#The question in the post is rhetorical. I will be strong and not do it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bella-rose29 · 2 months ago

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Breathe

Elrond x gn!reader (Rings of Power)

not me coming out of my cave to post an Elrond fic then leave again 👀

also not me not writing anything for over a month (probably, I haven't counted) and then coming out with a near 5k fic oops

the original title for this was 'is he dead or not??? who knows' but I think this one is good too

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: I think I killed someone writing this/made them need a lobotomy so consider that a warning to anyone who's gonna read (sorry), mentions of death, war, wounds, a child crying, the photo I'm gonna use is a warning in and of itself, I think that's it?

I feel I should add that this fic is actually happy (eventually) 😂 I reread the warnings and thought 'oh oops'

tagging @oblivious-idiot and @uku-lelevillain but if anyone else wants to be tagged in future Elrond works then let me know!

You could not breathe.

It would eat you alive, all this waiting, chewing on your insides until it worked its way outward and left you but a shell of the person you used to be, and you wouldn’t have any way of stopping it. Your lungs felt tight as you cradled the head of a sobbing child, his mother dead after birthing him and his father out in the fray with the rest of the soldiers of Middle-Earth. He was young, had barely seen his homeland, let alone the world, and he had never seen war before. You were not so lucky as he - war had been your upbringing. You could fight as well as any other of the elven soldiers, but somebody was needed to look after those who could not, and so you had volunteered along with a small band of others: retired fighters and those looking to start out and join the ranks but were not quite good enough yet. You had trained them over the last few days that you had all spent in the safe hold, taking them through the basics of how to grip a sword and the best way to gut an Orc should they break through and make it to the doors of the underground cavern serving as your shelter.

The child in your lap had stopped sobbing, his cries turned to sniffles, and you carefully lifted his body to nestle into your side. He was too young for war, you thought again, taking in the small points of his ears and the lack of angles on his face. You attempted a smile, hoping it would comfort him a little as you pushed a strand of his hair behind an ear, and whispered to him. “All will be well. They will return to us victorious, and we shall have no need of too many more tears.”

“But how do you know?” Children were inquisitive, which most of the time you adored, but when you are attempting to raise the spirits of a boy who does not know if he will ever see his father again, the questions become rather irritating.

“Because I have seen many things, and because our armies are strong. They will defeat the darkness and bring light to our lands once more.” It was the best you could do when you did not truly know the answer. You had learned the art of rhetoric years ago, when Elrond Peredhel had first come to Lindon and had quickly discovered that for the elves to see past his half-elven status he would need to become invaluable, or risk being an outcast in the race he had chosen to be counted among. You had been the first to greet him, intrigued by this visitor from the Havens of Sirion when you had been born in Lindon and raised there, and he had been grateful for your tour and kindness. He had spent many an hour sat with you, commenting on his meetings and the politics of Lindon, and how he carefully navigated clashing personalities and difficult conversations, and so you had learned.

You used it now, that knowledge that Elrond had provided in all those hours, to comfort this child. He had since taken to playing with a stick on the floor next to him, leaning further away from your side to entertain himself as he drew patterns in the dirt, and it gave your lungs the much needed space to breathe a little more.

It had been hours and hours since the army had left, heading out onto the battlefield to meet Sauron’s forces, and you were getting impatient. Elrond had gone with them, determined to provide what help he could no matter your protests to him entering the fray. You had trained him up, knowing that he could hold his own but wanting to be sure that he would be alright, and when you had suggested that you go with him while tightening the straps of his armour he had placed his hands over yours (his hands were too soft - far too soft for someone about to go into battle), gently coaxing them from where they had fretted with the leather and returning them to your side with a sad smile. “You must stay here, melethel, and protect those who cannot fight.” The term of endearment never failed to heat your cheeks, or send a warmth up your neck and through your chest. “For my peace of mind, please stay here.” He had let go of your hands at that point, moving them up to rest on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and before you could think you were pushing it back into place, wondering if you had imagined him leaning into your touch that lingered a moment too long for two elves who were only friends and nothing more, his eyes fluttering closed for the barest fraction of a second before he was looking at you again, or if it had truly happened. What you were certain was real was the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, lips brushing the skin with such care and tenderness while his hands on your arms squeezed like you would disappear that it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed. Elrond would not see you cry, not now, not when there was a chance it could be the last-

No. You would not think that way. He would come back alive, and if he was hurt then you would stay by his side until he was healed, and then you would continue your lives as you had before - content and in friendship.

It wasn’t how you wanted things to be with Elrond, which was why you could not breathe. What if he was one of the fallen, and you never saw him smile again, or gaze in wonder at the golden leaves of Lindon or cast a wry glance your way in a council session when somebody said something he thought was silly and knew you would be thinking it too, your eyes already seeking him out? What if you never heard him sing again, or write poems about trivial matters that seemed so important to him? What if you never got to challenge him to a duel again, laughing when your swords clashed and rang out in the clearing you always fled to, and calling him a cheat for tickling you after you pinned him to the floor?

And what if you never told him how you truly felt? That from the moment he had seen you try not to show your tears after climbing too high in a tree and falling, grazing your knee and cutting your calf, and had rushed to your aid because that was what Elrond did, you had loved him. He had been so calm, so gentle that night, the lights of others long gone out as they dwelt in near darkness while your lanterns stayed lit as you gritted your teeth and washed the cut of dirt and bark. You had barely heard him come in, his knock as quiet as your tears, but when his hands wrapped around your own and took the cloth from you, dipping it again in the bowl of water to your side, you barely startled. He had not been in Lindon long and yet already you knew him and his movements as though they were your own, and you trusted him enough to see you so vulnerable, and from the way he had looked at you that night he knew it. Your love for him was strong and true and the greatest thing you had ever felt, and for years you had passed it off as a friendship so powerful that the bond between you was unbreakable. You had friendships like that with others, so it would not have been out of the ordinary to have one more person whom you would love unconditionally until your light died, but when he had been kneeling by your side and cleaning the gash on your calf with a tenderness you had only read about, you had known it was different.

The child beside you now dropped his stick, the movement bringing you out of your thoughts as he scrambled instead to his feet and started to push through the gathered people to make for the doorway.

The doorway which was now opening, a messenger stepping through. You stood up, air catching in your throat and making you nearly choke on spit as you struggled to breathe again. Your hand flew to your opposite wrist, under the fabric of your sleeve and touching the chain that rested around the base of your hand - a gift from Elrond in the early hours of the morning before he had left for battle and after he had kissed you on the forehead. “To remember me by,” he had said, a sadness settling over his features that you hated. He unclasped it, gesturing for you to hold out your wrist, and when you complied he had linked the chains so carefully, fingers brushing the underside of your forearm so lightly it sent chills darting over your skin like minnows in a stream. His hold had lingered, and your breath had been held while time seemed to stretch on more than usual for your kind.

Elrond had that effect on you, it would appear. Making you breathless was a skill of his you weren’t sure he knew he possessed, and at this current moment you wished it was a skill he had never mastered. Your throat felt tight while the messenger caught his breath, tired from sprinting from the battlefield. The fight was over for now, the question was simply who had won.

“Sauron’s forces have been pushed back, and the majority slaughtered. We have won this battle!” the elf cried, and the first wave of relief washed over you and the crowd. The second would come when you knew who was alive out of those that had been sent away that morning, and who would not return this night.

The thundering of footsteps could just be heard over the cheers of the people gathered in the safe hold, and the first of the elven soldiers appeared in the chamber, tiredness being replaced by joy at seeing their loved ones again and embracing them with a fierceness that even Sauron could not comprehend. There were too many similar soldiers, their armour all the same and their faces all dirtied, and it was a long few minutes before you caught sight of the elf you were searching for. You were sure your face was blank and cold, and your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to see past the hordes in front of you, but the moment a head of unruly curled hair glinted under the torchlight, clearly moving from soldier to soldier and asking if they were alright, you knew it was Elrond. He seemed to sense your gaze on him, turning his head to look over his shoulder and seek you out, finding you within seconds. He is alive. Elrond is alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over in your head as your feet numbly moved you forward while he did the same, pushing through people to reach you, and before you could truly register it you were in his arms, the coldness of your previous gaze melting and turning into warmth as you looked at him, tracing the small cuts on his face and wrapping your other arm around his waist. He was dirty, and bloodied, and shaking from the cold or from the fight or from something else entirely that you could not name, but he was alive. You squeezed his waist, pulling him closer to you, but didn’t miss the slight wince on his face as you did so. “Elrond, are you hurt?”

“I am fine, melethel. Just a scratch.”

“Do not lie to me, Elrond. Come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of your armour; it must be heavy on your shoulders.” He did not reply, only giving a tired smile in its place, and let you take him by the hand to the room you had commandeered for you both when you had arrived. There were two raised cots, not that Elrond had slept much, as he had been needed in meetings to discuss battle strategies and had, in his usual fashion, not stopped working until he was content that his plan would work. You closed the door behind you and pointed to one of the cots, not looking at him as you told him to sit. He did so in a daze, fingers picking at the leather straps that you had done up for him that morning. It was long past nightfall now, and Elrond likely had not rested since he woke up. You gathered your medicines and poured a dish of water, moving to sit on the stool that Elrond had pulled up for you and putting your supplies on the side table to help him with his armour. You worked in silence, removing piece after piece of metal until it sat on the floor in a neat pile and you had better access to his wound. Cautiously you pressed your fingers to the edge of the cut, trying to gauge how bad it was and immediately regretting it when he hissed in pain and tried to move away. You snatched your hand back, eyes snapping to his face to see it scrunched up in pain. “Elrond,” you spoke, voice quiet in the near-empty room as you placed your hand on his fist. “Elrond. It is alright. Here, help me get this off of you so I can clean it.” He softened, features settling back into a face you knew better than the wrinkled nose and squeezed-shut eyes, and smiled a little as you started tugging at his undershirts.

“You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could have said it earlier.” Had you been standing you were sure your knees would have given way and caused you to hold on to something for support. He must be delirious from the wound, or the amount of time spent on his feet fighting. Elrond never said things like that: not to you, not to anyone. You forced a glare onto your face in lieu of a response, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much he had affected you with one simple sentence, and started to gently pull the fabric up.

“Stop jesting, Elrond. I need to clean your wound. Unless you would prefer I left you here to get an infection and suffer?”

“You rather enjoy leaving me to suffer, melethel. You do it whenever we fight.”

“I always help you up off the floor after I wipe it with your backside,” you indignantly replied. You were glad he was talking - the silence had been strange. Normally you would not mind sitting in silence with Elrond, but that was when you were safe in Lindon, books in your hands and paper rustling as the pages turned, not when he had just fought a bloody battle and could have died.

“I recall that last time we fought it was I who helped you off of the floor,” he mused, and you swatted at his arm.

“Shush. I let you win that one. Now stop talking and help me; your limbs are gangly.” He let out a noise of disbelief at that but lifted his arms anyway, wincing when the shirt went over his head and pulled at the skin of his side. An Orc had found a gap in his armour, pushing its blade through and marking the side of his body with blood. You held your breath at the size of it, and when Elrond asked you how bad it was you answered with your eyes still on his side. “It is… it is nothing I cannot fix.” He seemed content enough with your response, nodding and leaning back on his hands to allow you more room to work. He grunted in pain when you raised the cloth to his skin and started cleaning away the blood and sweat that had stuck there, but otherwise was silent while you worked.

Time is a strange thing for elves: your lives are so much longer than those other races of Middle-Earth and so often you do not perceive it in the same way - twenty years for some may be the blink of an eye to an elf. You could not have been cleaning and stitching his wound (he had cried out more when the needle had pierced his flesh) for more than an hour or so, and yet it had felt like an eternity. When you were finally done, his wound covered in an elvish salve to stop infection and the spread of whatever evil was in Orcish weaponry and stitched up with a fine thread that would dissolve harmlessly into his skin over time, you brought out another cloth and poured fresh water to clean his face. He was caked in dirt and blood and grime, sticking to his fair skin from all of the sweat he had created in exertion, and if you did not know Elrond like the back of your own hand then you would not have recognised him at all.

