#I like this so much I can not coherently explain myself

[meatsubstances]

Wow teehee I like this a normal amount. Rad cool.

THESE INSATIABLE ASPIRATIONS MAKE ME WHOLE

GAH !!!!! This was a final project for one of my classes, I went a bit freaky with it teehee. absolutely loved how it turned out the collage part was SO fun to do

close ups and details under cut :)

[glorious-spoon]

i know we all laugh (mostly fondly) about the paper-thin plots in porn that only exist to make the sex happen, but i was reading some old stargate fic over the weekend, and i really think we're sleeping on the paper-thin hurt/comfort plot that only exists to force the characters to FEEL THINGS.

like, is this scenario realistic? no. does it make any rational sense? no. does it provide a built-in excuse for a character to collapse, bloody and disoriented, into the arms of his beloved/friend/partner? obviously, that's the whole point of this exercise.

i love it. it's my favorite thing in the world.

[peapod20001]

I’m the type that can and will cry if think too hard <3

[lesbiantism]

Nadja, Autism, & Womanhood (aka, me using the writers woman allergy to project on Nadja)

Ok here’s the highly demanded (by one person) Nadja autism + womanhood analysis. Before I start, I wanna note that I’m a rambly bitch. This whole post is basically me just putting down thoughts and loosely stringing them together. I don’t know if this will be coherent. I have Really Big Thoughts on characters like this but I never know how to really lay it out in a coherent way. So idk maybe none of this will make sense but it does to me so. Autism essay under the cut.

So, I’m a nonbinary autistic person, but I still identify With womanhood. Just not As a woman if that makes sense? Like I Experience womanhood but I don’t Identity with it, not entirely. It’s hard to explain idk. But for me, autism and gender are inextricably linked. I’ve thought a lot on how, when I masked as a young girl, a lot of it was just me over-performing femininity, desperately trying to fit in with other girls but always feeling like I was stumbling through the performance. Reaching out and tripping over my feet.

Women are expected to be a lot of things in society. They can never be too loud, too bold, too impolite, too dominant, too rough. Too much. I was always too much for others. When Nadja told that story about other kids finding her too loud growing up, so her teachers made her sit outside, I identified so much because school was such an isolating thing for me. My voice was something always criticized, and my big emotions, so I learned to quiet myself, to dull myself. I’m unlearning it now, and I think that’s one big reason I’m drawn to Nadja’s character, because she’s so many of the things I learned Not to be, and she makes me want to fully embrace them again. She’s a woman in a way I understand and relate to.

Getting more into Nadja and less about me—I don’t necessarily read Nadja as nonbinary per se, but I do think when it comes to other women, she sees herself as Something Else. (I think there’s something to be said about Nadja doll, as some kind of metaphor for depersonalization or dysphoria or something. I can’t really articulate it but if anyone else has thoughts feel free to). It’s like there’s a wall of glass there between her and other women. She wants to reach out, but that wall is there. But when it starts to slip-which is I think is what was happening with Guide—she puts it back up.

It’s interesting to see her when she actually Tries to reach out to other women. Like this season, being in the human workforce, trying to befriend Lisa, and getting So Excited that this girl liked her stupid banana phone joke that she just did it over and over, completely unaware that she was starting to annoy her. Kind of like how Guide was with her, and maybe that’s part of why she pushes her away. Because there’s a part of Guide she can relate to, that longing in her. It’s like that wall of glass is a mirror now, a mirror into the parts of herself she’s afraid to really look at or evaluate. And the fact that she can relate to another woman is New and scary. I think Nadja comes off as very confident, and that’s definitely true, but I do also think there’s that part of her that’s Afraid, that carries the pain of a lifetime of rejection, that she hides under an armor of stone. The part of her that has go bags made because she’s afraid of being exiled again. That part of her who, in many different ways, has never really felt like she’s had a place to belong.

I also think another thing that’s interesting is her relationship Jenna. How she saw this young girl being pushed around by others, desperate to belong, and she Understood that feeling, so she wanted to take her under her wing and help her find confidence. It’s a different kind of relating than with Guide. Jenna is a vision of herself in the past, but Guide is a reminder that those feelings—that part of her that Cares what others, particularly women, think—are still present in her. And it makes her feel threatened. She can’t look at Guide without having to look at herself.

Idk. Maybe all of this is projection but what is a blorbo if not a canvas for your own issues. I think I’m extremely correct about all of this though.

So yeah! That’s all my thoughts for now. Feel free to add on!

[ymechi]

Who is the real Creator?

I had to edit and remove some parts for this to make sense, I hope it is coherent if not please tell me so I can fix it and explain everything better. I did not expect people to be interested in this au so I was surprised! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, mentions of character injuring themselves (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

Part 1, This is part 2, part 3, part 4

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Reader ushered Darling inside giving them the blanket which they used to dry their wet self. They sort of reminded Reader of what a wet sad cat one of their neighbors used to own looked like after a rainy day. Darling sat on the kitchen table as Reader once again prepared some tea. Reader really should get a nice tea set soon, they mentally put that on their shopping list the next time they are going to the market.

Darling sat quietly at the table sniffing and not saying much, Reader had no idea what to say before it would have been so easy they knew each other in and out. Yet now. . . it was as if a hundred years had passed, a million things had happened. Reader was now not sure what to say.

They weren't sure if they even wanted to comfort Darling. Shouldn't Darling be comforting Reader? All they got was that half-assed hospital meeting.

If Darling is upset wasn't there a league of followers, acolytes, servants heck even Archons who would comfort them why come to them now out of all times and alone? Clearly something serious happened that they had to runaway alone to them out of all people.

Reader inwardly sighed.

They bought out a pan. One thing they knew how to lighten the mood up was pancakes, it was easy and they knew how to do that . In fact, they might get a master's degree in making pancakes, Reader should ask Nahida if that is possible.

(They tried not to think that it was Darling's favourite meal to eat after being sad.)

"So. . . What happened?" Reader tried to start.

Darling did not respond for a while just quietly staring at them. Their eyes were a bit dull and exhaustion was evident on their face. They seemed to contemplate what to say before they started.

"I. . . I asked to wield a sword, at first they were against it but I wanted to try y'know?"

There was no question who they were, the crazy cultist acolytes. Reader shuddered at some of their past interactions with them, they were good weapon wielders reader would give them that. . . Reader had first-hand experience after all.

Yet Darling was alone with the trigger-happy acolytes all this time.

Although Darling was the supposed Creator, they should have been fine, Reader looked over at them and they lacked any surface wounds.

They should have been fine right?

"It was fine at first they taught me proper stances but then I got a bit touchy with the sword, you know me how I get with stuff like that and then I," she sighed, "I cut myself like an idiot."

Reader rubbed their head and thought about it, they would not be here for a cut something else went on and they waited for Darling to finish.

"Then I bled," Darling was quiet for a moment, "it was red."

Hey, it rhymed Reader wanted to say to break the tension but Reader refrained. They did not get it at all. What was so wrong with red blood? Wasn't blood supposed to be red.

Darling must have caught on and they looked like they finally understood something. It was they who wanted to understand what was going on!

"Uhm yeah you maybe don't know but the Creator is supposed to bleed gold."

Oh.

"Oh."

That is all they could say really. They felt dumb for a second there they had been actively avoiding taking any religious classes or any mention of religion for their own mental health's sake. Perhaps if they did not avoid it as much they would have understood what was going on much easier but for now the single religious book they owned remained hidden and untouched in their drawer.

Now that they finally understood the problem it was quite the conundrum. Darling was supposed to be the Creator yet now they were not because of some gold blood requirement. What would happen to Darling? Would they accuse them of harming the "real Creator"? Hunt them down like they did to Reader? Would they come and hunt down Reader again?

Although they doubted they would be hunted down again as the "blessings of the Creator" thing, whatever that meant, Nahida told everyone else seemed to work and placate them.

"Now what?" A reader asked tiredly.

"I don't know I managed to sneak out while they were distracted but I guess they will find out soon to come and get me."

Reader grimaced and turned around to prepare to finally whisk the ingredients they were too distracted to do while they listened to Darling.

"So like did they hurt you after they found out or something?" Reader cringed at their wording. They could have said that better considering it was a serious topic.

"No they didn't they just healed me and left me in my room," Darling paused, "You should have seen some of the looks on their faces, like I killed their puppy or something. . ."

Reader tried to imagine what it was like worshipping someone only for that person not to be the god they worshiped. It must have gone bad for both parties involved. Darling was told she was a god only to be looked at in disappointment. The followers who eagerly awaited for their beloved Creator only for it to be an illusion.

"Yikes, I can't imagine it was pleasant."

"It wasn't."

They went quiet after that soon the pancakes were ready and Reader went out to serve them along with the tea. Reader had to admit they could make some good mean pancakes because Darling looked a bit better with some of the color returning to their face.

There was another knock at the door.

Another visitor? Who would come- They looked at Darling, oh right.

Darling once again looked pale and the grip on their utensils was trembling. What had they done to shake them up this much? Reader wasn't doing better either their heartbeat going frantic as unpleasant memories resurfaced. Damnit they thought they had gotten better.

"Reader it is me Nahida we need to talk, I am sorry but it is urgent."

Reader inhaled, thank the stars it was only Nahida.

They relaxed their shoulders and opened the door. Despite the rain, the Archon looked dry and Reader wondered what sort of magic they used and if they could learn it as well.

"I am sorry to interfere," she looked behind Reader, "but it seems you have the person we have been searching for," Nahida said while looking genuinely sorry.

Right, the only person Darling knew besides the acolytes in this world was the Reader. No wonder they were found out so quickly.

"Uhm- uh- How about some pancakes first?"

Nahida looked the the back of Darling who was hunched over and relented. She must have seen something as she agreed rather quickly. Reader closed the door as the Archon entered their home. Nahida approached Darling they did an elegant bow and Reader was suddenly hit that Darling was or now was the creator. Darling got someone as well respected as Nahida to bow.

Reader had seen the way people behaved in respect and reverence at Nahida and how the scholars, the Emirates, and merchants would listen and take in her input. So someone like Nahida bowing. . .

Reader never fully understood the weight and status of that position the so-called "Creator" held even after being hunted down over it.

