, especially around John and Gale's perception of their dynamic. Taking all that and flipping it right on its head.

Previously in the story Gale is so obsessed with the ways he is not like John in terms of his masculinity and terms of how he expects John to be in bed. Every fantasy of his is tinged with shame and twisted in terms of gender and role because Gale cannot picture himself as an active participant. It doesn't feel safe for him because it feels too unrealistic for John to ever want him as a man, so he pretends to be a woman in his fantasies to ground him (comphet is a hell of a drug)

We do see briefly in one fantasy that Gale does want to take charge in bed but it scares him, feels too close and too real so he shies away from it. Chapter Eighteen is all about him coming to terms with his own desires. And also John is a really fun bottom to write

My favorite chapter (if it's a multichapter)

Lmao the book fingering chapter. It was fun to just let loose and do something really unhinged. Plus any scene/chapter where I got to write Gale and John Sr. interacting was just really fun they had a ton of chemistry as characters and were just a blast to bounce off of each other.

Hardest scene to write

Honestly the whole story flowed relatively easy. I think my biggest struggles were the James chapters just because I wanted to get the tone/intention and dynamic exactly right between Gale and James. I needed to make it clear that Gale was willingly putting himself in a situation that was going to trigger/mentally harm him. He was committing an act of self harm, just with sex instead of some sort of physical wounding. And that while James was not a great guy he was as far as he could tell, receiving full consent from Gale. So that chapter went through a couple revisions and was sent to a lot of people for review

Favorite character to write in the fic

John Sr.!!!! I think he's a delightful foil to Gale and John. I think he can be very easy to hate and be angry at because we care so much about John, but when you get into his head a bit you see a man who was making harmful choices but was doing what he thought was best because he is also deeply traumatized and hurting. He Is John and Gale, in essence. He's them twenty/thirty years in the future and he's them if they were not able to find community and safe space to talk about their experiences in the war. His brothers were killed, his parents died/killed themselves he left for war with a full family and came home to just a wife and a young son who didn't recognize him.

I have so much love and empathy for him and it was totally unexpected. Does he make great decisions? no. Is he trying his best to not just be a father to John but also to Edie and a good husband to his wife? Absolutely he is.

Favorite dynamic to write in the fic

Aside from Clegan obviously, It's Gale and John Sr.

I think like John says in the opening theme they're very similar men deep down. I think they're able to communicate in ways the more emotional Bucky is not able to with his father. While they always loved each other I think there was always this slight issue of communication between them where they just don't quite get one another.

Gale, with his observational ability and honestly, some level of fear of John Sr. (older fatherly men etc.) he's very attuned and attentive not just what John Sr. is saying out loud but also what he is not saying. There's a lot of nonverbal communication between them that is fun to write between the lines.

Why I chose that title

My body turns

And yearns for a sleep that won't ever come

It's never over

My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder

It's never over

All my riches for her smiles

When I've slept so soft against her

obviously pronouns changed, but this is the part of the song I pulled the title from. The song is just all about yearning and a missed opportunity which is I think a very central theme to Kfak. Obviously it works out for them too but god it took a second to get there!

A fun fact about the fic

Fun fact ooo lets see...

John calls his dad Pops because it's time period appropriate but also that's what I called my grandfather! It feels like a nice little hello to him every time I write it and it's a fun way of keeping my memory of him alive and fresh. John Sr. is not like my pops at all but either way it makes me smile to type

[doodle-pops]

Spare Me Your Sympathy

Fingon x reader

A/N: A little something because I'm feeling quite angsty towards Fingon.

Warning: Hanahaki disease AU, unrequited love, blood, vomiting, heartbreak, argument, heavy angst

Word: 1.6k

Synopsis: Love was just another curse Fingon was doomed to suffer from the start.

“They told me that you’re not getting any better…Your Highness,” your quiet voice slipped through the air and danced along to the melody of the lightly pouring rain. Tinkering its way and fighting for a chance to be properly heard by the one person who it meant the most to, the heavens almost felt sorry at that moment. Though, it did not soften the light harshness of the pita-patter of crystal drops against the windowsills and roofs.

White sheets covered the entire bed and him, wrapping them both in colours of innocence and purity to a first-time heartbreak and devastating grief. He wanted to see you again even though he knew that the truth was already known to him, there was hope in his heart. His rough fingers fidgeted with the soft cotton as he looked down at the never–ending blank canvas, waiting for his throat to tighten and spill his heart out. But Fingon could feel it, his heart was clenching and patiently waiting for him to walk that path so it could humiliate him for still believing. He didn’t want to look you in the eye but rather hear your voice as you asked the same question for the hundredth time, but never giving him the words he wanted to hear.

“Are you going to continue to ignore me, Your Highness? I travelled all this way to see you,” this time you leaned forward, challenging the rain, to communicate with him better. A hand from you rested upon his cold right arm and much to your surprise, he didn’t shift away from your touch. Fingon remained still while basking in your warmth. You on the other hand weren’t pleased with the lack of communication and gave him a light shake, “…Fingon, are you hearing me?”

Slithering his eyes to the right, he harshly stared at you with hollow eyes. “Why are you here Y/N? Not that I’m…unhappy, but why have you truly come?” he finally spoke, but with anger in his voice. Deep down, as much as he told himself that you could have been here at the possibility to confess your hidden love for him, he fought to suppress those horrid assumptions. You knew he loved you and your rejection led to his outcome, so why still come around and act guiltless.

Grinning, you knew he was already five steps ahead of you and saw your phoney attempts at being compassionate about your visit. Your grinning turned into a forced smile the longer you sat there thinking about how to break your news to him. Many would consider you a monster for your vile ways and others would understand your choice. Affairs of the heart were never anything simple as the experienced would state; it always left a sour taste in the hearts of the participants. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a sour taste you were leaving but death…of an important figure in your life and of many. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sheer atrocities you were about to commit with your simple one-liner.

Pulling yourself away from his personal space, you shuffled to stand beside the window and stare at the heavy downpour. The grey skies gazed at you in fury and disgust and the winds howled in agony. Casting a bleak look at your fingers as you twiddled them agitatedly, you flapped your lips wordlessly, still thinking of the right way to break his heart.

“I’m getting married in a fortnight.”

You were shameful to reveal your face to him, knowing that he wasn’t pleasant. In the distance, there was the faint sound of the bedsheets crumpling under his rage and his breathing stilling. Taking shallow, deep breaths through his mouth, tiny droplets of crimson stained his lips and gown. His eyes were distant as they grew blurry, drowning in his agony and heartbreak and cursing at the heavens for giving him unnecessary anguish. The cotton sheets were balled in his fist and being tugged on harshly as he tossed his head back against the pillows. His lips parted, revealing his bloodstained teeth and tongue, to let out a silent cry. His river of torment broke free and drenched his face— staining his flushed cheeks and creating trenches for the rest to flow. A pool of his torment settled in his clavicles; enough for him to swim in.

Turning his head away from you and hiding it in the shadows, his entire body followed. A few petals were silently coughed up and remained stuck to his palette, but he didn’t care for the discomfort. Fingon’s heart was already in anguish at your final declaration. He would have no choice but to remove the petals and lose his love for you forever. At least he wouldn’t be boiling in disgust every time he witnessed you and your chosen lover together— his misery would diminish. But he didn't want to. He didn't want to lose his love for you forever, not when he loved and cared for you so deeply.