“Let me,” he said, pushing up off of the cot and moving to where you stood by the basin. His hands covered yours, gently attempting to pull the cloth from your grasp and do the rest himself, but your grip was strong.

“No. I have been sat around doing nothing all day and I might just explode if I do not finish looking after you.” He smiled, the barest of things as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little, and his eyes softened. How he could be soft after everything he had seen today amazed you. It had taken you years to stop guarding yourself after you first fought in a battle, not letting anybody see any vulnerability in case they took advantage and thought you weak. It was part of the reason you stayed behind: you had not wanted to find out what would happen if you fought again, not when Elrond had come into your life and, piece by piece, dismantled your high walls.

“Alright, melethel. Alright.” He had always insisted on calling you that, saying that it didn’t matter that the pair of you were not courting, and who were you to refuse him when he spoke so sweetly? He settled back against the counter, letting his feet drift apart a little so you had room to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes, trusting you to take care of him, and for the first time since he had returned he looked at peace. He seemed unsure where to place his hands, hovering for a moment between your waist and the wood of the cabinet top he perched on before deciding on the latter. You worked away the dirt, revealing more clean skin with every swipe of your cloth, until eventually you were looking at the face of your friend as you remembered it. His hair still needed a wash, as did the rest of him, but Elrond was here, in front of you and more like himself than he had been since he had left in the morning.

“I think you had more soil on your face than the grounds of Middle-Earth,” you joked, rinsing out the cloth again before bringing it up to his face to wipe the remainder of the grime away. He opened his eyes, a childish grin appearing on his face at your words.

“Then you have done a fantastic job in removing it all.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes at you in playful suspicion. “At least I assume you have removed it all, and haven’t just smeared it all around my face?” He poked a dirty finger into your cheek, making you laugh and jerk backward to stop him spreading muck everywhere. Elrond stopped moving abruptly, catching your hand and studying a finger. “You’re bleeding.” He blinked at the dried blood on your pointer finger. “Or is that mine?”

“Oh. I had not even realised. I must have stabbed myself with the needle earlier. Really, it is nothing, Elrond.” He didn’t let go however, still looking concerned that you had hurt yourself while tending to him.

“But if you are hurt-”

“Which one of us was brutally stabbed by an Orc blade? And nearly died?”

“I did not nearly die, melethel, you are being dramatic.”

“As are you, Elrond. I barely even noticed the prick of the needle.” He had brought your hand close to his face, and somehow your body had gone with it. The hand that held the cloth was bracing your weight next to Elrond’s hand, your fingers just touching, and your face was so close to his that you could feel the soft brush of air that he let out every time he breathed. It was so typical of Elrond to be more concerned for others when he himself was the one that needed to be worried over, and it only made you love him more.

“If you say so,” he hummed, shifting his hold on your hand so that he could bring his lips to the tip of your finger where you had stuck yourself with the needle, pressing the smallest kiss to it. Your breath caught again, and he noticed the hitch. “Melethel? What is it, did I hurt you?” His eyes widened and he rushed to rectify the mistake he thought he had made. “I am so so sorry, I did not mean-”

“You did not hurt me, Elrond, for goodness’ sake!” You cut him off, exasperated and feeling very warm.

“Then why-” he broke off, eyes searching your face and studying the most likely very visible flush to your features. “Oh,” he said, softer than a leaf of one of the trees of Lindon falling to the earth. You swore his pupils dilated a little, and he tilted his head back ever so slightly as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.” He let go of your hand, fingers slowly moving to your jaw to turn your face back towards his after you had looked to the side in an attempt to hide from the intensity of his gaze.

“Elrond, what- what?” Your hand he had been holding was now on his shoulder, keeping you upright along with the arm he had somehow snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“Are you- do you…” he fumbled over his words, something he very rarely did, and through the haze of wondering how you had ended up in this situation, his fingers cupping your jaw while his other hand rested on your lower back and he stared into your eyes, flicking between them both to see if he could read you, you felt a swell of pride that you of all people had made Herald Elrond of Lindon speechless.

“Do I what?” you asked, as gently as you could. The hand you had rested on his shoulder was now toying with a strand of hair that curled under his ear against his neck, your other braced on his chest (which you were just now remembering was unclothed), and a small smile was on your face. You knew that he knew the truth now - how could he not? But he wanted to hear it, as did you, because the fear that he might be wrong was lingering and if he was wrong, he might hurt you, which was the last thing Elrond ever wanted to do.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, eyes similar to that of a wolf cub you had once seen, wide and innocent, but entirely Elrond in the blown out pupils and spark of knowing that he carried. His nose was brushing yours, breath fanning over your face, and now it was your turn to tilt your head back to meet him. “Do you feel that whenever we are apart… your heart aches for the space where I should be stood? That whenever we are together I am complete because you are there and you are so bright and wonderful that you take my breath away more often than I would care to admit - do you feel that too?”

“How could I not, Elrond? How could I not feel that?” You felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders, his body sagging forwards into yours just a little, the action causing his face to come even closer to yours, angled slightly upwards from where he was an inch lower than you sat on the cabinet.

You couldn’t breathe again, but this time it was because Elrond had pressed his lips to yours so cautiously that you thought you might melt into him. His fingers on your jaw were warm, not urging you one way or the other but just anchoring you, as he always had done from the moment you had met, letting you decide what happened next. You broke off first, resting your forehead against his and catching your breath, and he swallowed thickly, moving to place tiny kisses against your jawline and cheek, pausing only to murmur your name into your skin. Your hand buried itself in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls and knocking out the dust and dirt that had stuck there. It had long since dried of sweat, but the strands were greasy and needed washing, and that thought combined with the memory that he had a wound in his side were enough to make you pull back even further. “You should have a bath,” you said when he looked up at you with adoring but concerned eyes. He paused for a moment, frozen in place while he contemplated what you had said, and then he chuckled, the sound low in his throat.

“Are you saying I smell, melethel?”

“Yes. Come, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

“And if I would rather stay here?” His fingers had started lightly stroking your jaw, and with the way he was looking at you it was becoming harder and harder to leave his embrace. You managed to wrinkle your nose and step back, a strength you hadn’t known you possessed taking over and making you move.

“I’m not kissing you again until you have bathed, Elrond.” He sighed dramatically, retracting his arms and standing up, wincing slightly and favouring his non-injured side while you started transporting water from over the fire.

“Truly? You really would leave me here?”

“If it gets you over here faster, then I shall get in with you.” You had never seen the elf move so quickly before, pulling off his boots and drawing out towels for when the bath was finished with. He hesitated with his trousers, then decided to keep them on, glancing at you to see what you were doing. You were already watching him, making a decision of your own before starting to pull at the strings holding your robes together.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m keeping my underclothes on, but I shall likely sink right to the bottom if I keep these thick robes on.” He looked relieved, and you stifled a laugh as you headed for the dresser where your clothes were kept, pulling out a pair of fresh trousers. “Here, get changed first if you’re keeping trousers on; you’ll dirty the water immediately.”

He complied, heading behind the partition in the corner of the room and re-emerging a few moments later to find you already in the bath, eyes closed in contentment at the feel of the warm water on your skin. Elrond lifted your head, pushing you forward gently so that he could clamber in behind you and settle back against the tub. You heard him grunt when his wound his the water, and turned to see his face scrunched in pain. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright. Just don’t lean on my side.” He helped you turn in the tub so that you were sideways against him, his wound kept out of the danger of being pressed down upon.

You stayed in the bath until it got cold and your fingers wrinkled, having washed the dirt off of each other with one of the towels Elrond had brought over, and then when you got out you dried each other off and redressed in fresh clothes, hanging up the wet fabric and making for the bed, curling up next to each other, your head on his chest. Sleep came easily to you, Elrond’s body creating a warmth under you that made up for the dying fire in the cold room, and at some point your breathing matched his.

For now, you could be content in peace. Another battle would come, the war not yet won, and Sauron’s armies would be at your doors again soon. But not yet. They would need time to gather strength again, to marshal and be ready, and so you had time too before Elrond had to leave again, and time to breathe before you would be sat waiting, and waiting, and take in air before it was stolen from you when he kissed you goodbye.

#elrond peredhel #elrond x reader #elrond rings of power #rop elrond

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midnight-in-town · 2 years ago

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About Yor: she isn’t dense, but most likely indoctrinated by Garden

So I wanted to address this for a long while now, because I’ve seen one too many posts talking about Yor like she’s just an aloof assassin who doesn’t care about things outside her direct environment, which is why sometimes she says dense things.

I’m well aware that she’s a fan favorite so people don’t mean her harm, yet I think the whole story actually hints at way more than her being dense, especially considering her background and who she still works for.

In other words, since Yor was trained but also half raised by Garden’s leader, the Shopkeeper, it’s likely that, considering how they operate and what they’re about, they instilled in her a conditioned dependency since childhood or teenage years that would make her unable to learn things on her own without asking for their opinion, making it very hard for her to turn against them ever.

Want a striking example? Her encounter with Melinda Desmond.

Not only did she not know who Melinda was (but I mean, that at least could be understandable)...

...but she also didn’t know what a First Lady is.

Sure, it’s funny on first glance, but after thinking about it, what does it betray? That Garden probably made sure over years Yor would never get the slightest basic info and understanding on what politics of this country are all about. Because if their strong soldiers start to get opinions of their own, then they could start disagreeing with Garden and turning on them. So, “let’s prohibit people having free thinking, so that they can remain good little pawns” as we “fight for peace in our country”.

In fact, for Yor, until a short time ago (when she met Loid and Anya), all she did was thought and decided for her by Garden and, to this day, she still voluntarily asks them for their agreement when she opens up her close circle little by little: she asked them if it was okay to marry Loid and then she asked them if it was okay to befriend Melinda.

To be honest, that’s a scary ass thought process to envision, when Yor’s an independent working lady well into her 20s, but this shows how deep Garden’s indoctrination runs in Yor, since they got hold of her as a child/young teen.

Another striking example is the way she always describes her job, in an almost childish way. Her nickname “thorn princess” aside, I always found it interesting that Yor’s aware she’s an assassin but she isn’t morally anguished at all about killing people and never mentions or distinguishes any grey area in her missions. In fact...

... it’s all in black and white and she clearly thinks that the people she kills are all evildoers (which as we saw in the recent arc with the Red Circus isn’t always the case and begs the rhetorical question “why does Garden get to decide who’s evil?”), therefore “she’s not doing anything wrong”, which also pretty much betrays how she was pushed into it.

Long ago, Garden probably baited Yor with Yuri’s protection and told her that, since they’re “about peace”, Yor’s work would just help them to “fight against evil”. As a child, she wasn’t mentally fit to understand the deeper implications and then she was mentally conditioned to always do and think like Garden tells her to, which promotes this systematic childish description of her assassin’s job.

Finally, please take notice of the Shopkeeper’s reaction the first time she tries to argue about her work, in the ship arc:

Enough said, Garden’s awful. I’m sure there are more examples throughout the story, but I now want to talk about future character development.

After all, since the story obviously calls for Yor to ditch Garden, to protect what’s actually important to her (Yuri, Loid and Anya), we actually do see her changing little by little so far, thanks to her living with Loid and Anya. Her coworkers quickly mentioned that she’s more lively ever since she got married and the ship arc overall emphasizes that her family is starting to become more important to her than her job, so there is high hope for Yor. :D

Additionally, while she’s still far away from noticing that Garden mentally drove her into a corner, she now openly voices her concerns that “she’s not normal” but that she wants to understand why in order to learn how to change.

To be fair, fighting against indoctrination is tough and takes time so I’m very proud of her for slowly realizing that she ought to decide for herself from now on. :D

TL;DR Yor is not dense. She was indoctrinated as a child by Garden and can only (for now) see the world through the filters they taught her.

Ironically enough, the only character who knows about her real job and could, thus, notice that Yor isn’t being critical about Garden...... actually can’t because she’s a four year old who is too young to understand that Mama’s job is wrong. Well done, Endo-sensei!