Yet now it seemed very heavy.

How did Darling live with that?

Darling face grimaced as she saw the bow. Nahida looked worried.

"Is there something going on your grace?"

This was going to be an awkward conversation. How to explain to someone you were not the god you thought they were?

Darling looked at Reader before looking back at their untouched pancakes.

"I am not your grace Nahida I bleed red like the rest."

A tense silence followed.

Nahida to her credit seemed calm with the revelation. She had her point finger touching her mouth in a contemplative gesture.

"I see and that is why you are here."

The room was quiet for a while. Reader awkwardly wrung her hands and it was surprisingly Darling, the least stable person who spoke up again.

"Did you know?" Darling said in an accusing tone their eyebrows narrowed. Reader thought they almost looked angry. Where did that come from? How could Nahida have known if no one else including them knew?

"To be honest your-," she paused," I had my suspicions.

Wait what- That was the first Reader heard about this.

"And you did not bother to tell me! To tell anyone?!" Darling jumped up from the chair.

"Was it funny watching me being led on, all those expectations, all those promises my whole world getting fucked up - fuck can I even go back home to my family?!"

Reader jumped between them hiding Nahida behind them trying to calm Darling down who looked to be on the verge of crying or a breakdown.

"Look Darling I know you are upset, it's messed up but she didn't have anything to do with it okay? I am sure she had her reasons."

Darling took one glance at Reader's eyes and fell down on the chair, they hid their face in their arms.

"I am. . . Sorry. . . Shit."

That de-escalated quickly just as it erupted. They worry about Darling's mental health at this point.

"It is fine, I suppose this is a very difficult situation for everyone involved," said Nahida.

Reader wrung their hands together.

"Hey I know it's not the time but I did make extra pancakes let's eat first?" They tried not to sound pathetic.

The silence was their reply.

"You and your damn pancakes," Darling said and snorted.

"Hey! I only do it because I know it cheers you up!" they said and huffed.

Nahida who looked at them laughed, the previous suffocating tension was gone and Reader went up to get a plate for Nahida as well. Finally both Reader and the Archon sat down on their seat they all ate in relative silence but it wasn't as awkward as it could have been.

Once finished Reader poured some hot tea.

"Thank you Reader the pancakes were delicious I will have to ask you to let me eat them again sometime."

Reader smiled at the Archon.

"Of course, you are welcome any time."

Darling who watched them snorted. Reader looked at them with questioning eyes.

"What are you laughing at," Reader said in an accusing tone. Was Darling mocking them again?

"You speak like them now," Darling said with an amused glint in their eyes as they looked at Reader.

"Ohh, I guess I kind of do. . ."

"Nerd."

"Hey!"

Nahida once again took a look at them and laughed. Both snapped out of their bubble and looked at the Archon sheepishly.

"I am glad to see you two are getting along well, I hope both of you don't mind the topic changing to a more serious one," she looked at both of them and both nodded,"Before we start, I have a question for you Darling."

Darling looked apprehensive but nodded.

"Do the others know about you not being the creator?"

". . .Yeah they do," Darling said and looked at their empty plate.

"I see that does make things easier it is better it is out now that later knowing how overzealous some acolytes and followers can get."

Reader grimaced and Darling looked a bit defeated at the statement.

"How much do you both know about the creator?"

Reader and Darling looked at each other and it was Reader who started to speak.

"Honestly not much I avoid religious talk at all cost."

Nahida looked at Reader with sympathy.

"I guess I am the opposite I got to learn a lot, basically in each new era the creator descends into a new incarnation, and their vessel is not always the same," she paused thinking about what to say next, "They like to live peacefully with their people because of that they don't always have their powers with them but they can gain them over time, something like that"

"Yes that is most of it, it is presumed in this era the creator chose to be a normal human which we thought was you Darling. We also thought that the Creator's presence and powers were weak due to being a normal human in this incarnation. Despite you not being the Creator some part of what I said is true.

"Which part?" Darling asked.

"The part where the creator chose to be an ordinary human, despite having such a faint presence me being so attuned to Irminsul could still feel it, yet it was weak. That is why I was confused. Rather than being the Creator you Darling had gotten a blessing from the Creator."

"But how I have never met them" Darling interjected.

Nahida stared at Reader and once again Reader was reminded of those intense stares directed at them as if trying to solve a puzzle piece.

"No, the creator was - is still quite close to you."

"Wait really?" Darling looked at Nahida in confusion inching closer towards the Archon as if they went closer physically they would solve the mystery.

"Yes we are sitting beside them after all."

There was no question about who Nahida meant both she and Darling were staring at Reader.

No.

That is what Reader replied with.

Nahida shook her head.

"I am afraid it is true.

No way.

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Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo

[usernameforaboredcat]

Black & Red (Shanks X F!Reader X Mihawk) SMUT

Anonymous request (I got chu)

Just a simple day at the beach drinking turns into something way more hot and steamy than expected.

A long fic, have fun babes

Warning ⚠️: age-gap, threesome, groping, double penetration, deep throating, maybe some others that I forgot idk its sex ya know the type of shit youre signing up for.

“Shaaaanks, come on! It’s too early to drink, we’ll be up all night again”.

“Don’t worry about it so much sweetheart! It’ll be fun!”.

That’s the last coherent conversation I remember before getting shit faced and passing out on a beach with Shanks. No matter how many times I tell myself ‘you gotta stop doing this, I don’t care how hot he is I can’t be drinking this much’ but do I ever listen? No of course not! Have you see him? That man is so hot and fine, all I can do is easily submit to anything he asks. I mean it's not the first time he's easily made me submit to something, which ended in a lot of hookups or alleyway deepthroating. Hehe...

I awaken from my slumber as I feel myself being shaken. “Wakey wakey sweetheart”. I hear an all too familiar and soothing voice. I groan and snuggle more into his chest. “Nooo. You made me drink and gave me a hangover”. I mumble. “Does it make you feel better knowing that I have one too?”. He asks, running his fingers through my hair.

“A little”.

~

I yawn as I walk back to the cove the crew was camping at, coming back from some private business time…I had to pee. I see the crew already partying and drinking again. Seriously? “Hey! (Y/n)!”. I look towards Shanks, seeing him drinking with an unfamiliar man with a large sword sitting next to him, a long coat and a large hat. “Have you ever heard of the 7 warlords?”. Shanks asks me, the man turning to look at me. “Uh yeah…I’ve heard of them…”. I answer nervously, I think I already know where this is going before he can even finish. “This is Mihawk! An old buddy of mine! He’s one of the warlords”. He explains, using his free hand to usher me over.

I walk over to the two men, Shanks pulling me over to sit on his lap. "Come on (Y/n), don't be shy now and say hi!". He tells me, as if I'm a child. Sir, I'm 20. I turn to look at the warlord, man is he an attractive man. "Hello". I greet him. "Hello, young lady". He greets back. I turn to look up at Shanks, tugging on his shirt to draw his attention to me. "So what's this about? Why are we partying again?". I ask him, tilting my head slightly. He smile and laughs. "Ya know that Luffy kid I told you about? He finally got his first wanted poster!". He answers happily.

I remember him talking about that Luffy kid. Shanks told me how he met him years ago, the dumb little kid who cut his cheek and ate the gum gum fruit. He isn't any younger than me, the more I think about that the more it kinda makes me feel weird. Still, I'd like to meet him one day.

"Huh, look at him". I mutter under my breath, but I know Shanks heard me. As if the conversation is forgotten about, Shanks now holding out a filled cup of booz to me. "Enough yappin! Take a sip, dear". He orders me. 'Uh, I really don't wanna drink'. I take the cup from him, taking a sip from it. "Atta girl". He coos, his hand now sitting on my hip, rubbing up and down with his thumb. I feel a shiver runs down my spine, the feeling of his hand running straight to my core. He knows exactly what he's doing, he knows how to get my body going.

'God, I hate him'.

~

My breath quickens as I feel a jolt run through my body, whimpers slipping through my lips no matter how hard I try to hide them. "Ssshhh, not so loud baby". Shanks whispers into my ear, his finger not stopping it's abuse on my clit. I throw my head back into his board shoulder. "Sh-Shanks, pleeeease~". I whimper out. "Hm? Please what? Need me to fuck you already?". He asks in a deep tone, his hot breath down my neck. "I-hhh I!". I stumble on my words, needing him to give me just a second to cum. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Shanks". I feel my body freeze, but Shanks doesn't stop. "Oh, hey Mihawk". He pulls his hand away, my legs giving out and I collapse to the forest floor.

"What's up? You leaving already?". Shanks asks the other man. "I was thinking that, yes". Mihawk confirms. "Oh come on, you just got here. Why not have a little fun with (Y/n) and I? I don't mind sharing that pretty face". He offers the man. 'HUH!?'. I turn my head behind me, looking over to the men. I look over to Mihawk, seeing that he's already looking at me dead in the eyes with a hungry look. "You're too open with sharing your toys, Shanks". He comments, taking his sword off his back and setting it against a nearby tree. The two men walk over to me, Mihawk standing in front of me as I feel Shanks crouch behind me. "You don't mind, do you sweetheart?". Shanks asks me, pulling me back so my back is against his hard chest, using his hand to rub my chin. "N-No". I stutter out nervously, looking up into Mihawks almost glowing eyes.

Shanks chuckles as his hand goes down to my shirt, pulling it up to expose my bare chest. "Good girl~". He hums into my ear, nuzzling into my neck. I shiver and shut my eyes as Shanks's cold hand goes down to my chest, groping and grabbing at my tit. I let out a soft moan, feeling him twist and play with my nipple. Shanks's head rises once again, nibbling on my ear lobe. "Come on baby, show the war lord what that mouth of yours can do". He orders. I hum with a nod, finally opening my eyes to look up at the warlord.

I break eye contact to see a growing bulge in his pants, only half hard. I grab the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down. His half hard shaft rises up slightly, hanging straight out from his body. I reach up and grab him by the base, Mihawk letting out a very quiet groan. I lean forward and close my lips over his tip, licking his tip. I look back up to look into Mihawks eyes, slowly moving my head back and forth as she stares down at me. "Oh don't try and ease me into, unless Shanks hasn’t taught you properly”. He comments in an unimpressive tone.

