#Whats that quote “I hate writing but the only thing worse is not writing”

[bunnieswithknives]

Official fic for my Nature AU! How does someone accidentally shoot their child in the leg?? Find out now!

[hellinistical]

Priest! Vampire! Rafayel x Nun! Reader synopsis: when a charming new priest is sent to your convent amidst the winter freeze, you're naturally untrusting. unfortunately, he's more knowledgeable of the faith, and you could learn a thing or two, especially if you want to protect yourself from the recent vampire attacks. trigger warnings: (heavy plot!). minor and major character death, blood, dubious consent, sacrilegious themes (Not Christianity or Catholicism; made up religion but using synonymous terms), gore, porn with plot, fingering (fem. receiving), hand jobs, piv, non-consensual vampire transformation, bodily horror, drinking blood, playing with blood, human consumption, unwilling cannibalism, afab reader- usage of female anatomy (though not descriptive of size/skin markings). fem. reader- she/her used. biting. choking. manipulation. blasphemy. overstimulation. virgin reader. corruption. monster fucking. slight belly bulge, bondage. incorrect use of holy water. wax play. this list may expand and/or altered. trigger warnings: (for this chapter.) afab. fem reader. implied pregnancy. period sex. piv. wax play. incorrect use of holy water. fingering (fem receiving), biting. overstimulation. corruption. virgin reader. non-con. dubious consent. hate sex. vampire transformation (though not explicit, just implied, and not in standard means; I took creative liberty). blood. slight belly buldge. major character deaths. spit. a:/n:this piece holds no actual religious scripture or quotes, I just needed those terms as they were synonymous. This is in NO WAY a jab at those faiths nor is it meant to spread hate or harm to them. It is also not an insult to those who practice. I tried to write with care, which yeah may be hypocritical of what I have here, so I apologize. Additionally, thank you to everyone who voted in the poll. While it was originally intended to be a one-shot, I felt it would be better to break it into chunks as this is very plot-heavy. Thank you for your support! Reblogs are highly appreciated. word count: 6.1k masterlist | prev.

V. Trasformazione

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark"

It’s all-consuming, how he seems to swallow the oxygen before you can breathe. Like he’s taking it straight from your lungs, leaving you lightheaded, weak. His hands are everywhere, mapping you, learning you, claiming you in ways you don’t know if you should allow—but you do.

The tree digs into your back, rough and unyielding, but his body is just as unrelenting. His lips drag along your jaw, down your throat, his breath hot against your skin. A shudder wracks through you as his teeth graze your pulse, and he lingers there, as if tasting your heartbeat.

His fingers tighten their grip. "You’re mine," he murmurs against your skin, voice low and raw. It’s not a question. It’s not a request. It’s a vow.

Your stomach hurts, the cramps from your cycle gnawing at you, twisting in sharp, unforgiving waves. Your body burns, the feverish heat meeting his coldness in a clash that sends a shiver up your spine—a mess of sensation, of discomfort, of something deeper you refuse to name.

You turn your head away, not because you want to, but because you can’t bear to look. His breath ghosts over your exposed throat, his grip firm, possessive, unrelenting. You feel his lips press there, lingering, and it only makes the ache inside you worse, different.

A breath shudders from you, and you hate how weak it sounds. His fingers flex against your skin, and you feel the sharp edge of his teeth as he hums in something like satisfaction.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs against your throat, his tone almost gentle. Almost. “Poor thing.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You hate him.

His fangs graze your skin but never sink in, lingering like a silent threat—or maybe a promise. His breath is cool against the feverish heat of your neck, sending a shudder through your already trembling body.

Then, his hands are on you, pulling your leg up and around his waist, pressing you closer until there’s no space left between you. The motion is seamless, practiced, like he’s done it a thousand times before. Like he’s meant to hold you like this.

And it’s humiliating.

Your nightgown is thin, ruined, sticky with blood, the fabric barely clinging to your form. You’re exposed—more than you’ve ever been, more than you should be. And yet, the very sight of you like this seems to draw him in more.

His fingers press into the flesh of your thigh, his breath hitching. "Messy little thing," he murmurs, voice rough, reverent. His lips trail the line of your jaw, slow, deliberate. "Do you know what you do to me?"

You don't want to know. You don’t want to feel the way your body reacts, the way the fever in your veins has nothing to do with your cycle anymore.

You press your hands against his chest—whether to push him away or pull him closer, you don’t even know.

His lips press against your collarbone, soft yet insistent, his breath cool against your heated skin. The way he inhales deeply, savoring your scent, makes your stomach twist—not just in fear, but something else, something raw and unfamiliar.

"Wait—wait, Rafayel—I don’t—I don’t get it." Your voice trembles, caught between confusion and something dangerously close to surrender.

He shushes you gently, his hands smoothing over your waist, his touch both possessive and reverent. "You don’t have to," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with something deeper than want. "You just need to feel it."

You shudder, your fingers twitching against his chest. He’s cold, so unbearably cold, yet his presence is suffocatingly warm. Every nerve in your body is on fire, your pulse hammering, your breaths short and uneven.

You should push him away.

You should run.

But Astra above, you can’t move.

His eyes flicker down to the deep crimson staining your nightgown, pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the color of his irises. His chest rises and falls sharply, unsteady, his fingers twitching where they grip your waist.

And yet—his expression twists. Something raw flickers across his face, something tangled between hunger and revulsion.

Not at you.

At himself.

He looks away, jaw tightening, his grip faltering for just a second. His breath comes sharp through his nose, as if he’s trying to will himself into control.

A muscle jumps in his jaw. "Damn it," he mutters, voice tight, nearly shaking. His fingers flex against you like he’s about to let go—like he should let go.

But he doesn’t.

You barely have time to react before his grip tightens—hard.

“Jump.”

Your breath catches. “Jump?”

“Jump, damn it.” His voice is sharp, urgent, commanding.

His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs. He hoists you up with inhuman ease, your legs scrambling for balance around his waist. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

He presses you hard against the tree, the rough bark biting into your back. His face is so close now, too close, his breath mingling with yours, cool and sharp. His hands flex against your legs, his grip possessive, unyielding.

Rafayel's hands are ironclad around your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin, pinning you where he wants you. The pressure is bruising, possessive. He isn’t just holding you; he’s claiming you.

The air is thick, damp with the scent of earth and blood. Your blood. It clings to you, drying into the fabric of your nightgown, and you can feel how his eyes linger on the stains. His pupils are blown wide, black nearly swallowing the eerie glow of his irises. His breath fans against your jaw, cool and sharp, but his body is burning.

"Tree or the grass." His voice is low, firm. Not a question. A command. "Hurry up."

You grip his shoulders, nails biting into the fabric of his robe. The tree behind you is rough, its bark scraping against your spine as you shift in his grasp, trying to steady yourself. But it’s useless. He’s already made the choice

He holds you up with one hand, your legs around his waist as he undoes the zipper of your nightgown, pulling it down swiftly. 

The nightgown pools around your hips, the weight of it dragging against your thighs as Rafayel's cold fingers skim over your ribs. Your breasts free, the cold air on your exposed nipples makes them harden. His touch is reverent, but there’s nothing holy about it. The moonlight barely reaches through the dense canopy above, casting fractured beams of silver across his face. His expression is unreadable—somewhere between hunger and hesitation, worship and possession.

“You look divine like this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, almost awed. His thumb presses into the dip of your waist as if to test the reality of you. As if he doesn’t believe you’re real.

The night air chills your exposed skin, but you burn beneath it, a fever licking at your spine. Your blood, your scent—it’s making him tremble. You can feel it in the way his grip falters for a moment before he steadies himself, locking you tighter against him.

His grip tightens as the scent thickens, as the warmth of it seeps into the fabric of his trousers. He shudders, a groan tearing from deep within his throat, something raw and starved.

His fingers flex against your hips, betraying his restraint, the barely-contained need that trembles beneath the surface. He exhales sharply, like he's forcing himself to remember something—like he's fighting the very nature that compels him to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your throat.

"Mine."

The word isn’t spoken, but you feel it in the way his body tenses, in the way his fingers dig just a little too hard into your sides, like he’s trying to brand himself into you. His breath is uneven now, and you realize—with something close to horror, close to exhilaration—that he’s shaking.

His head dips lower, mouth pressing just beneath your ear. “You’re going to ruin me,” he murmurs, almost reverent. His lips are cold, but his voice burns.

Your hands are firm on his chest, trying to push him off, 

“Stop- stop, I’m dirty,”

He doesn’t budge. If anything, your resistance only seems to ignite something deeper in him, something far more desperate.

His hands trace your thighs, smearing warmth into your skin, fingers painting patterns in the mess of crimson and sweat. His grip is firm but reverent, like he's touching something sacred, something he refuses to let slip through his fingers.

"You don't get to be ashamed," he breathes against your jaw, his voice shaking with something dark and unspoken. "Not from me."

You shudder, your fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “Rafayel—”

“I don’t care.” His lips brush your temple, your cheek, his breath fanning hot over your ear. His voice lowers, dark and hushed, almost mournful. “I would bathe in you if you'd let me.”

He grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to make eye contact. He looks utterly feral. “I want to be in you. I need it. In your skin. In your very soul.”

His lips crash against yours, not with brutal force, but with a yearning so deep it feels like he’s trying to devour something unseen, something hidden inside you. The kiss is desperate, frantic. It’s not just want—it’s need. A need that claws at him, that shakes his very foundation.

His grip tightens, fingers digging into your flesh with an urgency that borders on bruising. His palm presses into the small of your back, pulling you flush against him—your soft warmth clashing against the hard, unyielding chill of his body. His breath, cool and fanning across your lips, mingles with your own, the contrast dizzying.

His mouth moves against yours with a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation, lips parting just enough for his teeth to graze your lower lip—sharp, teasing, just barely holding back from drawing blood. The press of his fangs sends a shiver down your spine.

Your nightgown slips further  down and bunches up more as he tugs at the fabric, his fingers tracing up the length of your spine, nails dragging lightly, leaving a tingling trail of sensation. His free hand moves down, skimming over your thigh before gripping it, pulling your leg higher against his waist. The rough friction of his clothes against your bare skin sends a jolt of sensation up your body.

He shifts, pressing forward, pinning you against the tree with his body weight. The bark bites into your back, a stark contrast to the way his hands explore your skin, cold and burning all at once.

"I—" A kiss, deep and forceful, swallowing any protest you might have had.

"Hate—" His hands tighten, fingers bruising against your skin, as if trying to mold you into him, make you stay, make you his.

"You—" He bites your lip this time, just enough to sting, and you gasp into his mouth.

And despite everything—the fear, the confusion, the war between sense and something darker—you kiss him back.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, tasting the remnants of your breath. His grip tightens around your waist, pressing you flush against him. The rough bark of the tree digs into your back, but you barely register the sting—your senses drown in the feeling of him.

Rafayel’s tongue pushes past your lips, hot and insistent, swirling against yours in a messy, feverish dance. He doesn’t kiss with precision—he kisses with hunger, his movements uncoordinated yet consuming, like a man starved.

Saliva slicks your lips, the wet sounds of your mouths moving together filling the night air. He groans into the kiss, a deep, guttural noise vibrating against your tongue as he sucks at it, pulling you deeper into him. His teeth graze against your lower lip, nipping and tugging before soothing the sting with another deep, open-mouthed kiss.

Your breaths are ragged, mingling with his as he swallows every gasp, every whimper. His fingers dig into your hips, keeping you locked against him, refusing to let you pull away. His tongue moves greedily, exploring, claiming, savoring every inch of your mouth. The kiss is hot, messy, intoxicating—his spit coats your lips, mixing with your own, leaving you breathless and lightheaded.

When he finally pulls back, a thin string of saliva connects your mouths, breaking only when he licks his lips, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

“Gods-” His palm is firm, pressing against your lips as his eyes darken. "Don’t," he repeats, voice low, almost dangerous. His fingers linger against your cheek, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your own.

His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you—he is in control. His breath is heavy, ragged, his pupils blown wide as he watches you, drinking in every detail of your flushed face.

For a moment, there’s only silence, the weight of his hand against your mouth the only thing grounding you. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leans in, his lips just ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Do not speak of them here."

The weight of his body against yours is suffocating, his grip unrelenting. His thumb brushes over your cheek, deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the feral hunger in his gaze. "You’re mine now," he breathes, his lips hovering just above your skin. "No gods. No saints. Just me."

His teeth graze your jaw, sharp but restrained, a warning and a promise all at once. His grip tightens at your waist, pressing you further into the rough bark of the tree, as if he could mold you into the very world around him—an extension of his own being.

"You feel that?" he murmurs against your skin, his breath cool but his presence searing. "That’s the only thing that’s real now. Me. Us."

His fingers trace along the dip of your spine, slow, deliberate, memorizing every shudder, every unwilling response he draws from you. He’s reveling in it, in the way your body betrays you, in the way your heartbeat hammers against his own.

"Say it," he demands, his lips brushing just below your ear. His voice is steady, but there’s something almost desperate beneath it. "Tell me you understand."

His mouth finds the pulse at your throat, lingering there, savoring, but never quite sinking in. His hands roam, gripping, kneading, learning the shape of you as if carving it into memory.

You try to focus—on his words, on his demand—but it’s impossible when his teeth drag along your skin, when his hands press you tighter against him, when every touch pulls you deeper into something dark and inescapable.

"Rafayel—" you manage, but it’s breathless, barely a whisper.

He chuckles against your skin, the sound low, wicked. "You can’t even think, can you?" His fingers slide up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back so you're forced to meet his eyes. They gleam with something unhinged, something hungry. "Good."

He lays you down before you realize. 

The earth is rough beneath you, twigs and dead leaves pressing into your skin, but it barely registers over the sensation of him. His lips ghost over your sternum, his breath warm despite the unnatural chill of his body.

His hands slide down your sides, slow, deliberate, as if savoring every inch of you. The contrast between his cold fingers and the feverish heat of your skin makes you shiver.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice thick with something unreadable. Reverence? Possession? It’s all the same with him. "You belong to me."

He presses a lingering kiss to your ribs, just above where your heartbeat pounds wildly against your bones. He exhales, and his lips curve against your skin in something dangerously close to a smile.

But you remember you’re technically free bleeding, and your pulse spikes, a rush of panic coursing through your veins as you instinctively try to close your legs. But his hand is there, swift and firm, stopping you. His grip is too strong, his presence too consuming.

He doesn't let go, his fingers brushing over the inner parts of your thighs, his breath shallow and erratic as he drinks in the sight of you. His pupils are blown wide, almost black, utterly lost in something feral and primal. He’s staring at you like he’s found something sacred, something far darker and deeper than just physicality.