You, on the other hand, had wrapped your arms around your midsection and curled yourself in at the known horror he was experiencing. You loved him, you truly did, but there was confusion stirring deep within that still didn’t answer your biggest question. Why? Why choose another when Fingon was there to willingly give you his heart and soul? There was no other who could replace his kind and enchanting spirit, and yet, how did you manage to reject him and turn to another. Surely, he could simply have the disease removed. That would exterminate his infatuation with me, and I'd be free of worrying over him. We would both be thrilled and comfortable.

“Fingon, I-I’m sor—”

“— drop the act Y/N!” he deeply spat, “you’re not sorry. Y-You keep saying that you c-…care for me but…but you don’t.” He was tired of being gentle and faking his hurt. How many times was he going to smile the anguish off and pretend that the world wasn't burning around him? He'd fallen into a considerable number of pits, gotten up, dusted his scraped knees and bruises and gleamed at the world as if it didn't set him there.

Finally whipping your head around to present him with a harsh glare, you were met with blood stains on his bedding turning your stare into concern. You rushed to his side, calling on his name but were met with an equally hateful glare. Flinching because it was an unusual sight from him, your hands gingerly reached out to meet his but was met with recoil and disgust. His mouth was covered in blood, his gown, his sheets and his hands. You could tell that he was attempting to catch the mixture. I'm sorry, you know I didn’t mean this.

“Fingon, please let me help—"

“— I don't want your help! You've done e-…enough,” he threw you a dangerous side eye as he raged, “I’ve helped you the entire time a-and gave you everything and you still chose him! I should be happy…but not when you played with my heart!”

Crying out, his hands shot out to cup his chest as he felt his heartstrings snapping one by one. The pain grew to become crippling urging him to groan as he doubled over, and face-planted into cotton sheets. This time, you ignored his warnings and reached out to touch him. Climbing onto the bed, you sat beside his thighs and gingerly pushed his shoulders back to rest him against his pillows. Shuffling the soft feathers, you padded them to allow for Fingon to sit upright should he decide to throw up again. I should call for the healers, but then our conversation would be cut short, and he wouldn’t want to see me again. Choosing to be selfish and dangerous at the same time, you stayed to speak with him despite what your attempts would do.

Tucking his raven strands behind his ear, you were able to see his face clearly. The bloodstained his face and gave him a sickeningly demonic appearance. You could see the life being sucked out of him. Even his tear stained face added to the hollowness his fëa radiated.

Refusing to let your eyes meet, he wheezed, “Just go Y/N. You made your choice giving me no other choice in return… Just leave…”

Inhaling, you flashed him a sorrowful frown and teared up, “F-Finno—”  

“— Don’t. Don’t use that name. It’s not for you…anymore,” he warned. “Just leave Y/N, there’s nothing more for you to say to me.”

“ …I just want to help you in any way that I can,” you cried.

Scoffing at your plead, he couldn’t believe how audacious you were willing to be. “What help…could you…possibly give…to me? Haven’t you done enough? I mean, look at me.” He snapped his head around to grin and bare his bloodstained teeth at you, “You did this to me, and now you want to help?”

Nodding your head like you were helplessly in love, you agreed. “Y-Yes!” But his following words were the furthest harshness you ever expected from him. They buried themselves deep within your stomach like a rusty blade that kept on turning and plunging itself farther. You never expected cruelty like this, nor did you expect to be cut as deeply as he was.

Shutting his eyes and casting his head down, there was the distinct echo of his dead laughter resonating in your ear. It chilled your bones and sent shivers up your spine the louder it grew until it became boisterous. Within seconds, two guards knocked and entered the room to inspect the root of the sound. Frozen in their footsteps at the murder scene of the Crown Prince covered in his blood, one motioned to rush to his side while the other rushed to alert the healers but was stopped by the wave of his hand. As they froze in their path, Fingon's head lifted and face your desperate one.

“If you truly wish to help, then start by staying away. You’re not good for me like I assumed you to be. Go live your happily ever after with him in peace while I deal with my own problems,” he stated before rolling away to escape the comfort of the bed. Standing tall and frail, he kept his head high with broken eyes before turning his back to your destroyed face. His heart crumpled further as he spilled his emotions at you. Those weren't the words he wanted to say, but they were his true emotions and they won over his tongue.

“The guards will see you out. Farewell Y/N.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @singleteapot @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @edensrose

[wide-ride]

Chat Fat (sudden wg, dirty talk)

Amy let out a giggle with a nervous edge as she leaned closer to her computer monitor. It wasn’t as if she were new to the niche chatrooms that catered to the fantasies of, well, fans of fat. However, it was rare for her to find anyone online that she really enjoyed talking to and, as she read the next message and bounced excitedly on her ample thighs, was good at turning her on.

Amy was a young woman, just out of community college and working in hospitality. She had always carried a bit of extra heft, hovering just below the 200 pound mark ever since she was a teen. She hid her weight behind flattering clothes and plenty of elastic waistbands. When she stood on the scale, the wavering of the dial just below the big 2-0-0 made her stare with both fear and longing. Longing because she wanted nothing more than to be pampered and fattened and kept deliciously full; fear because the rigors of real life didn’t quite allow for that.

So she lived out her desires through messages and photos traded with men that frequented chatrooms that allowed for anonymity. Unfortunately, most of her conversations had petered out into awkward one-sidedness, boredom, or simply one participant ghosting the other. There were one or two that she had really enjoyed keeping in touch with, but one had left the chat scene when a real life relationship became more serious and the other just seemed to be busy. She had started talking to his new man today and the conversation had become so hot so quickly that she felt giddily disoriented.

In her last few messages, she had described her imagined ideal body weight and type, and he had responded with all the myriad ways he would love to feed her up to that size. She was typing out a response in turn when a short message blipped onto the screen.

“I could do that for you”, the message read, a common enough sentiment from oft-lonely online feeders, “if you wanted me to.”

“I’d love it,” she replied, and added a winky face. She went back to typing up a more descriptively erotic response to his earlier paragraph but another message popped up.

“I could show you,” it said. Her stomach did a little flip in trepidation of having to turn down a person she had literally just met on the internet but another message arrived.

“Let me rephrase that. I can give you a little preview of how things would be if I were feeding you.”

Amy smiled excitedly, but she was still a bit confused. She was more than glad to continue typing up responses to his described feeding session, but his previous messages basically were a preview of how things would be if he were feeding her.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“One sec,” was his reply. She pursed her lips and let out a little sigh.

“No prob,” she responded. She leaned back in her desk chair. She idly wondered if she should take a nice picture for him to return to. She picked up her phone and fiddled with it, wondering if the higher quality of the phone over her webcam would be worth the bother of transferring the pictures to the computer. It was a shame that the site she liked to chat on had not yet released a mobile app.

When she stood from the chair, the sensation of her shirt growing taut over her belly gave her pause. She was wearing a tight fitting blouse as to best show off her curves, but surely the bottom hem hadn’t ridden up so easily before. She pressed her fingers into her gut with disbelief. Maybe she was closer to the 200 pound milestone than she thought.

A new message arrived. “Sorry, back now. How are you feeling?”

There was a thrum of heat that passed through her when she ran her fingers along the soft curve of her belly that now hung a little lower. She typed out a response with one hand. “Really good :) Welcome back lol.”