Shanks chuckles from behind me, his hand sneaking up to the back of my head. “She can take it, I have her working that throat of hers every night like the slut she is”. He responds, gripping my head and moving my head for me. I moan into Mohawks cock as Shanks moves my head for me, shoving me down on his cock more. I cough as I feel myself getting shoved deep down, feeling him deep down my throat. Shanks moves his hand away, but I keep the pace he set and continue to deep throat his cock. “That’s better”. Mihawk compliments. “Yeah, she’s a good girl, aren’t ya sweetheart”. Shanks chuckles, sliding his hand down my back. My body jolts when I feel Shanks’s hand back in my panties, running his finger through my wet folds.

My body shivers as I feel Shanks use a free finger to poke it in and out of my aching pussy, causing me to just need more friction. My body was already so close to being filled, but now we're back to square one. My body is tingling painfully, needing release finally. I start to moan painfully onto Mihawks cock, breathing through my nose quickens as tears build up in my eyes. I try to move my body, needing more than just the tip of Shanks's fingers inside me. "Shanks, your pet is getting restless". Mihawk tells the red head. Shanks chuckles. "I can tell, she's trying to suck my fingers in". He confirms. Mihawk then grips the back of my head aggressively, speeding up his pace and slamming down into my throat. "Don't worry dear, you can get fucked as much as you want once I'm finished". He tells me, his penis tip punching the back of my throat.

Shanks chuckles again. "Look at you, you'll get all the cock you want. I bet a whore like you is loving this". He whispers into my ear. "I can't wait to see you drenched with cum". He adds in a deeper tone, licking up my neck. "Take it, take Mihawks cum, take all the cum like I trained you to". I shut my eyes as tears spill from my eyes, struggling terribly to breath. My body feels like it's going to explode, ready to gush all over Shanks's hand. With a few twitches of his cock, Mihawk slams all the way down my throat his warm cum fills up my throat. I cough on the cum, gulping it down. Mihawk slowly pulls out his dick, sucking on the left to leave not a single drop. "Good slut". Shanks compliments. "You did train her good, I commend you that Shanks". Mihawk tells him. "Wait till you feel her pussy, perfection". Shanks respond.

Shanks pulls his hand away from me as I let out an annoyed whimper, pushing my body slightly to let my body fall to the ground on my hands and knees. I breath heavily as I try to catch my breath, my body shaking and loosing its mind from not be able to cum again. A cold hand on my ass makes me jump, I look lazily over my shoulder to see Mihawk kneeling behind me. I turn to look in front of me, looking up to see Shanks looking down at me with a smirk. He gently grabs my chin, rubbing it with his thumb as his smirk turns into a loving smile. "You're such a good girl, if I wasn't clingy I'd let people pay for them to fuck you. You're perfect mouth, pussy, ass, everything. Other men wish they could get one night with a goddess like you". He praises, his words going straight to my core. The mental image of getting fucked and covered in cum while Shanks watches, full bukaki as he just sits happily.

"Would you like that? Or would you rather some weak desperate men pay to watch me fuck you, show them how to really please a woman". He adds. That hit my core harder, Shanks cucking a guy. Some poor bastard watching Shanks fill and fuck my pussy full of cock and cum. I feel a warm tip rub against my folds, rubbing at my tip and poking at my hole. "Go ahead Mihawk, I wanna see the faces she makes when being filled by another man". He tells the other man. Then without warning, Mihawk easily slides his cock fully inside me. A whimpered moan escapes my lips, my legs shaking at the feeling of being filled finally. "Now isn't that a pretty face". Shanks points out, palming himself through his pants. "Sh-Shanks~". I whimper out, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I need...yoooooou". I moan out, craving more. I struggle to keep my body steady as Mihawk ruthlessly pounds into my body, slamming deep inside me. It feels weird to have another cock inside me, being so used to Shanks monster in his pants. Mihawks length is kind of refreshing, feeling his tip slamming into my curvix.

Shanks chuckles as he looks down at my wanting face, eyes begging for something from him. "You really have been a whore all along, being stuffed with cock and still needing more". He hums. He sits up more, pulling his pants down and his cock smashing me in the face. "Go on then, take the cock you so desperately need". He tells me. He slides his cock into my mouth, my body quickly jolting back and forth. I moan onto Shanks's cock, breathing rapidly through my nose. I can't breath, my body is shaking so much. 'FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM AND WE'VE JUST STARTED! FUCK BUT I NEED TO CUM!'. I give in, moaning loudly as my body finally releases as my body shakes violently. Mihawk hisses, pounding faster. "What's wrong buddy? She cum and squeeze ya?". Shanks asks him. "Indeed, she's trying to strangle me". He responds, causing Shanks to laugh.

"Props to you, I would have cum at her clenching like that". He chuckles. "You're just weak". Mihawk comments. I'm surprised I can still comprehend what they're saying, my whole body is weak and my head is fuzzy. I can't go on, cumming and still being fucked is driving my body crazy. I can tell that I'm finally giving out, because now I can't hear properly what the two are saying. Everything stops, feeling arms wrap under my legs and I get hoisted up with Shanks's cock popping out my mouth. I feel my back press against Mihawks chest, him holding me out spread legged. I see Shanks standing in front of me, he strokes my cheek loving me. "Sh-Shanks...". I pant out. He pulls his hand away, letting me lean my head against Mihawks shoulder.

My body jolts, fulling waking up at the feeling of Shanks sliding into my insides. I pant at the pain, reaching to grip hard onto Shanks shoulder. "That's it, you can take it". Shanks reassures me in a soft tone. My body relaxes, feeling the two men filling and stretching me out. My body felt so stuffed, I thought I was going to rip in half. The feeling didn't get any better when the two started to thrust in sync, thankfully going slow on me. Every breath was a loud moan, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Their pace speeds up, my mouth drooling from them massing up my insides. The feeling is indescribable, being fucked hard and stuffed to the brink of ripping. I felt like I was gonna pass out, I don't even know if I could cum again.

Their paces speed up, going full speed in and out my pussy. I cry and scream out my moans, digging my nails so hard against Shanks's shoulders that I wouldn't be surprised if there was blood. I could feel my freedom apporting, feeling the two older men twitching and their thrusts growing sloppy to out of sync. Next minute, Shanks lets out a groan as he finally cums. He sits and stays there panting, staying inside me. Soon enough, Mihawk cums again for a second time. The two pull out of me, Mihawk moving me to be laying in his arms. I feel like I'm on the verge of passing out, my brain fuzzy and hazy. A warm hand strokes my face softly, a soft kiss on my forehead. "Good job baby, you can rest". Shanks soft voice luls me to sleep, I finally pass out in Mihawks arms.

[bonus]

The two older men walk out the forest and back onto the beach, the other pirates noticing the passed out younger girl in Mihawks arms. "Is she okay?". Benn asks. "Did something happen?". Yasopp asks. Shanks waves them off. "Don't worry she's all fine, just a little shaken up". He reassures. "Why? Did something happen?". Benn asks. Mihawk chimes in. "Just some scary monster".

[archibaldtuttle]

Alien : Romulus - a 7/10 reason to stop making Alien films

This review will be spoiler-free

When I came out of the theater yesterday, after having gone through a viewing of Alien Romulus, I caught myself agreeing with my friends - this was pretty good!

And I am beyond poisoned about the Alien franchise since Ridley Scott got his grubby paws all over it with Prometheus. The only reason I made the effort to move my ass to the theater to see this one was because he wasn't directing (and also I didn't have to pay for it) (thanks sib).

I knew Alvarez from two of his previous films, the 2013 remake of Evil Dead and Don't Breathe. I am pretty mixed on both - they demonstrate solid filmmaking abilities and (in the case of Evil Dead), a deep respect for franchises he's adding to. However they are also a little heavy on the jumpscares for my taste, and in the case of Don't Breathe I just can't praise the film without having to mention that the third act twist is gross in an entirely unnecessary, shock-value way, that does nothing for the film thematically.

That did give me some hope for Romulus however, because that third act twist told me Alvarez likes talking about rape and impregnation. And contrary to Don't Breathe... that's right at home in Alien.

So what about the film then? It's good. Solid premise, I like that we're finally, finally, seven films in, seeing the planet-side society that births all those rundown spaceships. Good pair of main characters with on one side a demonstrably resourceful Rain and on the other a very nuanced look at the franchise's synthetics with Andy. The others are more forgettable but I can't blame that too much on the film - they're well characterized in a few short scenes and that's all I can expect really. The build-up is solid, the various ticking clocks and sources of tensions well established.

What I find particularly notable is the really good setpieces and the use of facehuggers in a way I've wanted to see for a long time. Very good physical effects supplemented by good to ok-ish CGI. The writing is very heavy-handed - I wish more people looked at what O'Bannon did with exposition before they write their own Alien scripts. I do give credit to Alvarez and his co-writer Sayagues for the cool concepts explored and the way they thread Andy's character exploration through them.

The editing is mostly blameless - I wouldn't call it great or even that good, especially with how hectic it gets during some more action-ey scenes, but you can tell Roberts isn't specialized or even used to horror films. I guess he took from his experience on Pressure which would explain a lot... The score is really good, one of the highlights of the film in my opinion - I've liked almost all I've heard from Wallfisch so I wasn't surprised to find out he did this one.

So why did I give this review a very baitey title. It became clear as I was watching the fourth, then the inevitable fifth act unfold, that we were, collectively, scraping the barrel on what can be done with Alien. Prometheus and Covenant, beyond the fact that they were garbage movies, were already trying desperately to find new things to do with the concept. Romulus succeeded, for the most part, in finding new ways to twist it into something interesting, something we hadn't seen before (or at least not entirely). And I'm pretty sure that's it.

I don't want more directors to spend months racking their brains to try and find three or more scene setups that haven't already been done in seven main films, two AVP films and countless video games, in order to string them together into a coherent 2 and a half hour flick. I don't think it's impossible, Alvarez clearly demonstrated that he could do it and I'm pretty sure other people could. But why waste so much time, talent and energy on a series that objectively does not need expanding upon?