#Spy x Family #yor forger #anya forger #loid forger #yuri briar #melinda desmond #garden #shopkeeper #sxf theory #my analysis

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lowkeyerror · 1 year ago

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By Your Side

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Notes: Set right after Endgame, has aspects of Wandavision, sort of domestic, A lot of comfort from Wanda, I think it's a lil sweet

Summary: Y/n was the youngest member of the Avengers before the blip, she had to do a lot of growing in those 5 years. Through that experience she learned that no one deserves to be alone during hard times, which is why she offers to house Wanda.

An: 2 post... look at me go

Masterlist

It was impossible for Y/n not to fall for Wanda. It was never the girl's intention. In fact, it never crossed her mind, that was until the pair were reunited after Thanos was defeated.

Y/n was a young adult when the blip happened. A member of the Avengers, the youngest official member (sorry Peter). She was in her early twenties, to the team she was just a kid.

Before the blip, she had resented them for that rhetoric, but when half her team was wiped from existence, she felt so small. She felt like a child thrown into the deep end of a pool.

The reality of her situation forced her to grow up. The next 5 years were hard for her. She found herself isolated from the former members of the team. Mostly because Y/n did not give up being a hero.

Partially because it was the only thing she knew how to do. The other part of it was tied to the fact that the world needed heroes, more now than ever.

When Scott Lang came about and somehow was able to convince the team to get back together. It was interesting, they had all changed a lot. However, Y/n had definitely changed the most.

The experience that she had previously lacked was now present. She no longer had any question about her skill or ability. Y/n had a level of maturity that they would have never guessed lived inside of her.

Y/n was a key piece in bringing everyone back. The victory was more bitter than sweet. The losses that were suffered were tremendous.

Everyone had lost a lot, but amongst those who lost the most, Wanda's name popped into Y/n's mind.

Y/n hadn't got the chance to talk to her until Tony's funeral. Y/n stood between Wanda and Clint.

Throughout the whole thing she had stood strong with her head up; When her friends first disappeared, when she lost Nat, and when she lost Tony, but here at the funeral she felt like a child once again.

Y/n's fists were balled at her sides, and she chewed viciously on her bottom lip in hopes of not sobbing.

" You ok?" Wanda spares the girl a glance.

She doesn't speak, instead she closes her eyes and nods.

Wanda doesn't take her answer at face value, yet, she doesn't verbally challenge Y/n. Instead, she forces her hand into Y/n's balled up fists. The redhead interlocks their fingers and gently rubs Y/n's hand. The feeling makes the sob escape the girl's lips.

" Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm alright, it's just-"

Wanda shakes her head," You don't have to do that with me."

" Do what?"

Wanda turns her full attention towards Y/n," I know things haven't been easy the last 5 years, especially for you. You had to grow up before you were ready to. You've done an amazing job. But when you're with me, you don't have to be that invincible hero, you can just be Y/n."

Y/n had tears streaming down her face before Wanda finished speaking. She let her body shake as she began to let go of everything that happened to her. Wanda pulled her away to a more secluded area. She held the girl as she cried like a baby.

Y/n was taller than Wanda, so she stood awkwardly, burying her head in the red head's shoulder. Wanda's hand gently stroked the back of the girl's head.

She could sense that Y/n had been through a lot, but she wanted to know. Wanda knew pain, she was feeling it too, but the way Y/n cried made her put her hurt aside for a moment.

" I want to know what happened to you," Wanda whispers as she holds Y/n.

The hero nods against Wanda's shoulder, seemingly knowing what she's asking. When Wanda takes a peek into Y/n's mind, she feels everything the girl felt for the last 5 years.

The guilt, the uncertainty, the loneliness, the pressure, the sadness, and the pain. She felt it all, and it was astounding to her. Y/n had such a deep connection with her own feelings, it felt like the girl could drown in them.

" I've got you," she holds the girl a little tighter after digging through her memories.

Once Y/n doesn't feel like she can cry anymore, she stands up straight, and viciously wipes at her tears.

" What are- where are you going after this?"

" I'm not really sure, but-"

Y/n cuts her off," Come stay with me."

Wanda let out a sigh, "But I want to see Vision, is what I was saying."

Y/n nods," I think I can help with that."

Once the funeral was over, Y/n wasted no time driving Wanda to S.W.O.R.D headquarters. The hero was quite certain the man's body was in that building.

Wanda was anxious, it was easy to tell. Y/n understood to some extent for those who were blipped it was almost like no time passed. So to a certain extent, the last thing Wanda felt before her return was the heartbreaking loss of her other half.

When the pair arrived, Wanda basically charged in the building. She walked up to the front desk and demanded to see Vision. The man at the desk repeated something about her not having clearance, just a bunch of bullshit really.

" If you don't let her see him, I will start calling in favors from Pepper. Which is my way of saying I will forcibly make you return him, as he is technically an intellectual property that is patented by Tony Stark."

Before he could respond, his radio went off. The security looked uncertain, but gave them directions, and told them to go through the door.

Wanda didn't waste any time opening the sliding door with her powers and strutting down the hall. Y/n trailed behind her, not wishing to get in her way.

Wanda was annoyed to open the door and find the director of S.W.O.R.D, rather than Vision. He was talking, mostly to her, but she was hardly listening.

That was until he pulled back the curtain in the room. Y/n knew what it was as soon as she laid eyes on it. Her eyes widened in horror.

The horror was soon turned to anger, as he then accused Wanda of trying to bring Vision back to life.

" What the fuck is your problem?" Y/n could help herself.

" Hey, I'm just covering my bases here. It's my job and unfortunately, I cannot allow you to take $3 billion worth of vibranium just to put it in the ground. So the best I can do is to let you say goodbye to him here."

Y/n sees the sadness and desperation permeating off of Wanda, as her finger touch the glass that separate her from the parts of Vision," He's all I have."

" That's just it, Wanda. He isn't yours."

Y/n couldn't believe he would say something like that. It was taking everything in her power not to snatch him up and threaten him.

Wanda broke the glass and chaos ensued. The director stayed up in the office while Y/n jumped down to be next to Wanda. Her eyes moved around to the men with guns pointed solely on the red head.

" Tell them to put the guns down," Y/n made no room for bargaining in her tone.

The director complied, and the men lowered their weapons as Wanda approached Vision.

Her hand stretched out over his head. The sight broke Y/n's heart, but what completely shattered it was what Wanda said," I can't feel you."

Wanda walked away calmly after that. Y/n followed behind her. They left the building in silence.

Y/n got in the driver's seat with a heavy sigh. She wanted to find something to say to the redhead, but she knew didn't have the right words. No matter what said Vision wasn't coming back and Wanda wouldn't be hurting any less.

The woman in the passenger seat looked empty. The only thing Y/n could think to do was offer the woman her hand to hold.

Y/n kept her eyes on the road as Wanda stared at her hand. Eventually, Wanda's hand gently intertwined with Y/n's. The driver gave the hand a light squeeze as she took off in the direction of her home.

The drive was long and silent. Y/n didn't mind, she was drained not only from the day, but from the last 5 years of her life. It finally felt like that chapter had come to an end.

The ending wasn't perfect, it wasn't even necessarily happy, it was just over. Now she would have to somehow continue to move forward without really knowing what that means or what it looks like.

When the pair finally arrived at Y/n's, the driver was exhausted. Are slowly climbed out of the car with Wanda trailing behind her.

" I'll give you a proper tour tomorrow, if that's alright. For now all you really need to know is that, that's the bathroom, that's my room, and yours is right across. I'll get you some towels and pj's right now."

She mumbled a quiet 'thank you' and Y/n left her standing in the living room. Wanda noted that Y/n's house had a comfortable aura around it. It felt lived in and cozy.

She had pictures littering the wall, most of them featured the Avengers. It's sweet, and for a moment it made the woman sad. To think that every day Y/n would come home and see the pictures of the people she loved. Half of them wiped from existence and the other half wanting nothing to do with her.

It had to be lonely for the young hero. When Y/n re-emerged from her room with the stuff, Wanda took it graciously.

" Well I'm probably just going to go to bed, but um help yourself to literally anything you want. And don't hesitate to come get me if you need me, ok?"

" Thank you, for everything Y/n," Wanda gave the woman a sad smile.

Y/n shook her head," It's nothing really."

Wanda wanted to argue, but she didn't have the energy. She let the young woman retire to her bedroom, opting to shower and go get some rest as well.

As time moved forward, Y/n found herself struggling. Now that the missing people had returned from the blip, she found it hard to find a place to fit in.

While there was a lack of heroes in the last 5 years, a good chunk had returned to hero work the moment they were brought back. Meaning that Y/n wasn't needed as much as she was before.

This coupled with the reality that most of the people she worked with had opted to retire from crime fighting or had tragically passed on. The reality of it all was hard for her.

It seemed like 5 years ago she had to rapidly adapt to a situation she wasn't ready for, and now 5 years later the same thing was happening again.

The only thing that was different was that this time she wasn't alone. Wanda was in her corner.

At first, Y/n hated relying on Wanda. The woman had been through enough. Y/n thought that unloading her baggage onto the woman was unfair. So she tried to pretend that she was fine, that none of this bothered her in the slightest.

However, it didn't really work. Wanda had told Y/n, on a number of occasions, that her thoughts were loud. This made Y/n try to clear them before she would come home, but then Wanda counter with her mind was empty.

" Just talk to me, Y/n."

Y/n shook her head," It's nothing."

Wanda sighed," It's not nothing if it's bothering you this much."

" You have enough to think about without me dumping all my emotions on you," Y/n raised her voice.

" I would have one less thing to worry about if you would just tell me how you're feeling, so I didn't have to keep guessing."

Y/n couldn't control her outburst," Fine. I don't understand why I can't find any work. I feel so underappreciated by my peers and the citizens. For 5 years, I was one of the few ones coming to the rescue for any of these people. I was a key part in bringing these people back to their families. I pushed aside my feelings and my pain to be a hero, and as soon as I've done all of the fixing it seems like they don't need me anymore. Like I was just a substitute. I gave up so much, and I'm still willing to give more, but now that there's no Iron Man, no Black Widow, no Captain America, and no Avengers, I'm just an afterthought. And-"

Y/n could've kept going if she didn't just break down sobbing. She could've gone on forever. Wanda was quick to wrap her arms around the girl.

" Why do I still feel like I'm not good enough?"

The woman had cried for what seemed like an eternity. Wanda held her, stroking her back soothingly. Trying to provide Y/n all the comfort she could give.

The woman ended up crying herself to sleep in Wanda's arms. Wanda wiped at Y/n's tear stained cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

She ended up laying the girl down in the bed. She stared at her former teammate for a long while.

Y/n had given up so much of herself to the hero world. She deserved better than this.

" You are good enough, detka," is the last thing Wanda says before leaving the bedroom.

While the woman sleeps, Wanda makes dinner for the two of them. As she cooked, every thought that crossed her mind revolved around Y/n. She didn't know which course of action to take to help the girl. She had to do something to get the girl out of this hole.

When dinner was nearly finished, she went to try to wake the hero up. She was surprised to see Y/n awake with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

She almost looked the same as when Wanda first met her. Except now there was more definition to her muscles, a straighter posture to her back, and a somber presence surrounding her.

Wanda took a seat next to her," A lot of people have this perception that being a hero is the one of the greatest things anyone can be. But I've always viewed it as the greatest sacrifice. There's so much of yourself that can be lost while trying to save others, especially when you're working alone. There's this weight on your shoulders, it's like you're carrying the world-"

" But you feel like you're the only one who knows that," Y/n's head rested in her hands.

" Something that nobody tells you until it's too late, is that you don't have to do this. You can give it up whenever you want, there's no one forcing you to pursue this."

Y/n looked at Wanda with glossy eyes," What else would I do, Wanda? This life is all I've known. I've never wanted to be anything, but this. I still want this, I just-"

" Can't do it on your own."

" I don't think I can anymore," Y/n began to tear up once more.

Wanda moved closer to Y/n. " No more tears, detka," Wanda wiped at the fallen streaks.

" Because you don't have to do it alone ever again. You have me, and I'm not going anywhere, alright. I can make some calls, and maybe we can get a team together."