“Good is good to hear. But as I was saying...if I were your feeder I think I would have you eating 24/7. If we want to get you that heavy, wobbling belly that you want, you’re going to have a steadily high caloric intake. Are you a fan of pancakes for breakfast?”

Amy grinned and sat back down in her chair. Her belly rested heavily on her thighs. The base of the armrests dug a little more into her hips than she remembered.

“I love pancakes! And waffles, and french toast...I’d be more than fine carboloading for breakfast. Especially if it’s loaded with syrup and butter. Lol thinking about it is making me feel fatter already.”

His response made an electric chill shiver down her spine. “That’s because you are fatter already. Isn’t that right?”

Amy wasn’t wearing a bra. She could feel her breasts pressing heavily against the fabric, the sensation of it making her nipples perk against cloth. She squirmed in her chair and had to keep from moaning at the sensation of her belly and tits wobbling as she moved.

Another message arrived. “Don’t worry about typing a response. I’m sure you’re enjoying finally getting to feel like the well-fed fatty you deserve to be.”

The buttons of her shirt were struggling. In a haze she watched as her belly heavily spread out on her thick thighs, her bellybutton nearing her knees. The fat was pumping in smoothly, making her stomach round yet bottom heavy, like a beanbag chair. As buttons began to pop she felt her swelling breasts fall to hang free of the confines of her shirt. Her still-plumping belly made supported them, but as they grew heavier they began to sag to the sides.

“I’m sure you’re looking like a prize pig about now. I think by that size I’d have you addicted to food. That big round belly of yours is going to crave being stuffed full. Hell, you’ll be begging me for a funnel just to make sure you’re always topped off.”

Amy moaned as her belly jolted forward, as if it had been instantly been packed with food. She felt deliriously full. As her hips grew wider, thick love handles began to form. Her underwear was stretched to its limit and the elastic dug viciously beneath one of them.

“If I can ever get you to take a break from eating, I’d love to watch you try to walk...all that lard jiggling as you struggle to waddle even a few steps...”

Amy tried to reach between her legs and discovered two things. One, her belly and tits were so round and swollen that she could not reach. Two, her ass was so fat that she was completely wedged in her chair. Her vain struggle to even reach forward to the keyboard did nothing but make her wobble. She was so horny that it was hard to think, and her inability to move was only making it worse. She could just barely grind herself against the seat of the chair. She kneaded a nipple, thankfully still within her reach, and it felt so sensitive and lush that she cried out.

“Yes, I’m sure you’d make a great piggy for me. You want nothing more than to pack on pounds. I doubt you’d even blink at surpassing immobility. You’ve got simple desires: feeding and fucking.”

Amy felt so awfully close. Her fat gut was spilling over her knees.

“But I did say this was just a preview.”

And like that, it was all gone. Amy was her usual self, sitting in front of her computer screen, her blouse stretched to ruin as the only sign that anything was amiss. She took a few minutes to catch her breath before hurriedly typing out a response.

“So, where did you say you were from again?”

[thexsanctuaryx]

{ don't turn away, I want you to stay }

Summary: Emma confronts the boys, particularly Jake, after another rough night that he’s come to blame himself for. After avoiding her most of the day, in the name of giving her ‘space,’ she refuses to let it go on any longer.  Prompt: “Insecure” from Spring 2024 MK Bingo @moonknight-events Pairing: Original Character { Emma Harper } x Jake Lockley; bits of Emma Harper x Steven Grant && Emma Harper x Marc Spector  Contents: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, twin flame relationship, OC is deeply psychic and can communicate with the boys telepathically due in part to twin flame bond  Warnings: mentions of sex the previous night, no smut, mentions of severe mental illness { psychosis, PTSD, anxiety, panic, depression }, self-loathing, self-blame, slight tough love Word Count: 1,507 Author’s Note: Emma Harper is the original character that will star in all of my fics with the boys. I’ve been writing them for a while now and the relationship is super established unless stated otherwise. Emma && the boys have what is known as a twin flame union – think ultimate soulmate of soulmates / two halves of the same soul; you only get one of these and they are extremely rare, typically reincarnate with each other over thousands of years on this planet, if not before even coming to this planet from other star systems. For this reason, the four of them are able to telepathically communicate which is also common with this kind of bond, among other things. P.S. Yes, this is from 2024 MK Bingo that I wasn't well enough to participate in at the time. This has been sitting in my drafts since last winter. I'm slowly chipping away at the bingo cards I was given even though the event is long since over because the prompts were great and the whole point was after all to get more MK content out there! So that's what I intend to do! Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

She’s been crumpled up on the couch most of the afternoon, waiting for one of them to come out of hiding in the bedroom. Every now and then she can hear Steven mumble something unintelligible out of frustration from this distance, but they never surface. 

She knows why – it doesn’t take a psychic to know exactly what’s going on here.

Thinking back on the night before, she heaves a deep sigh, closing her eyes. Well aware that they, too, could read her mind as easily as Steven now reads the pages of his book, she wonders at how they can’t tell she’s not upset.

Well, not in the way they’re thinking. 

When she’s finally had enough, Emma forces herself off of the couch, shuffling toward the bathroom to give herself a brief pep-talk in the mirror.

More like pre-game talk.

She fixes herself in the mirror, tugging at Jake’s oversized t-shirt – the kind he reserves for his days off. It hugs the thickness of her hips, barely covering her bare thighs.

She turns the sink on and splashes her face with the water, frigid from the pipes that are ice cold with the winter. Upon drying her face, she pulls her long brown hair from the messy top knot she has it in, meaning business.

She takes one last exasperated look at herself in the mirror before breathing a deep huff of an exhale. 

Making her way upstairs to their bedroom, she doesn’t even knock on the door. Marching assertively over to their bed before Steven can finish a shaky ‘O-oh! Hello love!’

Her fingers close around the spine of his book, making sure to mark his page before setting the book on the nightstand.

Steven just looks at her – half puzzled, half nervous as she swiftly claims the spot in his lap, and raises a finger to his lips to silence anything he might have said. 

Her voice is steady, her eyes smoldering with determination, “I need to talk to Jake...” 

Steven’s hand closes around hers at his mouth, giving it a gentle squeeze as he lowers it between them. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, darling—” 

As if some verbal foot stomp, Emma cuts him off, “No! I’m done being coddled – the three of you have been avoiding me all day. I want to see him, now.” 

Marc seems to sigh from the headspace, ‘Baby, listen – you got overwhelmed last night and Jake –’ 

Emma’s shoulders drop, her voice hitching up, “And Jake didn’t DO anything wrong! Nothing that happened was his fault.” 

It’s Steven’s turn to interject, “Think you’re gonna have a tough time convincing him of that, love...” 

Marc is quick to follow up, ‘And anyway, he’s not around, we can’t even feel him right now.’

She frees her hand stubbornly from Steven’s grip, raising it and the other toward their face causing him to almost flinch, pulling his head back. Emma sighs softly, all but pleading with a quiet sadness in her eyes, “Please let me try…”

Steven returns the sigh and nods silently, which only receives a warning, ‘Steven…’ from Marc within the headspace. The former quiets him almost immediately, “We’ve gotta at least let her try, mate…”

He rests his hands at her thighs, giving them an encouraging graze from his thumbs, his voice quiet, giving a small smile as she seems to falter.