I know why, it's because the current studio system is allergic to anything that doesn't have brand recognition. But I think it's sad. And I think it would be a lot more gracious to put an end to a franchise after a pretty good film that did all it could to honor its predecessors rather than try to keep squeezing more out of it until it turns into the horror version of Star Wars.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 2 - Domination

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: LaCroix briefs Vincent on the new world he has just entered into, with the expectation that he will be an obedient ghoul. But Vincent is still struggling to gain the upper hand.

Author's Note: I made myself sad writing this - I want Sebastian to turn from Whumper to Caretaker already!

TW: mind control, emotional manipulation, strangulation, kidnapping

It was not LaCroix’s habit to keep his subordinates close to him. If it was wise to keep enemies close, then it was wiser to keep envious inferiors at such a distance that they had no opportunity to become enemies. Ghouls ought to have no knowledge of their master’s weaknesses, and no importance as anything other than pawns. They ought to view him as a solitary, impenetrable figure, above even their understanding. But Vincent Bisset de Gramont proved himself an enemy from the start, and therefore, an exception.

LaCroix repeated that name in his head and smiled, rolling it and playing with it, along with the bullet in his palm which he had decided to keep as a souvenir. Vincent had become so incensed when LaCroix refused to use his title that he determined on the spot never to use it again. The man had to be taught a lesson. “You are no Marquis any longer, let alone an ‘Autem Imperator,’ Vincent. Those titles have no meaning here. You will learn new titles. ‘Prince.’ ‘Regnant.’ ‘Domitor.’ And they will belong to me, not to you - as do all things where we’re going. Know your place.” He leaned back into the quilted suede of his seat, letting starlight and the dimmed glow of the cabin play across his features to what he hoped was a mysterious and intimidating effect.

“Your hubris knows no bounds, Prince,” Vincent spat back, clutching the arms of his seat as if his wrists were lashed to them. “They’re looking for me even now. Do you think you can walk into a High Table duel and make off with the highest ranking –“

“No one is looking for you, because no one knows you’re missing. Everyone who saw me believes they saw a kindly priest who said his respects over your body before helping that fellow – The Harbinger, I believe you call him – lay you to rest in a casket for your mortician to carry away. Tomorrow, that empty casket will be buried.”

A flash of panic before his pretty green eyes lit up again. “The mortician will – “

“The mortician wasn’t your man. He was mine. I sent a local friend to take his place, and to oversee the proceedings. You’re as good as dead, Vincent. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

He went as ghostly white as his travelling companion then. He remained very quiet while Sebastian explained to him the meanings of those important titles he’d mentioned, as well as other relevant words such as “Masquerade” and “Camarilla” and “Ventrue.”

LaCroix’s hope of entertainment during the flight was very much fulfilled. Vincent made for a captivating (if pitiful) image, with blood still smeared across his forehead and wetness sparkling in his eyes. LaCroix couldn’t stop staring at him and wondering whether he’d really cry or not. It filled him with a strange mix of sadism and sympathy that kept the Prince continuously in suspense. It sent him inexplicably trembling to hear Vincent say, “You’ll have to forgive me, Sebastian, I’m just so confused. Please…help me understand everything.”

He was coherent enough to ask intelligent questions though, and always seemed to latch onto those subjects that were a little too top-secret for a first conversation with a ghoul, whilst sighing that he was just so confused and scared. Clearly, he knew his way around a syndicate like the Camarilla and went straight for the vital information. When at last the Prince tired of this game and started to inquire about Vincent’s own organization, he refused to divulge anything.

It confused Sebastian a little. Every other ghoul he’d ever created had hung on his words in an ecstasy that totally drowned out the loss of their former life. They typically begged to repay him for saving them and fell over themselves to please him until he was either amused or disgusted. They certainly didn’t issue desperate pleas and threats about returning to their old life, or try to ply information out of him, or protect their old secrets. But Vincent? Well…there was no doubt that Vincent was affected by Sebastian. Sometimes his eyes lingered on LaCroix as if he wasn’t quite able to look away. But the look there wasn’t puppy love, it was…horror. Hatred. As if Vincent was looking at an old grudge who had wronged him grievously. Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t in deep enough, that was all. He’d only taken the first sip of vitae – two still remained to form a full blood bond. And he was hardly a pliant individual, that much was evident. For now, Sebastian supposed he’d have to secure the ghoul’s cooperation via commands. “Vincent. When I ask you a question about the High Table, you will answer me directly, honestly, and without embellishments. Do you understand?”

A glazed, vacant look replaced the pitiful one. “I understand.”

There, good. Sebastian let out a breath, only just realizing how tense he had become, and began his inquisition.

He knew a little about the High Table already. It was not so different from the Giovanni, but even larger by membership the Camarilla, and impressive for a human construction. It was difficult to be anyone significant in either the human or kindred underworld without running across the High Table’s activities at some point. But the Autem Imperator (Sebastian might not call him by his title out loud, but he wasn’t forgetting it for an instant in his own mind) offered a unique view of its proceedings. Within minutes, LaCroix knew who held each seat, how communications passed between members, how those communications might be intercepted, into which countries their influence had spread (it was most of them), and even where the Elder resided.

It had been no idle tip, he realized, that suggested he should pay a visit to his home country and rest in the basilica that day. It had been, in fact, pure gold in the form of an anonymous email. He almost passed it up as an attempted ruse or ambush, even with all the power promised by the stranger on the other end. But it also spoke to a Masquerade violation, and even the Nosferatu could not trace it. The sender must have had a contact, someone who could encrypt on their level. So he went personally, just for 24 hours, with the resolution that he would return to the safety of LA as soon as possible.

Remembering at last to the original purpose of his visit, LaCroix asked his ghoul one final question, shortly before landing.

“Do you have an associate who would go by the initial ‘C’?”

Even under domination, he rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Sebastian held out the message on his phone. “Who could this have been?”

“Is it true that you can help someone live beyond death? If you really are I’ve been told you are, then come at once, to Paris. Come to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica just before dawn. If you’re lucky and I’m unlucky, you will find a man there who cannot escape death any other way. If you keep him alive, he will offer you knowledge and power equal to your own, pertaining to a human organization you may know as the High Table. Take him away from me, change him, disappear him, I don’t care. Only save his life and make him happy, and you will have my eternal thanks. He does not know, and will never know, what he means to me.”

- C”

“My bodyguard, Chidi.” His voice was strained almost to the breaking point, and his eyes still fixed on Sebastian’s phone even after the email was closed. Sebastian had no questions about whether he was faking his tearfulness this time.

“A ghoul of your very own, of sorts! Where can I find him?”

Vincent closed his eyes for a moment before mustering an answer. “…He’s dead.”

“Ah, splendid. That saves me a great deal of trouble.”

And then Vincent did what no ghoul, whether on one sip of vitae or three, should have been capable of doing. He sprung forward and closed hands around his domitor’s neck.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

It took Vincent much longer than it should have to recall that Sebastian didn’t need to breathe. By that time, he was already being dragged off by the enormous, visibly supernatural thing that Sebastian had introduced as “The Sheriff.”

“Get this brainless lump off of me!”

“Hey,” The Sheriff grunted. Vincent paid him no mind, and continued addressing LaCroix with exactly as much civility as he deserved, all the while straining against the boulder-heavy hands holding him back.

“You will not SPEAK to me that way and you will not – “ Fuck, he hated the way his voice was shaking… “You will not speak of my bodyguard’s death as – as ‘splendid!’”

“And you will not speak to me at all until you can behave yourself!” LaCroix retorted. “SILENCE!”

The voice seemed to go out of Vincent’s throat. All his resistance had been used up in the outburst and he sunk numbly back into his seat.

LaCroix was panting, a shaking hand against his neck. He adjusted his tie and recovered himself enough to laugh. “Imagine trying to strangle a vampire! And the one holding your life in his hands, no less. You’re one to talk of brainlessness. And just when I was beginning to respect your cunning.” Vincent opened his mouth and nothing came out, so he spat in LaCroix’s face instead.

“Oh for god’s sake - You don’t speak AND you don’t move!” Vincent smiled as he watched LaCroix wipe at his face with a handkerchief, scowling. But another wave of terrible compulsion spread through his limbs, and then he was paralyzed.

It was such a strange feeling, being ���dominated.” It was the same magnetism that drew him to LaCroix when he first laid eyes on him (that must be the “vitae” he had spoken about), but stronger, and more concentrated. Making him capable of magnificent feats, making him motivated, drawing his focus, making things important to him. As if a power was bursting out from inside of Vincent. It wasn’t so unlike being high, and not wholly unpleasant. But it was not his to control, not a part of him. It was LaCroix’s, and he hated it for that, and he hated LaCroix for that too. Maybe, if he just held onto that hatred…

But LaCroix’s conversation with his Sheriff broke his concentration. “No, I don’t want him in a cell, much less his own apartment. He’s not fully dominated and it’s a security risk. I don’t understand it, but I need to maintain a tight hold over him even if I have to do it by manual override. He stays in the penthouse, with me.”

If The Sheriff understood that, he conveyed it only by grunting.

Damn it. Any chance to get out of LaCroix’s grasp was slipping away. Again, he struggled to protest, but it was useless. He couldn’t speak. His own body was refusing him. It felt traitorous and alien and there was no one to help him, no one looking for him, no Chidi ever again and absolutely nothing he could do. If he had a voice, he would probably be screaming, he realized. But instead, for the second time that day, he floated on a sea of bloody misery, gasping worse and worse by the second. As the jet went into final descent, its weightlessness hit him in the stomach and drove home a second wave of fear.

LaCroix was watching him, leaning over him, speaking to him, in much the same way one might speak to a broken printer shortly before kicking it. He lay a hand on Vincent’s chest to feel his shallow heartbeat and the very core of Vincent’s being rebelled against the way that it soothed him.

“Why are you not calm? You shouldn’t be feeling this way, I don’t understand why it’s not working…” He fixed LaCroix with the most hateful stare he could manage without moving his facial muscles. Why do you think, you useless fils de pute? He felt tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Fine. Good, even.