"Don’t hide it," he murmurs, his voice raw and low. His gaze flickers down to the blood, and there's something almost reverent in his eyes. "This—this is perfect."

He throws your leg over his shoulder, and your face burns. 

Your breath catches as his lips linger against your calf, the warmth of his mouth searing against your skin. Your face burns, a flush creeping down your neck, spreading like wildfire. His touch is reverent—too intimate, too consuming.

He watches you through lidded eyes, something unreadable flickering behind them. "Look at you," he murmurs, dragging his lips higher. "Divine."

The forest around you is silent, as if holding its breath, as if bearing witness. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the rhythm syncing with his own quiet, shuddering breaths. You don’t know what’s more terrifying—the way he touches you like you’re something sacred or the way you’re starting to believe it.

Divine.

He did not want you to utter a word of the gods, and yet here he was, revering you as though you were made of stardust and prayer. His lips traced blessings into your skin, his hands mapping out every fragile piece of you with something dangerously close to devotion.

Your breath shuddered, caught between fear and something deeper, something you couldn’t name. He worshipped you in contradiction—loathing, needing, aching.

His voice was a rasp against your skin. "You don’t even see it, do you?" His fingers ghosted over your thigh, his grip tightening as though you might disappear. "You are holy in a way the heavens could never understand."

He pulls the nightgown off you completely, throwing it aside. The ruined nightgown lands in a crumpled heap, forgotten the moment it leaves his hands.

His gaze devours you, tracing every inch of exposed skin like a man starved, like something sacred has been laid bare before him. His fingers, cool against the heat of your body, press into your waist, lingering, memorizing.

"You were never meant for them," he murmurs, almost to himself. His touch drags up, slow, reverent, mapping out the curve of your ribs, the plane of your stomach. "Never meant for their rules. Their prayers."

His lips follow the path his hands have taken, pressing against you like whispered blasphemy.

His devotion was feverish, a worship not of saints or gods, but of you.

Your body was his temple, and he knelt before it without shame, lips pressing against every inch of exposed skin as though engraving his reverence into you. His hands roamed—possessive, greedy, desperate—as if afraid you might vanish between his fingers like mist at dawn.

“You were made for me,” he murmured against your hip, his voice rough with something deeper than hunger. His teeth grazed your skin, a silent vow. “No holy book, no doctrine—only this. Only us.”

The forest bore witness to the sacrilege, the rustling leaves whispering secrets to the wind. But he did not care. And, Astra help you, neither did you.

“Rafayel, that blood-” “It’s precious. Don’t you dare say otherwise.”

His words came like a command, hard and unyielding. His fingers gripped your wrists, holding you still as if your very body was his to claim, to savor. There was something in his eyes—intensity, obsession, an almost maddening hunger as he traced the lines of your skin.

The blood, your blood, had already stained him, and yet it seemed to hold him captive. It wasn’t just an act of possession—it was reverence, as though your very essence was sacred, and he couldn’t bear to waste a drop of it.

"Every part of you," he whispered, eyes now fixed on the path of blood trickling along your skin, "is mine." His voice was raw, desperate. "And I’ll cherish every bit of it, even if the gods themselves would frown upon us."

His lips hovered just above the blood, as if he was waiting for permission, the tension between you both palpable, thickening the air.

His lips hovered, teasing, just barely brushing against your skin as he waited, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Without thinking, you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, pressing his mouth to your blood-streaked skin.

It was an act of surrender. You were no longer the person who feared him, who resisted his touch. Now, you were simply a part of the chaos between you, caught in the storm of his desire and your own.

His breath hitched as his mouth met your skin, his hands roaming to claim you further. Every inch of him was pressed against you, his body marking you as his, as he whispered your name—like a prayer, like an obsession, like a promise.

If he was going to damn you, it may as well be worth it. 

His tongue laped at the blood on your thighs, his grip bruising on your hips as he cleans you up. Nipping and kissing up, up, up, his breath fans over your cunt, abd you can’t help but shiver. 

“And Astra said do not be wasteful, so thank you for this meal.”

His lips were on you, drinking your blood. "I could spend an eternity feasting on you,”

His words sent a thrill of excitement through you as he continued to lavish attention to your sensitive flesh, a cold hand coming to press down on your stomach, cool to the touch. Rafayels tongue traced patterns along your folds, your breath hitching as waves of pleasure rippled through your body, conflicting with the apprehension that still lingered in your mind. You let go of his hair, grasping at the dirt, clawing at whatever could ground you, fighting to maintain control over your desires. But with each flick of Rafayels tongue, each gentle suckle, your resolve waned, your resistance crumbling like sand beneath a relentless tide. 

Despite yourself, you arched your back, offering yourself more fully to his ministrations, your moans mingling with the soft sounds of his fervent attentions. Lips parting to taste the blood that came from your core, he teased and taunted with each languid stroke. 

Rafayel savored you like a forbidden fruit, movements deliberate and precise as he explored every inch of your trembling form. Eliciting gasps and moans from your lips, he threatened to consume you. 

His hands, strong and commanding, roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs as he held you in place, ensuring you remained at his mercy. 

"Please," you begged, your voice a breathless whisper. "I can't... I can't take anymore..."

Of course, the faux priest ignored you. 

His lips were bloody- so bloody, smearing across his chin and mingling with the spit that connected him to your cunt. 

“You- you’re beautiful.”

He licks it away, groaning at the taste as he reluctantly pulls himself away, sitting up, keeping your legs apart as he undoes his buttoned shirt, pulling it over his head and-

As if your cheeks couldnt burn any more. 

It was as if Astra had carved him himself, and he probably did. 

No clay was made to make his form, no. 

He was made from fire and starlight.

Two fingers replaced his mouth, inching their way. Your eyes threaten to roll at the intensity of it all, and the feeling of shame was ever present in its advancements. 

Rafayel made his way up your body, lips trailing along the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake as he moved towards your breasts. Capturing one of your nipples between his lips, he sucked and nipped at the sensitive flesh, his fangs nearly breaking the skin. 

“Divine.”

It was said like a mantra, a prayer on your skin, an obsession with the salvation he so desperately craved. His free hand grabbed one of your own, interlocking your fingers and holding it about your head. Worshipping your breasts with a sense of reverence, he nearly whined. 

"I could spend an eternity feasting on you,”

The words send a thrill of excitement through you.

But the ins and outs of his fingers, his mouth on your tits, and the utter act of it all-

You don’t know whether to cry or beg. 

Beg for it to be done?

It’s too much- and he knows this. Of course he does. 

Father Rafayel always knows. 

He lets your nipple go with a lewd pop, taking his fingers out of you before grabbing your face. If you weren't so overwhelmed, you might have gagged. 

Until he spits in your mouth and pushes your head back down. 

“Stay down.”

His hands go to his pants, and you watch. Watch him take himself out. 

Astra above. 

He was pretty just about everywhere. Endowed, leaking, his skin tinged the faintest of blues up until his tip, an aggressive deep red-almost purple. 

And there's so much cum. 

He lines himself up with your quivering hole, breathing hard as if he needed the oxygen. Maybe he did now. “I- hah- I’m taking you. You understand, don’t you? I need this.”

But your gaze is too focused on his member, too distracted. 

“He’d probably marry a book,”

Oh, Yvonne, you sweet ignorant soul. 

Your blood smears across his tip, and he hisses. “So hot- too hot,”

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe ou-

You cry out, the push too uncomfortable, too harsh, too mean. And finally- finally- closes his eyes, long lashes giving his cheeks butterfly kisses as he damn near growls. 

He leans over you, his forehead meeting yours as he presses his lips to yours, whether just for the sake of kissing or to not look foolish, you don’t know. Don’t have time to think as he goes to your throat. 

He bites. 

Not enough to break skin, but it hurts. 

Hurts more when you gaze at his hands, how they are fisted in the damp soil beneath you, nails caked with blood and dirt, holding himself back. 

He moves his hips, pushing in, and your arms scramble around his bare back, nails gifting crescents into his skin. A bulge in your tummy- he presses down on it. 

“Here. Here is where I’ll be. Where we will be. Do you understand?”

“What?”

“Miseal. It’s already decided.”

His thrusts are deep- rough, and something feels off as he takes you. Though you’re not sure what.

Almost as if you’re being watched. 

And he feels it too.

“Damn him,”

A rush, a rush as he tries to make you both finish, no longer worried about the pleasure of it all, so long as it was done. You whine, legs wrapping around him, keeping him in as he rocks into you. 

Soon enough, he spills. 

But it's strange, how he pulls away fast, grabbing his pants.

You watch as he pulls out a candle, a muted red wax of a long shaft and a packet of matches. 

“You move, and you’re getting burned. Do you understand?”

What?

He lights it. 

Panicking, you try to get up- 

His hand is on your throat, keeping you down. “Stay. Still.”

He holds it over your body, letting the wax melt and then-

When it drops onto your skin, it burns.

You bite back a yelp, throwing your head back and gritting your teeth. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

His gaze is hard as he lets it fall onto your body, watching it roll down the curves and valleys and dips of your body. Tears pool in your eyes, and all sense of warmth he had in his gaze is gone. Why was he so hard to understand?

He brings a hand to your stomach, smearing the wax before it solidified. 

It hits you. 

He was drawing something on you. Swirls of roses and vines, stars and something else you can't quite see. 

“Rafayel, what’s wrong-” “Quiet.”

His tone is sharp, cold. And then- 

Holy water?

He splashes it onto you. 

“Rafayel, wha-”

“Stop- Just stop it! Let me finish what I need to do!”

Rafayel’s breath came fast and uneven, his hands shaking even as they held you firm. His panic bled into you like ink in water, spreading thick and inescapable.

No—no, no, no. This was wrong.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else. 

He jerked back as if burned, his expression twisting. Regret? Shame? Desire? It all mixed together, unreadable.

"Astra," you whispered, your throat tightening. "Astra is going to punish us."

Rafayel's face darkened, his pupils blown wide, his grip on you tightening like a noose.

Then, before you could utter another breath, he shoved his hand over your mouth, pressing you into the earth.

"Shut. Up." His voice was a raw, desperate growl. His body caged you in, his hand firm against your lips, his eyes blazing with something almost wild.

The wind only grew stronger. The trees groaned. The stars above flickered—then vanished.

Astra was watching.

Your chest heaved, but no air came. His hand was firm, unyielding, stealing the breath from your lungs as the wind raged around you. Your fingers clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin, but he wouldn’t budge.

Your vision blurred at the edges, a ringing building in your ears. Above you, the sky churned—inky black swallowing every trace of light, the heavens convulsing in silent fury.

Rafayel’s eyes bore into yours, his grip trembling. His own breath was ragged, his expression torn between panic and something darker.

Then, just as your limbs began to weaken, he let go.

You gasped, choking on the rush of air, your lungs burning. The moment your breath returned, you shoved him away, scrambling backward across the damp forest floor.

"What have you done?" Your voice was raw, torn.

Rafayel didn’t answer. His lips parted, but his eyes weren’t on you anymore. They were locked onto the abyss above, where the sky had fractured.

A sob clawed up your throat, raw and broken. You could feel it—like something had been ripped from you, something sacred and irreplaceable.

Your soul.

The weight of it hit you all at once. A terrible, hollow emptiness where divinity had once dwelled. The connection to Astra, the light you had clung to in your darkest moments—it was gone. Torn away by his hands.

You curled in on yourself, fingers digging into the damp earth as if you could anchor yourself, as if the ground would not reject you like the heavens had. You had been forsaken.

A gust of wind howled through the trees, the sky above still shuddering, the heavens themselves mourning you.

And he—he only stood there. Watching.

"You’ve ruined me," you whispered, voice shaking, eyes wet with grief.

Rafayel flinched as if struck. But he didn’t deny it. Didn’t apologize. He only took a step closer, the shadows curling around him like a crown, his expression unreadable.

"You were never theirs to begin with." His voice was low, reverent, filled with something close to adoration.

You hated him. You hated that you wanted to believe him.

A breeze flows through your hair, comfortable on your scalp. 

A field of golden wheat. The stalks sway, whispering secrets in the wind. The sky is endless, a soft, hazy blue, and the sun is warm on your skin.

And then you see it.

Her.

Your body—mangled, broken, wrong. Blood seeps into the dirt beneath, soaking the golden earth in deep crimson. Your eyes are open, clouded and lifeless, staring at nothing. The wind does not touch you. The sun does not warm you.

You are dead.

But you are also here, standing above yourself, barefoot in the soft earth, small hands trembling at your sides. You are a child again.

A shadow looms over your corpse. You look up.

Astra?

No.

A hand grabs yours. You turn, blinking in confusion. There, standing beside you, is a younger version of Rafayel, his eyes wide, full of an unspoken fear. The wheat sways gently around him, but the warmth of the sun, which once bathed you, now feels distant, cold, almost unreal.

“Are you scared?” you ask softly, your voice trembling, not sure if the words are meant for him or for you.

He doesn’t answer at first, his gaze fixed on the mangled body lying in the dirt, still and lifeless. Slowly, he nods. His expression is tense, strained, haunted. The faint trace of a tear glimmers in his eye, but he refuses to look away from the vision of death that lies before you.

Another figure steps forward, his presence almost ethereal amidst the vast expanse of the golden wheat.

He is a man—older, perhaps, though not by much—and yet, his features carry an odd resemblance to both you and Rafayel, as if the strands of your lives had intertwined in ways too complex to decipher. His face is solemn, filled with a quiet sadness that mirrors your own unease. He crouches by the mangled body, planting roses in the earth, the delicate flowers contrasting sharply with the harshness of death surrounding them.

When he finishes, his eyes slowly rise to meet yours, the sorrow in them palpable. "I can't wait to meet you," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a melancholy that feels out of place in this strange vision. There's a heaviness in his words, as though he’s already resigned to an inevitable fate that neither you nor he can escape.

You stand still, caught in the moment, unsure of what to make of him or what he means by his cryptic words. His gaze lingers for a moment longer before he turns away, his figure slowly dissolving into the wheat as if he were never there to begin with. 

The familiar sound of Gran's laughter fills the air, cutting through the tension of the dream and pulling you back to reality. You blink, suddenly disoriented as you stand in your kitchen, the smell of burnt soup wafting in the air. Tara, your younger cousin, stands at the stove, a guilty grin plastered across her face.

You roll your eyes and call out, annoyed, ��Tara, did you burn the soup again?”

Gran chuckles from her rocking chair in the corner of the room, clearly entertained by the chaotic dynamic. She has seen this a thousand times before, but her amusement is unwavering. "Let her be, love. She’s learning."