At his reassurance, she proceeds to rest each of her hands at their temples. She stares deeply between their eyes, locking on them, her brows pulling together and rising in the center.

Steadily, she reaches out in her mind to theirs her tone the same soft energy she so desperately wants to impart, ‘Jake—I know you’re in there, baby, and I know you’re hiding from me—but you don’t have to ever hide from me, I promise—I’m right here, and I need to see you, please come back to me…’

As she speaks within their mind, she releases one hand only to bring it back to comb through their hair, effectively loosening some of their curls as she continues to beg with her eyes connected to theirs, her fingers continuing their rhythmic movements.

She can feel how badly Marc wants to come to the front instead, but holds back.

It doesn’t take long for Steven’s eyes to slip shut, his own eyebrows tugging together as he gives a slow breath. Their body goes slightly rigid for mere seconds before their eyes open again, this time reading much more pained than they had moments earlier.

Emma’s hand at his temple shifts to cradle his jaw as the other continues it gentle movements through his hair. The response is quick, instinctive as Jake reaches to remove both of her hands from him, his expression riddled with guilt. Just as quickly he releases her hands in favor of trying to lift her out of his lap, his voice hoarse, as if already holding back tears, “I shouldn’t be here cariño—and you shouldn’t—"

Her tone albeit gentle, has a stern edge as she wraps her legs firmly around his body, forcing her own to weigh as heavily on him as she can. “Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do Jake Lockley, that’s what got us into this mess in the first place.”  

His eyes won’t even meet hers at this point, only muttering angrily. “I pushed you too hard—I didn’t—”

She searches out his eyes, pouting at him, “you didn’t what?” Her voice is laced with determination, ready to challenge whatever bullshit his brain has been telling him.

“I didn’t even get proper consent…” He mumbles in defeat, his eyes finally rising to hers with the same challenging edge. “…and even if I had—I was too rough with you…”

“No—no—Jake listen, I was consenting—the whole. time.” She brings her hands back up to his jaw, her thumbs brushing over the hollows of his cheeks. “I wanted all of it…”

He reaches to take her hands off of him again but she only holds tighter, likewise tightening her legs around him. The crease between her brows rises in the center again, her eyes pleading with him to not just understand what she’s saying but to accept it.

“We have a safe word for a reason, papi, and I didn’t even think to use it—not once…” Her voice is soft as if worried about scaring him as she reaches to comb through his curls.

“Because I was too rough with you…” He seemingly adds for her stubbornly.

“No…” Emma repeats as she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead before resting her own against it. She sinks her fingers into his hair at the back of his head, anchoring him against her. “Because I didn’t want or need to…”

Jake’s eyes slip shut, burning with tears as her lips make contact with his skin, frowning into her as she rests against him. He takes in a shaky breath through his nose, his words cracking on the ends. “But you got overwhelmed and—”

“That wasn’t your fault—” She assures him in the same warm, gentle tone. “My brain got tired and started to break…you know that—it happens all the time.” She settles more heavily on him again, her fingertips rubbing lightly against his scalp.

“And—” She adds, as if divulging some super deep secret. “I don’t know if you know this—but you’re better at taking care of me when that happens than anyone else…”

Jake coughs out a wet laugh, shaking his head as tears slip down his cheeks.

Emma only kisses his forehead again, withdrawing just enough to then likewise kiss them as they fall.

He takes in another trembling breath and rushes forward to bury his face in her throat, wrapping his arms around her in a vice like grip, sobbing against her quietly.

She cradles him tightly to herself, tucking her chin over his head protectively.

“I’m so sorry…” He whispers.

“Shhh…” She presses another kiss to his head as she massages her fingers through his hair. “You have nothing to apologize for…”

“I should’ve taken care of you—I should’ve—”

“No…” She pauses. “You did the best you could…”

“No—I—” He coughs out another sob.

“It’s okay, baby…we’re okay…”

He clings to her as if scared she’ll disappear from right before him, his muscles tightening desperately, all but crushing her against himself.

She only reciprocates the death grip, allowing herself to weigh on him, knowing that it often helps him calm down.

They sit there like that for what feels like hours before he settles, finally withdrawing to swallow and catch her lips just as desperately.

She admittedly breathes a sigh of relief when his lips find hers, her own finding a slow, steady rhythm with them.

She breaks away just enough to whisper, “no more hiding…okay?”

Jake is quick to nod, his eyes looking heavily over her face, agreeing softly. “No more hiding, mami…”

[wegonbealright-09]

Hey,

Came across your blog on my feed, I hope you’ll find it within yourself to consume bts related content to see how much all the members care about each other.

I don’t really understand but I can empathize with solo stans, it feels like you’re fighting or campaigning for something that doesn’t really have any basis, you ( and many others ) have contributed to the us versus them mentality, I’m not sure how it is beneficial for either party.

Try to spread kindness when you can, assuming members are ‘jealous’ of another member’s achievements is odd to me, also comparing other groups is odd as well. They’re all in the same industry, there shouldn’t be any competition because as you mentioned everyone is gonna ‘get their bag’.

This kpop space is vast, achievements can be shared, celebrated, and achieved again and again. There is no shortage of love that you can spread. I’m not sure if you are solo stan because you like the community, believe in what you think, or you use it as a form to release your stress out on celebrities, but I hope you can find it within yourself to participate in fan culture in a positive way.

this is by no means hate, I hope you don’t take it that way. You can like one member in a group, it just doesn’t look right to put down the other members in it, now that is my opinion and you can take it as you will.

Hope you have a good day

- anon army

Ten points for your way of approaching this.

Okay so I was never a solo, I've only became a solo after Face if I'm dating it back correctly when jk released his concept photo that's when I stopped being an army and a shipper completely. I was an army for five years anon five years. I didn't just wake up and decided I'm gonna be a solo I'm done being an army no somethings happened and now we're here.

When I started this blog I was bit too negative and so I did what you said and watched BTS content with hopes of reviving something in me idk what but something. Truth is when you're a solo, it opens your eyes about alot of things. Armies are too naive you guys want to push this image of BTS that existed 5 years ago. You want to continue and live in this bubble and away from reality. Wake up and smell the coffee.

Yes namjoon was jealous of jimin getting that number one and yes he was insecure about the numbers that he pulled just like Hobi was about his which he said in his documentary. Yes yoongi is mean to jimin yes he gives jimin backhanded compliments and yes yoongi sometimes says things that may seem like he downplays jimin and makes him feel insecure yes yoongi has body shamed jimin times more than once, it's not a joke if only one of us is laughing it's not a joke if the person being made fun of is not laughing it's not typically boy behaviour it's bullying. Yes Tae is selfish and he's a leech he only wants to be friends with jimin when it benefits him that much is visible now, he always makes it seem like jimin is the most important person to him where as he's the least, he has time for everybody not for him, he'd go the extra mile for anybody but not even quarter a mile for jimin it's not really a friendship, a healthy friendship if only one person is pulling the weight. Jungkook is the worst person ever for all the things he's done to jimin and still continues to do. For the way he acts like being next to jimin hurts him physically for him making it seem like jimin is forcing himself to him for him "loving" jimin in private but acts the opposite in public for him seeming comfortable when with anyone but not jimin.