Again, LaCroix’s magnetic voice overpowered his will with a rush, even more hideously blissful than before. Perhaps it was more in harmony with him than the last had been... “Be calm, Marquis. I command you. Don’t be so afraid.”

And all the wild contents of his heart slipped away into a soft, empty, merciful void.

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two

[shsl-analyzer-guy]

So recently I made a post about why I think Chihiro makes the most sense within the context of her own story as a transfem. It was a post made right after an all nighter, so I'm honestly surprised how coherent I was able to make it lol, but anyways, I wanted to keep talking about it. I think I covered pretty well about why Chihiro being trans is more impactful for her, but not so much why transfem specifically, and not transmasc. Basically, the goal of this post is to explain why I think a lot of people are weirded out by the transmasc headcanon in a way that hopefully doesn't feel like an attack

I'm well aware that a lot of people that enjoy transmasc Chihiro are transmasc themselves, and see themselves in said interpretation. This is generally true of a lot of trans interpretations of characters, but especially here, as the canon explanation of Chihiro's character is "he feels immensely uncomfortable pretending to be a girl so people won't make fun of him." I myself used to adore the transmasc headcanon. I hc'd Chihiro as wearing a packer, that Kyoko could tell it was an artificial dick, and everything that followed was the class being Super Cool about trans people because it just seemed like the easiest out for all the transphobia within her story. Besides, I quite liked Chihiro, and 'boy who feels like he must dress like a girl for people to assume his identity' was something I related to a lot.

The thing is, the more I looked into that interpretation, the less sense it starts to make. Again, as a GNC trans man, I like to wear skirts and things like that. Clothes don't have gender, after all, and they can be way more comfortable than pants, especially when you don't shave. But Chihiro isn't GNC. Her story as it's meant to be interpreted expressly says feminine clothing makes her feel lesser than. She's described (by Monokuma ofc) as hating said femininity. It makes her feel weaker, like those skirts and female identity is an inherent weakness. And that's what I think the main problem is; even when under the guide of being a trans man, Chihiro's story still falls as one rooted in misogyny as most logically presented.

The story presented in chapter 2 is inherently male-centric, to the point where its title is "Boys' Life of Despair". It's a story about men, questioning the identity of men, and focused wholly on men. The one (canonically) fem character that's important to the chapter's plot is Toko, and only to perpetuate an ableist trope as a red herring. Even then, when Syo reveals herself, all her dialogue is explaining why men are so important to her. I don't think having a subplot that focuses on male characters or the concept of masculinity is a bad idea on paper, especially not when within the confines of an overarching plot that very much does utilize women as leading characters, but in practice, the plotline about toxic masculinity is used *at the expense of* women, rather than existing in tandem with them.

Throughout the entire chapter, it's established that women are weaker via Chihiro. When Mondo says that women are naturally weaker, Chihiro starts crying, and Mondo is made to apologize. HOWEVER, the reason he apologizes is not because of the blatant misogyny of the statement, but rather, because he yelled too loud. Even when Hina and Sakura are involved in the conversation, neither of them seem to care about the sexism. Even in the stage play, when Sakura DOES take offense to it, it's shrugged off as a gag, with Mondo saying she's 'special.' Sakura is held as an exception to the rule. AT NO POINT IN THIS CHAPTER IS THE ASSERTION THAT WOMEN ARE INHERENTLY WEAKER THAN MEN EVER CONTESTED. Later in the same chapter, Makoto (the player character whom we're supposed to be projecting onto) says that Mondo was right, and that girls aren't strong.

Chihiro's backstory and the way she views herself *as presented by others* only reinforces this idea. The parallels between Chihiro and Mondo are a story about strength and weakness. Chihiro is physically weak but mentally strong, and Mondo is physically strong but mentally weak. This is the point of them being paired together, and the foundation upon which everything else found in the chapter is built on. So when you have Chihiro, a canonical man who wears skirts, and give her an inferiority complex about her weakness that's inherently tied to how similar she is to women, you end up with an inherently misogynistic narrative. According to Danganronpa, Chihiro is weak BECAUSE of her similarities to women, as is enforced by the language used and the presentation of Chihiro's identity. Similarly, the assertion that Chihiro makes to Mondo defining her 'mental strength' is the assertion to no longer be fem-presenting, to destroy everything feminine about her and to become a 'real man' like how she perceives Mondo. This part by itself could be interpreted as transmasc, but when paired with the rest of the chapter's insistence of the weakness of women? It's not transphobic anymore, sure, but it still has that inherent core of misogyny, without any real acknowledgement or deconstruction of it in the way that the transfem headcanon does.

Ultimately, fiction is meant to be interpreted by those who consume it, and you can fanonize as much as you want. Just don't be too surprised when women, especially trans women, don't like the way you're interpreting it. It is always worth deconstructing your own biases and the way you consume media

[secriden]

THK Episode 1 thoughts in no particular order or level of coherency:

I didn't see Fadel as Lawful Good coming, but at the same time it makes perfect sense now that I've seen the episode

Somehow, I now kinda ship First with both Joong and Dunk and I cannot explain it even to myself but damn.

Khaotung's ability to not just sound and act but nearly exude the presence of a naive innocent young man, head still in the clouds and dreaming of true love, is Truly Impressive. I actually believe, not only that he's younger than Fadel, but that he genuinely lacks the emotional maturity too even process the risk that Fadel sees.

I now appreciate so much what people said about First's almost understated detailed acting because those rapid shifts in his expressions said so much in tiny increments of time, I'm blown away.

Dunk is so pretty, Dunk is so pretty, DUNK IS SO FUCKING PRETTY!?!?!

But also please I adore everything Dunk did as Style he gave absolutely everything for that character and held nothing back. The way he just... went for it?? In all the scenes, every single one? I'm trying not to be too spoiler-y but damn, I get it when First said that Dunk really embodied Style because he really really DID!!!

That ending was genius my brain immediately lit up with all the ways this could go and I'm SO EXCITED

The way the sex wasn't even remotely the most insanity-inducing thing in this episode really goes to show how well this was made but also ITS HILARIOUS

Having said that, damn it was hot!!

Joong's eyebrows eyebrowing so hard <3

I don't think JoongDunk were meant to have sexual tension at all in this episode but they still felt very sexy to me. Maybe its just me, but it felt like tension even when Fadel is mostly just pissed off there's that... okay, you know how the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy? Guess what, zero apathy right here!!

I'm genuinely so happy with what we got though. It really is as light and silly and camp and gorgeous as they promised and I'm so so grateful for that. There's potential for devastation (I see you, Kant, hiding backstory hints inside your soft serve!), but also how lucky are we to get silly romantic shenanigans with the murder brother duo and their (future) flirty boyfriends???

Also the music!? Can we talk about THE MUSIC?? it was so... idk, like it was almost its own character in this episode. It was like audience direction with how much it would abruptly change the tone of the scene. I wonder if this will continue throughout the show or if they're doing it because it's the first episode and they're really really laying those comedy foundations down, but its fascinating.

I can't believe we get "Good Morning, krub" and "love at first sight" in the same episode omg ;A; <3

Style should've learned from the expert:

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hiiii

So I was thinking about drakes spoiled brat (as I do. Quite a bit) and while scrolling through the DSB tag on tumblr I found those posts talking about epilogs and how that would look. And honestly-just imagine being a normal civilian at the end of this story and all you know is that Timothy "trash" drake is abruptly adopted by the Wayne's and suddenly is very very chill??? Like lol that would confuse the shit outta so many people LMAO

Timothy: I'm a cisgender heterosexual rich Christian white man. And I am better than all of you who are not all of those things. And even if you do check all the boxes, you still aren't me and therefore will never compare.

*the next day*

Tim: I'm uhh gender? Shit next question. Sexuality? Uhhh boys. And girls? Yes. Christian? Shit- fuck- no I'm an atheist...I'm rich and white I wasn't gaslighting myself about those two. So technically it cancels out. Anyways. Uh. Shit man idk I'm running on fumes rn ive been awake 51 hours straight...don't tell Bruce.

The general public: *slow blink* ...who are you and where is Timothy.

The bats: *low key getting some amusement over Tim fumbling*

Anyways. Idk if this is coherent lol I'm just bein silly. I love your fic so much and it's inspired me for some ideas of my own so thanks. You're a very talented author <333

Oh don't worry about coherency hon its brainrot and I just so happen to be a native speaker- and thank you for the praise <33

I will say that Timothy isn't your "classic" wolf on wallstreet guy-

Gotham rich people are a whole new breed because yeah there are social expectations and what not, but once you reach a certian class its mostly "fuck all as long as the investors are happy"

The public perception of Timothy is like a guy who you WANT to feel bad for, and can easily go "yeah that explains a bit of his behavior-" but your still making it REALLY hard to take your side

Most of his "Scandals" have come from him verbally assaulting people, underage drinking/drugs use, and just doing stuff that was not PR approved. To some hes a fucking menace, to others he's as entertaining as those two birkin boyfriends.

Yes he's an asshole, but he's also a kid who lost his parents pretty horribly (wink wink for future lore) and instead of being free as a young nepo baby should be, he's tied down to Gotham, keeping his parents company alive and dealing with all sorts of shit behind closed doors.

Of course hard to feel pity for a rich asshat so there are absolutely a decent percentage of people who roll their eyes whenever someone brings up "Timothy Drake" and everyone has a story of someone with a shit experience

BUT he gets adopted by the Wayne brood and is suddenly- half decent?? Most people would just accept of "Good- everyones favorite himbo gets a new kid, a bit of a fixer upper but lord knows he needed it"

Anyways heres MY ramblings in turn- will definently explore more of Tim and Timothys relationships in Gotham in the future so this is due to fluxuate but as of rn this is generally the perspective <33

[goldenshrikecomic]

Your most recent response about not really having an overall message for your stories and how some stories don’t need simple messages or themes kinda put some thoughts of mine at ease.

I’ve been developing my own webcomic and I never had a message in mind for it. I’m not much of an experienced writer and when I remembered messages and themes a while back, I was worried about mine not really having any. Cuz I thought a theme or messages would be needed for a coherent story, and I just didn’t really have any in mind. I have a hard time boiling stories or characters down to just simple words to describe them. I’m not aiming for perfection in my story obviously, there’s nothing really deep about it and it’s not meant to be a commentary on something or anything like that, but I want it to be at least somewhat decent and enjoyable so I’ve been worried about this for quite a while. Worried that not having an intended message or theme would make my story inconsistent or something.

