#and everything that implies socially and culturally | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ceilidhtransing · 5 months ago

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I've cropped out the username because I have absolutely no desire to start drama or make a personal “callout” or have people go harass someone or anything like that (and if you take this kind of thing as an opportunity to go and be horrible to another Tumblr user then that is terrible and you should stop), but wow, I have never seen such a clanging example of amatonormativity. I don't think OP necessarily meant it this way, I don't think they meant any harm, I don't think they're consciously arophobic or something - it's far more likely that they're simply unfamiliar with aspec issues, and I always prefer to assume good faith - but I want to talk about this post anyway because it provides a really good and explicit example of the way society just sort of... asserts the centrality of romantic attraction and entirely forgets aromantic people exist.

I do want to first say that I actually agree with the initial point this post is making. Romance as a genre is unfairly derided as some kind of “lesser” form of art, and this derision very frequently comes with generous helpings of misogyny. I totally agree that romance is not at all an unintellectual or superficial thing to write about, and it's bad that it gets treated that way and that readers and writers of romance get so often mocked and condemned. Romance is a totally valid genre and enjoying it doesn't make you vain or stupid or superficial.

HOWEVER. As an aromantic person I find the rest of the post just... I don't know, it's just so perfect as a probably unwitting expression of baked-in cultural amatonormativity. It's brilliant. It's so funny to me. I can almost do a line-by-line breakdown of the way it so completely forgets the existence of aromantic people. In fact, let's do that.

It is so fundamental to us. The issue here should be pretty obvious. The assumption that romance is some integral part of The Human Experience and that it's fundamental to All People is pretty much amatonormativity 101. It reinforces the idea that people who don't experience romantic attraction are “lacking”, forever sitting apart from The Human Experience, and possibly in some way not quite fully human, since we don't experience the thing that is apparently so fundamental to humans.

To want to love and be loved. The post seems to be incorrectly equating “romance” with “loving and being loved”, when in fact there are many people who don't experience romantic attraction yet absolutely love and want to be loved. (And of course loveless aros, aplatonic people, various folks who don't “want to love and be loved” also exist, and it's important to emphasise that this desire, just like romantic attraction, is also not necessarily integral to all people.) “Love” is not automatically “romantic love”, but this post seems to imply that romance is the only, or default, form in which love can exist.

If you don't think every great work of literature. philosophy. metaphysics. was ultimately about romance. I don't think you were paying enough attention. OK this is the line that elevated this post from “sigh, more casual amatonormativity to scroll past” to “I just have to respond to this”. Where to even begin with this assertion. This is a level of “assuming romance is central to everything humans ever do and ever create” that I've almost never encountered before. It feels like a manifestation of the tendency for alloromantic people to declare that, because romance is very central for them, it is thus central to Everything. And I'm homing in on “romance” because the post doesn't say “ultimately about love” - which would still be a reach, but less of a reach - it specifically says “ultimately about romance”. As an aromantic person who is an academic at heart and highly educated in the humanities and social sciences, the idea that my ability to understand literature and philosophy and metaphysics is somehow greatly hampered by the fact that I don't experience or relate to romantic attraction is just... what??? This idea is really very funny to me but also genuinely pretty insulting, even though I'm sure it wasn't meant that way. Not only does it feel like the summation of every patronising “oh, you couldn't possibly understand” directed to aromantic adults who are, in fact, entirely capable of understanding, but it also flattens the incredible breadth of human intellectual experience into “being about romance”. I sometimes find myself wishing that alloromantic people would peak outside the bubble of amatonormativity and realise that actually, there is an enormous swathe of human experience and intellect and creativity and expression that has nothing at all to do with romantic attraction and romantic relationships. And no, stating that, I don't know, the Book of Job is not actually about romance has nothing to do with our society's misogynistic denigration of romance as a genre; it has everything to do with the fact that the Book of Job is not actually about romance. (And if you aren't familiar with Job or for some reason don't consider it a “great work of literature”, replace with whatever other example you can think of; there are many.) It's insulting to imply that aro-spec and/or ace-spec people are somehow less able to participate in art and literature and philosophy etc because we might bring a perspective that doesn't include romance or sex at all and we're just not capable of understanding that Actually Romance And/Or Sex Is Central To Everything. It's genuinely absurd to argue that all the pinnacles of human intellectual achievement really, at their core, come back to romance, and it speaks to our very blinkered society's tendency to declare things like “everything is really about sex” or “everything is really about romance” or “everything is really about breakups” or whatever and then look at aro-spec and ace-spec people like we're aliens and go “but like... how do you even live?” Newsflash, there is so much more to life than romance and love and sex. You can live an entire, very fulfilling, very meaningful, very thoughtful life without these things being at all relevant to you. That's not to dismiss those things as minor or unimportant - they are indeed very central to a lot of people's lives, and they're not “dumb” or “shallow” or whatever - but they're not central to everyone's lives, and they're hardly The Only Things In The World.