Tara, red-faced and clearly embarrassed, scoops a ladle of the charred soup into a bowl, trying to salvage what she can. "It wasn’t that bad," she protests weakly, though the scorched smell says otherwise.

You sigh, but the irritation fades quickly as you watch Tara and Gran in the soft light of the kitchen. It’s a comforting scene, one you’ve known all your life. Still, that dream lingers at the back of your mind, its strange figure and cryptic words echoing through your thoughts, mixing with the mundane and ordinary.

"Gran, I had the strangest dream last night," you start, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling. She pauses, her hands stilling on her knitting as her sharp eyes meet yours.

“Did you now?” “I…yeah. I dreamed I was trying to be a nun…and there was a vampire.” Gran raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "A vampire, eh? Sounds like Astra's handiwork, that does."

You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, you hear a soft chuckle from the doorway. The voice is familiar, comforting, yet too smooth—too perfect. "Nightmares again, cutie?"

You freeze, instinctively glancing over your shoulder. There, standing in the doorway, is him. The man who doesn't quite fit, but is always somehow there, a shadow in the corner of your life. He wears the same smile as always—charming, relaxed, but with an undertone you can't quite place. His eyes gleam, mischievous with amusement. 

Gran raises a knowing eyebrow. “Rafayel, you causing my grandbaby nightmares again? You ought to be more gentle with her.”

“I can’t help it, Josephine. Gotta get it out of my system before the wedding.”

Gran snorts. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “So what, you just had to torment me one last time before I walk down the aisle?”

Rafayel grins, lazy and wolfish. “Of course. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t haunt my bride’s dreams before the big day?” His voice is teasing,

Gran swats him lightly with a dish towel. “Enough of that nonsense. Go set the table if you’re gonna stand there running your mouth.”

Rafayel winks at you before grabbing the plates.

©hellinistical 2025 do not copy, translate, distribute, plagiarize, or reproduce in any form without permission, and do not share to any media outside of tumblr.

[multimilfs]

My Two Cents on AAA EP6...

The hateful response to episode 6 has unfortunately solidified a thought I've been thinking for a while (and hoped I was incorrect on);

People don't care about true storytelling anymore.

A genuine, well-rounded story is built with so many moving parts and players. Agatha, while being the main character, is not the only important piece on the chess board, she's just the one we're focused on. Billy (or Lilia or Jen or Alice etc etc) are just as pivotal to the outcome.

We have the opportunity to witness some of the most heartfelt, beautiful storytelling in years and the second the story pivots to build out plot, there's a riot. Torches and pitchforks and for what? For answering questions people have been asking since episode 1? For adding another layer to the lovingly-crafted onion that is the story of Agatha All Along?

I love Agatha and Rio. I've been dying to see more of them since episode 1, but if your response to a potential ship is to render the rest of the story irrelevant, why are you watching the show at all? At this point just wait and watch the clips of the ship once the show is all over. Or write fanfiction like the rest of us if things don't go your way.

Rio and Agatha's relationship isn't the point. It's a bonus. It's a wonderful treat woven in—just like Billy and Eddie. To quote this post from the brilliant @the-scarlet-witch-22 ;

"...reducing Agatha Harkness to just being one half of a romantic ship is doing such a disservice to her character and the entire purpose of Agatha All Along."

Agatha is brilliant, cunning, and interesting; with and without Rio. She is a whole woman. She is not half of a character without a partner. And Agatha All Along is not half a show for prioritizing plot over romance.

Also, is it not worth celebrating that not only do we have a lovely, explicitly queer character in Billy Maximoff—but also that we have the privilege of seeing him fleshed out, where years ago he'd have been killed off-screen (or worse)? That he is a key player? From someone who spent years watching queer characters die left and right, it is a gift to live in a time where they not only get to live, but have relevance. It is a gift to watch Billy's story evolve alongside Agatha's.

There are valid concerns in the ether, but don't let fear become hatred; the second it does, we're no better than those who want to see all of us gone.

[featguler]

kylian relationship headcanon?

can i come over ? ────── just another episode of tenderness.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. ♡ ────── wordcount : 667 ♡ ────── notes : posting this one as a good luck token for the france vs netherlands game!! ily kylian. i try to not just write the happy parts of the relationship but also the hurdles you two might face? i might do more of these since i've got some ideas still :^) (quick disclaimer: since these are headcanons of real people, i'd like to emphasize that if you do not agree with any of the things i write, please kindly click off the post). title is from cool dry place by katy kirby ♡ masterlist.

Kylian Mbappé. Every single person on the Earth knows his name. But you especially—how could you not? When he doesn’t have his eyes on a football game, or his legs on a football field, he has them on you.

Hand on your knee at every single group dinner, behind your neck at every hangout with friends; his skin is always in contact with yours at every single second.

Touchy does not even begin to describe him.

If it were up to him, he would drag you to the changing room and have you sit between his legs—but no, it is not up to him.

Well, mostly because he doesn’t want to be the one that brings the elephant into the room, but also it is so bad that other people are beginning to think of you as a nuisance.

“Mbappé can’t keep his hands off his partner,” a tabloid once wrote, and it only took a few quote retweets from some Parc des Princes employees, heavily agreeing, for it to go viral.

“Sorry,” you once said to a manager, then to a janitor, then to a teammate, Kylian trailing quietly behind you, arms around your waist.

And he gets sooo whiny if you push him away—what’s worse than losing a match? His dramatic ass would say that it’s having you steer away from his touches!

“Kylian,” you whine on the couch, pushing his face away as he tries to kiss you for the hundredth time that hour. “Please, I’m trying to watch a film here.”

“Mhm,” He pouts, arms around your back, hoping that you’d look at him. He looks at you, his chin on your chest before sighing. “You hate me right? Be honest.”

“Please,” you say again, eyes never leaving the television, “you can kiss me all you want the moment the movie ends.”

He tends to avoid. You’ve known him for so long, and you are at the point where you would almost forgive him for the amount of issues that have simmered too long in both of your discontent.

But you don’t do that. No. You see forever with this man, right? So you sit him down and talk.

You’ve got to admit that Kylian has gotten so, so much better in recent years.

He used to flee at every problem—it’s not that he has trouble expressing his emotions, it’s that he has trouble being vulnerable.

“You’re doing this again,” you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Kylian won’t look you in the eyes. “I’m sick of this.”

“Come on,” Kylian tries reaching a hand over the table to you—well, if he’s going to ignore you, you sure as hell are going to ignore him too. “Look at me, we don’t have to talk about this right now.”

“Right,” you huff out, letting out a sarcastic laugh, “so when are we going to talk about this.”

Kylian stays quiet.

Kylian likes luxurious things; and he likes you. The same thing, really, in his eyes. A priceless watch and your priceless kiss—this is the kind of luxury a man like him can only dream of.

He goes all the way for his show of love, of course! He customises everything he owns with your initials.

Once, he somehow left his passport in the airport, and what got people into talking was not his passport, but your initials embroidered on its leather cover.

The strap of his duffel bag is changed into a shade of your favourite colour, your initials and his sewn together under it—it does not stop there! A gold plated lapel pin with your name on it becomes a staple on every single suit he wears; socks with your initials when cuffed; matching bracelets he only takes off before practice and matches.

He makes sure the camera flashing on his face gets it: he’d pose in a certain angle, throw his scarf over his shoulders in a certain way.

Even when you’re not there, he still loves showing you off!

[thatonefanficwriternooneknows]

FoxQuin Week Day 1 - Shovel Talk

Good Afternoon/Morning/Evening/Night!

Here for your reading pleasure is day 1 of FoxQuin Week! I decided to be extra (and hate myself) and work in both the quote prompt and the writing prompt because why not :D

So this one is Fox's Batch Giving Quinlan the Shovel Talk and "What do you mean you're married?" (@foxquinweek )

It is a little over 1k so enjoy :D

Quinlan is having a rather odd day.

It started with Commander Wolffe trying to corner him in the halls of the Temple, it continued with Commander Ponds staring at him during the council meeting he was asked to, and it kept up with Commander Cody trying to get his attention in the mess hall.

Now, when Quinlan was trying to spend some quality time with his padawan, that may or may not include some recreational murder, Commander Bly kept swerving the conversation around to Fox.

That’s when the dots started to connect.

“Why exactly do you keep bringing Commander Fox up, Bly? Is there something you want to know?”

Aayla’s head perked up, looking at Quinlan and Bly with her wide eyes, smelling gossip no doubt. Bly stuttered through some word vomit before caving and muttering “never mind”.

They didn’t get to their recreational murder, but Quinlan had a great time making Bly uncomfortable with random mentions of what Fox and him get up to in their spare time. Without specifically saying Fox’s name.

It was quite fun.

Odd, but fun.

As the day passed, the Commanders tried more and more interesting ways to corner him. It didn’t work because, one, Quinlan grew up here and knew every hiding place, and two, he was a kriffing Shadow. If they wanted to corner him they’d have to get up to Fox’s level.

But, all good things had to come to an end, and it ended with Quinlan sitting at the Jedi Commissary with Captain Rex sitting across from him…cleaning his blaster while pointedly staring at Quinlan.

Not subtle, this lot.

Quinlan smirked at the blond captain and kept eating his food like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

Which he didn’t, because Fox’s batch’s approval meant nothing to him.

Fox’s opinion was the only opinion when it came to their relationship.

Soon enough, every single Commander that tried to corner him today was on Rex’s side of the table, staring Quinlan down, their Jedi were sitting on Quinlan’s side radiating concern.

Considering the only beings that knew about him and Fox were Tholme and Aayla that was fair.

“So…Jedi Master Quinlan Vos.” Wolffe started and Quinlan chuckled at the concerned sounds coming from Plo.

“So, Commander Wolffe.” Quinlan was nothing if not an asshole.

The one eyed commander glared at him with his one good eye, likely hoping Quinlan would spontaneously burst into flame if he glared hard enough.

Jokes on him, though, Quinlan has been glared at harsher by worse.

“Let’s just cut the chase, what are your intentions with our kih’vod, Vos?” Cody cut in on the staring contest.

Quinlan chuckled at several Jedi Councilors choking on their food.

He leaned back in his chair, smirking happily at the group of angry vode glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you mean.” Quinlan shrugged and kept eating, moving his attention to his wrist comm and the message from Fox on it.

The Hot (definitely) One: please ignore my batchers

                Thorn told them

                he’s being properly punished

The Smart (allegedly) One: lol

no worries, babe

                this is kriffing hilarious

The Hot (definitely) One: you have an odd sense of humor

                are you in the Temple?

The Smart (allegedly) One: commissary

The Hot (definitely) One: be right there

Quinlan smiled and returned to his food, smiling at Wolffe who was ignoring his food in favor of stabbing it menacingly.

Hex definitely did it better.

(Fox’s batchers attempting a compactor talk was infinitely amusing. More so when one considers the fact that no one could possibly be scarier than the CMO of the Guard, and Hex had cornered Quinlan seconds after he convinced Fox to give them a chance.

That man was terrifying.

Quinlan was convinced the war would be over if they just set the Guard CMO on the Separatist Senate.)

“We know you know who Fox is, General.” Ponds finally piped up. Good for him.

“Oh I definitely know Fox. What does that have to do with your kih’vod?” Quinlan was definitely being a shit right now. He was entitled.

Wolffe slammed his fists onto the table top, rattling the dishes and startling everyone not involved in this conflict.

“Stop being obtuse, Vos. What are your intentions with Fox?” Wolffe hissed out, Bly placing a placating hand on his shoulder and muttering under his breath about tempers.

Quinlan rested his cheek on his fist and hummed.

“My intentions are between Fox and I, Commander.” He couldn’t help but purr out, tempted to see how worked up he could get the batch before they caved and started threatening him outright.

Wolffe let out a strangled scream and made to launch across the table at Quinlan, only to be held back by Bly and Cody and slammed back into his seat.

“Fox is a grown vod, he can make his own decisions. But Vos, if you hurt him…well…” Rex trailed off and started putting his blaster together with emphasized movements.

Quinlan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your compactor talk is so cute, Commanders, Captain. But CMO Hex already beat you to it. And ARC Captain Lex, Lieutenant Tina, Commander Thorn, Stone and Thire, even Sargent Apex. His was the funniest honestly.” Quinlan chuckled, remembering the scarred Sargent nonchalantly assembling a bomb while telling Quinlan all the things Fox has done for him and his batch.

It was almost the opposite of a compactor talk, actually.

The Commanders blinked in unison before their brows furrowed and their lips pursed.

Not his fault Fox’s batch weren’t up to date with the Guard personnel.

“Who is Fox?” Obi-wan was looking at Quinlan with his kicked tooka eyes and he vaguely felt bad for not telling his best friend about Fox, but also…things have been happening pretty fast.

He opened his mouth to answer, honestly for once, but a gloved hand slid around his neck and lightly tilted his chin up and Quinlan smiled as Fox pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

Fox’s answering smile was stunning.

“Me’vaar ti gar, riduur?” Fox asked against his lips, pulling back just far enough for Quinlan to have space to answer.

“Naas, ner riduur.” Quinlan responded before snaking his hand into Fox’s lovely locks to pull him in for another kiss.

Idly he heard the clattering of glassware and a strangled scream.

Quinlan looked over at their audience, smirking when Fox brushed his lips against his cheek while burying his face into Quinlan’s shoulders.

Everyone seemed to speak or shout at once and it echoed into the commissary, Fox’s shoulders shaking as his laugh echoed Quinlan’s.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE MARRIED?!”

[krisdreaming]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x f!reader

WC: 1.2k

Summary: Osamu and his wife just had a baby. Now Atsumu sees them everywhere.

A/N: This kind of took a very different direction than I was originally planning and tbh, I kinda hate it now, but I spent over two hours writing it, so I'm gonna roll with it anyway. Maybe when I re-read it in the morning, I'll hate it less 😅

There's a term for it. Atsumu isn't sure what it is, but he knows that as soon as you're exposed to something new, you start noticing it around you more and more. That must be why, ever since Osamu's son was born, he's been seeing babies everywhere. They're at the grocery store. They're at the park. Suddenly, half of his teammates have been expanding their families like it's some kind of competition.

Suffice to say, Atsumu has seen more than his share of babies over the past few weeks. Sure, they're cute, or whatever. When a baby smiles at you, you can't help but smile back. When they grab onto your finger, you let them hold it for as long as they want. When they engage you in a staring contest across the grocery store aisle, you only put up a little bit of a fight before giving them the satisfaction of winning, flashing a sheepish smile at their mom or dad as you turn the corner.