Y/n looked at Wanda in disbelief," You'd do that for me?"

" Why are you always so surprised that there's someone looking out for you?" It was meant to be a joke on Wanda's part, but Y/n didn't see it that way.

" Because for a long time there wasn't."

Wanda was familiar with the look in Y/n's eyes. She'd seen it before somewhere. The way Y/n looked at her made her heart rate increase.

" Well, now and for the foreseeable future, you'll always have someone in your corner."

For a moment, there's no sound. The two just stare at each other. They both seem acutely aware of how close they are. Wanda's hand is a centimeter away from resting on top of Y/n's.

Unbeknownst to either of them, they are leaning into each other. They get closer and closer, and when they are too close, the oven goes off.

They jump apart and Wanda's hand moves to her lap, before she stands entirely," That would be dinner."

Y/n nods rapidly," I'm going to change into something more comfortable, and I'll be there in a minute."

Wanda hurriedly exited the room. Her eyebrows furrowed as she registered the pit at the bottom of her stomach. It was too soon for this in her head. She still wasn't completely over losing the love of her life. Yet she had these complicated feelings surfacing for Y/n.

The girl who had saved her life. Who brought her into her home with no questions asked or any favors needed. The girl who had been the strongest member of The Avengers. The one who never gave up on her cause.

Wanda wasn't ready, but her feelings didn't seem to care about that.

Y/n was in her room with similar thoughts swarming in her head. She had finally figured it out once she got a good look at the former hero. Y/n was falling in love, and she hadn't even noticed. Wanda brought comfort to her in situations that she never knew warranted such care.

There was nothing she could do about it. Though she wanted to stop herself from having romantic feelings towards Wanda, she was already in too deep.

" Fuck," she muttered, as she finally got out the bed and made her way to the kitchen.

Dinner between the two was uncharacteristically silent. Once they were done, they parted ways.

Y/n couldn't go back to sleep after dinner. She blamed it on the nap, but that wasn't it. She was thinking about Wanda; about how close they were to kissing.

She wondered what it would've felt like. If Wanda's lips were as soft as they looked. If they tasted sweet like her chapstick. Would things have escalated if they did kiss? Did wanting to kiss Wanda make her a bad friend?

It was pointless to stay in bed. Y/n decided she was going back to the kitchen for a drink. However, as she opened her bedroom door, Wanda was standing outside of it.

She stared at Y/n, an uncertain twinkle in her eyes. A nervous jitter about her body.

" Your thoughts are loud tonight."

The color drains from Y/n's face almost instantly, and she wishes that she could close the door more now than ever.

" Oh," was all the hero could muster up. Her eyes were trained on the floor, scared to look at Wanda

" I am so scared that if I kiss you, the universal will rip you away from me."

That causes Y/n to meet the redhead's eyes," Wanda-"

" Y/n, the things that I love- the people that I love, all end up being taken away from me. And I don't know if I can handle that happening again."

Y/n searches for the right words, but she doesn't know if she has them," I'm scared too. I'm scared that if I kiss you, it won't mean anything. I'm scared that I can't heal your broken heart. I'm scared that I wouldn't ever be enough for you because I'm not him."

The tone is somber as they stare at each other. Both having this aching want for each other. Both of them, scared of falling into their desires.

" You aren't Vision." She took a small pause. " But I would never ask you to be him. Y/n, you've already helped me heal so much and you don't even know it. You are more than for me. In fact, I think it might even be too good for me. If we kissed, it would mean everything to me."

Y/n wanted to say something. She wanted to speak from the heart, but she was coming up empty. The only thing she could think to do was press her lips to Wanda's.

The redhead's arms locked around Y/n's neck. While the hero's hands rested lightly on the dips of Wanda's hips.

For Y/n it was like she was breathing for the first time; effortless. For Wanda, it was like being brought back to life.

Wanda's lips were soft, and they were sweet like her chapstick, just like Y/n thought they would be.

" I could do that forever," Y/n chuckles against Wanda's lips.

The red shoves the hero's shoulder lightly," You're cheesy."

" I think you meant to say charming."

Wanda pecks Y/n's lips again," No, I definitely meant cheesy."

Y/n squeezes Wanda's hips," Lay with me?"

" I'd love nothing more."

The future for the pair looked dark and uncertain at one point. They each had lost so much that they were scared to claim anything as special ever again. Ultimately, they had nothing to worry about. As they had each other as constant beacons of light in their futures.

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #avengers

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tsukimefuku · 9 months ago

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Kindness and sunflowers

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Tags: f!reader, soft/implied Higuruma x reader, drinking, fluff, hurt, and comfort.

WC: 1.4k

"Hey, I think he's not doing very well." You said to the other sorcerers, while you were all sitting at the bar. Higuruma had his face plastered on the counter, and one of his hands covered a beer mug. He was mumbling unintelligibly.

This was his first time out of Jujutsu High's headquarters ever since they detained him. After saving your ass when you were on a mission, Higuruma — a curse user that was being hunted by Jujutsu High — was granted mercy under some conditions. If he proved himself as a worthy jujutsu sorcerer in their service, his suspended execution would be extinguished. You asked Gojo, as a favor from your friend, to try saving the guy (after all, he saved you first). Gojo agreed, but warned you'd be responsible for accompanying him in this "parole" period. Deal, you answered, and here you all were a month later.

The guy was smart (and a smart mouth), even with his kind of nihilistic demeanor sometimes. Working with him was very different from working with Nanami the months prior. Higuruma was an absolute beast in the field, and took many more risks than your previous mission partner. On one occasion, you had to take the poisonous hit from a curse to protect him, simply because he made no effort to dodge. You knew full well you could recover using your own RCT, but man, it was a nasty recovery period. He apologized at the time for his irresponsibility, and his empty sardonic facade seemed to get a little chipped away since then. At least for you.

"He seems fine to me." Nanami sipped on his own drink nonchalantly, as he raised one eyebrow while looking at the man. His contempt was hidden under the perfect monotone he had to his voice — Nanami was still furious at Higuruma due to the poisoning debacle that left you bedridden for an entire week.

You looked at him, somewhat irritated.

"Really? Does he, Nanami?" You asked rhetorically, pointing dramatically to face-plastered-on-the-counter Higuruma.

He sighed, putting his drink glass back on the counter. "I apologize, that was uncalled-for." Nanami said. "Yes, he should be taken somewhere else to sober up and sleep properly."

"Hey, lawyer man." Shoko poked Higuruma's arm, and he barely moved. "Yeah, he's out."

"This is it, I'm getting him home." You sighed. "I mean, now he's allowed to go out the headquarters, he might go home, right?"

Gojo shrugged, laughing, as he took many pictures of passed out Higuruma on his phone from different angles. "I didn't ask. They just said he could leave headquarters."

"You didn't ask?" You said, stunned.

He put his phone away in his pocket, clearly amused. "Well, when this happened to one of my students, he wasn't bound to be in headquarters all the time. So I think it's safe to say the man is free to go, as long as he comes back."

You facepalmed. Getting money from your wallet, you gave your and Higuruma's part to Gojo, the only person sober in the whole entourage. "Here, this should cover for us. I'm calling a cab."

He smiled as he said good luck.

***

After fumbling through Higuruma's wallet and questioning him relentlessly, piecing together everything the drunk man could tell, you finally got to drag him to his apartment, where he used to live when he was still a lawyer. There was just one thing you hadn't accounted for — neither of you had the key. You were cursing yourself and him under your breath as you conjured up a tiny grenade with your innate technique, just strong enough to bust open his door without causing collateral damage. He was leaning against the wall, sitting on the ground, and seemed to be snoring. May the neighbors not hear this. It was late enough to be almost early.

The controlled explosion was loud enough to startle him awake, but didn't seem to attract any attention from the other apartments. You threw Higuruma's arm over your shoulders and lifted him up, while you opened the door and carried him inside. Miraculously, when you flipped the lights on, it actually worked. You put him on the couch as you used one of the chairs around the place to hold the door closed.

"You're kind, did you know that?" Higuruma said, while he was a tad bit more sober now than when you both left the bar. He threw himself over the couch, extending his arms on the cushions and leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. "The world is not a great place for kind people."

"You don't say." You replied, smiling, while you looked around the apartment. Somehow, it was exactly what you expected his place to look like. A little messy, with lots of books lying around the house, and even if the place had no big decor or anything like that, it still felt warm. You saw a sunflower withered by the window, and you noticed he looked at it at the same time, grunting in complaint.

Higuruma leaned forward to remove his shoes, but was having a hard time pulling his shoestrings. You sighed as you said, "here, let me help you." You got on your knees and undid both of his shoes, taking them off.

Higuruma took you by surprise, as he directed his hands to hold your face delicately and lift your gaze. He looked at you, your faces inches apart, as you could still smell the beer from him. His eyes were soft, something you hadn't seen yet. You felt your heart skip a beat as he was holding you like that. "Thank you."

You gulped and blinked a few times, as you removed his hands from your face and got up. "It's just shoes." You turned to walk away into the kitchen and see if you could grab him a glass of water, but he held your hand, still seated on the couch, looking down.

"No. I mean... Thank you." Higuruma said softly. "Thank you for defending me." He sighed deeply. "It's usually the other way around."

"Oh." You turned to look at him. A soft smile took over your face. "You saved me that day. I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't at least try to return the favor."

He pulled you and had you landing beside him on the sofa. It startled you, as you felt your face warm and blushing. He was still holding your hand, making circles with his thumb over your hand's back, and spoke, nearly whispering, "You're too kind." He closed his eyes, and for your surprise, he leaned over and rested his face on your shoulder in a cat-like demeanor. Your body quivered as you felt his slow breath pressed against your skin, and you both stayed completely still for a while.

"Higuruma?" You asked, hearing in response a soft snore. Oh, he's out. Sliding him very carefully out of your shoulder and onto the couch, you got up. Time to go.

After taking a last look at the withered sunflower that was beside his window you sighed, looking at your wristwatch and feeling you could still wait a few hours. There was something you to do first.

***

Higuruma's head made him a thousand promises of regret as he tried to remember how exactly he got home. The sun was high outside, and it was probably noon already. After getting completely hammered at the bar, he had only a few flashbacks. Getting poked, an insistent camera flash on his face, everyone's voices, his sunflower dead by the window.

You.

He sat up on the couch hastily, feeling instantly dizzy as he put his hands on his head. "Where is she?" He looked around, and the apartment seemed empty. I hope I didn't make a complete fool out of myself yesterday, Higuruma thought to himself, as he got up, careful not to get the drunken vertigo.

Higuruma remembered the sunflower again, and grunted, displeased. He had bought it in an attempt to decorate his apartment, at least a little, and make it feel more like a home. The former lawyer found the idea of him taking care of a sunflower kind of funny and surely ironic. After everything that had happened, he was away from his apartment for nearly two months by this point. "Good thing I never had any food in here." He said to himself, walking towards the window.

He stopped as he saw a brand-new sunflower in a vase, right where the other one previously was. Higuruma smiled, amused with himself, and traced his messy hair with his fingers, wondering how he would thank you for that.

"Yeah. Too kind."

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you

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kyo-kris · 7 months ago

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Shigaraki Tomura x FTM Reader HEADCANONS

❥ Telling him that you're trans

Fluffy Headcanons.

Pronouns for reader: he/him

♡ You and him were having a chemistry, even if both never would dare to talk about this, and no one from L.o.V (except for Toga. Im sure she would shipp you and Tomura)

♡ Well, but when you noticed that you were liking him, you got nervous. So. Fucking. Nervous. You didn't know that they had a trans member in L.o.V and you were afraid of being just rejected or humiliated because of your gender.

♡ Well, you decided one night to open up to Twice about your gender, you were fucking SHAKING. Ending up discovering the trans member and that nobody gives a damn for what you identify yourself, as long as you are strong and help them, you will be respected.

➥ (If you don't like Twice, just imagine another member or you discovering by yourself that information) (pls who doesn't like him...)

♡ This information just relaxed you so much, and you just felt safe to talk about it to Shigaraki. But now how would you do it was the problem. He was always busy with his plans.