So to hear that Golden Shrike wasn’t made with a message in mind, and that that’s not a bad thing, helped ease those worries for me. So thank you. Also I like that Corpse’s messages and meanings are up to interpretation. I think it works best that way.

I've never ever been worried about messages in my stories. It's not a thought that has ever crossed my mind even, I just trust that if I make something, it'll mean something. I don't like explaining art, or character motivations, I don't like putting in words what I'm doing in other ways. A lot of my musing happens subconsciously, and often I don't even care to explain it to myself. It's a feeling! I follow the feeling. You know the solution to the math problem but you don't want or know how to write down the calculation.

If you want to make a story and feel it's worth telling, it won't be empty. Stories don't have to be deep, just like they don't need to be sad or happy either. Sure you'll have to give it enough context for others to enjoy it, but I find the thought of having to come up with a theme or message, and then building from there, distressing.

Though of course, if there's an edgy person there who thinks hehehe i'll make this horrible story very clearly glorifying a horrible thing and then I can just say there's no message, you can take it as you want! It'll just tell more about the person than their work.

Again, I don't really feel qualified enough to give advice you should take straight to heart. These are just things I believe in.

[sourbinnie]

can i req skz reaction to 9th member drunk gn!reader alcohol made they sensitive, they started to cry and apologized for skills vocal/ rap/ dance with time spent and poor memory but end with apologize for stealing snacks (ΦωΦ)

my english so bad hope u get it (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

title -> drunk thoughts or sober words pair -> ot8!skz + 9th member!reader (gender neutral) genre -> angsty at first but fluffy in the end :] | hurt/comfort lowercase intended + no warnings a/n -> MY FIRST REQUEST yippeee, i'm so excited and i hope it meets your expectations<3 if it's not, i can obviously rewrite it! just let me know! also don't be harsh on your english bb, i'm not a native speaker either and i try my best every day for it to be good lmao

i knew as soon as the night began that this wouldn't end well (at least for me). the more we talked and spent time together, the more drinks that were being poured and oh god, did my members change personalities when they drank. of course not wanting to be left behind, i drank as well.

maybe a bit too much? i don't know, i'm not good at keeping track of things when i was in this certain mood. my thoughts started to consume immediately, i wished it would've been just one bad thought that tried to get me but it felt like a million in one moment. the dreaded one was that i did not deserve to be in stray kids with all these talented guys when i was just not in the same lane as them. when chan chose me, i knew i had to give it my all, but now another era coming by soon, all the teasers filmed and ready to go, just looking at them i wondered what was i doing in this group in the first place. 

i didn't want to think it was out of pity.

but sometimes it led me to believe that it was the only coherent thought.

alcohol wasn't for me huh? and just as soon as i'm doubting myself, the conversation turns serious.

"thank you all for being my bandmates, i couldn't ask for a better team." chan said and i bit my lip as i tried to not let my sensitive side take over (mixing with the sadness in my chest). 

"wow our leader is getting sappy again, are we surprised?" minho responded as he mocked him with his tone and chan just pushed him. everyone was in their own world, either talking, drinking even more or just having a good time their own way. i could feel a pair of eyes on me though and it was none other than felix. he followed every move i made and i couldn't even look at him in the eye 'cause i knew i would break down.

that's when he got closer to me, changing seats with changbin and looked at me sincerely with those hopeful eyes of his.

"you know you can talk to me right? i know you're a sensitive kind of drunk." he said trying to lift up my mood and i tried to laugh but it came as a choked out sob. "hey, look at me it's okay just let it out." he repeated to me and i just fell into his arms, the embrace that i needed to let my frustrations out.

"i don't know what happened, it's like suddenly i got so insecure about everything." i said and now everyone's attention was on me & my tears. they wouldn't stop flowing down my cheeks as i tried to explain what was happening but couldn't find the words other than the sincerity in my heart of how i felt. "i-i feel like i don't deserve my spot on the team".

complete silence fell upon the table, i could feel that everyone was shocked that i just admitted that.

"why would you think that (y/n)?" felix asked, as everyone was still trying to understand what was happening, especially chan, feeling like he did something wrong. "you know you're just as talented as everyone on this table". 

"that's the thing i'm not." i said smiling sadly and wiping my tears away. "i'm not the best singer even if i am a main one, my rapping still lacks and god my dancing is just nothing compared to you guys and i won't even start on my visuals." i said as i felt the knot in my throat getting worse 'cause i just couldn't believe i ruined the night with all my insecurities like this.

again the silence was so loud, it almost felt like i was in the right on this one.

"i hate that you're feeling like this (y/n)." hyunjin said in the most serious tone i've ever heard him use. his hand on mine as he played with them, made imaginary shapes like he does sometimes. "i could not agree with you or your mind at all".

"you're easily the most crucial part of the team." jisung said and seungmin nodded as they looked at me and i didn't know what to believe. it was hard accepting these kind of responses when you're so clouded by your own sensitivity (and a lot of alcohol). 

"you always know what to say, you're always there for us when we need you the most and you have so much to give, your talent is immeasurable." minho then said as he got closer to me and as the person who wasn't the most affectionate or the best with words, surprised me. "i know i don't tend to show it but i'll always have a soft spot for you and i'm happy chan chose you to be with us."

"you were meant to be here with us right now and you deserve so much." chan said as he got closer to me and hugged me, a hug from my leader was also something i did not expect to receive tonight but i gave in as i needed to feel the comfort of the people i loved the most.

it was as if time stopped for a moment and all i could think about was them, their smiles, their comfort and their way of showing me that i'm truly needed and loved. no more tears were flowing like rivers down on my cheeks, just a pure and blossoming smile.

"okay but... chaeryeong didn't eat the last ice cream bar, it was me." now if the silence was bad before, imagine right now. "i'm sorry, okay? i needed another one, i'm just insane like that and i stole felix's brownies the other day but i'm not sorry about that one."

"(y/n) i take it back, i'm taking your brownie privileges away." felix said dead serious and then laughed making everyone lose it again. "you can't do this every time i bake!" he exclaimed but i just pouted looking at him.

"also the freakin ice cream bar, how did you even get chaeryeong to lie for you?" changbin asked and i just did the same thing, i pouted like a baby looking at him. "nevermind, i get it, i would do anything for them, just look at that face!" he said as he hugged me.

"i'm losing my maknae position to a snack stealer!" jeongin exclaimed and i just laughed knowing i had the best chosen family and i wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

[knoxic]

A kiss may ruin a human life.

Oscar Wilde

-Masterlist- part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

wc: 2,7k

warnings: sexual tension (?), mentions of death and kidnappings, reader has adhd, horny aaron, miscommunication again. pls let me know if there's more!

a/n: the story changed a bit but it will go back to the first plot eventually! is just that i had a few more ideas and decided to add them here instead of writing another fic. part 3 is aaron's pov so we'll get back to the angst of part 1. no use of y/n.

a/n²: did i make it seem like reader is gender neutral?

Silence.

Nothing but the sounds of your breaths could be heard in the room.

A room that now felt cold and dark, if it was uncomfortable before, now it was unbearable. None of you spoke, you were still waiting for him to say something and he was too shocked to form any coherent sentence.

"If you're not going to say anything-"

"No- i just, don't know where to start." his voice was low, quiet and unsure.

"Start from," you paused, trying to decide what you wanted to know more, "Sunday morning."

"What?" was he playing dumb?

"We got this case on sunday morning, that was when you started acting weird." please Hotch...

"Oh," he still didn't know what to do, but whatever he did now would change your relationship anyway, so, he should probably tell you the truth. "It's because, i- i knew we would have to share a room," he paused to find words that explained what he was feeling but you took it another way.

"What is so wrong about being around me that always gets you like this?" your voice broke a little, and you hated yourself for showing weakness.

"There's nothing wrong!" that came out louder than he intended and he saw the way you flinched, "sorry, but i need you to understand, there is nothing wrong about you. Please just stay quiet so i can finish this?" he pleaded and those usually frowned eyebrows were now raised, his eyes were pleading.

"Okay."

There was a pause, he was gathering his thoughts and giving you both time to calm down.

"From the moment i heard we would be staying together, i knew i would have to get a hold of myself, as a unit chief i couldn't just let go like i wanted to... like i want to," what?

"I love spending time with you, more than i should and it scares me. I thought that if i didn't get too close i would be fine and it worked, until we shared a room for the first time," he sighed, "You were so sweet and caring and it surprised me," that sounded more like a question "i expected that but i didn't expect to... like it so much."

"Hotch-"

"Wait." he glared at you.

When you remained quiet he started speaking again "Ever since you came to my office, i knew i was in trouble." he sighed and shook his head, "When Strauss told me about you i was ready to treat you just like any other agent who came to my unit, but when i saw you... I didn't know what it was about you that kept pulling me in but i didn't want it to stop, being around you healed a part of me that i wasn't aware was bleeding. The way you treated me, with no judgement for what I've done... you treated me like everybody else and still made me feel special... i let myself be fooled by hope, of... what we could be."

...

At this point you were speechless, Hotch has never said so much and your mind was still processing what he implied.

"I know it's wrong, i am your superior, fuck, I'm your boss, the one you should look up to, the one who should take care of you and here i am being the creepy guy." he laughed but there was no humor behind it. "I am so sorry i made you uncomfortable, it was never my intention to let my feelings come forward. If you want to file a complaint against me, i understand."

"Hotch... no." it came as a whisper, you coughed and tried again, "No, but, i still don't know what it means..." fuck, I'm dumb. "Feelings?"

"Feelings. For you."

"Like, romantic feelings?"

"Yes? i mean, if they were harmless i wouldn't have to tell you," with his usual frown back he looked at you unsure, as if you were discussing an unsub's methodology.

"Oh..." harmless? why would it be harmless? him having feelings for you was all you wanted!... file a complaint?

"That is... what i wanted for as long as I've known you." you looked at him not sure what to expect but he kept eye contact, you could see the moment he understood what you meant.