The sight of the little monsters has started to trigger a strange twinge in Atsumu's middle, which he chalks up to the fact that he's an uncle now. There's a brand new member of his family, and he's really happy for Osamu and his wife. Seeing the babies everywhere reminds him of that. That's all it is.

See, the two of you had talked about this. You aren't ready for kids right now. He's in the prime of his volleyball career, and you love your job. You're both happy as just the two of you, spending your free time together doing the things you enjoy and getting a full eight hours of sleep each night. Having a baby would change everything. Your last discussion on the topic, right after Osamu and his wife had shared their pregnancy with the two of you, had ended on that exact note. He's pretty confident that's still how you feel. He's relatively confident that's still how he feels, too.

Of course, the longer it goes on, the harder it is to explain away. He watches Osamu doting on his son, snuggling him close and kissing his cheeks and smiling bigger than Atsumu's ever seen before. He knows his brother is tired, but he doesn't seem to care. He watches the way he looks at his wife, and the way both of them look at their son, and it softens something inside him. He sees you cradling your nephew close, cooing down at him with a soft smile, and his heart turns over in his chest.

Finally, one day, he comes to Osamu with a question.

"What's it like?" Osamu is wiping down the counter at Onigiri Miya, clearly trying to disguise his surprise and mild consternation at seeing his brother show up out of the blue, five minutes before closing time.

"What's what like?" He grunts, scrubbing at a ground-in glob of rice.

"Y'know," Atsumu gestures vaguely, "Being a dad."

"Ah," Osamu hums, grasping that quickly what this is all about. "It's incredible. I mean, don't get me wrong," He chuckles, "It ain't easy. It's way worse than whatever ya try to imagine based off a' everybody's helpful advice," He lifts his hands in air quotes. "But somehow, it's also worth it, in a way ya never could've imagined it would be. The way ya feel every time ya look at 'em - ya can't even put it into words."

Atsumu isn't sure how he's supposed to respond to that, so he just nods. Osamu smiles, looking him up and down with a too-critical eye. "Any special reason yer asking?"

"No," Atsumu says with a quick shake of his head, "Just curious, 's all."

Osamu nods, not saying another word, but the smirk on his face is more than enough to make Atsumu want to knock it clean off. Osamu's answer is exactly what he'd been afraid of.

It comes to a head one sunny Saturday afternoon when the two of you meet up with Osamu and his wife and son to visit a festival. The afternoon is starting to wind down when Osamu unceremoniously dumps the baby into Atsumu's arms. "Hey, mind watching him while we go to the bathroom quick?"

"Ah, sure," Atsumu says to his brother's already-retreating back. You poke at the baby's irresistibly pudgy cheeks, giggling along with him when your attentions illicit a bout of laughter.

"Oh my, what a sweetheart!" The elderly woman seems to appear out of nowhere, something Osamu is constantly describing but which Atsumu hasn't experienced until this moment. "Such a happy baby," She grins. "How old is he?" She looks expectantly at you, and after you gather your wits, you answer her.

The woman nods knowingly, as if she'd predicted as much. "Are you having a fun day with Mommy and Daddy?" She asks next in a goofy voice, completely oblivious to the way Atsumu chokes on the breath he'd just been inhaling and you shoot him a wide-eyed glance.

"Ah, well, actually-" You stammer out, at the same time Atsumu blurts, "We're not his parents."

"I see," She says good-naturedly, "Well even so, he looks very happy with you." With that, she goes on her merry way, and you and Atsumu share a bewildered look. Osamu and his wife return from the bathroom, and neither of you mentions the awkward encounter. It doesn't come up until later that evening, when the two of you are lying in bed.

"That was really somethin' today, huh?" Atsumu asks, trying to ignore the fact that his stomach is suddenly in knots.

"The old lady?" You chuckle weakly. "Yeah, 'Samu's right, they really don't have any shame, do they?"

"Yeah," Atsumu says, then takes a deep breath. "Do ya think, maybe, it's time to have that conversation again?"

You're silent for a few moments, and he can't quite place the emotions that cross your face. He doesn't have to explain which conversation he means.

"Maybe," You finally agree in a low voice. "Are you saying that your decision might be different this time?" It could be his imagination, but Atsumu almost thinks that you look hopeful.

"Maybe," He says carefully. "Would yours?"

"Maybe," You echo him, but there's a smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

"There would be a lot of changes," He says softly, fingertips tracing aimless shapes up and down your arm.

"Maybe we're ready for those changes," You murmur back, catching his hand in yours and letting him twine your fingers together.

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. "As long as I've got you, I think I might be."

"Me too," You say, leaning in slightly to nudge the tip of your nose against his. When he kisses you, he hopes the pressure of his lips can convey even the things he can't put into words. He can't imagine living this life with anyone else.

[bookwyrminspiration]

It's fun to bemoan the odd lines and such, and I was gonna make a joke, but I do think it is genuinely sad how much of Unraveled's promo is leaning so heavily into shipping.

Not because I hate sokeefe or Keefe, but because this is such a massively popular story that has so much to offer outside of a single ship, and it's such a disservice to the years of work Shannon has put in to crafting these characters' stories and world. And to the countless fans who adore the story and characters outside of this single ship.

Both Sophie and Keefe are more than sokeefe, and the way this story about injustice, and rebellion, and loss of self, and grief is being overshadowed by a relationship? See the kiss scene! sokeefe art! foster-related quote! These things themselves aren't bad, but there's no balance; they should be part of more, not the whole thing. KOTLC deserves to retain its complexity in marketing! The readers, including young, deserve to have the story not watered down for them when it's being pushed!

There's also something about how publishers told Shannon KOTLC wouldn't sell because Sophie's a girl, and she pushed through that, only for Sophie to become almost an accessory to Keefe's story here? Making appearances that focus on what Keefe thinks of her instead of Sophie herself. I don't have this fully articulated, but hopefully you see what I'm getting at

Shannon's said for years she hates love triangles, didn't mean to write one, and tries to stay firmly Team Sophie. And I believe her, which makes it worse seeing how despite Shannon's efforts, her story about a brave, stubborn, reckless, passionate girl trying to find herself and do what she can to right the wrongs she sees in the world is getting pared down to a love story.

Now we do have six more weeks to go, so we could get some variety in the future. it's just frustrating so far, and as fun as it is to make silly little jokes about it, I do think there is a genuine critique here of publishing and marketing and treatment of female led stories (yes, unraveled is about keefe, but Keeper is about Sophie), and I wanted to say something

[spockandawe]

Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

[jules-ln]

Viktor and Jinx as Zaun, Jayce as Piltover, Arcane's use of art movements as a storytelling device

I am once again writing about Arcane because I am mentally ill and I also love Art history

So anyway I've already talk about Viktor being Art nouveau And how Art nouveau's history was similar to Viktor's story, and I wanted to talk about Jayce being Art Deco, because of his fashion choices in the last episode are pretty much art deco

But then I thought, what if it isn't just about Viktor and Jayce, but it's about Zaun and Piltover in general, and how the relationship between these two cities reflects in these two characters

And somehow I ended up writing this because FUCK

Look, I even got subtitles and everything

But anyway, I won't put citations on this because I'm not that crazy so this isn't a serious academic essay, and as anything else you read on the internet, take the parts about Art history with a grain of salt and you should read more about it (yess, this my elaborated plan to get people into Art history)

Jinx and Viktor as the personification of Zaun

Zaun actually has more of a punk on top rather than just art nouveau, a lot of people seem to think it's steampunk, but honestly, I think that's the result of putting punk and art nouveau together rather than it being pure steampunk

The thing that made me connect the characters as the embodiment of the cities was the fact that I've noticed that Zaun actually has a lot of art nouveau elements; is just that this art nouveau elements seem to be old and broken (I would show you but Tumblr's dumb image limit won't let me)

Now, I've actually talked about the story of art nouveau on another post but to make a brief summary, art nouveau started as a way to give common people art, to redistribute it rather than it just being something for rich people, it failed. But the important part is that art nouveau originally was a leftist art movement, like punk. Punk was a response to the social and economic crisis at the time of its origin; but where Art nouveau was a solution (solution that didn't work, mind you) punk was more of a response (again, don't quote me on that lmao)

Similar to this we can see, how both Viktor and Jinx then embody different responses to the same thing. Viktor is proposing a solution for the problems of Zaun (solution that didn't work) meanwhile Jinx is a reaction to everything that has happened to Zaun, she isn't a problem, she's a consequence

But not only are they the responses to Zaun, they ARE different parts of Zaun

We can see this with Jinx in the relationship she has with Vander, Silco and Ekko.

Both Vander and Silco nurture her and Zaun, and she wouldn't be what she is without both of them

That's why neither Silco nor Ekko could leave her. Silco couldn't give her away because that would be equivalent to him giving away Zaun, and Ekko couldn't give up on her because that would be like giving up on Zaun

Meanwhile with Viktor the influence of his style predominantly being art nouveau reflects in the background at different parts of the city,

And most noticeable is that when Zaun is in a better place, the elements of art nouveau are more prominent, like in episode 7 where punk takes a back seat to the art nouveau. It seems that generally art nouveau signifies a better Zaun, or the potential of it being better

We also see a lot of elements of art nouveau in Viktor's commune, and I know that the commune is interpreted as a negative thing. But look at it this way, what Viktor is doing, is probably doing more good than whatever the hell Caitlyn had going on during the first act (no hate to Cait btw)

Like, I know there are Caitlyn fans out there that defend her decisions of using the gray to attack the Chem barons, but in reality doing that wouldn't solve anything, just create a power vacuum that later could be filled by someone worse (like Renata Glasc) without solving the addiction to Shimmer (again, No hate to Cait). But what Viktor is doing, offering a safe space to recovering addicts and sick people, is actually solving the shimmer problem by eliminating the demand of it; and it's making Zaun better

(I also want to point out that the decision of framing Viktor's commune as a mind controlling cult is very politically charged, because even if it's not perfect; think about it; they're framing a commune in which money probably isn't used at all, and that accepts both recovering addicts and sick people freely and without judgment as something negative)

Add the fact that Viktor is one of the few characters that didn't talk negatively about Jinx (If I remember correctly); neither when he is disarming her bomb nor when he's in the commune talking directly to her; this could be interpreted as Viktor always seeing the potential within the Zaun of now

Adding to that, I want to make the point that Viktor and Jinx probably would be friends if they got to know each other. And I think this headcanon is so popular because they both are expressions of Zaun, of course they're going to be similar and get along

Art deco

Now, I'm not an expert in art deco (I've always been more interested in art nouveau and impressionism). But I know some things about it

Basically Art Deco comes from from the words art décoratif; and it was an art movement that emphasized the utility of art; it had different influences like Mayan art, Egyptian art, Art Nouveau, Rococo etc etc

Some of its characteristics are: straight lines, geometric patterns; a lot of gold, lots of triangles, more is more ideology and ornaments

But the important thing is that Art deco is supposed to be a very superficial art, merely decorative (hence the name); that signifies wealth. It also became strongly associated with machinery and progress. I would argue that in recent years there has been a new connotation of corruption and darkness to it thanks to media like Bioshock

It's definitely a perfect art movement for Piltover; to show the shallowness and money the city has. But the show not only attaches this art movement to the city, it also gives it different characters

Mel and Art Deco

This is the part where my ramblings got out of control because at first I was going to just point out how Jayce has an art movement too; then I realized that Viktor also uses clothes with an art deco pattern in them: (red lines to make the pattern more clear)

But that's weird; why does Viktor uses art deco here when later his main style is art nouveau? Then I realized, it's not just about Viktor and Jayce. But as Zaun and Piltover in general

And I realized that because of a character that also uses a lot of art deco without being from Piltover herself

Mel

Mel during the series uses different clothes, but most of them have in common the geometric pattern of art deco

But she isn't from Piltover; she isn't part of the city in the same way Jayce is. While she has a very big connection to it; the simple fact is that Mel's story is about finding herself; and she can't do it while in Piltover. In Piltover she's only doing what she's always done, searching for her mother's approval

Then why is she associated with art deco?

But I noticed, she isn't. Not completely

Let's look at what Mel actually does instead of what she's wearing

Here we can see one of Mel's paintings

Let's not look at what it is, (it's Noxus) let's look at how Mel painted it; it's has more emphasis on colors and ambient, the form is not very defined; it plays with the light, it almost gives you an impression of Noxus

Yes, Mel is an impressionist painter (think Claude Monet (Vincet van Gogh is post impressionsism btw))

And I think this is important for her character because at the end of the season, she goes back to Noxus looking for who she really is; who she is beyond her mother's influence and beyond Piltover. And guess what

If you hate abstract art blame it on Impressionsism. It came to be around the same time of the invention of photography. Photography filled the role painting had of representing reality, and it did it better, faster, and cheaper. So painting had to change to be more abstract instead of simply aiming to represent reality and all of that started (at least within the context of Europe at that time) with impressionsism

What I'm trying to say it's that impressionism was painting as a medium trying to redefine itself again, it was trying to find its own identity apart from photography. Just like Mel is trying to define herself

Now, if Mel is impressionism; it stand to reason that she's using Art deco, not because she's representative of the city, but simply as a way of showing how she adapted to the city, how it influenced her and helped her grow as a person

I was thinking about that before she debuted as a champion, but I think her voice lines kind of confirmed it

So, hers and Viktor's use of art deco signifies how important Piltover is for them; and if you look at it in a certain way, it's could also be a connection to Jayce

Jayce as Art deco

Now, before anything, I want to analyze Jayce's first design, when he's young

Here it is (and Viktor's, for reasons)

And you know, the first thing it jumped out to me while analyzing it, is that there isn't a lot of art deco elements; more than that, it's too simple for art deco, and he looks almost childish; like if you told me the guy was 18 here. I would believe it

But it also applies with Viktor, the clothes make him look so young and are too simple for art deco

So let's see how both of them look after the timejump

Now, Jayce here has his white blazer (is that the right word?) but again, where are my patterns? My ornaments? My geometric shapes and straight lines? There are some on the blazer; not enough that I would call it art deco

But take it off and boom

It's almost the same as his academy uniform, just change some things and colors here and there, but other than that, it's the same

Compared it with how different Viktor looks

Now, I know the first thing that stands out with Viktor is his change in health, but let's look beyond that, his clothes are completely different

Sure, he still uses elements that are reminiscent of his academy uniform, but that definitely isn't his uniform. The shape is different, the pattern is different, even the colors are a bit different. Viktor changed, but Jayce didn't?