♡ But one day, you found your chance. Only him in living room, the others were outside doing different things. Doesn't matters. You took the advantage and courage (of course the courage of a few months thinking about this).

♡ You wasn't totally surprise because you knew about the member, but you hadn't seem any expression so genuinely like this. People tries to support or show that they support you, or they treat you differently (most time in a bad way). But this pookie? Nah. He was just "ok, and?"

♡ "W-what do you mean with 'ok, and?', you already knew it??" you asked with wide eyes, but at the same time you were so greatful for him not turn this a headache.

♡ "No? I mean, good for you, I'll keep calling you the same way as I always did." He said, same expression as if you just told him that you were going to sleep or something like that.

♡ "Thanks. I always feel like if I don't tell, the person will be mad or feel trapped. It happens more than I wish"

♡ "Trapped? What the fuck. Why would I?" You didn't know if was a rhetorical question or you had to answer it, but you just let a light laugh come out.

♡ "Is that all the reason you wanted to tell me you are trans?" He seemed to notice your nervous face.

♡ "Do you... Do you wanna go out with me sometime?" You felt your cheek burning like a fire "y-you don't have to accept, I was just wondering maybe we.. Uhm could-"

♡ "Yes" He coldly (or softly. You were too nervous to notice) said, turning his head away from your look.

♡ "What?" You heard it right?

♡ "Don't make me repeat myself" You thought maybe he was annoyed or impatient, but it wasn't, he was blushing as hell. And when you noticed, you made your way to tease

♡ "Whoa you're so red. Are you running a fever?" You tried your best to hold back your laugh

♡ "Im changing my mind!" His voice was slightly shaking, and you also noticed that, but decided to keep to yourself. It was just so cute seeing him like this!

♥︎ You could see a short smile on his face. Maybe you didn't need to be nervous at all. Everything went right.

Notes from Kyo ♡: Hello again! Well, my "I wanna feel safe and loved" is here, isn't? Two fluffy posts and the same character XD. Now you can suggest anything on my blog, can be anonymous too, feel free.

Here a list about what I do and what I don't:

#ftm reader #soft #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #ftm safe #transgender #shigaraki tomura x ftm reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #sfw #league of villains

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jymwahuwu · 25 days ago

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Official attitudes are a problem. Players who like male characters (including female players, queer players, some male players, etc.) question the official attitude of favoring the incels of the CN community…🥹

The number of female characters and male characters in Genshin and HSR is obvious to everyone. Currently, there are 19 medium male characters, 12 tall male characters, 30 medium female characters, 18 tall female characters, and 9 short female characters in Genshin. In total, there are 31 male characters & 57 female characters. I think this already explains some problems. In the Fontaine version, the official released 8 new female 5 star characters without interruption.

After the release of Natlan's trailer, it was officially shown 7 female characters & 3 male characters. Even though there are few male characters, some players are still looking forward to it, and I am one of them. With a leaker persuading people that officials are planning to introduce more female characters and remove the number of male characters to satisfy their preference for female characters. The leaker persuades people to stop giving money to the game. This concern permeates the CN community. Players who like male characters have expressed concern and anger.

What sparked the outrage was a long-standing community dispute. The CN community is quite chaotic. During the Sumeru version, more male characters were officially released than female characters. Some extreme incels began to insult male character players, calling them "little fairies" (taunting women for thinking they are superior). There is also "women can eat together, which has led to this situation" (in some backward areas of China, it is customary for women to hide in the kitchen to eat and not eat with men. But now women in most areas do not have to do this, and they are more free. They extended to the fact that female players want the same rights as male players after they have financial strength) and so on.

They hate it when male characters show their legs and muscles and become the subject of sexual gazes, just like they do with female characters. They point out that genshin creates more "little boys", although that's just medium male characters. At the same time genshin created female child characters who were little girls. They complain that genshin is becoming a game for gay men and women. This obscene rhetoric flooded the community.

Incels attacks and anger spread to female employees at Hoyo. They believed that Emilie was a character designed by a female employee to represent herself, and called her an "old maid". They hated Emilie, and even the Fontaine versions of female characters were considered too strong and unsuitable as wives. Some People expressed positive sentiments about Emilie, but they also said it was based on the black fabric covering her breasts, which was slightly visible and looked good.

Game officials have remained silent on this. They ignored it, which was their usual attitude. But subsequent versions of the game included more content catering to heterosexual male players. For example, Nilou, who was not very familiar with the travelers in the plot. She embraced the travelers and allowed them to rest on her lap. This is a very classic anime plot. Sleeping on female knees. There are 8 new female characters officially arranged. In the version of the new country, all the characters who came to say goodbye to the players were female characters, not even Lyney, who claimed to treat the players as family. They assigned Kinich 5 stars, but did not give him more plot. Instead, all female characters and player adventure together in version 5.0. Ororon has been highlighted in leaks as being 4 star.

Incels players are calling for "we skip every time a male character is released". However, some male character players maintain a tolerant attitude, and often post "I am a female player, and I don't think there is a problem…", "I am a female player, I like more female characters", "Female characters expose their skin more is normal, such as breasts and butt. It looks good this way," and "Don't make a fuss about it." This has caused male character players in the CN community to be angry with such remarks. They believe it's this tolerance, along with their attacks on people who make demands, that lead gaming officials to ignore the needs of an entire group of people. Male character players also need to be cautious about what they say, as expressing dissatisfaction with the placement of fictional female characters can be attacked as misogynistic.

I try not to let myself read communities, but I get really bored at work sometimes so I read them. And I was distressed and angry. I felt like I was in the game as a "second gender". I don't expect the officials to get better and listen to opinions, and for the prospects, all I can say is that neither game costs me any money.

I don't want to leave and cherish my characters, they deserve better.

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shanksbaby · 1 month ago

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Aokiji-Kuzan- Betrayal (2)

pt 1 - after i watched the trailer of the new episode i got the motivation

after Kuzan, your old mentor, has appeared again from the hole that Garp had created, you stop and look at him motionless, noticing the scratches and traces of dirt on his clothes…The long hat mustv lost him in the hole…Despite how he looks, you still find him handsome…Immediately, however, you scold yourself for thinking about this during a rescue mission.

but the truth is that you can't see him as an enemy -- not after all those moments together, after he helped you, after all those moments that made you fall in love with him. His deep voice, however, interrupts these spiraling thoughts of yours.

“Y\N. You're here, too, I see,” he says in a detached voice, and you have to admit that you feel a pang in your chest; you're not used to this tone of his; as much as Kuzan was always an aloof type he always had that warm tone when he spoke to his subordinates, when he spoke to you.

“Kuzan-san please come back to us…Come back to the Navy, this is not your post,” you repeat yourself again trying to ignore his detached tone.

Blackbeard's Pirates meanwhile surround you, grins on their faces and swords and other weapons in their hands ready to pounce on you, and probably do more than just kill you.

“As I was telling Garp-san, I'm afraid I can't do that” he replies and then slowly approaches you ‘You're in my way’ and without giving you time to respond he throws ice crystals at you, about a dozen or so.

you try to dodge them and succeed fortunately, thanks to the speed of your sprint, however soon after you get a strong kick to the abdomen that literally sends you flying twenty meters from where the battle between the marines and the pirates is taking place.

in spite of the pain caused by the kick you get up though with difficulty, and you look up resting your gaze on the figure of your old mentor who looks at you sternly “This is not a playground, you shouldn't stay here…You are too weak”

that comment pissed you off: too weak? you trained day and night with koby and the others…and now he tells you that you are too weak? As if he could say that since he wasn't there. "I can assure you, I've improved" you say and then, thanks to your devil fruit that gives you the powers of air, you launch a wave of strong wind that hits him directly, sending him a few meters forward. You create a ball of concentrated wind and throw it at him, but he manages to avoid it.

This time he throws an ice sphere at you, just like Garp, trying to freeze you, but you avoid it and try to distance yourself because you know Kuzan's strength, you know that he has a terrifying physical strength, and you know that you would lose in a 1vs1 fight

you throw waves of wind at him: some manage to hit him, but Kuzan seems to only get a few scratches and dives at you. You try to quickly move away using your devil fruit power, managing to create distance, and in the meantime try to hit him.

but this turns out to be useless: suddenly he reaches you, first hitting you with a punch on the back of the neck, sending you flying for a few hundred meters.

"As I told you, you're too weak Y\N…You never had any hope, neither you nor the others here" he says approaching you calmly, his gaze never leaving your painful face "Why did you come?" he asks rhetorically

"Because I wanted to save Koby-kun and because…" you mutter, struggling to get up, "because I wanted to see you, I wanted you to return to the Navy. We miss you, Kuzan-san. You don't belong with people like Teach," you say with determination: after all, he was the most beloved of the admirals, all the soldiers love him.

"And what makes you think you know me? Are you so arrogant? You were just my subordinate"

another pang to the chest but you continue anyway, ignoring Kuzan's rhetorical questions "Come to the Sword, we can modify the marines from the inside, with you in the ranks more marines will join".

your old mentor sighs, and shakes his head, moving even closer "Oh, Y\N. you are too naive" and now that you see him close you can notice in his eyes a veil of sadness and regret, as if what he was about to do saddens him, you don't understand what until you feel his arms tighten around you and his voice murmur an I'm sorry.

and so in less than a few seconds you are frozen, not having had the time to confess your feelings for him..A wave of regret floods you too.

taglist: @stellasloth @peterdabestasseater

#one piece admirals #one piece #aokiji #kuzan #one piece scenarios #one piece admiral scenarios #aokiji x reader #one piece marines #sfw #one piece imagines #one piece fandom #the admirals #op admirals #aokiji kuzan #kuzan x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #kuzan one piece #aokiji one piece

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hongluboobs · 2 months ago

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(sending myself an ask I got on Retrospring a while back because I was able to get a really interesting answer with help from a friend and I think more people need to be aware of this stuff. the original asker was anonymous and this question was sparked because I was compiling Hong Lu's lines for something and noticed just how many tildes and ellipsis he uses... and that it was making its way into my own typing patterns lmao)

about the hong lu ellipsis/tilde thing: i remember hearing an offhand comment from a kr speaker that hong lu's speech quirk is talking girlishly, and while i am not an expert in korean by any means, i've read that women tend to speak softer and more passively, drag out their last syllables (probably the reason for all the tildes), and end their statements with rhetorical question tags more often, among other things. it's unfortunately generally theorized this is a result of misogyny in korean culture. i wish i could say more but i really don't know korean and i don't how it compares to like, everyone else in the cast

(Original post can be found here )

This was interesting to me and i’m lucky enough to know someone who natively speaks korean and plays limbus in kr so i asked him about it! All credit to Ciel @/10seisan for this incoming text wall :)

Here’s what he had to say:

I, too, read that Hong Lu’s tone and speech patterns as being more feminine. Specifically, I would describe his tone as sounding like a mixture of customer service and feminine speech, if that makes sense. His vocal inflexions are more noticeable and they tend to go upwards in pitch, which is associated with feminine speech patterns. I would say that what the asker sent about how women tend to speak here is accurate, and I think that misogyny plays a large role in it as well. As an example, the passive speaking, we have the word 돌려서 말하다, which means “to indirectly speak about a topic” or “beat around the bushes”. This is somewhat expected for people of all genders in formal situations to be polite, but women tend to do it more often and in less formal situations as well due to societal pressure to not seem “aggressive” by coming across “too strong”. Tangents aside, Hong Lu’s tildes in the text corresponds to the voice lines where he drags out syllables, speaks more softly, and/or has a particularly noticeable rise in inflexion at the end of a sentence, so they certainly are indicative of his feminine mannerisms in speech. As for the ellipses, this depends more on the context, since they can be used simply to indicate pauses, but I wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of them coincided with something specific to his speech mannerisms as well. As for how he compares to the other sinners, I would say that, in some ways, his speech sounds similar to Rodya’s, actually—more so than the other sinners. Especially when it comes to the (canonically) male sinners, his speech is not at all similar to any of them. Yi Sang may be the closest if I were required to choose—solely due to his voice being on the softer side—but even then, Yi Sang has very little inflexion and typically ends his sentences with a fall in pitch, unlike Hong Lu