I'm not going to spread positivity because there's nothing to be positive about. The fandom it's self has turned to something I don't know armies are now jimin antis. BTS themselves are no longer themselves and we can't deny that but you'll since y'all like acting like everything is perfect. I can't spread positivity when there's an elephant in the room which armies are refusing to address. I won't spread positivity when armies are acting like pjms are the enemies for streaming jimin's music for standing up for him. There's nothing to be positive about. And idk what groups are you talking about because not once have I ever mentioned groups in this blog the only group I talk about is bts

But if you're referring to that post where I talked about how jimin's no1 gagged everybody. Well it did getting that no1 is everybody's dream in kpop they might not say it but they do. What some groups couldn't do in years soloist jimin did in 5 days it is what is it's not that deep.

I can like jimin and I can hate the rest of BTS ( of which I don't) because it's a free world and I'm a grown woman I can do what I want.

And no honey there's no negativity in this blog it's just positive vibes always I just seem negative when I lean a little bit towards the truth and it hits a certain nerve.

Your opinion is very much valued thanks but not thanks

Yours sincerely

wegonbealright-09

[givemearmstopraywith]

Hi! I hope you're doing well! I was wondering if I could ask something about religion since you know much more about it and you have your own relationship with God but if you don't want to answer it or can't that's completely okay too, no pressure <3 so I've been battling with my own belief in god for a while now and i still don't really know how to answer the "do you believe in god" question and I've come to terms with that. But whenever I think that it would be nice to convert to one of the Abraham religions, I always stop myself because I can't reconcile religion with my lesbianism. It feels like I'm not allowed to believe in god or to be a part of a religion bc of my sexuality and I'm afraid that when people say that queerness is a sin in the eyes of god, they're right. The holy texts after all are against homosexuality or at least against the homosexual acts. I don't know how else to interpret them. It feels like I'm a doomed case and I don't really know what to do with this. I'm sorry if this is a lot, you don't have to answer of course if you don't want to. Thank you anyway, I hope you have a nice day <3

my queerness (i am a lesbian as well) felt like a huge impediment to my finding a place for myself in theology. then i realized that god calld me to theology because my voice was needed there: because change for the community doesn't happen without risk to the self. islam, judaism, and christianity are all historically kinder to queerness than they initially appear, or at least than it appears their current adherents would make them out. for instance in classical arabic and islam there existed mukhannathun, gender-variant people, without shame or guilt, accepted as innately queer and made this way by god; and there are eight genders in the talmud, six in rabbinical literature, and halacha recognizes intersex and non-conforming genders. the long thread of homosexual condemnation in the hebrew bible is, in all actuality, a condemnation of rape and incest. the events at sodom involve the people of sodom desiring non-consensual sexual contact with angels. the word angels in genesis 19 is malak, a messenger: this would be an act of defilement which, in hebrew esoteric tradition, is akin to that which caused the fall of angels from heaven. similarly in the new testament allusions to homosexuality are made in the context of worshipping other gods, participating in temple prostitution, or incest; it is not the act itself which is condemned because it is inherently homosexual or deviant, but rather the intention behind the act that is wrong.

contemporary praxis has lost this ease with bodies, although contemporary theology struggles to retrieve it. if god is calling you to faith, he will not ask you to abandon your body- nor your desires, your love, your pleasure, your instinct, your intuition. these too are holy. misuse and abuse is not. god made you in his image. no person can truly deny the goodness of god that is present in you. they may attempt it but such is only words and inherently loveless. the apostle paul writes that if i speak in the tongues of men or of angels [if i now all the scriptures and they are inscribed on my heart] but have not love, i am only a resounding gong or a clanging symbol. if i have a faith that can move mountains but have not love, i am nothing. go where you see love reflected to you. god is there. if you see love in personal study and belief, god is there. i am not part of a formal religion for reasons other than my queerness, and i don't feel this inhibits my relationship with god; i know i will get there someday. but if organized religion is something to which you strongly feel god is calling you, trust him: in a very practical sense, there are lgbtq affirming churches, mosques, and synagogues that will identify themselves as such- i highly encourage you to see if anything like this exists in your area, or if there are any that offer online worship. reach out to religious leaders here and talk to them: they will always, always, be happy to speak to you. anyone who is without love does not know god.

[pastballads]

mun meme

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍!

★  NAME:  Luan

★  PRONOUNS: He/Him/Dude/Bro/My guy/etc.

★  BEST EXPERIENCE: I... honestly can't think of any? I've had more bad experiences than good. Maybe I'd say when I finally found my footing with independent OCs with Izren and ended up buddies with Bear and his whole entourage of writing partners. I've joined up on Discord servers with people I write with in the past, but I've never had fun like we do on his server. Plus we play D&D!

★  PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Discord is my go-to if you wanna reach me. I use Tumblr IMs too, though with how they're about as functional as a Bethesda game, I often ask if we can move over to DMs.

I've got my Discord tab open 24/7 on both my laptops, plus I have the app on my phone. I lurk a lot. But nine times outta ten, I'm more of a reactive replier, almost always messaging back rather than messaging first.

★  MOST ACTIVE MUSE: Kouki, always. Getting into the mood with him is so stupidly easy. Put on any rock music, think about any series, play a video game, whatever- and there's always something that makes me do that Leo pointing meme and think "Hey, that gives me ideas for that white-haired little gremlin!"

★  EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS: I've honestly lost track lmao. Ballpark estimate is 11-13 years since I started around 2010 to 2013, with my intro to roleplaying being those ancient Quotev quizzes and the chatroom website Chatzy. If I remember correctly, my first actual RP was either in a Sonic chatroom or a Naruto chatroom. And I've never even watched Naruto- I was going on nothing other than the Fandom Wiki. You could even say that my cringe-worthy OC there was the first iteration of Kouki. Only reason I still remember that chat was one of my writing partners died of some terminal illness. Basically drowned in her own blood.

After that, I moved here to Tumblr. It started with Pokemon blogs... then Steven Universe (where I saw them actively out-toxic the MLP fanbase and drive them out of the fanbase)... then I was the sole Soul Calibur roleplayer... then I made a Skyrim OC based on the Kid Dragonborn mod... then I fell back onto Naruto and joined the fanbase here with more cringy OCs... made my other, still on-going Pokemon blog about eight-ish years ago... joined the JJBA fandom, which was and still is the best fandom I ever joined... then I joined the RWBY fandom... then the BNHA fandom... and now we're here!

★  RP PET PEEVES:

I'm gonna cheat a bit and leave two of Bear's peeves, if only because he completely hits the nail on the head. There's just no better way to put it without rehashing things.

Excessive commentary blogging. Before it was just a lot of dash commentary that had me going 'eh'. But in recent years it's gone past that. I've become disenchanted with blogs that become largely commentary for whatever it is they're doing on Discord. All power to those Discord groups doing what they do! But it reaches a point for me that I don't really see them as indie, and it can feel insurmountable trying to interact with them if you're not entangled with their zig-zagging plotlines.

Blog hoppers. Because for a slow burner and long hauler like myself, they're the most impossible people to write with! Which is a shame, because a lot of the hoppers I come across do seem to have some writing talent to them!

Fandom RP events. When I was younger, I used to love the idea of these big events with their own plotlines and moving parts that anyone could participate in if they wanted to. Galas, holiday parties, festivals- stuff like that.

That lasted until 2018, when I kickstarted Bernadotte's original JJBA blog and brought back my long-running Pokemon blog. In the span of something like 5 months, eight separate RP events happened back-to-back in just the JJBA fandom alone. You can only try to participate and be entirely ignored for so long before it sours your whole outlook.