That's because Viktor grew up, Jayce stayed the same, just add some things on top

Jayce's character design in season 1 reflects his mental state, he stayed innocent, naive

Now, why does all of these matters? Because it wasn't until I was looking at Jayce's design in season 2 that I noticed he's Art deco;

The straight lines, the geometric patterns, the ornaments. But he only won the art deco elements after he learned about Zaun, after he had to go through what Viktor had gone through. Before that he wasn't ready yet

Now, I think it's important to say that I'm interpreting Jayce as not only related to Piltover, but as the representation of the best of Piltover itself; he's the best side of Piltover in the same way that Viktor is the potential for a better Zaun

A tale of two cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times and I'm a nerd

Now, I think that even after the whole magic plot, Arcane is still fundamentally a story about two cities, and that same relationship it's reflected on its characters; more than that. The dumb ending where Zaun and Piltover forget their differences and work together; I think it was the plan all along and as proof of that, I present to you Viktor and Jayce's relationship

I've seen a lot of people say that the dynamic between Piltover and Zaun reflects itself in the dynamic between Vi and Jinx, and honestly; that doesn't makes sense to me

Because, I understand Jinx being Zaun, I've already said it myself; but Vi isn't Piltover, and the relationship Vi has with Jinx isn't even remotely similar to the relationship Piltover has with Zaun (If you want to make the case, I would say it would be more accurate to say that Jinx is Zaun and Cait is Piltover, and Vi is the person trapped between the two, unable to choose)

But if look elsewhere, you know who would be a perfect comparison for Piltover and Zaun? Jayce and Viktor, and you might say "well, Jayce and Viktor's relationship isn't at all like Piltover and Zaun's relationship either"

That's because, like I've already said, Jayce is the better version of Piltover, and Viktor is the potential yet to realize in Zaun. So basically if Caitlyn and Jinx's relationship is meant to reflect the problems the two cities have in the present. Jayce and Viktor's relationship gives the solution, which is "put aside your differences and work together as equals"

And you can see that as well in their design

Side to side, these two designs exemplify the fundamental differences between Art Nouveau and Art Deco

Art Nouveau looks flowy, soft, feminine, floral patterns, asymmetry. Art Deco is expensive, machinery, modern, sharp angles, symmetry and straight lines, but that's not all

I've already said that Jayce design changed at the end of the season because Jayce finally matured, he's ready to be the best of Piltover, now he has earned the art Deco. But what do my eyes see here?

A flowy soft pattern on Jayce? A Floral pattern even? That's art nouveau right there

And then you look at Viktor's final form (in this picture is easier to see) and What's that on his chest? Symmetry? Straight lines? Machinery? That's art deco

So are you telling me that Jayce will always have some Viktor in him, while Viktor will always have some Jayce in him?

Are you telling me that the best of Piltover will always have some Zaun in it? While the potential of Zaun will always involve Piltover?

And you might think that is a bit of a stretch, but it makes sense with the ending Arcane has

Think about it; the show says that the best solution for the two cities is for them to put aside their differences and work together as equals; and I can't help but think that's what Jayce and Viktor are already doing

Jayce doesn't care that Viktor is from Zaun, and Viktor trust Jayce even with him being from Piltover; and it's only working together that they can reach their true potential. As in every time-line in which they aren't together, they never invent Hextech

The ending of arcane

Tbh, I'm not saying that the ending of the Piltover and Zaun conflict was good even if it was planned all along; but I also think a lot of people expected a leftist masterpiece, like the moment the most revolutionary character is also a mob boss and the main villain of season 1, you can totally tell that it wasn't going to another disco elysium (funnily enough disco elysium also has the mob boss being the union leader lmao)

I'm just analyzing the things I found, and while some might seem like a reach, I'm a 100% death of the author guy and I believe in making my own meaning

And I want to say this is the first time I've seen art history used in this way for visual storytelling. They could've very well just use generic steampunk visuals; but they decided to do something meaningful. Just for that alone I consider Arcane a masterpiece of animation

[writingroom21]

Hi hello! I love your writing and I thought I would send a request idea I had if you’re willing.

Could you do a Rafe x reader where they recently started dating and went to high school together but the reader has always been a big nerd but she “got hot” after leaving high school, however she still hangs out with the same group of “nerds” as high school which consists of a few guys and Rafe just doesn’t like the types of people you hang out with because “he doesn’t think they’re good enough for her” and she’s constantly reminding him thats not fair or true since she is still one of the and has been since they were kids. Rafe’s insecure because his friends say that if he doesn’t chill out on his jealousy she’ll probably dump him for one of her friends if she realises how much of an asshole he really is. -Maybe they resolve it with a Lord of the rings movie night with her friends🩵🪼

Nerd

Warnings: none

Wc: 2.1K

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much! I hope you like this and never be afraid to send requests

Once again here he is sitting off to the side not knowing what the hell you are talking about. You and your friends are going on and on about some fantasy book series he hasn’t even heard of. This seems to be a constant since the two of you got together a few months back. You would mention or quote something he knows nothing about. Normally he wouldn’t care because no girl lasts long but you were different.

Sometimes he still feels bad for the person he was when you were both in highschool. He can remember hearing your name but for the life of him he couldn’t remember actually seeing you anywhere. Which would make sense since you ran in two different social groups. Rafe was the typical rich cool kid that thought he was better than everyone else. You well you were the nerd in the front of the class that knew every answer.

Back then he wouldn’t have even thought twice about you. To be honest he probably walked past you in the halls and never noticed you. But one day a few months back he was out with Topper and saw you. He thought you were hot and wanted to get your number. 

“Yo know who that is?” Topper looks at where Rafe is pointing to and sees you. “Yeah that's the girl from your homeroom. Remember the one that wore the stupid Harry Potter shirt.” Rafe tries to think hard but he doesn’t recall the memory. “Nah don’t remember her.” Topper laughs and claps a hand over his shoulder. “That was because she hung out with the nerdy kids and you were too popular to care.”

He honestly doesn’t even know why you gave him a chance. It seemed like the two of you were completely different people yet here you were. You smiled at him and every girl was just done for him. All of his thoughts were consumed about you. What you were doing that day. What your favorite color was. Even if your family would like him.

Getting your number and not blowing the first date was his best achievement to date. But that all seemed futile when he couldn’t keep you entertained like your friends. It started out small, you saying random quotes when you would hang out. He would always go “Huh?” then you would try to explain what you were saying. Only to say “It’s okay that you don’t get it. It’s not your thing.” Which only made him feel even worse.

It’s not like he hated your hobbies or what you were interested in. If he had one wish it would be used to make himself less moronic. That’s what it really came down to for him. He felt dumb.

You would tell him about the books you were reading or the shows and he would get a thing. Sure some of them were fantasy so he knows that it isn’t real but it didn’t make him feel any less dumb. He could hear how you and your friends talk when you are on the phone and they get it. They understand all of your jokes, quotes and references. For heaven's sake you even seem to laugh more with them than you do him.

It got to the point where everyone in his life was ganging up on him for his feelings. It feels like he can’t even voice his concerns without someone calling him out.

“All they talk about is that dumb show. I tried to watch it once with them and they kept asking me questions about it. “Oh Rafe, what did you think about Donna being their daughter?”, “Can you believe that David Tennet is back for a short time. It’s so cool,” I swear they are doing it to make me look dumb.”

Topper and Kelce share a look with each other. This isn’t the first time Rafe has brought up this topic with them. It usually consists of them just nodding along to what he says, not wanting to get too involved. “It honestly sounds like they are trying to include you.” Kelce says.

Rafe shoots him a look from across the table. “Man you don’t get it. It’s the way they say it, like they know I don’t understand and want me to trip up.” Kelce shifts in his seat. “Maybe they are actually trying to be nice. But you know they are nervous about having a new person in the group so the tone comes off weird. I don’t know man.” Rafe is trying to see how that could be the case but the piece won’t fit. “No, they are just not good enough for her. They can’t accept the fact she changed and is with me. It’s just some ploy to get her to leave me.”

“Well if you keep talking like that then maybe she will leave you. These are her friends she’s had for years. They just are trying to include you because you’re her boyfriend.” Topper stares back at Rafe, daring him to say something. “You don’t get it.” Rafe tries to start back up again but Topper isn’t having it.

“No Rafe you don’t get it. This is who she is, sure she’s gotten better looking. But deep down all that stuff is what she’s interested in. Those are her friends for a reason, that’s because they love her and relate to her. How long do you think you can continue being jealous of that before she realizes she’s better off?”

Rafe doesn’t say anything sitting there as Topper keeps going. “You’re lucky she hasn’t heard you say any of this. Could you imagine how hurt she would be if she knew how you were talking about her friends? I may not know her that well but I sure as hell know that it would make her sad. Plus what you don’t like them for is a part of her. She could take that as you not liking who she really is and wanting to change her.”

Kelce just nods along, agreeing with all of the points made. “He’s right dude. You need to control yourself or you won’t have a girlfriend anymore.” 

That conversation has been playing in his mind for the past two weeks. Everytime he talked or saw you he would look at how you behaved. He knew you liked it but it never fully clicked that you really like it. You like reading fantasy books over anything else. You like talking about movies like Star Wars. Like dressing up as characters with your friends for some convention.

All of the evidence was right in front of him and he never fully noticed. It made him feel even more shitty because how couldn’t he know all of this? He was your boyfriend but was too wrapped up in his version of you to see the real you. But now that he is really looking he can see the real you and it’s better than he thought. You were even funnier when he got past the feeling of being dumb.

You even smile a bit bigger when you fully pay attention and comment on things. It’s not like he didn’t pay attention to you, just that his mind was often clouded with the thoughts of him not being good enough. He doesn’t get how he could be so wrapped up in himself and not focus on you. He’s been trying hard to fix all of that but sitting here not knowing what you are talking about isn’t helping. 

All of your friends are commenting on different characters and plot lines. Rafe couldn’t even keep up if he wanted to. A hand resting on his thigh snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks down to see your manicured nails and the ring he got you. Enveloping your hand in his, he brings it to his lips to give it a kiss.

You lean closer to him, whispering in his ear. “Are you okay?” He smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Making you scoot closer to rest against his side. “I am now.” You look up and give him a weird look, wanting to ask him what he meant.

“Hey lovebirds, what are you talking about?” One of your friends, he thinks her name is Sam, asks. “Nothing, just how hot he is.” You and your friends all giggle like school girls. “Actually I was asking what you are all talking about.” He took everyone by surprise, even himself. Usually when you have Rafe around your friends he’s super awkward, not really saying anything. This is the first time he actually tried to participate in a conversation.

“Oh it’s this book series I started called His Dark Materials. Technically I’m reading to my niece but it’s a good book so far.” Rafe nods. “What is it about?” He can’t see it but you have the biggest smile on your face proud of him for trying with your friends. Sam goes on to tell Rafe all about the book so far. Telling him that he should give it a read.

“Oh I don’t really read and never got into fantasy stuff like that.” The room went silent, all eyes on him. At first he thought he said something wrong, offended them somehow. It wasn’t until Becky shrieked that he realized that wasn’t the issue. “Does that mean you’ve never read Lord of the Rings?” The guilty look on his face was enough of an answer for them.

They all groan and you have to hide in his neck so they can’t see you laughing. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he didn’t find their interests well interesting. They all knew that but somehow had some false hope that he was a secret nerd like them. Like hello he is literally dating you, the biggest nerd out of all of them. “Dude how can you be dating someone who hasn’t read the book? Tell me you’ve seen the movies.” 

His leg starts bouncing afraid that once he leaves they will tell you to dumb him. “Um no, never watched them.” Their groans get more desperate with his answer. You sit back properly and try to contain your giggles. “Come on guys, not everyone is going to like them.” His hand squeezes your shoulder, soothing you.

“It’s okay. Never had anyone to really show them to me. Maybe all of you can tell me what I’m missing out on.” That peace offering opened up a whole can of worms. You and your friends spent hours telling him all about the series. Even after you both had left it was all you could talk about. Then a couple of days later he was added into a group chat with all of your friends.

Sam: Welcome to our Chamber of Secrets

Sam: That was a Harry Potter reference btw

Rafe: I actually understood that one

Becks: See he’s already learning

You: Guys don’t bombarded him with messages. You all said you’d be on your best behavior.

Sage: Dude this is like big. We are letting him in the group. Feel special we don’t do this for anyone.

Rafe: I definitely feel special. Thank you

Claire: We want you to join campaign

Rafe: Campaign?

Claire: Yeah you know DnD. Dungeons and Dragons

Rafe: Oh that’s really nice of you but I’ve never played

You: She’s joking. We want to watch Lord of The Rings this weekend. That way you can see what we were talking about. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Rafe: Phew I was scared for a second. I’m down

That brings him to Saturday, sitting on a tiny loveseat with you curled up on his side. The first movie was almost done and he doesn’t find himself hating it. He likes hearing all of the commentary you all share. Giving him inside tips about the movie he wouldn’t have picked up on. Telling him parts from the books he wouldn’t wouldn’t have known about. 

“Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. You were trying to keep your voice down to not disrupt everyone else watching. Rafe looks down at you, smiling before pecking your lips. “For what?” You pull the blanket to cover the both of you better, snuggling him. “Doing this for me. I know this isn’t how you like to spend your weekends. So thank you for sacrificing something for me.”

“It’s not a sacrifice. You deserve to have someone who tries things you like. I want to be that person.” You give his thigh squeeze. “You’ll always be my person.”

[weirdmorefics]

My Birdy Took Flight

A/N- I am aware I really need to write my asks and my Spencer Reid story but I am currently obsessed with Simon Riley okay!

Simon Riley x Sniper Reader

Readers pronouns- She/her

TW- Swearing, falling, injuries, and military inaccuracies but I mean it's COD and they have a zombie game so are going to attack them too? lol

Summary- Who knew the complete off-the-books mission would go off the rails and leave you with the worst rope burns of your life. The injuries however were not the scary part it was having to face Ghost and admit you fell out of the heli.

Word Count- 1991

This mission was completely off the books, asshole Shephard did not care at all that Kate had been taken hostage and would not send reinforcements for help. I've been working with Price and Kate since I was a recruit they are my family. There was no way I was leaving Kate to be killed. The plan was simple enough I stayed in the heli for overwatch while Price, Gaz, and Farah worked their way up the line. Things were going smoothly I've worked with Nik before he is one hell of a pilot. Things however took a turn for the worse an explosive hit the copter and I fucking fell out. I'm sure Nik and Captian thought I died for a moment but I was bloody hanging from the rope. I am lucky my sniper skills are still top-notch when I'm hanging upside down though I would prefer not to test it again. After that hiccup, we recovered Kate and she luckily had no physical injuries.