(Ciel’s thoughts end here)

This is all really interesting to me because as an english speaker (and as a person who tends to tune out vocal performance in general, esp if it’s foreign) i can only catch some of it. The delivery on Hong Lu’s lines make sense, especially when taking his background from his source book into account. (whether you want to purely read this as overly formal speech bc of the whole “family is like a cohort of kin looking for a chance to stab you in the back” thing or you want to read gender in it is up to you)

The fact it’s most similar to Rodya’s speech patterns is interesting too… I notice this in the english text as well (i’ve seen people mistake abnormality log text written by Hong Lu for Rodya and vice versa on numerous occasions) Rodya plays up her feminity a lot as a mask so it makes a lot of sense that it’s the closest to Hong Lu’s but still. very interesting. I’m a huge fan of their dynamic in general but that’s a tangent for a different ask, it’ll just be interesting to see if/what can make Hong Lu drop those speaking patterns…

I could yap a bit more on this but i think i’m just gonna leave it be for now because Ciel did a really good job at explaining it all :)

#hong lu #limbus company #analysis #pachiposting #asks #this is really interesting to me so I feel like i should post it here bc tumblr has more of my analysis stuff :)#already elaborated on all of my thoughts within the post i just feel like everyone should be aware of it

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houseofbrat · 7 days ago

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In August of this year, Current Affairs editor-at-large Yasmin Nair wrote a blog post with a confident title: “Kamala Harris Will Lose.” Nair warned that Harris was already repeating Hillary Clinton’s mistakes from 2016, such as running more on personal narrative and empty rhetoric than on a clear vision for how to transform the lives of struggling Americans. She warned that Democratic leaders were taking their base for granted by contemptuously refusing to accommodate any of the demands of the “Uncommitted” movement over the war in Gaza. Nair’s analysis looks remarkably prescient now that Harris has, in fact, lost.

Other writers made similar arguments here in the magazine. I argued, for instance, that Kamala Harris was worryingly focused on vibes and the parasocial aspect of politics, rather than on giving people a clear understanding of what exactly a Harris presidency would do for them. Harris made some very obvious blunders that revealed her to be a poor politician, such as her failure to come up with an answer when she was asked a (very obvious) question, namely how she would have governed differently than the unpopular incumbent, Joe Biden. Harris missed obvious opportunities to court voters, such as missing an opportunity to appear on the most popular podcast in the world, The Joe Rogan Experience. Rogan ultimately endorsed Trump, but his politics are malleable, and I very much suspected that a strong performance by Harris on the podcast could have won him over or at least kept him from publicly siding with Trump.

My colleague Alex Skopic and I warned in August that Harris was making a mistake by abandoning progressive policies like a jobs guarantee and Medicare For All. This is not just because we think these are good policies that will help people’s economic situations at a time when they see living costs as a hugely important issue. And it’s not just because the policies are popular. It’s also because ditching the policies made Harris look opportunistic and dishonest. It was clear she abandoned them because she holds the (deeply mistaken, in my view) position that progressive policies are destined to alienate centrist voters and hurt you electorally.

#twitter #magazines #USA #politics #critique #election 2024 #kamala harris #democratic party #my gif

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karkkidoeswriting · 9 days ago

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BEAR CASTLE CYCLE

Valeri Cor Mantgamia

Eventually he spoke. "To be honest, I have hard time imagining you afraid." Valeri made a dry chuckle. When was he not afraid? When was he not frozen in fear by the everything and everyone around him? Always looking over his shoulder. Always dreading every word he spoke. There was an easy answer to his own rhetoric question. In the middle of a battle the terror melted. He was still afraid, but it was different. His mind went blank and his body just moved. There was no doubt. It didn't make much sense, to fear death the least, when it was the closest. There is no fear in present.

Valeri is the second youngest child of the Duke of Cabalusia. When the Bear Castle was conquered and the Mantgamias were defeated in the civil war, Valeri managed to escape with his youngest sibling, Fiolev. They ended up in Amari, the capital of the province of Víren, where they assumed new identities under last name Iolean. They were very poor as most orphans in Amari, where income gaps are massive. Valeri was eventually forced into the army, to serve the same empire, which crushed their clan. He despised it, but he was good at it and quickly rose in rank, securing safety for him and Fiolev. It has taken him to wage wars for the empire, left him with chronic pain and trauma and strained his relationship with Fiolev, who would rather go homeless again than get left behind if he would go to another war. But he would do anything to make sure Fiolev was safe, even if Fiolev would hate him for it, even when his idea of safety is flawed.

Valeri has no future. For the past 13 years he's only been surviving and making sure Fiolev survives. He has no aspirations beyond that. He has risen ranks in the army, but he doesn't care about that beyond the more security higher position affords, he just tries to survive and make sure people around him survive to the next day. He sure fantasizes of reuniting with Faerathos, of opposing the imperial family, of returning home to Cabalusia, but he has no illusions that these fantasies have any realism behind them. Sometimes he even fantasizes of having a life, getting married, having several children. But he has no future. Until, he meets his exiled uncle, Ignatus, on a campaign. Ignatus is working with the empire's enemy and promises to take Valeri and Fiolev into exile with him, so they can get out of the enemy territory and wage war on the empire. It finally gives him hope and a goal. But things get more complicated, when he is given another mission by an imperial general, that could give an opportunity to sabotage the Imperial agenda in a significant way, but would put him in even more dangerous position, not less.

His appearance is quite imposing. He is tall (though not compared to many others in his family), strong and a scar on his lip has given him a permanent scowl. There is also a feral rage just below the surface at all times, ready to burst. But beneath that there is constant anxious terror that drives him and abundance of barely repressed emotions. He operates best when he has a clear goal and clear commands to follow, so when he is thrown in a situation, where everyone has conflicting commands for him, where he's not sure what's right and wrong anymore, or who to trust and who to follow, his barely maintained surface won't be enough to hold him together.

The Oldest | The Second Oldest | The Second Youngest | The Youngest

Tag list under the cut! Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

I'm finally finishing this post for Meet the Character Monday held by @bardic-tales / @creators-club , thank you!

BCC tag list: @siarven @worldbuildng @emilyoracle @frvnwrites @kainablue

@writingrosesonneptune @contes-de-rheio @faelanvance @outpost51 @dotr-rose-love

#seeing it's meet the character monday i decided i would finally finish this post #writeblr #writing #my writing #my wips #dark fantasy #original character #character intro #aesthetics #moodboard #bcc aesthetics #bcc #bcc excerpt #bear castle cycle

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tanadrin · 2 years ago

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[epistemic status: a bunch of semi-related thoughts I am trying to work out aloud] It has been noted countless times that reactionary politics rely on a feeling of threat: our enemies are strong and we are weak (but we are virtuous and they are not, which is why they’re our enemies!); we must defend ourselves, we must not be afraid of doing what needs to be done; we must not shie away from power generally, and violence specifically.

And there are lots of contexts--like when talking about the appeal of reactionary politics in the US before and at the beginning of Trump’s rise to prominence, or when talking about hard-on-crime policies that are a springboard to police militarization, or (the central example of all this in the 21st century) the post 9/11 PATRIOT-act terrorism paranoia that was a boon to authoritarians everywhere, and spurred a massive expansion of both control and surveillance in everyday life--where critics of reactionary rhetoric are chastised for their failure to appeal to the other side, because they come off as callous towards their concerns and their real fears and anxieties.

And while this might not be strategically correct, frankly, I think there’s a sense in which it is justified to be callous towards those concerns. Because those concerns are lies. They may be lies borne out of a seed of real experience (9/11 did happen, of course), but the way that seed is cultivated by focused paranoia, by contempt toward cultivating any sense of proportionality or any honest comparison of risk, the way it is dragooned into the service of completely orthogonal political goals (”the CIA/NSA/FBI must be able to monitor all private communications everywhere in the world, just in case it might prevent another 9/11″) chokes off any possible sympathy I might otherwise feel. American paranoia about another couple thousand lives being lost in a 9/11 like event resulted in a number of deaths literally multiple orders of magnitude larger in Iraq and Afghanistan. During the former, some years Iraq was suffering the equivalent of six or seven 9/11s a year.

So, any fear-driven policy must not (for example) say “to prevent disaster X happening again, we’re going to make it happen 270 times over to someone else.” That’s not reasonable. And “fear is a bad basis for crafting policy” is not exactly a revolutionary observation. There’s that probably-apocryphal story of a Chinese professor responding to Blackstone’s Ratio--you know, “better that ten guilty persons go free than one innocent person suffer”--with “better for whom?” Which is supposed to be this trenchant and penetrating question that makes you reexamine your assumptions. But it’s always struck me as idiotic. Better for society! For everyone! Because the law only functions well if it is seen as a source of order and justice, not as an authoritarian cudgel; because a society in which anxiety drives policymaking and legal responses to social ills is one that is in the process of actively devouring itself; because flooding the public discourse with language that dehumanizes criminals and makes it easy to separate the individual from universal principles like civil rights is an acid that destroys the social fabric.

Fear as a germ of reactionary politics manifests itself in lots of ways outside of both historical examples, like fascism, or more recent examples, like US foreign policy during the war on terror. Fear and its link to purity-attitudes, with a low level of scientific literacy in general, drives stuff like the organized anti-vaccine movement. In the Hertzsprung-Russel diagram of political tendencies, I’d argue it’s a big factor in the wellness-to-Qanon track. It’s a big part of tough-on-crime rhetoric, which in the American instance in particular also draws on an especially racialized form (cf. the “Willie Horton” ad). Fear and purity and anti-contamination anxieties are even big in opposition to nuclear power, because most of the public just has a really bad sense of what the comparative dangers of nuclear vs fossil fuel are; and because the former has been culturally salient since 1945 in a way the latter hasn’t, nuclear contamination feels much more threatening than fossil fuel waste, despite by any measurable harm the latter causing far worse problems, even before you factor in any risks from climate change.

I would like to argue in particular that true crime as an entertainment genre, and wellness culture, and fears about child abuse all contribute to reactionary politics--they are in themselves major reactionary political currents--in a way that cuts across the political spectrum because they are not strongly marked for political factionalism. A lot of the rhetoric both from and around true crime entertainment promotes the idea that violent crime exists, or at least can flourish, because of an insufficiently punitive attitude toward crime; one that can only be fixed by centering victims’ desire (or putative desire) for retribution in the legal process, by eroding the civil rights of the accused, and by giving the police and prosecutors more power. Obviously, this is just 80s and 90s tough on crime rhetoric repackaged for millennials; it centers individual experience a bit more and deemphasizes the racial component that made the “Willie Horton” ad so successful, but it posits that there is only one cause for crime, a spontaneous choice by criminals that has no causal relationship with the rest of the world, and only one solution, which is authoritarianism.

Wellness culture leverages purity concerns and scientific illiteracy in ways which are so grifty and so transparently stupid that it’s by far the least interesting thing on this list to me; its most direct harm is in giving an environment for the anti-vaccine movement to flourish, and I’m always incredibly annoyed when people talk about how the medical establishment needs to do more to reassure the public about vaccines’ safety and efficacy. Again, strategically, this may be correct; people dying of preventable disease is really bad. But doctors as a body didn’t promote Andrew Wakefield’s nonsense; doctors as a body didn’t run breathless article after breathless article about vaccines maybe causing autism; doctors as a body didn’t scare the bejezus out of folks in the 90s and then act all surprised when preventable childhood diseases started breaking out all over the place.

Although outside the whole anti-vax thing, I think there are lots of other harms that wellness culture creates. It tends to be fairly antiscientific; in order to sell people nonsense (because as a subculture it exists almost exclusively to sell people things) it has to discredit anything that might point out that it is selling nonsense. Whether the anti-intellectualism that flourishes in these quarters is a result of intentional deceit or just a kind of natural rhetorical evolution probably varies. But it is an important component of wellness culture to be able to play a shell game between “big pharma doesn’t have your best interests at heart,” “you don’t need your anti-depressants,” and “laetrile cures cancer.”