And I mean entirely. I remember writing twelve different starters that people asked for, responding to numerous open threads and starters, liking many different event starter calls, sending asks- the whole shebang. Not even once did I get anything back. If you enjoy fandom RP events, more power to you. But I've been burned too many times to even want to try.

★   PLOTS OR MEMES: Doesn't matter to me! Either way is great! Back in the day, I relied heavily on memes without any ideas for plot, just sending in whatever sounded like something my muse would say. Basically "Oops! All Memes!" Now? I put more thought into things. Overthink things too.

Receiving memes? I almost always ask if there was a reason or an idea driving my partners to send in that specific thing 'cause you never know, y'know? They usually do. But it really doesn't matter to me if they do or don't. I'm just happy to write with y'all.

★  ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: There's a little bit of me in every one of my muses! An example off the top of my head? Kouki is based on how I was as a kid his age. Corbin was inspired by my high school years, my love for old books and poetry, and my music tastes. My Pokemon OC was straight-up a self-insert when I started that blog. Tino came from my RWBY days and my absolute love for weaponry.

They've all got fragments of me in 'em!

tagged by: @dcviated Thanks bear! tagging: @pluviacuratio, @boomermania, @remunporium, @caestusvulpes, @fctedivided, @monmuses, and anybody else that wants to do it!

[devidancestudio-goddesslife]

Changing Lives One Shimmy At A Time

The Sensational Summer Hafla/ Shimmy Mob Louisville, KY 2024 has concluded. We had a blast on Saturday May 11th here in the Kentuckiana Valley. On World Bellydance Day we gathered together not only to have a good time and catch up, but to help raise money for our local action center, The Center for Woman and Families. 

During the day, Shimmy Mob Louisville gathered on the waterfront and performed while raising money on the Big 4 Walking bridge platform. Truthfully, I was very very tried from all the prep work, checking in to the AirBnB, and communicating with all the performers bout the lineup and any changes we had to make. But everyone showed there support by performing the main choreography and participating in the secondary one which involved audience participation.

This years crew consisted of many people whom had never danced any style before and a few whom had never danced bellydance. 

At the hafla, we had many local performers and supports from around the region as well fellowshipped to the beat of the tunes. Grateful for MarleyVon and Samira for headlining along with myself.  We had a few people not make the evening event, but sent love and shimmies their way. This is one of many gatherings for this year. Be sure to stay tuned to the Devi Dance Studio® website for updates and upcoming events. https://www.DeviDanceStudio.com

The VP of The Center's Marketing and Outside Outreach spent time in Jordan and Egypt. He said he was very impressed and happy to be apart of something like this as it reminded him of his time abroad. 

This made me super grateful. I am glad to have  made all of the food except for the baklava and the roasted veggies. (The veggies and baklava was made by one of the Shimmy Mob participants) I had a feeling there would be people from or spent time or was of the culture at the event. I didn't want them to try the hummus and it not be authentic. lol I noticed most store bought hummus was made with canola or soybean oil and not olive oil. 

Having something positive to do is important to the healing process. It can be one of the key elements in victims becoming survivors. Getting out of victim mode is not easy and looks differently for everyone. It is just as important to be gently with those going though recovery. 

I recently heard something that was very profound and possibly something I have always known, but didn't have the best phrasing. "The opposite of trauma is play." Which when you think about it, is very true. But sometimes allowing yourself to play can be hard as processing the trauma and going through it can be difficult. 

One of the many things abusers do is limit free thinking, play, happy moments, negate the curious nature, limit interactions, and create conditions/environment where brainwashing/or changing/manipulating the narrative as a way to control them or a situation. Some people and places use these tactics to keep people low and instill physiological phrases so later on in life it makes it hard for them as a person to be their authentic self, explore, live, and play. Often times without proper help and support, victims will subconsciously seek out similar emotional limits, people, places, and things thinking they are doing better, but they are not.

There is no shame in getting help, going to counseling/therapy, and belonging to authentic helpful support groups.  It is important to do things that are different, experience different cultures, and learn new things so you can not only reprogram your own thoughts, but to allow the healing process to thrive in your life. Mental and physical health is just as important as having a safe place to live, income, and quality of life.

One of the Goddess Life with Tahulla Setsena Principals is, "You are the only You you have!" Let that sink in. You are important, and have the right to existence just like anyone else. We are not meant to always be subservient, obedient, quite, or limited. Ask questions, have adventures, laugh, sing, dance, create, appreciate, write, think, study, love and live for yourself. It is honorable to do things for and with yourself. Remember you don't need permission from anyone to do the things that are healthy and happy for you in your life.  

Focusing on yourself can be hard to start, but when you do stick with it. It's just like dance. Many people don't even try because they are afraid of not being good at it, it being a waste of time, or what other people think. These limits can hinder your own growth and thoughts because you stop yourself before you even get started. We as a society need to stop focusing on being the most perfect prodigy at something, but should strive for the healthy ability to be motivated in the process of doing things. This can help lower jealous/envious and doubtful emotions which often stop the best outcome in most areas of life. 

Be inspired, but not envious. Allow good counsel, but not gaslighting. Forgiveness is for you and not anyone else. Be gentle with yourself. You are worthy of peace and happiness. Nice and kind are not the same thing. Also allow yourself to know the difference and how it feels to be held accountable, but not disrespected. Allow yourself to recognize those who are comfortable with hindering you, for they not your friends or family. There is no shame in leaving and saying no. You owe it to yourself to do better for you by you. 

Not everyday will be perfect and there may be times where you don't have the energy to go forth and prosper. That is okay. It's not really healthy to give 110% at everything you do all the time. Rest, existing, and fulfillment will be different for everyone. Celebrating and being safe with these difference could be the vibe your heart needs. 

To find out about Shimmy Mob (A world wide organization) go to: https://www.ShimmyMob.com

For more info about The Center for Woman and Families visit: https://www.thecenteronline.org and to donate on behalf of Shimmy Mob Louisville, KY/Kentuckiana use our unique link of: https://tinyurl.com/ShimmyMob

To donate to Devi Dance Studio® so we can help bring things like this and many others to the community visit: http://paypal.me/devidancestudious Feel free to follow Devi Dance Studio® on various social media outlets and on our website: https://www.DeviDanceStudio.com 

Hugs until the next article,

Tahulla Setsena <3 

[silversiren1101]

What's your favorite character you've played at a table and why?

Have had to think over this one for a looong time because I've played so many characters and only a few I've disliked...

Really though, I think it's Omorose, my pf2e diabolic sorcerer with cleric (Mahathallah) and dandy dedications, a dhampir automaton who is essentially an infernal people-sized EVA unit and a high-femme at that. She was a lawyer in Osirion two thousand years ago and ritually blood sacrificed her children to Mahathallah for a form of immortality, transferring her soul and flesh into an automaton chassis she bought at auction. Now she's a Blood Lord in Geb, and living her unlife to the fullest, her end goal being not The Top but being The Source. She's aiming to be like the Shadow Broker in Mass Effect: knowing everything and everyone and having blackmail and dirt on all that is so long as the price is right. Rather than having a secret identity she's fully public just because of how powerful and untouchable she is.