We returned to base that night and Price insisted I go to the med bay to get checked out. To quote his words, "You look like shit kid, get the hell to med bay before I drag you myself."

The medic rushed to treat me, but something told me that was Price's doing. They wanted to keep me here for observation due to my concussion from the explosion impact. I begged them not to I'd sleep way better in the barracks I hate the sanitary hospital smell, I even prefer the smell of gunpowder. The medic would not take no for an answer I wanted to fight them harder but they said they preferred my anger to Price's wrath. The medic left shortly after and would return sporadically to do random vital checks. At least I knew the concussion wasn't that bad as it didn't beckon me toward the darkness like other times. Though my raw skin kept me from finding any peace I honestly kind of miss the darkness. I spent the night tossing and turning the pain and clinical setting keeping sleep a far distance away from me.

The clock ticking was mocking me as I watched it hit four am. How are hospital settings supposed to help you heal when there is so much beeping and someone always coming into your room? Speaking of which I heard the door creak yet again didn't they just take my vitals ten minutes ago! I can't take this without thinking I launch the flat uncomfortable pillow at what I assumed would be the intern medic yet again only to lock eyes with Ghost looking as shocked as I did.

"That's one hell of a greeting darling," he says in his usual deep voice. My eyes are still wide with shock that I just hit my superior with a pillow but he takes this opportunity to speak again. "Heard you took flight today, Gaz was telling everyone."

I wince at the thought of everyone knowing I failed to hold on during the explosion and try to change the subject to avoid thinking about it, "Aren't you supposed to be on a mission with Soap?"

"Just got back. Johnny and Gaz are out celebrating," he responds.

"They are out celebrating at four am?" I question.

"You know Johnny no one can outdrink the Scott," he says like it's the most obvious thing the world.

"Well, why aren't you out there celebrating with them?"

"My birdy took flight and thought it only decent to check up on her," any other time I would have dwelled on the fact that he said 'my birdy' but he placed his hand on my welted ankle and I could not suppress the groan. His eyes quickly shift to concern and he rips the scratchy hospital blanket off me.

"Ghost!" I shout at him for having the audacity to rip the blanket off me. He has no right to barge in here and act like he's in charge, he may be the boss of me in the field but he is not my doctor and I do not care for showing off my nasty ass wounds to my team members.

He does not acknowledge my shout at him in the slightest instead his full attention is on my rope-burned ankles."What quack treated this," he growled.

"I'm fine," I try to yank my foot out of his grasp but he holds tighter.

"Yeah because the skin falling off your ankle looks spectacular," he says sarcastically.

"Wow you sure know how to treat a girl," I roll my eyes.

"Haven't heard any complaints," he says nonchalantly as if that innuendo wouldn't have Soap applauding.

"Seriously, it's fine. Go celebrate with the team," I assure.

"If you think I am letting you let your ankle get infected you are off your rocker. I am going to need names, sweetheart," he commands.

The nickname glides out of his mouth so easily it's as if he had said it a hundred times. I want to stay as calm and collected as him but I unfortunately stutter, "What names?" God, it's a good thing I'm a sniper and not a spy because I would be dead.

"Of the idiot docs who treated this," he speaks as if it's obvious.

I sigh, "It's not their fault... I didn't tell them. Price only knew about the concussion and I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Ah so you're the idiot," he growls.

"Can you not be mean to me I did just fall out of a heli."

"Shut up you lived," he rolls his eyes, gently places my foot down, and turns to leave.

"Please don't take your anger out on the medics," I beg.

"Oh trust me darling I will be taking my anger out on you," he growls yet again.

I shiver, "Where are you going then?"

"To get some medical supplies for your dumbass. No one way I'm letting a medic treat you when you will just lie to them."

"What makes you think I won't lie to you?" I tease well aware that I am in no place to be teasing.

He chuckles an evil kind still it's one of the best I've heard, "Me and you both know you aren't capable of it."

He exits the room and I am unsure if I want to slap him or rip that mask off and kiss him... I am definitely incapable of either. I may be able to beat Soap, Gaz, and even Price on the mat but no one can best Ghost. I, unfortunately, hear him shouting at medics for a damn first aid kit... so much for him taking out his anger on me.

He returns rather quickly but does not speak as he meticulously places the first aid supplies by my bedside.

He pours some alcohol on my rope burn and I hiss loudly, "shit a little warning would be nice."

"You would have just fought harder. Need to clean the debris out who fuckin knows how old that rope was."

"Aw is Ghosty worried about me," I pout.

"Thought I told you and Johnny to stop calling me that, you want me to make this hurt worse than it already does?"

I roll my eyes at him and in response, he presses the gauze harder than necessary. "You asshole!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I can see his wicked smile through his balaclava.

"Yeah sure," I huff. "You know..." I smile mischievously. "This would go a lot faster if you just kissed it better."

"Oh really," I could hear the grin in his voice. I was expecting him to make some snide comment in return instead he finishes wrapping my ankle and lifts his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose.

I am sure my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. His grin widens it could only be compared to the Cheshire cat's smile. He gently lifts my ankle to his lips but does not stop there. He places delicate kisses all the way up to my thigh. I think I have officially stopped breathing. Then my heart decides to do the most embarrassing thing ever. It speeds up so atrociously fast that the monitors start beeping incredibly loud. That's it I have officially died there is no coming back my face is melting off from how flushed I am.

Ghost sits back and laughs and I mean properly laughs, I have never seen him like this. "This is a good look on you birdy all red and flustered, all for me too." He pulls his mask back down but I can still see the smile in his eyes.

"Shut up! I am a highly trained sought-after sniper, I don't get flustered!" I feel like that would have sounded better if I didn't stutter each word.

Ghost glances at my heart rate monitor, "Your heart says otherwise."

A medic comes in as the dumb machine won't stop beating, "Are you alright? You're looking quite flushed and your blood pressure is higher than it was when you first came in."

I swear I could see the smugness radiating off Ghost. God I want to strangle him.

"She's fine thanks to me," his eyes squint at me and I know he has a huge grin under that balaclava. He then turns to the medic, "Don't you know the 141 are notorious liars and the worst patients! Next time call me down here as soon as she is being treated."

The poor medic flinches at Ghost's rough voice and can barely whisper, "Yes, sir"

I mouth, 'I'm so sorry," to the medic he looks appreciative.

The medic flees as soon as my blood pressure normalizes. Ghost roughly throws his body onto the uncomfortable hospital chair and groans.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be going back to the barracks," I glance as he makes himself comfortable well as comfortable as one can be in a torn hospital chair.

"In a rush to get rid of me birdy?"

"Is that name going to become a thing," I roll my eyes.

"Only for me, if anyone else has the nerve to call you that I'll gut them," he replies.

"Even Johnny?"

"Especially Johnny," He grins.

I smile, "Seriously Ghost you should go sleep in your own bed that chair cannot be comfortable. I'd be in my bed if they would let me escape."

"I know you can't stand hospitals, I won't let you be sleepless and cranky alone."

"Fine, then at least share the bed with me, I forbid you from sleeping on that fifty-year-old chair."

"The fact that you think you can forbid me from doing anything sweetheart is laughable. Are you sure you want me to be over there might make your heart monitor scream again?" He makes his way over to the bed despite his words.

I roll my eyes, "I'll manage."

He lays on the small hospital bed and takes up ninety percent of it but I don't mind it because it doesn't smell like hand sanitizer and blood anymore it smells like him.

"Goodnight birdy," he kisses the top of my head and my heartrate monitor instantly starts beeping annoyingly again.

"Goddammit," I groan and he just laughs.

"You would make a terrible spy with all those emotions, you're lucky the red face works on you." he chuckles.

"You're just jealous of my amazing sniping abilities you must point out my flaws," I poke his chest.

"You ain't got no flaws birdy except the fact that you're stubborn as hell. Now go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

"Yes LT.," I fake salute him and he rolls his eyes.

Sleep comes so much faster in the med bay when you aren't alone, I wish falling asleep would always be this easy.

[cyborgpuppyofficial]

Was it just me, or did this video kinda suck? (Yap post)

Heya everyone! So I've been watching a lot of Sonic analysis videos recently, and this one just won't leave my head. I left my own thoughts extensively on the video itself, but I wanted to talk about it here too. Just a heads up, DON'T ATTACK THIS PERSON. They have an opinion, and I agree with a lot of their points at the beginning of the video! But I just think some parts of this video came off as distasteful, and a little gross. I'm going to quote parts of the video, and stuff I said in the comments of the video. So keep that in mind, and let's begin this big ol' thread.

Chapter 1: Amy's Character

So like I mentioned above, I agreed with a lot of his Amy takes. Saying he prefers Amy in Adventure is a normal thought. In fact I do, and when I write Amy, I base her heavily off of her Adventure and Adventure 2 self. I'm going to pull directly from my comment I left on my video for this section.

"I agreed with a lot of it, and I loved how you understood Amy's character on a deeper level. And I liked how you didn't hold back on the writers, like some people have been doing on many different places. As someone who's been into Sonic ever since I was little, and into the fandom for 10+ years. Then I agree that lots of Ian's versions of the characters, aren't perfect, and I'd love to see them be improved in the future. Mostly, I'd love to see Amy and Silver portrayed differently in the future. I wish Amy could have some of her femininity back, but I don't think her new version is the worst thing on the planet either. She could've been a LOT worse. I saw an older fan, say they didn't like the way Amy was back in the day. Saying they found her dynamic with Sonic to be a bit annoying, and that's okay! It took me a long time, as a female fan, to understand Amy. Because growing up as a girl, I was always told that Girly = Annoying or undesirable.

This was pushed heavily THE MOST in the Sonic Fandom. When Amy would act like... well AMY back in the day, MALE fans would hate on her. They never understood her, and would try to "fix" her via fanfictions (or just straight up killing her in edgy fanart). Or, they would say that Boom Amy is the "Better Amy", and she's the "Only good thing about Sonic Boom". I vividly remember grown men hating on Amy, who was characterized as a TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL back in the day. It's just weird. And I feel like Ian, even if he doesn't realize it, was influenced like men like them. Which funnily enough, were mostly Archie fans in the 2000's and 2010's! The same place Ian became a fan from! I'm OF COURSE not saying Archie Sonic fans are horrible people at heart (I actually AM a big Archie fan), or that men are terrible people. That would be a stupid way to twist my words."

Basically, I have my own thoughts about Amy, and I agree she should be a little bit different. But I do think Ian, and Sega themselves for the Western Market, have probably been swayed by fans back in the day. Fans who never liked Amy, and would call her Toxic, Annoying, Clingly, Crazy, and so on. Back in the day, Sally Acorn fans and Archie fans would bully and pick on Amy for the sake of their ship. And guess what? These people were a majority of MEN, not boys, GROWN MEN. Amy was never made for them in the first place! So trying to change her to appeal to those grown men, is what I think changed her character deeply.

"I've learnt growing up as a woman, people are going to hate me no matter what I do. No matter how Feminine or how Tomboy I am. Me and many other girls, have had phases of hating pink, and all that is feminine. But that's because of the way the media showed it. When I grew up, Amy would show me, that Girlhood is okay! Liking dresses, pink, shopping, going on girls trips, having sleepovers, wearing makeup, and so on! That stuff is okay! Like you pointed out in the video, Sonic is allowed to be all the cool boy things. So why can't Amy be all the cool girl things? I know, Amy doesn't appeal to male fans. But when was Sonic ever about appealing to one gender? I feel like Sonic bypasses gender, age, or anything else! Video games in general bypass things like that in general. So, for Sonic, why can't girly girls be a thing? I didn't need to BE Sonic to understand him. Same with some of my other favorite characters like Shadow. He's like the total opposite of me, but I still loved him due to his writing and design. So why do girls have to be one certain personality, for Flynn to care about them. But the male characters are fine to be literally whatever they want? Amy's message taught me to love myself, EVERY part of myself. Even my femininity I hid, even the part of me that still loved pink and pop music. And how is that wrong for a girl my age to enjoy? I think it's a side effect of the real world.

No matter what it is, if women are into something, it's not seen as real. Into boy bands? Well you're cheesy and cringy! But guys can drool over their female idols as much as they want, it's just natural for them! Do you like this "boy" hobby? Well you aren't a real fan, and you got into it because of a man probably. I've been told these things growing up, especially when I would play games as a girl. Amy's old personality, taught me to express my passion! No matter what other people think of me, it's better to be me, and be happy. A character doesn't have to be like you, for you to like them. But for me, Amy was just like me! And sometimes for young girls, they need a good role model. And I'm not saying little girls nowadays can't like Amy, that would be stupid. But sometimes people will prefer their version of Amy that they grew up with, and that's not an issue. And I'm tired of people thinking it is a problem for people to have preferences. Speaking of that, I have a lot to say about your portion on the fandom too. I don't want to be rude in that section, so please don't take it as a personal insult. I have nothing against you, and this is just my thoughts on what you said."

So it makes sense that Amy's change is so different to fit Flynn's preferences. Flynn IS a man, and probably can't relate to this struggle. Am I saying men can't write women characters? No not at all! But I'm saying, Flynn's Amy is different from the one I grew up with. I learnt a certain lesson from her character, and other kids my age probably did too! But the new Amy can teach new lessons to children as well! For example, Zodiac and Tarot card girls are still hated by men to this day. Ian Flynn could've made Amy completely drop all of her girl hobbies, but he hasn't done that yet. He in fact, gave her a hobby that ties back to her roots, and expanded on it. I think Amy can still be capable and talented, even WITH magical abilities. It probably took her a long time to learn her cards and magic. I wish we could've SEEN her learning this stuff, but that's not my point. Amy still sticks to her goals and passions, no matter what the internet thinks. And also, Amy still has a pretty heavy crush on Sonic in IDW (or it's at least implied). But the guy fails to mention that, and instead goes on about the Japanese characterization.

Now nothing is wrong with comparing the current characterizations and all. But it felt kind of... Japanese Purist in the worst way possible. Saying "See!? Japan keeps Amy the same, so it's a Western Problem! And Western cultures hate women!". Which I did see some people sharing that rhetoric in the comments. Saying "Hollywood nowadays hates femininity", "I hope Movie Amy isn't ruined", "I wish the West was more like Japan" and so on. Cultural differences are fine! But everyone's character is handled by a different writing team in Japan. They have different standards, and like to write characters differently. I find it unfair to compare something like that, when talking about a fictional pink hedgehog. It kinda feels like this (MAN making this video by the way) is pitting two women against each other, because one girl isn't "feminine" enough. Which reminds me of a... certain war between Sally and Amy during the shipping wars. Hmm... how silly that you complain about a fandom thing like that from certain other fans later in your video. But you share the same rhetoric as the very same people who used to think Amy was "too girly" back then. But now, she "isn't girly enough".