The way in which fears of child abuse are turned into a reactionary political cudgel probably actually annoys me the most; whether it’s Wayfair conspiracy theories, conservatives trying to turn “groomer” into an anti-queer slur, or just antis on tumblr, the portrayal of sadistic sexual threat aimed at children from an outside malevolent force is compelling only because the vast majority of child abuse and CSA comes from within families and within culturally privileged structures of authority like churches, and this fact makes everyone really uncomfortable, and no one wants to talk about it. I remember getting really annoyed during the Obama years when the White House wanted to talk about bullying and anti-LGBT bullying in particular, while studiously avoiding blaming parents and teachers in any way for it, despite the fact that all the coming out horror stories I know are from people’s parents turning on them.

Now, very conservative politics have always opposed dilution of a kind of privilege for the family structure; they envision a family structure which is patriarchal, and so dilution of this privilege is dilution of the status of patriarch. Very insular communities which cannot survive their members having many options or alternative viewpoints available to them, including controlling religions but also just abusive parents who want to retain control over their kids, also bristle at the idea of any kind of general society-wide capacity for people to notice how parents treat their children. But beyond that, I think our society still treats parents as having a right of possession over their children and their children’s identities, especially when they’re young, and bolsters that idea with an idea that the purity of children is constantly under threat from the outside world, and it is the parents’ job to safeguard that purity. The result is the nuclear family as a kind of sacred structure which the rest of society has no right to observe or pry open; and this is a massive engine of enabling the abuse of children. To no other relationship in our society do we apply this idea, that it should be free from “interference” (read: basic accountability) from the rest of society.

Moreover, the idea of childhood as a time of purity and innocence, which not only must be protected from but during which children must be actively lied to about major aspects of how the world works, is one of the last ways remaining to an increasingly secular culture to justify censorious and puritanical Victorian morality. It is hard to advocate for censorship to protect the Morals of the Christian Public, when nobody believes in the Morals of the Christian Public anymore; but “think of the children!” still works as a rallying cry, because of this nagging sense we have that age-appropriate conversations with children about adult topics will cause them to melt or explode.

In many ways, these anxieties on behalf of theoretical children are the ones I am most contemptuous of. Not because child abuse isn’t a serious problem--it is--but because the vector imagined for it is almost entirely opposite the one it actually tends to occur along. People who pretend that the primary danger to children is from strangers are usually woefully misinformed; people who pretend it is from media are either idiots or liars seeking a cover for their craving for censorship.

In conclusion: while it’s not possible to exorcise all our neuroses from our politics, anymore than we will ever exercise all our neuroses from our aesthetics, there are some we should be especially on guard against. A sense of threat, and anxieties which tie into concerns about purity and fears of contamination, are two big ones. These produce policies that are not only badly correlated with the outcomes they ostensibly want, but actually and severely destructive to them, in the same way that invading Iraq was actively destructive to any notion of preventing terrorism, saving American or Iraqi lives, or promoting political stability in the Middle East. And we should hold in healthy suspicion anybody whose politics seem to be driven by similar neuroses. Some merely believe very harmful things. Some are actually actively deceptive. None will achieve any of the higher aims they claim as justification for their beliefs.

#i'm not saying we *must* radically reshape society to destroy the nuclear family #but i am saying i think it would be good for child welfare

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stuck1nthelimbo · 1 year ago

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im so normal about them — 📌 post | masterlist | ko-fi

2 》Candle/Wax play - Dirty talk - A/B/O ― Honest Conversation [Fushiguro Toji x f!reader]

Having a dirty mouthed neighbor gotta be a headache, right? Right???

TAGS!!! 1.8k, no penetration, dirty talk, teasing, no beta

“Food’s ready, let’s go inside.”

I’ve invited Fushiguros over for dinner: my parents are out of town, my cousin has invited his friends over and instead of having the sensible thought and asking my friends, who’d be more than happy to stay over, my dumbass decided it would be more polite and a kind gesture to invite the family from the next door, who moved in not too long ago, the Fushiguros.

Mr Fushiguro Toji lives with his son, Megumi, who, despite his quiet demeanor, is a great kid. He occasionally visits to play video games with me. His father, on the other hand, oozes a terrifying aura. Each time this man passes me by, I feel the coldness pierce my skin, even if the heat scolds the place. His emerald eyes gloss over whenever we talk as if he is looking past me, somewhere deep into the abyss, and doesn’t give a damn about what I have to say. And while he looks mesmerized, I can’t help but admire the strong jawline, wide shoulders, long, bony fingers, and the very prominent vertical scar on the right side of his lips.

After my cousin and I are finished with the preparations, I prance to find Toji outside on our patio, in complete darkness. I can only tell his approximate location by the burning red cigarette hanging between his lips. My vision adjusts to the lack of light, and I discover him sitting on a patio swing, legs crossed, one arm stretched over the top of the backrest, another hand carefully holding the cigarette.

“Food’s ready, let’s go inside,” in the silence and the pitch-darkness of the night, I can still make out the silhouette, strong digits holding the cigarette between them and his chest rising with each drag and dropping as he puffs out the smoke. If I strain my senses, I can hear steady breathing despite the heavy smog.

“When are your parents comin’ back?” he's not in a hurry, the apathetic voice draws a scoff out of me. He has no interest in my parents' whereabouts: he’s concerned whether his actions will have repercussions. I flop beside him, the swing can handle both of us. His muscles become aware of the proximity. They tense and flex underneath a grey skin-tight shirt.

“Why do you ask?” my question perks him up and in a moment, I feel his large palm clasp around my knee. Bold move. Tiny hairs all over my body stand tall, and the contrast between his frozen hand and my hot flesh creeps a shiver down my spine. His fingers dance on the soft skin and sneak upward.

“You wanna know why?” the question is rhetorical, he's not expecting an answer.

“Yeah, why not?” I get curious. Man who has been shamelessly flirting with me for the last couple of weeks, making up excuses to be near me and openly showing interest in yours truly, I know something fascinating is about to happen. He is brash and crass. His lips and fingers firmly grasp the cigarette, then he takes a long drag, and the smoke gradually steams out of his nostrils.

“I’m counting how many times I can nail their daughter,” my eyes lose focus when his fingers nip on the plump meat of my thigh.

“What gives you an idea I’ll sleep with you, willingly?”

“Won’t sleep with me?” he sneers and puffs the rest of the smoke in my face, “you put your ass in my face and now won’t sleep with me?” I wave the threads of smoke out of my sight with a pout.

“I’ve never done such a thing. Don’t be rude,” just his shit-eating grin gets me hot and bothered, but I’m not going to entertain his perversions further. However, his grip gets tighter on my thigh, literally nailing me to the spot. Even if we can barely make out each other’s shapes in the night, dimly lit by the moonlight, his large palm entraps me, squeezing my face and puckering my lips.

“You’ve never accidentally rubbed your ass on my dick, you’ve never accidentally forgotten to wear a bra, you’ve never accidentally kept your blinds open and undressed at your window,” his hot breath spills over my face, “you’d be in a bliss if I fucked you right here and now.”

“You wouldn’t touch me…” fueling his anger makes me tremble with excitement.

“You’re gonna start begging me,” he grits his teeth.

“Oh, I would never beg you…”

There and then, the invasion halts. He eases back, pressing his back on the backrest of the swing, lighting another cigarette, a large palm shielding the burning red end from nature’s elements. Early grip leaves burning marks and it tingles up to my groin. Toji's sudden attitude change brings me confusion and a little bit of discomfort. I can’t predict his actions if he’s calm or non-responsive. He puffs out a great deal of smoke out of his nostrils, and his glossed-over eyes dart away from me, somewhere in the distance, in the darkness of the night.

“So that’s how it is… Little girl thinks she’s so good,” he firmly smacks his lips, “so good, suddenly she doesn’t want the big old me.”

“Why would I –”

“How many times have you looked at me from your window?” he jams himself in the middle of my sentence. Index finger pointing at the garden of his house, whilst holding the cigarette perfectly still between the aforementioned finger and middle one, “While I’m out in the garden, how many times have you stared at me and thought what would you do to me?” he pauses, rolls eyes at his mistake and corrects himself, “no, what would you let me do to you?”

I hold my breath. My throat burns and feels parched, but not from the smoke I inhaled seconds ago.

“What do you think I’d let you do?”

“Oh, sweetheart, anything,” his eyebrows knot whilst his eyelids droop, “You’d let me do anything to you,” he sounds each syllable out, the smirk on his face looks sinister and depraved, “you’d suck me off under the table, if I asked you, nicely,” he mocks me, “I wonder if you drool each time you stare at my crotch and think how big it is?” his head cocks to the side.

I can’t help but keep quiet, Fushiguro’s hoarse husky voice sounds too good to be stopped in the middle.

“I can answer your question and quench your thirst, metaphorical and literal,” he jeers at me, “and tell you I’m big enough,” he leans forward, bringing himself closer to me and whispers, “big enough to hurt your tight cunt,” he leans back again, throwing head behind and whistling another round of smoke through his lips, “oh, I can imagine, you bouncing your ass on top of me, trying to adjust to the size, whining… Now that gets me hard.”

I swear it feels like I’m in a trance. He can’t be more right, but who in their right mind will admit they want to be fucked by an older male, who's referred to as “sir” or “Mr” by even my mother.

“You stare at my pants an awful lot, tryin’ to learn the shape by heart? How many times you’ve fingered yourself, wishing it was me?” “Never…” I spit out something. All the time, I meant.

“Oh, never?” he springs his head up, readjusting himself in his seat, “Well, me, on the other hand, I’ve thought of fuckin’ your pretty face on multiple occasions, darlin’” again with the mockery, “Especially in the morning, it would be fantastic: you, under the sheets, trying to fit all of my cock in your mouth, then you make a mess, and as a punishment, I’d have to mercilessly fuck you into the mattress, until you’re a blabbering mess.”

How many times have I thought of the same situations? Multiple times, multiple moments, multiple nights. My heart pounds in my chest, in an attempt to smash the ribcage wide open and toss itself out.

I snap out of my delusions the moment I feel a strong hand grasp my wrist and yank me toward itself. My hand presses against something firm.

“Can you feel how hard I am?” I can feel the stiffness underneath my fingertips and tell the size. My hunches are right. Also, he is truthful in his words. He’s well-endowed, “imagine what would happen if these little punks weren’t home. I’d fuck you stupid in your living room,” thoughtful pause, “or any room for that matter.”

Two can play at this game. If he’s going to drive me over the edge, I have tricks up my sleeve as well. They're not as effective, but still decent.

“Oh, I prefer being fucked against the wall,” his body jerks faintly, undivided attention to what I have to say, “your hands are big enough to wrap around my neck, and you’re big enough to carry me around,” in the meantime, my eyes adjust to the poor light, his starved expressions become clearer, “or I can try being a brat, then you’ll get mad at me and put me in my place, won’t you?”

“You’re playing with fire,” Toji hisses through his teeth.

“Ah, I have even better: it’d be best if you did me in front of a mirror, sir,” and I feel his cock twitch under my fingers. His body‘s honest with me, “You’d make me watch, wouldn’t you? Make me watch every time you’re thrusting inside, right?” Toji’s teeth gnash audibly, “Make me watch how big you are?”

In the meantime, his free hand figures its way behind me, griping my ass cheek so tight, if my body was any less dense, it’d spill between his fingers. It’s painstakingly hard for him to hold the cigarette in the other hand as well, instead of tossing it aside and teaching me a lesson. I continue.

“Your hands would look so good on my neck,” his long digits crunch the cigarette butt, “or anywhere. I have soft skin,” Toji’s hand slithered under my shirt, confirming simple facts, “To-ji,” I sing his name softly and feel another tremor under my hand. His pants are strained, but he’ll find no relief this time.

He leans closer to claim an undeserved kiss and I pull my head back. The pungent smell of the cigarette makes me scrunch my nose. His upper lip twitches, baring the white canine tooth.