Lawful Evil is a sweet spot I can play very easily and naturally without table disruption in Good parties, but this is an all Evil table (Blood Lords baby!) and being able to fully lean into that is such a blast. No in-game shame or having to be secretive about using charm and dominate spells, can openly summon as many devils as she wants as bureaucratic aides and guards for the office/home. Murder IS the answer a lot of the time, so long as you discredit your foe enough through the law that the law no longer protects them. SO RP wise, absolute perfect character for me to play.

Mechanically, I actually made a diabolic sorcerer out of spite. The 2e community has a section of grognards that absolutely hates that casters can't cast a single spell and end a fight like in other systems, and that they have to participate in the fight just like everyone else. The Divine spellcasting list especially is NOT a blaster list, it's very support and utility based. AND, on top of that, people complain about summons all the time not being powerhouses on the battlefield... So I made Omorose to prove a point: skill issue. She's 1) a divine sorcerer 2) diabolic so which she does get some more offensive spells she's also saddled with multiple incapacitation bloodline spells 3) focuses heavily on summons.

And she is an absolute monster.

-She can be a full party healer (with Harm AND Heal since we have one living party member)

-She has a ton of party buffs (Heroism, Protection, Fly, Thermal Remedy, Unfettered Movement, Resist Energy)

-She has so so so many debuffs and crowd control options (Bon Mot, Command, Behold the Weave, Crushing Despair, Sanctuary, Ymeri's Mark, Roaring Applause)

-She has utility (Web of Eyes, Charm, Suggestion, Dispel Magic, Enthrall, Sending, Cleanse Affliction)

-Has a lot of big aoe spells (Divine Decree, Tempest of Shades, Cinder Swarm, Hellfire Plume, Fireballs, Floating Flame)

And, because I have read every single devil statblock and pretty much memorized them, can use her summons to the absolute fullest. Devils has a lot of innate damage resistance making them sturdy, and they often have abilities that make them do extra damage against prone, enfeebled, frightened, etc. enemies. The rest of our party just so happens to inflict those conditions often, which translated into my summoned osyluth critting 7 times in a row against an enemy 3 levels higher than him for 50-90 damage each time. Devils ALSO have spells of their own, so a summoned hamatula isn't just flanking and dealing damage he's also casting Harm to heal our front liners. Incredibly powerful and fun.

Anyway yeah, it's a bit funny that the character I made out of spite to prove a point about skill issue is both the most fun AND the most powerful character I've ever played. Omorose Ahnkamen I love you, you walking war crime.

[girlfromthecrypt]

Find The Word Tag!

Another tag game I very gladly participated in! This was super fun, even though I had to kinda pull a cop out on the last word. They weren't easy to find! Anyhow, thank you @mthollowell-writes for tagging me, I really appreciate it. Here goes.

My words: Music, Steam, Rain, Ponder, Wish

The ponder-one is sorta spicy so be warned lol. I'm drawing from both my novel WIPs, Fucked Up Fairytale and Sootfingers.

Music (snippet from Sootfingers): There was quite a crowd present that evening, and Sootfingers had to squeeze past several people conversing in their own small groups until he finally plopped down on an empty bar stool right by the counter. For a couple minutes, he stayed still in his seat, listening to the music and chatter around him, trying to acclimate to the bustle.

Steam (from Fucked Up Fairytale): Following my brother around the house, I found that our aunt had spread a blanket on the grass for us to sit on, three plates and cups sitting around a steaming pot in the middle. She motioned for us to join her, already having begun to tuck into her portion of meat and veggies. She seemed to be in a good mood, her mild frustration with us from before having let up. Her smile was as bright as the midday sun, and she asked Caleb about school as we ate.

Rain (Fucked Up Fairytale): Nature had reclaimed the structure, plants sprouting from every crack and cranny. Stinging nettles and dandelions lined the ruin’s perimeter and fungi grew in its shady corners, moistened by recent rainfall. Where there was meant to be a gate, a gaping maw stared back at us, and the third wall had been reduced to a single row of bricks lying lonely on the ground.

Ponder (Fucked Up Fairytale): And then a tiny ray of light stole its way into the chaos of racing thoughts. The white-haired man appeared before my inner eye. It’s likely not the norm to fantasize about someone you’ve only met once, but seeing as I had already cast out prior feelings of shame, I set them aside once more. 

“You can watch me sleep. I might ask you inside, though. And then what will you do?”

Permitting myself to ponder this question, I closed my eyes again. This time, I remained asleep.

Wish (from Sootfingers): "I want results, you know? Not some wishy-washy feel good crap. I don't want someone holding my hands and telling me "she still loves you", I don't want some kind of empathic impression; I want to hear a fucking voice, or see a face, I want something I can actually believe in without doing mental gymnastics."

It was only when those words had already left her lips that she realized how much fury she'd let escape her.

And that's it from me! I guess I can make up words for ppl now.

Your words: Creaking, Strength, Dread, Harbor, Lips

Please, everyone who feels compelled to participate, go right ahead. I am literally so uncertain when it comes to interacting with the community lol but Imma tag @rehnwriter @keysandopenmind @a-crows-corner @fayeiswriting @written-in-mold hope that's okay, no pressure

[gorey-gorella]

It’s a genuine shame that you think academics like Cathy Cohen aren’t worth listening to because they supposedly use too many “buzzwords” (another silly anti-academia fear mongering term) or “get to the point quickly enough”... It’s obviously important to consider the positioning/background of your sources, but Ieft-leaning ones tend to be more in line with facts than right-leaning ones, especially notorious grifters like Shoe0nhead.

You keep bringing up observable reality as if it exists in opposition to my positions when it’s not. As a fellow atheist, I also acknowledge that subatomic particles not being observable by my eye does not make them any less real or measurable. Things like systemic racism have numerical evidence and historical context.

I called your description of the left exaggerated because you clearly do not understand what “be gay, do crime” even means (i.e. associating it with gays thinking they’re above the law as a whole as opposed to it’s actual meaning of participating in civil disobedience/good trouble to create more just laws/eradicate unjust laws).

Mike is literally one of the creators, safe to say he knows what ATLA stands for better than you do.

A show can be leftist and also critique it. The video game Disco Elysium is communist but critiques communism. Also, a monarchy is still a form of government and the show doesn’t need to display a one-to-one governmental representation of its ideology to hold said ideology (After all, suggesting Mike is advocating for monarchy would be a silly lack of media literacy). Furthermore, saying that authoritarianism isn’t bad on its own is interesting, to say the least… Also, while liberalism, leftism, and libertarianism may have some overlaps, they are all distinct and you seem to keep conflating them. I think it’s similarly interesting that you think Airbenders were too pacifistic, but label the entire anti-fascist movement as too extreme (i.e. support more active forms liberation for fictional characters, but not for real oppressed people). ATLA promotes balance as a means to prevent/resist authoritarianism and fascism, not to endorse centrism.

Of course not all right-wingers are exactly the same, people across the board are individuals. Some extreme right-wingers love Trump and some hate him because they’re also not a monolith. However, at its core, the right is united by inherently harmful and dehumanizing ideologies.

I’m obviously left-leaning and I own that. Bias is impossible to avoid, being a centrist is still buying into certain forms of propaganda, so the best one can do is align themselves with whatever position is most in line with facts/has the most consistent and harm-reductive worldview. I am, however, not caught up in culture war bull like worrying about people’s gender identity. You genuinely think the left is out to “eliminate masculinity” or whatever that means when it’s all in your head and you responded in earnest to a shitpost. No one is force-feminizing men against their will and you seriously need to change your media diet if you think that.