Chapter 2 THE FANDOM PART OH NO:

OH BOY. This is where the video lost me. I had places to agree on everything else, but when he got into the fandom part... it seemed hateful. TW for possible homophobic talk and also, Anti Headcannon talk! Booooo! Anyways. The guy proceeds to talk about the fandom at the end of the video, pretty much out of nowhere. Knowing that Ian is a fan, then it makes sense for some of his writing decisions, and I pointed that out in one of my two comments.

"Now I've been personally writing Sonic stuff for fun, and I have my own headcannons. Which, it seemed like you were very against in this video. Your wording seemed, angry? And that's valid! Especially when fannon things infect cannon. And I agree with a lot of what you said. Some things the writers have said, or done, is WEIRD. Like especially Ian answering a question about Sonic touching Shadow's ass. Like he had every right not to respond to that question, and pick anything else. Buuut, he picked THAT one? Like WHY!? It's just odd. That's something a QNA made by fans should do, not a real writer who works at Sega.

But point is, some of the people who favor headcannons, and say some of the terrible stuff you displayed, are on the younger side. I remember having a "if you think one way, you're bad!" mindset, when I was growing up in my early teens. But that doesn't excuse them sending things like death threats, and saying gross things about characters or ships, BECAUSE they're most likely children. In fact, if they're adults, that makes them even worse. But, not everyone who has a headcannon is a bad guy. Due to people like this, random people who just enjoy making headcannons, have been villainized and demonized. Which is ironic, because back in the day, it was just as bad! If you had a gay headcannon back in the 2000's and 2010's? Well be prepared to get death threats! But the tables have just been turned around nowadays. Also, it was very common for fans to write people like Amy as a worse character, making her a total stalker, for the sake of their ships. This has been a sadly common thing, since the dawn of fandom itself. And Sonic is just a case of some of the worst people in it. I feel like nowadays, people only notice it more; because Twitter and other social medias, like to highlight the negative to an absurd degree."

Now the screenshots he shows from the writers, and other official staff are disgusting! And I agree that this behavior is bad!

If you're wondering. When he decided to show negative sides of the fandom, and toxic behavior, as well as calling these people "Not real fans" he only showed a specific kind of screenshot... Other than one showing only death threats, and someone nitpicking Sonic's shoes. Then all of his screenshots of "bad people" or him describing bad writers or bad fans, were ones with certain headcannons. And one post that he used to defend himself, and his argument, is from an OPEN TRANSPHOBE. Now I agree, Krack should NOT have recived threats like this from people, despite his thoughts on Trans People (PEOPLE. TRANS PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS HUMAN, AND PEOPLE, JUST LIKE US.) being deplorable. But Dimitri, why did you pick THIS specific type of harassment to show off hmm? What about the people who used to send threats to the Archie Staff, for not shipping Sonamy? Or to the Sonic Boom Staff to make their ship cannon? I guess that wasn't important enough to mention, because "the Archie and other Sega staff are saints! But Ian Flynn isn't! So any hate he gets is justified, and not allowed to be criticized at all!". That's what these screenshots and your wording of calling certain fans "brand ambassadors" felt a little personal....

Also, including the Anti Western post a few minutes after this one, is making your character look bad. Like I don't see Western Sonic Fans, complaining how Japan's characters need to change to fit THEIR standards. But Western Media just magically needs to accept overseas stuff all of a sudden? What happened to Sonic being a BRAND. They act like Sonic is a real guy, who's having his friend's name dragged through the mud. When in reality, Sega wants to make money, and money first. So despite me not liking the changes, Sega, and English writers will make changes to whatever the hell they want. You're allowed to not like that. But blaming ALL of Western Media like this, sounds like a brainwashy take.

Now I understand Dimitri is mad about the responses he got on Twitter to his post. And I agree, people shouldn't be saying this stuff about him, or his statement. He was sharing an opinion, and people took it the wrong way. Ian DOES have biases for writing a certain type of Female character, thinking that a kickass woman is better than a more feminine one. That's an issue for sure, but I don't agree with the framing in this video. He used the WORST screenshots he could find, to demonize people with headcannons. The way he spoke about Flynn's writing of Silver in particular was very Anti Headcannon. Saying his character was ruined with Flynn's inclusions, instead of admitting that Flynn's Silver just isn't his taste. He could've said "I just don't like how Ian Flynn writes Silver and Amy" or "I would personally change ___, ___, or ___ about them". That's a respectful way to critique something. Instead saying "Ian Flynn doesn't understand this, and he ruined everything!". It's like he's putting the blame just on Ian's shoulders, because of a change he doesn't like. When, sure Flynn IS the head writer and all.

Now I mentioned in my quote from my comment, that Ian's Bumblecast questions were inappropriate for a franchise made for kids. But that's not because it's a Sonadow themed question, it's because it's WEIRD. But SEGA is the one who allows him to characterize her like this. If they didn't have an issue with it in the West, and want to make cultural differences that could help with their sales. THEY WILL! Sega is a company, they aren't your friend, and aren't under an attack by Flynn's writing team. Sure Flynn is writing this character, but Sega is being a pussy, and letting a writer push them around. Which tells me, Sega doesn't give a fuck. As long as Sonic is getting press, and mostly positive press at that. They'll let Flynn write whatever he wants. The only reason they told Flynn to stop responding to Sonic character questions, is because some of the responses would look bad for THE BRAND. Sega might be nicer to their fans compared to things like Nintendo, but they're still a company at the end of the day. This guy doesn't seem to understand that. Or if he does, he's being ignorant.

This is where you lost me Dimitri.

This photo here is a pure editing piece of propaganda. He says, with this image on screen "The Sonic Fandom cares a hell of a lot more about the fandom part, then the actual content of Sonic. And that's why their concerns revolve around propping the brand up, in the face of any criticism." And the most important part of this quote "or using it's fictional character as a mouthpiece for entertainment to politics."

One. How is an innocent piece of Sonic headcannon art (top right corner) and Shadow holding a Trans flag, any HARM to you? How is that stuff perverting the characters? One is a headcannon drawing, that had nothing to do with your previous issues. This one is a FAN WORK, not effecting cannon comics or games at all. As for the Shadow fanart, that one is FAN ART. You're looking in FANDOM, no shit you're going to see art like that. People can relate to quotes characters say, and it's stupid if you think they have to take the quotes literally. Art is subjective, and people can get different things from the media they consume. That's the beauty of humanity, everyone has different eyes. Next, the Sonic is LGBTQ video he included in the bottom left? It's a theory video. I watched it actually! Chaomix isn't trying to say "Yeah Sonic IS this way, and you're wrong if you think otherwise". In his video, which you clearly didn't watch, he explains the FAN THEORY, and how people sometimes relate it to cannon. Guess what Sonic also doesn't have in cannon. A GIRLFRIEND, which you clearly seem to like the idea of him and Amy due to you using X and the Japanese Media as an example of. If Sonic is "as free as the wind" like you say, then wouldn't you agree that he doesn't need to be in a relationship? But you never mention that ever.

And guess what? The Sega pictures of Speed Battle? Those are real! Sure even if Sonic the character isn't gay, Sega wants to make profits and be nice to fans! It's a brand tactic which people take too seriously. But it's better than you, who wants to show these photos off as being wacko and crazy. And yes, Sonic hates oppression. How is that an issue that people use too much to defend their character, but the "Shadow Loves Latina's" shit isn't? In fact, you don't mention ANY instance of a fan with straight headcannons harassing others, or Transphobic views. Oh wait, that wouldn't fit with the image you're making people out to be with this video. How ironic that you leave out the toxic straight fans, but show off the toxic gay ones. And use false information to prove your point. That doesn't look too good Dimitri. 0-0

Another quote from my comment thread on YouTube:

"I mentioned before, that I personally make headcannons. And the difference between me, other writers, and Ian Flynn. Is that we're fans, and don't have a say over cannon media. Ian Flynn's words, are taken as fact. One thing I have to say before agreeing with you again, is that, I don't see the issue with certain characters being gay canonically. The ones Ian made, are basically his characters. And so far, characters like Tangle and Whisper, and ESPECALLY Nik and Don, haven't been taking over the comic. They just kinda exist, and may be gay (Nik and Don mostly being conformed). I'm Bisexual, and I'm glad Ian wanted to make new characters who are gay. I'm not DEMANDING he makes these characters, like some people think I do. But if they exist, and they're still characters outside of their identity (which they have been so far, I've been rereading Sonic IDW recently) then I'm pretty happy with them just being there.

Now if he was trying to change a character, let's say Amy, into being a sexuality she isn't CANONICALLY, then I'd feel more skeptical about it. Also, your argument about how people react to queer ships has been an issue, since again, the dawn of fandom. A lot of people don't like Gay ships for the sake of their actual dynamic. But for the sake of "Hey, I find this hot!". Whenever I write relationships, I like to think "does this work with the relationship I want to write?", instead of thinking of which Gay ship is the best, and who can I demonize for my ship to work. Which I mentioned earlier, straight ships have had this issue in the past too! I feel like your problem with the fandom isn't because "they're making everything gay", it's that fans are being insufferable about their headcannons and ships. Which every fandom is like, and will continue to be that way sadly lol. But speaking of, Ian pushing his headcannons onto cannon is not great! Silver is an example I used in my very own video, and I don't like his IDW self so far. I wish he would have help from other writers, and maybe work better with the Japanese Team for certain characters. I'm usually not against other versions of existing characters (Sonic in other media like him in game, vs the movies, vs Sonic Prime, ect.), but Ian trying to make HIS version of Amy "THE" Amy in a sense, rubs me the wrong way. It would be different, and I wouldn't care if he was writing a FAN comic, or making a Fanfiction. That would be normal fandom stuff. But, I feel like he never switched his brain from writing Fanfiction. Writing a fanfiction, and writing for an existing series is completely different."

"As a fan who writes her own version of the Sonic cast (I mostly pull from the games), it's fun! But I'm still a fan, not an official staff member. I've personally had people compare me to an actual writer, like I'm supposed to be professional. I put in effort into my versions, but I don't INSIST that they're the "real version of Sonic" or Shadow, or whoever the fuck else I'm writing. I admit, as a fan, that they aren't too accurate. And seeing other fans with headcannons, insist that their stuff is right, makes the whole community look bad. Like yeah, I see certain characters as Gay or whatever else.

But I get ashamed to say that, because whenever I do, I have people saying I'm trying to "ruin the Sonic Brand" or that I'm "not a real fan". But shipping, headcannons, and other things are a side passion of mine. I just do it, because I'm in Fandom spaces, and I have fun with that stuff. My main love came from Sonic though! I've played LOADS of the games, almost all of them, ever since I was little! But people don't believe me, because of the chronically online people. It just sucks that things like this are so hated, because a few teens on Twitter were being assholes. I know this tangent was long, but that's a big part of the video that I felt disgusted by. Not just because people were disgusting in the screenshots you put up. But because it reminds me, on why people like me, and random fans, get harrassed for having silly opinions and thoughts on characters I love."

My comment on Amy still stands by the way. But everything else still applies! One thing I noticed is that he uses regular comments about people liking different versions of Sonic (IDW in specific) to be the "stupid wrong option" in his videos. Saying that don't understand Sonic, when they just prefer one characterization over another. So it's fine when you prefer old Amy's writing and dialogue, or Japanese Amy, but it's not fine when this person has a preference for IDW Sonic's writing? Make it make sense. Also the photo he uses here makes no sense. Sure Gigi works on IDW, but we don't know if They wrote the scene or not. If they straight up admitted to writing this, it would be bias. But as of now, we have no idea.

I also love how Dimitri complains about certain characters being gay. And I agree with him on one writers point, saying that want to ship Vector and Espio. I don't like the ship, and I find it gross personally. They have a brotherly bond. And I personally ship Silver and Blaze a lot. But this isn't about me, this is about YOU Dimitri. You complain later in the video that "The Sonic Fandom cares a hell of a lot more about the fandom part, then the actual content of Sonic. So why would you care about this? This is shipping! Shipping is fandom shit! You're too pure, YOU know the characters well enough! You're not like other Sonic fans, you don't care! But you suddenly care about this shipping take? Like I get the Espio and Vector hate, but why do you care that she doesn't care for Silver and Blaze?

I've met plenty of straight and gay fans who just don't prefer something. You claim not to care about ships, and to feel disgusted by all of them. But you seem to be VERY pro Sonamy, and at least a decent fan of Silver and Blaze. Because otherwise, if you cared ONLY about the games, you wouldn't care about relationships at all! You complain about Flynn wanting to keep relationship drama from Archie Sonic, yet at the same time, you're complaining about it! It seems like you're bias against gay stuff. You don't like that gay ships are being pushed in the comics, but Sonamy coded scenes never come up! Even though they exist in IDW! Or heck, another Hetro ship that IDW basically made cannon was Vector and Vanilla! They're cannon characters! You should care way more that this ship was forced, Sonic isn't about romance! . . . Seems like it's only convent to mention shipping things when it's against gay stuff, and serves your own agenda. Which funnily enough, you criticize the IDW writers for doing. So which one is it Dimitri? Does shipping matter or not~? >:) Plus! One of your sections in the video is explaining Sonic and Amy's relationship. And you seem to describe them more as a couple, than friends. Even though they're not a cannon ship. And that leads me to another point.

Why do Ian's comic characters, matter to you? They can be gay, they're Flynn's characters. Again I mentioned in my comment that "I don't see the issue with certain characters being gay canonically. The ones Ian made, are basically his characters. And so far, characters like Tangle and Whisper, and ESPECALLY Nik and Don, haven't been taking over the comic. They just kinda exist, and may be gay (Nik and Don mostly being conformed). I'm Bisexual, and I'm glad Ian wanted to make new characters who are gay. I'm not DEMANDING he makes these characters, like some people think I do. But if they exist, and they're still characters outside of their identity (which they have been so far, I've been rereading Sonic IDW recently) then I'm pretty happy with them just being there." Heck I'll even say that characters like Starline, if he ended up being Gay, who cares!? You're looking at outside media, to look at the comic, instead of focusing on the Comic's story. Which, again, you AGAIN quoted saying "The Sonic Fandom cares a hell of a lot more about the fandom part, then the actual content of Sonic". Why would you care about a Lesbian or Gay ship being cannon? Ships are fandom stuff! That's not actual content of Sonic! Plus, you seem to play the games. Why would you care about a comic that Ian's writing? The writer you seem to hate in your video. You can happily ignore the comics, and keep playing the games. But this fact seems to make you angry enough, to add it in your video.