"Oh, big teeth, do they leave dark bruises on tits?" his breath hitches. Before he demonstrates the sharpness of his fangs on my chest, I slip out of his flimsy grip, readjusting my crinkled clothes, “we have a dinner to attend to, sir~”

I love being the only spectator who recognizes the clouded, murky glares this man throws my way during the dinner, his fingers gripping the silver dinnerware almost to the point of bending them. I catch a glimpse of thick veins scarring the surface of the skin on his biceps as well.

After a lovely dinner, right before leaving for good, he hangs at the entrance door and lowers his head to whisper.

“If you’re not in my living room by 12 o'clock tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure the rest of the neighborhood hears you sob.”

I hold my fist up in front of him, poking the pinky finger out with as much innocence as I can muster.

“Promise, Mr. Fushiguro?”

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tumblingghosts · 2 months ago

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Hi!! Had a time travel idea lately and felt like you were the best to ask. So what if where we go forwards instead of backwards and Academy!Clemensia ends up in the future, sometime around the 74th games?

Regardless, she's travelled to a future where her future self no longer alive. How would her friends & family react? Would she be killed off by President Snow quickly?

Haha you can decide whether this pre or post snake bite Clemmie.

oooh academy clemmie travelling forward in time :D !!

it took a while to draft a response for this, but i have thoughts for several different scenarios-

i. pre snake clemmie facing president snow

clemensia is pretty disoriented landing in the future. she still recognizes the capitol, but she doesn't know where in the capitol she is. none of the buildings match up to what she knows- it's been built up to what it had been before the war, but grander. she's able to ask for directions to her house, confused by the fashion of everyone around, but when she gets there, it's being lived in by someone else. that unsettling feeling she had been trying to ignore can no longer be suppressed. she doesn't know where she is or what happened.

it takes more asking around to get anywhere. there's a lot of bustle about the hunger games, and she can't remember anyone looking forward to it as much as these crowds. but she does end up seeing a broadcast of president snow and that's her first real lead. it doesn't take long to piece together the old man that is shown as president, the lack of president ravinstill, and "74th" hunger games. she knows her way to the presidential palace. she's been there to play with felix on more than one occasion. clemensia gets turned away by the guards at first, but manages to use her Dovecote Charm(TM) to at least get the guards to pass on a message to president snow.

"clemensia dovecote seeks an audience." and snow is curious enough to look at the camera footage at a very young, very alive clemmie asking after him. he agrees to meet with her, and she's escorted to his office to talk with him. clemensia trusts coriolanus as a friend- but the man in front of her? it's not quite just the difference in age or strong smell of roses. maybe it's the look in his eyes that makes her wary. regardless, she doesn't bring it up, and if he notices anything, he doesn't either.

there are the general questions of "how did you get here" and "what's the last thing you remember" alongside "president snow now, is it?" and "you're doing rather well for yourself, it seems" - but beyond that, is the pressing matter of the hunger games, on both sides. on clemensia's side, they've been assigned tributes already, and she's a bit jealous that coriolanus is paying so much attention. she asks- teasing, rhetorically- if reaper had won those games. the look she receives in return is so sour that she changes the topic swiftly. instead, she asks after the current games, what all these changes and "excitement" is about, and snow explains.

snow is looking at her like she's something to be kept, and clemensia is looking at him and trying to parse where exactly coryo is in the face and actions and mannerisms of the man before her. she's treated as a guest, in the following days, though is met with no one but avoxes, and sees no other capitolites besides coriolanus, on occasion. she's getting more wary of it all by the day.

meanwhile, seneca crane's actions of allowing two victors of the hunger games are giving snow a headache. he's compartmentalizing. he's realizing that clemensia, as she is now, is a risk. on some level, he thinks (he knows) she wouldn't quite agree to how he sees things, the means by which he had gotten into power. he won't admit to himself that they were wrong, but he thinks, it would be terribly unfair if clemensia were to have to come to this kind of shock. and besides, she's a tether to a childhood that he'd taken great lengths to bury and rewrite, without the age to teach her of the kind of digression he wants from her. snow considers his options and decides on a course of action.

clemensia is feeling rather boxed in. she's provided with food and amenities, but all channels on the television seem to be covering the hunger games. "it's the biggest event of the season!" says every single broadcast she flicks through. there's some romance scene playing out between the tributes from d12. she kindly requests to talk with snow again. snow "concedes" to her request. clemensia agrees to discuss further over tea. there is little discussion had.

time progresses: katniss everdeen sparks a revolution. snow tunnel-visions on the emergence of a mockingjay. anyone who spotted a young, dark-haired girl seeking out an audience with the president just a short few weeks ago before the 74th hunger games bears dual-victors know well to keep their mouths shut. it was only rumor, after all, and she was never seen again besides. clearly, it not a topic that was worth any interest.

ii. pre snake clemmie facing her friends and family

clemensia is lucky when she lands in the future. the people around her are startled by her sudden presence, but they recognize her and she turns to the person who had spoken her name. she doesn't recognize the person who says it. not quite. but-

"festus?" (clemensia doesn't know it yet, but felix and iphigenia have died years ago, persephone was killed shortly after titus's games, and festus is at an awkward point where he's not quite friends with coriolanus anymore, but not in a place that makes him an enemy.)

after getting over the initial surprise of clemensia's arrival, they settle down enough to fill her in on what is happening. clemensia- the one that had grown and lived and married- is dead, and has been for years now. it was a "tragic" car accident, though there is suspicion of foul play. she learns that the other there are her husband and children, and further, why festus is meeting with them. with so much attention on the hunger games (and that is another topic that they need to catch her up on), it is easier to have these kinds of meetings in relative privacy. all eyes are on the arena, and everyone is gathering to watch the broadcast anyway.

clemensia learns of coriolanus turning to president snow, and hears out the suspicions that he was behind her death from people who have grieved her dearly. but she isn't that person. clemensia, eighteen and not yet graduated, is not the wife and mother and friend and confident that they have so dearly missed. but she is welcomed, and so clemensia stays.

she is made a secret, one that her family- the one that she is growing to know- keep hidden. she wants to talk to coryo, but sees well enough from his appearances on broadcast that president snow is a far cry from her dear friend. sometimes, she wonders if the risk of speaking to him might be worth it. she never voices it, and does not leave the house. she might not be recognized by the general populace, but it only takes one wrong person to look a little too closely, for word to get back to get to snow, for it to all fall apart.

she tries to get along with the men and women that are her future self's husband and children, but they're older than her, and she can't fill that role. they never ask her to, but it is an awkward adjustment, because none of them quite know how to interact. she fills a lot of her time seeking out answers to what happened to the people she knew, learning history and questioning how much has been rewritten.

in the off chance that clemensia makes it through the second revolution, i think it would be really cool to have her as one of the people that speaks to snow after his execution. he might think, at first, that she's a ghost of his past that has come back to haunt him, as an image of clemensia before the first point in their friendship that had fractured their relationship- the snakes- but those thoughts are quickly dispelled once they actually begin speaking.

by this point, clemensia has seen what he's become over the series of broadcasts in the aftermath of the d12 victors, in the announcement of the second quarter quell, as the rebellion escalates, but she thinks she knows him enough to believe him when he says that he didn't drop those bombs on the capitol children and medics. (festus hadn't made it past the revolts in when the rebellion picked up. the man who'd been her future self's husband and his child had died in the explosion- clemmie mourns them, for the year that she's known them and how they'd become family).

clemensia leaves the garden, not having gained what she was looking for. she isn't quite sure what she's looking for at this point- but she's not yet twenty at the end of an era. she doesn't have a plan forward, nor does she know what she would do if she could go back to the point she left. could she face her classmates and friends knowing the fate that befalls them over nothing but snippets of eulogies? there's no place to hide anymore, just a path ahead. as panem rebuilds, she does her best to rebuild a life as well.

iii. post snake clemmie landing in the future

similar to the start of scenario i., except clemmie sees "president snow" and wants nothing to do with him. how can she trust coriolanus when the scales on her skin are more than enough reason to be wary? the fact that he's president and "proudly announcing" the 74th hunger games is just additional reasons to stay away. she does get a couple of compliments for the scales, which she does her best to conceal, and it only serves to make her a bit more paranoid and wary when she first arrives - it's horrific, what was done to her, and how could anyone say that they're lovely?

she's been at the mentor chair of the 10th hunger games, and she's seen the end of it- reaper collapsing after being tired out by lucy gray, and coriolanus disappearing to d12 to supposedly be punished, but also rumors are flying that he's chasing lucy gray there. there was never the chance to rekindle their friendship because clemensia was sent forward before he ever returned. as far as she knows, coriolanus served out his twenty years as a peacekeeper- and climbed his way to presidency after his mandatory service was over.

clemensia does get more oriented as she figures out that she's in the future and how the culture has been shaped in the decades that she's jumped past. she does her best to conceal the scales, but finds that people find her odder for trying to hide them than for having them. she's cautious, and also worried that talking to the wrong people might get the attention of snow. she tries to reconcile coryo with the president overseeing all the glamor of these new hunger games. she recognizes names- crane, heavensbee- but is unsure if there's anyone she can even seek out.

she's able to get food and temporary places to stay with her charm and the kindness of strangers- using a fake name in an attempt to keep her anonymity. she gets recognized anyway. let's say it's lysistrata this time. clemensia is avoiding hospitals as much as she can, but maybe their paths cross when clemensia is out trying to find a new place to stay. lysistrata initially thinks that clemmie is one of the dovecote children and greeted her with that name- clemensia doesn't realize that lysistrata is talking to her, but she turns at the familiar voice anyway. it's at that point lyssie realizes that oddities are afoot, and invites clemensia home to figure out what's going on.

lysistrata is hesitant to believe that clemensia is actually clemensia from the summer after the 10th games, but after a short conversation, there are no other explanations. it's pretty similar to scenario ii., with clemensia being hidden, but this time she's a bit more involved in efforts against snow, both because of her own animosity and because lysistrata is involved with the rebels. it would definitely make for an interesting (and possibly more hostile) interaction in the rose garden (compared to ii.) if clemmie makes it to that point in this case.

iv. clemensia back in the past in the aftermath

clemmie lands back in the moment she "left" after her trip to the future and it is a- complicated ordeal. she's back with her alive parents (and potentially alive reaper depending on the scenario). she knows where things end up, but she doesn't quite have the same personal stake in it as she would have if she had lived through it herself, rather than being told of or reading through the events that have taken place. there's varying levels of wariness depending on if it's pre- or post-snake bite clemmie.

i think she would likely seek out her friends or parents if it were post-snake bite and fill them in (not on the time travel, but of the situation with gaul/coriolanus/snakes) so it's much harder for him to integrate back into capitol society when he gets back from d12. maybe she spreads rumors about what really happened to lucy gray and sejanus- clemensia doesn't actually know that coriolanus is responsible for their disappearance/death, but the suspicion is enough to cause some damage. maybe she's the "sympathetic ear" for him amidst all of these "mysterious" rumors before she gives him the treatment from what's in a name?

for pre-snake bite clemmie, she's returning from either getting killed by snow or after having a conversation before his execution, so her opinion of him is still pretty low. i like to think that this leads to her being more invested in reaper & being a better mentor in turn- she's somewhat motivated by spite and trying to undercut coriolanus's efforts with lucy gray. (she likely doesn't know that lucy gray won the 10th games here, but it's more the principle of the matter.)

whether this spares her from being bitten or not is up to debate. maybe her being around reaper more means she ends up (inadvertently) preventing arachne being killed. if not, maybe her wariness of coriolanus keeps her from lying to gaul- she debates whether it's more dangerous to admit to not doing the work vs considering that coriolanus poisoned her (scenario i) and might throw her under the bus even if he says "it's fine" to claim they collaborated on the essay.

i do think that, in any scenario, she would be pretty rattled to know that the games have continued on for decades after, especially since they're waning in popularity at the time of the 10th games. if not for the children dying, then because of how much they have been played up for entertainment just puts a bad taste in her mouth (given her opinion during prof. demigloss's seminar that people avoided watching them bc they're gruesome) which gets reinforced when she thinks about reaper dead/potentially dying.

thanks for the ask medea!! :D

#tbosas #clemensia dovecote #coriolanus snow #tbosas time travellers #backpacks asks

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