He did not look relieved.

...

"Fuck." he whispered and threw his head back, rubbing his eyes roughly with the pad of his fingers. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know, but from the way you're acting i take it you don't want to do anything..." it hurt to realize he did not want to do something, deep down you knew it wasn't so simple but at the moment you couldn't really think past the possible heartbreak.

"It's not like that."

"It seems exactly like that..."

"I'm just not sure we should act on it, i am not good for you." He raised his voice and turned so he was sitting with his feet touching the floor.

"So we should just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" you said while pushing the blankets and mirroring his position, except his legs were covered by plain black pants. Your grey shorts that barely showed underneath your oversized shirt did not help your fake confidence.

Your question was met with silence.

"Maybe." Yes.

Careful to not let him see how disappointed you were, you kept his gaze, looking just as tough as him.

Under your stare, his resolve almost slipped until you got up, the same way you did after finishing an interrogation. The way you seemed so sure of yourself almost got him believing that what he said didn't affect you. That same sound of your bag opening is what snapped him out of his trance.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll spend the night with Emily." your voice was low and steady. The walls you built up to protect yourself from things that could hurt you coming back up strongly, walls that you used to hide your emotions when you didn't want people to know how you were feeling and my god did they work. He hated to be met with a emotionless expression when you turned to grab something from your bed-

"You don't have to..."

"Yes i do." again, low and steady. "I'll sleep there tonight and tomorrow I'll book another room."

He didn't know what to say, that was the best thing to do but you being away meant he wouldn't get to hear you breathing...

"We only have a few hours before we need to go back to work, you should let Emily sleep." trying to make you feel guilty didn't seem to work as you kept gathering your things. He was getting anxious now and when you passed him to pick up your phone from the bedside table he pulled the device out of your hand. "Stay. it's too late for you to be walking around the hotel." he was hoping that if he used his work voice maybe you'd listen.

"Give it back."

"No."

He was towering over you and the feeling he felt before came back, if you kept looking at him like that, he would break.

He couldn't afford to break.

So he left you standing there, walking to the bathroom with your phone in hand. You stood like that even after he slammed the door, shocked he had really just taken your phone just like your parents did when you were a teenager. After the shock passed you almost laughed at how insane this was, did he really think that this would stop you?

He knew it didn't stop you but he hoped it would. He had taken your phone but it's not like you needed it if you were going to stay with Emily. Looking at himself in the mirror, the eyes he was met with did not seem like him, for the first time in a while he did not know what to do. When he went inside he didn't even know what he was thinking exactly, only knew that he wanted to get away from you as fast as possible without making you leave the room. Looking around, his eyes fell to the same towel he used earlier that now was folded beside the sink, in his rush to take a shower he didn't think much about where to put it but he was sure he hadn't folded it.

You don't remember hearing the lock, if he didn't lock the door you could just go in and get your phone back, even the idea of fighting again seemed appealing, maybe if you fought with him some more your feelings would dissipate...

A shower always helped him take his mind off of things but right now he could barely move without being reminded of your presence. The towel you folded because he had thrown it somewhere carelessly and you knew he would want to shower again before work, your own towel and dirty clothes that laid together on the floor, the liquid soap you used that normally would be kept in a corner with your skin care products but that now was right beside his shampoo, you were also desperate for sleep and yet you made up time to fold his towel... yeah a shower wouldn't hurt.

Hearing the water running somehow duplicated your want to go inside, finding yourself right in front of the door with your hand on the handle when-

"Fuck!" a whispered scream, muffled by the water yet distinct enough for you to understand.

If you were to go in, you would have to be prepared to face him... the door would make noise and there was a chance that maybe the curtain was not closed enough and he would see you coming in, if you were to go in... it would have to be now.

This is definitely not what he planned to do, the initial idea was to take a shower to clean his head from any thoughts of you, not to fill it it more thoughts... definitely not these kind of thoughts. Now he was hard and even more frustrated.

Both his hands were on the wall, his head resting on it while he contemplated what to do, touching himself while thinking of you when you were at the other side of the door right after a fight felt dirty. When his left hand started slipping down a couple knocks echoed followed by your voice, no longer the voice that made him feel small.

"Hotch? can i come in?" he should tell you no, what if you somehow managed to see the evidence of his perverted thoughts?

"Yes." yes please, come in, come see for yourself that I'm just as worst as those guys on the street that you held yourself back from punching.

You were right. The door made a loud noise that made you cringe, looking at the mirror you were met with the damp white curtain, the fact that he was standing naked behind it right now was enough to make you forget why you were here in the first place, a loud buzzing made you remember. Walking quickly to where he had put your phone, right above his towel, picking it up you were met with a call from Rossi and 3 new messages.

"Dave is calling." you figured Aaron had also heard the phone buzzing. "Hello?"

"You're awake!"

"Uhm, yeah..." weird.

"Good, is Aaron with you?" come on Dave, you know he is.

"Yes he is." you were facing the mirror and saw when Aaron reached a hand up to pull the curtain back before letting go, apparently he remembered you were there and he couldn't just get out, especially given his current state...

"Great, i called him 3 times and he didn't pick up" there was a pause, "Thought that was unusual, he usually picks up in the first ring..." he was talking in a suggestive tone but, he often used it when talking about Aaron.

"Oh, he's taking a shower..." no, no, no you shouldn't have said that! he can probably hear the shower running-

"At 3am?" he laughed, "Weird guy, but well, tell him boy genius found something that could help the profile, we're heading back to the station right now."

"Okay, I'll let him know."

Guess you weren't sleeping tonight, at least Aaron did, having a sleep deprived guy driving you wouldn't be good.

"What did he want?" you didn't realize you hadn't said anything after the call ended, snapping your head up you were met with Aaron watching you from behind the curtain, his hair was damp and he looked flushed.

"Spence found something, they're heading back to the station now." he nodded, his wet hair shaking and a few droplets of water falling down his face, it looked obscene really. "Anything else?"

"He said he called you and found strange that you didn't answer," you were avoiding looking at him now but still saw in your peripheral vision when he nodded while humming.

There was a moment of awkwardness until you realized you could just leave, so you did just that.

"Wait!" he called out before you could fully step out of the room, "Can you hand me the towel?"

You didn't answer but still went back inside to grab it, the fabric felt soft and comforting unlike his wet and cold hand when it accidentally touched your fingers.

"Wait for me? I'll be out quick."

"I don't-"

"Please?"

"Sure." you sighed.

...

Closing the door behind yourself felt more relieving than catching an unsub... okay, that was an overstatement but the feeling was there. Not knowing how long it would take for him to be out but aware he only had the clothes he was wearing to bed in the bathroom, you tried to change as fast as you could, having Aaron seeing even more skin would be too embarrassing.

You had done a good work earlier picking up your clothes, all of them were stuffed inside your go bag and you could see a white button up, white tank top and the black pants you wore today sticking out, it would have to do. Deciding to take one step at a time you pulled the shorts down, your shirt was big enough to cover your ass if Aaron suddenly opened the door, thankfully, it did not happen. Taking your shirt off felt a bit too risky, just having the cool air of the room hit your bare back and chest would make you shiver, if Aaron saw it you would be left shaking. Pants buttoned and shirt left for later you picked up your sneakers, boots were too much for a time you were supposed to be sleeping, just as you were finishing tying them the loud noise of the door opening and heavy footsteps filled the room.

"Ready?" he seemed out of breath, you hadn't looked up yet but you were sitting in your bed and he had to walk in front of you to get to his. When he did, you could see the black pants pooling around his feet.

"Not yet."

Picking the shirt and tank top you had throw a little further on the bed you risked a glance in his direction, bare shoulders, pale enough you could make out the outline of where his hand were gripping a second before, his tense muscles were aching even more now, having to interact with you and pretend to not have almost jerked off to the thought of you minutes ago had only made it worse.

Hearing your bed creaking he looked back, he supposed you were walking to the bathroom to change your shirt, oh what he would do to have you change right in front of him... fuck, not again!

Adjusting his pants, again, he tried to focus on the case.

Women around 20-25 were being kidnapped, found dead 3 days later. The case was pretty much like any other but the city decided to not cooperate, the team was stressed and it doubled when another woman went missing yesterday, one of the police officers knew her family and almost started a fistfight with Derek when we took a break, not pleased with the fact that we weren't machines and actually needed to take breaks eventually.

"Now i am." you were back, he hadn't even realized he continued moving while thinking.

"Good. Let's get going."

Now with the work mask put on, both were ready to act like no words were exchanged tonight.

a/n³: i read this like 3 times and i still don't trust my work lol, I'll try to find a beta reader so i can post faster.

[starrieisdelusional]

merthur reunion in s4 of my fix it au (now not canon, i’ll explain why in the end)

merthur had just completed an epic battle, they're standing in the throne room, just like the end of s3 when arthur banished merlin 3 years ago

merlin: honestly i didn't think i will be standing here again arthur: me too (stepping down from his throne) why did you come back? merlin: (shrugs) i tried running away, but i can't...

'i can't leave you' hangs in the air

arthur: (sharp breath) you never left, even after all this years merlin: no

(silence)

arthur: why? merlin: i swear loyalty to camelot arthur: not that....(shakes his head)

(more silence)

Arthur: tell me emrys, why do you, the most powerful being ever walked on earth, continue to serve me, a lowly king with too many mistakes, too arrogant for his own good, isn't wise enough for his kingdom when i did nothing but to continue to treat you like dirt, banished your kind and family, sentenced you to exile for the last few years? merlin: (sharp breath) i live to serve you arthur: so the prophecy then? merlin: NO! (shocked at his own voice)

(merlin took a shaky breath)

merlin: no, it's not...it's not because of the prophecy...i don't serve you because of some destiny that's just ridiculous

(merlin looks to the ground)

merlin: you know arthur? i never expected to cross path with you when i entered citadel all those years ago….i thought that maybe i can make a change for myself, made new friends, maybe even become the new physician but

(merlin shakes his head)

Merlin: i never knew when i was involved in something greater than i can ever imagine, when i became magic, when i devoted myself to albion's future but…

(merlin looks at arthur)

Merlin: i think it’s you, you’re the one who changes me, and i’m not just talking about some destiny or some prophecy spewed by the great dragon. I…I serve you because you’re you. You’re not anyone else. You meant something to me. You have a kind heart, bigger than anyone else i’ve ever known, you shine like the sun when you’re fighting on the battlefield. I just- i don’t know arthur, i tried leaving, i really tried but i just cant-

Arthur is already hugging him, and merlin lets his tears drop to arthur’s shoulders, hugging him back. Arthur is crying too, nuzzling to the side of his head

Arthur: i missed you- Merlin: i miss you too Arthur: i’m sorry Merlin: it’s not your fault- Arthur: it is my fault Merlin: blame your father Arthur: i shouldn’t listen to him

They both look at each-other, seeing how much they’ve changed for the last few years.