Buzzwords aren’t a leftist thing. If a right winger is saying top many buzzwords, I tend to tune off from them, too.

I never said anything in my other post about the left holding men down and making them wear a dress.

My point was that the left hates men who are mentally dominant and have their own opinions in any way. They don't actually care for men being able to express their feminity. They just want men to submit everything. Most 'feminine' men I see on the left are either gay and act exactly like stan Twitter users or just completely submit themselves to the left, and they drink, 'respect women juice'.

They may be 'joking', but I can tell its based on their own beliefs. Especially since one of the comments was on the person's side and was all like, 'The misandry truthers' like if misandry clearly doesn't exist.

As I said, it's not like I don't use data at stuff at all, I just don't use the ones with buzzwords, half-ass data, and clearly with an extreme bias. Cathy Cohen has a clear bias of wanting to make blacks and lgbt people look like victims of everything.

I'm not rejecting data or academia. I'm rejecting studies that are clearly agenda-driven and full of emotional buzzwords. Bias exists in academia, and that's why I won't blindly accept someone like Cathy Cohen, who constantly frames minorities as helpless victims of everything.

Mike literally can be flawed. And just because years later, he quoted some dumb shit doesn't mean that ATLA meant that back then.

I never said Mike meant that we should become a monarchy, I meant that the show, in general, was anti-extremes. That's why they didn't dismantle the monarchy, he may disagree with it, but it's not an extreme in it of itself, that's why the monarchy wasn't destroyed.

Just because Mike DiMartino is the creator doesn't mean his later political takes rewrite the themes of ATLA. The show is about balance and resisting extremes, not about pushing a single political ideology. Creators don't get to dictate how we interpret their work years later.

Antifa is a garbage movement. I am anti-fascist. That doesn't mean much. That doesn't say much about my beliefs. Saying your anti-fascist does really mean anything. Antifa is a radical, dangerous movement that harms those they disagree with.

I literally agreed it was anti-fascism. It's just not completely anti-auth, or else, the Firelord and Royal system would be dismantled all together.

The right thinks the same thing of the left. They think at its core, all the left and libs are trying to destroy everything they love.

For me, centrism makes the most sense because it's not on one side. It takes in all perspectives.

Centrism isn't propaganda-it's about taking a balanced view and rejecting extremism on both sides. It allows me to evaluate issues based on logic and evidence, not just tribal loyalty to a political camp.

I call out the night's bullshit too. Where did you get me saying I'm worried about that? I'm saying the left never has cared about men(exactly why the right can easily brainwash them on being on their side).

The left ignores men's issues, which is why the right has such an easy time pulling men into their camp. The left only 'cares' about men when they fit their agenda, and that's why many men feel alienated and brainwashed by the right.

Also, Mike and many other creators can be stupid, especially in the future. He could just be following the dumb modern trends now.

I'm not sure if Mike quoted it 2016(the time of Trump) or in a later year, but ATLA was made in 2005 and ended in 2008. That's years from even 2016 and even more years from a year above 2016.

Clearly, back then, it was anti-extremes. His newer opinions don't change what ATLA, the TV series, was all about. It was about harmony.

I mean, wow, nothing says anti-auth like continuing the Firelord and Royal system, even in LOK.

[very-grownup]

Hello and welcome to Brother: Episode 5: Oh that's not sports anime!

Shen Di has taken Lin Hao out to the desert to convince him to keep the gift bike sent by his absentee mother. Yin Fang has the unenviable task of selling the emotional impact of 'if he doesn't want to accept the gift, tell him it's a loan and he can pay me back after he has some motorbike race prize money'. I am not here for the attempted redemption of Lin Hao's mother. I am here for motorbikes.

I am definitely not here for Shen Di's participation in the attempted redemption of Lin Hao's mother, but this is how you learn she's an orphan before it's explicitly stated that her parents are dead. Not understanding that parenting involves more qualities than 'being alive' is peak orphan behaviour.

Because they're rad, Celine, shut up. (Celine does not, in fact, have to shut up, she is speaking for Past Celine, who did not understand why motorbikes. She has now become flirtatious with Halik and seen motorbikes in action, she understands why motorbikes.)

There is a scene I really like where Halik and his gang are all clustered around a single desk chair to watch footage of motorbike rallies on someone's computer screen. Very reminiscent of kids in the high school library huddled around A LAPTOP (hello I was in high school in the late '90s and early '00s) watching contraband.

Lin Hao's master gives us words to live by, even if we do not understand motorbike is life.

Halik and his best friend Karim are doing some last minute motorbike practise and testing in the night, and Karim calls out Halik for using all his money to upgrade Karim's bike instead of his own. You cannot shame Halik for this. Acknowledging his unstoppable generosity will only make him more powerful, even as his bike runs on spit and dreams. He's too good a boy.

Everyone shows up to see the boys off to the race (not the race itself) but you know the most important person there is Karim's baby daughter. Look at that powerful baby. Pinch her cheeks. Kiss her little forehead for luck. What a good baby.

At the race starting ... camp? There's lots of displays from sponsors and motorbike-related vendors. Halik and Karim dream of buying a sweet new bike with their hypothetical prize money. Lin Hao, as a filial chump with a teacher, can only dream of buying one for his motorbike master. The downsides to having a teacher, Lin Hao. Suck it.

Halik will not rest until Lin Hao has become part of his friend group, whether Lin Hao or the other guys actually want this. It generally seems to be a mixed bag on how the other guys feel about Lin Hao; some jealousy and resentment, particularly with how much attention and deference Halik is eager to show Lin Hao, but also these are all good, friendly guys who just love each other and their community and motorbikes.

And Lin Hao brings a lot of really good points to the table that Halik and his guys should maybe take more note of. For instance, if you're going to be doing several days of motorbike rally racing through the desert, maybe you shouldn't ride those same motorbikes to the starting camp (the other participants have their bikes brought in trucks and trailers). Or maybe you should have better, more restful sleeping plans than 'on the bare ground, under a blanket'.

Maybe, maybe have actual boots, not rubber rain boots, even if you don't have proper biking boots.

Karim is especially dismissive of Lin Hao's safety concerns.

Halik's intervention is not what anyone needs: it doesn't make the gang change their approach to safety gear and it doesn't endear Lin Hao to them.

Also: Halik isn't really taking Lin Hao's safety concerns seriously. Later that night, he leads the rest of the gang in spray painting their boots to look more like high visibility protective motorbike boots. THE COLOUR WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THE TAKEAWAY, BOYS.

It's hard to be mad at them though. They're so all in on this race and doing this together. There's singing and dancing and eating and hugs, it's very positive and affectionate and toxicity free.

I'm not sure why they bother with the boot disguise as this race clearly doesn't have any kind of safety requirements. See also: Halik just wearing a basic non-motorbike helmet.

After the first day of racing (Karim in second, Lin Hao in third, Halik in fifth), Shen Di loses the necklace that is the only memento she has of her dead parents and Lin Hao helps her find it. He is a dick about it, though, playing keep-away and threatening to eat it like he's ten.

The vibe I get from these two is not currently a romantic one. I think Shen Di may be planning how to kill Lin Hao.

Oh, I seem to have run out of room. I guess nothing tragic happens in this episode after all.