Whisper and Tangle are strong characters, and may be dating on the side. But they've still done important things in the comics, and stand as characters on their own. And if we don't include them, Nik and Don are BACKGROUND CHARACTERS. Why would they matter to you? They're in the background, and aren't forcing themselves into the main story. They show up to do some things, and that's it. But them possibly being gay seems to make you disgusted. The Conductor and his wife are cannon! And so is TMOSTH, which you don't even mention! That couple is a background character couple, and they even had a kid! So clearly, adding in Spinoff media/non cannon media into the comics isn't an issue to you! Or you just haven't gotten to this issue yet. Or, what I suspect... You've never read the comics at all! Because they have TWO cannon straight couples in IDW, but you don't mention them at all. But when one gay couple is cannon, or IMPLIED with Tangle and Whisper. THEN it's a problem to add couples.

I think that's all the points I have, and why this video feels... gross. But what I wanna mainly take away from here is that. You're allowed to have preferences for Old or New Amy, but this video just wasn't it. He mighty know Amy's old character, and might not like the new which is fine. But I feel like he used the last third of his video, trying to push his beliefs about Sonic fans onto the viewer. And acting incredibly ignorant when it came to some information. I don't think this guy MEANT to be Homophobic, or weird in this video at first. But that weird Wojack edit at the end kinda gave me Dimitri's true colors. As well as quoting a proud Transphobe multiple times. So uhh yeah not good! >:( I don't think Dimitri is too far gone, and I think he just made some bad choices because he interacted with the wrong group of people. But I think people just doesn't understand fandom culture, especially Dimitri.

But tell me what you guys think! What do you think about the original video if you've watched it? And I'd love to hear what you think about this video too! Please be sure to be respectful, and DO NOT HARRASS DIMITRI. I'll be getting back to drawings soon, and I may do more thought posts. But I don't think it'll ever be on one video ever again. And what version of Amy do you like? Personally, I love both Adventure Amy, and IDW Amy so far! ^w^ I'll be seeing you guys around. <3

[olderthannetfic]

I'm so, so tired of seeing proshippers try to support proshippers getting sent death threats, rape threats, suicide bait, etc. with "don't let the assholes win!" Oh so you don't give a shit about the minor being dogpiled, this is just about an us vs. them thing. Cool cool. Uh, here's the thing, though - maybe the person on the other side of the screen is a person, and thus this "SPITE! Write more out of SPITE and HATE and HATE HARDER THAN THE HATERS!" is going out to a normal-ass human being. And normal-ass human beings are not shounen protagonists who rise up and overcome their rivals out of spite and make a bunch of friends along the way and live for the rivalry yadda yadda. They're just... people. And you're responding to their pain with, "if you take a break from writing you're letting other people win. You're losing. You're failing. Breaks are loser behavior. You're LETTING the people harassing you win, because you suck."

Recently two major authors in my tiny fandom quit and the response from the proship contingency of the fandom has been, "FIGHT THE ANTIS!" "Don't let them win!" and I'm at a loss trying to explain this but like... some people don't want their hobby to be fighting other people. Some people didn't start writing in order to go "I'll show them!" they started writing because they had a cool idea for a story they wanted to tell. Not all of us enjoy "tormenting the antis through good art", to quote one person in my fandom. Sometimes someone just wants to write a story and share it with other people and have people enjoy it.

It's really wild to be the odd one out here but am I the only one who sees "don't let them win! spite! spite should motivate you!" and goes, "I was a depressed teen once and I think that wouldn't have motivated me to do anything"? Because seriously, the fact that no one has expressed anything along the lines of 'you didn't deserve that hate' or 'I hope you're okay' or 'take care of yourself' would probably have made me feel worse as a teen, not better.

IDK, maybe I'm the freak for thinking this is not an optimal approach. I just fail to see this as an inspiring refrain to throw at younger people in fandom. It feels fairly hollow.

(And to the fandom olds about to go "fandom was even worse back in my day, you kids would never have survived" - you realize that's worse, right? That doesn't rebut anything, it just makes me sad for you in addition to young writers. Maybe fandom always sucking is a problem, not a plus. Just a thought.)

--

This particular type of death threat wasn't common back then... but neither is what you describe, in my experience. People who are adjacent to a target often do say more empathetic things, and a fair amount of the "respond with spite" is not to someone leaving over death threats but to more commonplace annoyances that are going to occur at one's local writer's circle and anywhere else.

No, self-styled "proship" circles aren't particularly nice a lot of the time, but this hand-wringing is silly.

Besides, why are you sending me nagging posts projecting onto Olds instead of support? ;)

(I know, I know: it's because I actually am a shounen protagonist.)

[a-sketchy]

considering yosuke's character is based largely on internalized societal values and toxic masculinity, how do you think he would be like as a cis girl? i feel like he would be hyperfeminine and probably to the point as a typical mean girl and the other possibility in my head apart from that is being a femcel who resents other women for managing to be pretty, get a boyfriend, etc since yosuke would quote on quote 'fail' in 'womanly' roles. but im curious for what your intepretion would be

ooooh, interesting question! i think first of all, the way in which yosuke is ostracized would change, so the way she reacts to it would change, at least somewhat. i don’t think cis girl yosuke would be hyperfeminine or a mean girl cause both of those things are very social, they’re only really acceptable if they’re what your clique are doing, and yosuke doesn’t have a clique. my interpretation is probably closer to your second option, though i think she’s more inclined to envy and self-deprecation more than resentment.

i think femininity wouldn’t “come naturally” to girlyosuke, so she’d overcompensate and double down on anything she can perform, say heterosexuality. like how i believe canon yosuke is more interested in women as an extension of masculinity, i think cis girl yosuke would be more interested in men as an extension of femininity, but those dynamics aren’t quite parallel. pursuing men isn’t performing acceptable femininity. not pursuing men isn’t acceptable femininity. there isn’t really an acceptable femininity at all, no comfort of doing it right. i think girlyosuke would still have an interest in fashion magazines, just womens fashion. so she’d parrot the same kinda “guys like girls who” shit, especially as justification for her own taste lmao, but she wouldn’t then use that to be hyperfeminine herself, cause trying too hard to be pretty/attractive to men despite being plain will get her figuratively murdered, socially, especially when she’s already in a precarious position as the face of the thing that everyone loves to hate. i mean, not trying hard will also result in her ostracism, but that’s the baseline. girlyosuke is so dire. she’s even more like saki. she’s simultaneously put on a pedestal and degraded as the princess of junes. i think she’d be pretty desperate for any friendship she can get, while resenting the town that shuns her.

honestly girl yosuke is just yosuke + misogyny. vast swathes of her deal are the same just flipped, then reconsidered how she would be seen by the society around her keeping in mind misogyny.

the things i think would most change are her relationships to those around her, depending on if they’re also cisswapped or not. girl yosuke with guy yu is (superficially) uninteresting like every romance in p4, except it would be like a romance in p4 even if the writing around it wasn’t p4, you know? cishet souyo is inescapably very persona 4. it’s plucked straight out of yosuke’s dreams. the comphet + bisexuality combo… dire. a guy she genuinely likes coming along willing to tolerate her? she’d think him a saviour. it’s fun to think about. but if yu’s also a girl then it’s as it is in canon + internalized misogyny, which is also very fun.

the most interesting thing that i think would change is girlyosuke’s relationship to saki, chie, and yukiko, if they’re also girls. with saki it’s that they’re then very very similar, and without the looming spectre of heterosexuality (other than what’s peddled by yosuke lol) i think saki might be a fair bit more open to her. girlyosuke would still like-like saki. and saki would still find the way she desperately clings to her annoying and etc. but they might be closer than they were in canon, which of course would make what comes next worse. in this situation, i think you could get girlyosuke’s shadow explicitly acknowledging that which shall not be named (bisexuality), which is awesome and could have lasting effects on her character arc compared to canon yosuke. with chie and yukiko, i think girlyosuke still wouldn’t necessarily fit in with them, especially with her penchant for heteronormativity and acting stupider than she is, but they’d be more sympathetic and not outright hostile to her. (also, it’s neither here nor there, but imagine the homoeroticism of girlyosuke saying the exact same shit she says about them in canon. fun.) three people that tolerate her starting out the story is pretty sweet, but they also all come with caveats, and she wouldn’t feel safe being attracted to them as she is, so.

[sneakyboymerlin]

I don't like gwen/arthur because Arthur sucks. Like in their first romantic episode she has to teach him manners ugh

This was probably said in good faith, so I want to make clear that this is directed at fandom at large.

To be semantic, she more or less tells him that he already knows how to be respectful and that he shouldn’t need someone to hold his hand through using manners like a child, and then he enacts his own behavioral changes, having been properly shamed and also wanting to be respected by her.

That said, it is a tired trope for women to have to get their man in order. Then again, I don’t see anyone complaining about the misogynistic tropes with any other pairing… but people do tend to write their m/m pairings in a thinly veiled homophobic/misogynistic way. In short, they only hate misogyny when it aligns with their ship preferences, but not when Arthur compares Merlin to a girl as an insult (something which only makes sense if you see being a woman as a demeaning thing to be), not when fans treat Merlin as “the woman” (deciding that since he is both a servant and a softie, that he is to be assigned the sex roles of bottom and submissive since these are all traits that women are generalized as — not that he can’t be a sub bottom, but it’s pretty clear when people connect personality traits and menial labor/servitude to sex roles), and they definitely don’t care when their own analyses of Gwen fail to approach her as an autonomous individual who does things for reasons. There is no universal moral applied.

However, I don’t see how this statement is relevant to the topic of people minimizing Arthur’s canon love for Gwen and Gwen’s canon love for Arthur due to ingrained misogynoir. No one has to ship argwen, but to pretend that it isn’t present in the canon material when it is a built-in canon endgame pairing is just a desperate reach. Especially when people claim that it was a “marriage of convenience” (MIGHTY INCONVENIENT FOR A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE) and that Arthur just wanted to use this woman for her body/womb… That is an actual problem. People should not be saying this. It’s not even CLOSE to canon.

Of course, some people just say, “Oh, Arthur could never love her like that,” and cut out the parts they would get in trouble for saying. We can try to just laugh at the fact that they’re almost perfectly quoting Uther to push these ideas, but it’s an incredibly damaging mindset to take into life. Why couldn’t Arthur possibly love this sweet, strong woman who stands up for what’s right even when it’s hard — the very thing Arthur emphasizes as a key element of his moral code? Aren’t these the very things that you all write Arthur loving in a white boy in your fanfictions? So why is it different when those traits come in the form of a black girl? Why does it not matter when Merlin has to more explicitly #fix Arthur, whereas Gwen simply states her expectations to Arthur that he should act mature, and it’s taken as evidence that the pairing should be outright dismissed? The arguments used against argwen are all 1,000x worse in m/rth/r, but you see nothing but defenses for Arthur. “Oh, he was raised by Uther, how could he know any better?” It is a damning double standard.

A more succinct question: why are these traits of Arthur’s only brought up to justify removing Gwen from the picture, as opposed to Arthur? Why are these traits of Arthur’s brought up only to take Gwen out and bring Merlin in?

Again, nobody has to ship it. IMO shipping is a very specific act that has little to do with how you personally value a ship, but is simply a way to interact/engage with it. But to pretend that argwen has no place in canon and to apply double standards to it is squarely misogynoir. So the conversation about argwen is not directed at people who simply don’t ship it. It’s about the people who claim that it’s impossible for them to truly love eachother. They do love each other and it is canon fact. Take it or leave it.

[chaifootsteps]

Hey I saw someone on Twitter saying you’re transphobic because it said in your Twitter bio “IDW Arcee is still a guy” even though the character is canonically trans. What’s your take on that? I’m not attacking you or anything I just genuinely want to know the context of all that.

Oh boy. Strap yourselves in kids; time for Chai's villain origin story.

So basically, IDW Arcee made his debut under the pen of Simon Furman, the dude who created Arcee in the first place. Simon Furman has a small massive chip on his shoulder over the notion of girl robots, but we're going to be talking in mostly Watsonian terms for now. IDW Arcee as he comes on the scene in Spotlight Arcee is the victim of a nonconsensual forced sex reassignment, we see right off the bat that this destroyed his life.

He's wracked with trauma and dysphoria over this, on a do-or-die quest to take out the mad scientist who did it (he succeeds and tortures said scientist for seven years straight), and is implied to suffer chronic pain.

This got a lot of criticism, but Simon Furman insisted it wasn't meant to be transphobic, just the opposite. When someone pointed out that this was a story about how traumatic it was to be assigned a gender you didn't feel was the one you should have, Furman agreed with this take.

Eventually Furman was shooed out and John Barber was brought in as writer, and nobody seemed to know how to deal with Arcee's backstory. So they just kind of...didn't. They wrote around it for eight whole years, never really acknowledging it, but frequently alluding to how traumatized he was from it. The only person to ever roll up their sleeves and tackle it head on was Mairghread Scott, the only person IMO to ever do justice to IDW Arcee.

By the way, this panel made me weep. This issue also includes a fleeting, but notable moment where someone refers to Arcee with they/them pronouns, and at the time, I was extremely excited for this.

Shortly after this however, the comic came to an end and John Barber decided -- in the very last issue -- to bring in an expert. And by this, I mean he found some trans lady on Twitter and let her write Arcee. The last issue has Arcee concluding that the whole sex change was consensual and the violent murder spree was the result of, I quote, "bad meds."

Yeah, basically Arcee killed all those people because the Spiro was a little off.

I got into a lot of internet fights with people over this back in the day, criticizing it for being worse than what we started with, but also frequently pointing out that it wasn't Twitter lady's fault, as she wasn't the editor-in-chief at IDW and that there's a very good reason professional writers aren't supposed to do this sort of thing. In return, I got accused of hating trans women and still get some real ugly things in the inbox about it to this day. It was the first taste, bitter as wormwood, of what I as a trans man could expect from my own community.

Regardless of all that, Arcee is probably the most important fictional character to ever enter my life. He helped me realize I was trans, got me through some dark days, got me through heartbreak and top surgery. He saved my life a few times, and every so often he continues to. I owe so much to him.

If writing a very gentle fix-it fic where Arcee has a long talk with Anode (one of the trans lesbian bots from the vastly superior sister series James Roberts wrote) makes me a transphobe in these peoples' eyes, so be it. I don't care what they think. They never reached out to baby trans Chai and held his hand and kept him breathing.

Arcee did.