Arthur: thank you for staying by my side merlin. i will try to make you the happiest man alive. Merlin: but i’m already happy when im with you, i’ll burn villages for you, i’ll do anything for-

Arthur kisses him, merlin kisses him back. Deep down inside, arthur realizes, he’s stupidly in love with the man standing in front of him, he doesn’t want to lose him again

Merlin: i love you, i love you, i love you... Arthur: I know...

Episode ends

Note:

This is no longer part of the story because there are changes to the plot!! This is however part of the old masterlist which you can check out here:

The difference between the old one and the new one is that the new one is much more improved and coherent! They overlap with eachother.

main post:

To find my other ramblings about this AU, filter with the hashtag #must we really rely on fate?

[morlock-holmes]

A Review of John McWhorter's Woke Racism

While I was reading through White Fragility @limeadeislife recommended I might check out John McWhorter's book, or maybe more of an extended pamphlet, Woke Racism: How A New Religion Has Betrayed Black America especially because I was looking at White Fragility through the lens of how it resembles what I understand about certain right-wing Christian cultures.

I'm not entirely sure how to approach McWhorter's book.

On the one hand, unlike Robin DiAngelo, McWhorter can put together a cogent argument in the format of "A leads to B, which suggests C" which DiAngelo never bothers to do, which means the book is both a breath of fresh air after White Fragility but also that I found myself wanting to argue with some of his tangential political views about, say, education, just because they were coherent enough to argue against.

But in terms of the central thesis, the book is, openly, aimed at left-wing centrist types who find people like DiAngelo utterly inexplicable, and less directly at members of DiAngelo's ideology who are starting to question the dogma.

In fact, I did enjoy this roasting of White Fragility

"Robin DiAngelo's White Fragility, for example, reads in the present tense like a bizarre exercise in mind control created by someone bent on manipulation and getting paid. That's a misinterpretation: It is a work-book based on principles foundational in seminars of critical race theory, which its author sincerely believes in, promoting it out of a sense of benevolent mission."

I both feel that I should, for consistancy's sake explain why this invocation of Critical Race Theory doesn't bother me too much while at the same time feeling that this would be a boring tangent of interest only to a handful of people who are constantly annoyed with me.

But this leads to my big issue with the book, which is that it is very "101". This book is aimed at me eight years ago; by 2020 I had already deprogrammed myself and if you are reading this tumblr you already think this stuff is obnoxious nonsense as well, and you'll be very familiar with most of McWhorter's arguments (Including his trade school advocacy and belief in ending the war on drugs). You already read about and were outraged by the egregious examples he cites.

There's room for a deeper book about all this stuff, which delves more deeply into both the history of ideas and the culture of the religion that McWhorter sees.

The Ideology With No Name

McWhorter doesn't actually use the word "Woke" in the book. He says he finds it dismissive, and the phenomenon is serious, but I also do get the feeling that he knows that a bunch of the people shrieking about "wokeness" are as mendacious and dishonest as DiAngelo and her ilk.

There's a silly bit in White Fragility where DiAngelo writes:

"[Charles W.] Mills describes white supremacy as 'the unnamed politcal system that has made the world what is is today.'"

Which... Like. You named it in that sentence.

In fact, one of the major propaganda victories of DiAngelo et al has been to assert that they do not have an ideology, that they are merely anti-racist, and that any anti-racist movement or person obviously agrees with them, and anybody who disagrees is disagreeing with anti-racism as such.

So there just isn't an agreed upon name for the particular thread DiAngelo is part of.

McWhorter calls the ideology "Third Wave Anti-racism" and the people who follow the ideology, "The Elect" after an essayist named Joseph Bottum who I have not yet read.

Basically, McWhorter sees third wave anti-racism as a religious movement rather than a political movement, and I also agree that it has a lot in common with Right Wing American Protestantism in particular. I thought I might just go over some of the parallels, some of these are things McWhorter goes over in his book, some are my own thoughts or expansions of my own thoughts based on things he says.

Anti-Racism is the Gospel, by which I mean "The Good News". There is a strain in American missionary work that professes to be baffled that anybody rejects the Gospels. The Gospels are obviously true, and obviously good. The fact that Jesus Christ died for your sins and rose from the dead is as obviously true as the fact that the sky is blue. And so anybody rejecting the Gospel is pathologized the same way that you would pathologize someone who insisted that nobody has ever seen a blue sky. You can't admit that maybe the Gospels could be false, or that the evidence for them is anything less then overwhelming, so you invent psychological reasons for why non-believers insist on saying things that are obviously false. DiAngelo specifically is like this, she constantly acts baffled that anybody would respond to her wisdom with anything other then sheer gratitude. White Fragility asks the question, "Given that everything I, Robin DiAngelo, say about race is true and helpful, why do people get so angry when I say it?" It sounds like I am exaggerating but I promise she says this in almost the same words in the introduction to the book, which I'd quote if I hadn't already returned it to the library.

Racism is Original Sin, This is so obvious that basically everybody who is opposed to third-wave antiracism has picked up on it. It's held that every white person is inherently racist, and we can't ever stop being racist, we can only acknowledge our racism and attempt to minimize the damage. But something that I think has been talked about less is that this can be used to enforce hierarchies. Something that happens often in Christian circles is that when a leader of the community is found doing something corrupt or bad, the response is, "Of course, it just goes to show you that every one of us can sin, but the leader has repented his sin and been forgiven by Jesus Christ, so if you don't forgive him as well it shows how unchristian you are." Meanwhile, if you are found to be sinning, well, doesn't it say something very bad about you that you let yourself do this despite the community looking our for you? A similar thing happens with this "We're all a little bit racist" two-step. DiAngelo's racism is the unfortunate problem with being raised in a racist society; your racism is evidence that you haven't done the work.

Your everyday life is the battleground between God and Satan One of the reasons Christianity appeals to people is that it elevates the everyday struggles into amazing battles for the universe. Your decision about whether to masturbate while thinking of that hot barista is actually a demon from another plane of existence locked in a deadly battle for your soul with the creator of the entire universe. As much as third-wave Antiracists talk about systemic racism, in practice they are really heavily focused on inter-personal racism. DiAngelo specifically professes that once enough white people have healed our internal racism, systemic racism will sort of... disappear in an act of pure white person will. Whether you talk over Monique from HR is elevated from petty office drama to a very battle for the soul of America and the fate of her minorities.

Have you heard the good news? One of the silliest tropes in American Christian media is when our Christian heroes run into people who have never thought about Christianity and don't know anything about the bible. Of course, that idea is absurd; Christianity is one of the major political forces in America, it's basically impossible to be ignorant of it, but because it doesn't have a hegemony, it's adherents often pretend that it has no power at all and only a tiny elect even know about it. Third-Wave Anti-racism constantly does the same thing, asserting that Whites just don't think about race or racism even as millions of them rush out to buy White Fragility. Because Third-Wave Antiracism does not have a hegemony in the US, this is taken as evidence that it is utterly powerless and nobody has even heard of it, even though that is patently absurd.

I've Done Everything The Bible Says, even the stuff that contradicts the other stuff! McWhorter points out that often, third-wave anti-racists will applaud both of two entirely contradictory opinions: e.g. if whites move out of minority neighborhoods, that's white flight and evidence of white racism. If whites move into minority neighborhoods, that's gentrification and evidence of white racism. From outside, this looks like, and frankly is, pure hypocrisy. But what it does in practice, and I say this from inside experience, is build out a social hierarchy. On the lowest rungs (The ones I used to occupy) are the people who actually believe this. We are surrounded both by obvious contradictions and by friends, coworkers, and celebrities telling us that actually all this makes perfect sense, and we assume everybody else just has access to a secret knowledge that allows them to resolve these apparent contradictions. What I very slowly learned, which lead to my conversion from the culture, was that this is not the case. You don't actually figure out some crazy third way out of that dilemma, you just move to the all-white suburb because you just had a kid and you're worried about crime, and then you occasionally publicly confess how guilty you are that you did it, and that it just shows how far we have to go. The people on the highest rung are, from what I can see, people who are so utterly lacking in self-awareness and so incapable of putting together a logical argument that they simply don't understand the contradictions in their own world-view, and just confidently do whatever.

Man, I've tried to write this a couple of times and it feels like it gets away from me.

One last trope in Christian media is the unbeliever who doesn't know anything about Christianity, but he reads the bible and then comes away with the exact political beliefs of a 21st century right-wing Evangelical. Which is of course absurd; the idea that you could reconstruct Evangelical beliefs on gun control or border security by reading the Bible is patently insane, but there is a cultural bonding ritual that comes from explaining how actually all of modern day Republican politics actually comes from the bible. People who don't get it are the outgroup, people who do are the in group.

I thought about this a lot while reading White Fragility. The ideas in it are not complex; rather, they are contradictory (Or at the very least, in extreme tension with each other) and explained incredibly badly.

This allows us to identify the in-group and out-group; our in-group are the people who are already so familiar with her ideas that they can take her rambling nonsense and explain that actually it's a bunch of simple, correct ideas (I can absolutely do this, by the way), while being confused or hostile marks you as a member of the out-group.

I may just make a different post about the other thing I wanted to talk about, which is how this stuff is different for black and white people.

McWhorter and a couple of other people I talked to reminded me that there were foot washing ceremonies during some of the George Floyd protests, and I just want to remind you all that any white person who washes the feet of a black protestor is symbolically casting themselves as Jesus Christ.