And if your response is something along the lines of “well OK there's a tiny minority of people who don't engage with romance and/or sex, or relate to it in the same way most people do, but that doesn't mean that romance isn't still at the core of humanity, or that all the most important things don't still have romance at their heart”, imagine telling a woman that “well, you can focus on a career if you want, but what's really fundamental to being a woman is being a wife and mother - in fact, motherhood is the most important thing in the world, it's fundamental to women, it's what all women's literature is about”. Or, hell, telling a person of any gender that “parenthood” is the central pillar of all of humanity and that every great work of art ever produced is ultimately about parenthood and obviously parenthood is fundamental to everyone's being - forgetting that actually some people will never be parents, and implying that their childlessness makes them less able to understand The Human Experience. That might give you some small idea of what it's like to be an aspec person and be repeatedly told that feelings you don't experience and relationships you don't have and attractions you don't relate to and acts you don't engage in are somehow Fundamental To Humanity and are what lie at The Core Of Everything: how excluding that is, how alienating that is, how oppressively stifling that is.

Feeling that love and/or romance and/or sex are very important to your own life is totally valid, but I wish alloromantics and allosexuals could be more capable of opening their minds and imagining and empathising with an existence for which these things aren't central. Our lives aren't lesser, or emptier, or sadder, or shallower for lack of romance or sex. Our experiences are part of The Human Experience. Our perspectives on art and life and relationships and philosophy and humanity and everything else are just as valid. We are just as capable of profundity, of creativity, of insight - because romance and sex aren't “at the core” of any of these things. We are here, and we're tired of being forgotten, ignored, sidelined, dismissed, erased, talked over, talked past. It would be great if society at large actually remembered we exist once in a while, and that our lives are just as beautiful and important as anyone else's.

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vaspider · 1 year ago

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Since I just turned off reblogs on another post that quickly went from "let's have fun" to "this is fucking awful, I'm taking away this toy," please read this BlueSky thread from rahaeli, who I don't think is on here.

Most of it I've c/p for ease of readability bc BSky's threading sucks.

Okay, it's time again to talk about what the experience of having a social media account with a bunch of followers (*) is like. (* "a bunch" of followers is platform dependent. I'm getting irritating shit at 2k on Bluesky I didn't get until 10k on Twitter.)

(Ugh, wait, nevermind, I hit 3k while I wasn't looking. Anyway.) Someone who has never had more than 100 followers literally cannot comprehend the sheer volume of the responses you get. Even if individual posts don't get a ton of replies, if you post with any frequency, it accumulates.

Once you hit the first degradation threshold, your experience gets a little bit shittier. It's overwhelming volume, but the people who are following you are mostly ideologically, socially, and culturally aligned to you. You have the same concept of social media manners.

You'll get a few duplicate comments, because nobody reads the comments before they reply, but they're mostly from cool people, so you just roll your eyes a little at the same joke five times. You still make friends. You still have fun and can wind up finding neat new people.

And then those neat new people retweet your stuff, and it starts reaching out to an audience of people who are less aligned with what you think of as social media manners. You start getting some replies you find obnoxious: they're in good faith, you can tell, but they just grate on you sometimes.

And then *those* people start reposting your more viral threads, and you get people following you who are three degrees of separation from the people you are most likely to vibe with. And three degrees of separation is the second degradation threshold.

The second degradation threshold is where you start getting the constant, low-grade sand-in-a-pearl annoyances. The person who wants to argue with everything. The 15 people making the identical shitty "joke" that's actually just doing the exact thing you're complaining about, "ironically".

The people who look at a post that contains no question marks and think "there is an implied question here and I will answer it!" and leap to offer the most basic advice that you already thought of because you have existed for more than three seconds and can, in fact, think of the obvious answers.

The people who are spoiling for a fight no matter what, because you used one word in the post that is their particular berserk button and they're going to scream at you for hating waffles because you said you like pancakes even though you never mentioned waffles.

It is constant. It is never-ending. You cannot escape it. Every time you post anything at all, opening the app means wading through twenty garbage replies for every reply from someone who is actually cool and you'd vibe with just fine if you chatted with them.

You want to bitch about a minor annoyance? There will be 40 people all giving you the same useless advice. You want to squee about something you're enjoying that's making you happy? There will be 40 people coming to scold you because that thing isn't morally pure enough.

Every post. Every day. About 75% of the time you compose a post, you will get halfway through writing it and think "I can't deal with the replies this will get today" and delete it. You stop talking about things you enjoy, because you're tired of people shitting on them.

You stop complaining about the tiny annoyances in your life that you want to bitch about, because weirdly enough you already HAVE tried the first fifteen obvious suggestions you're going to get, and you don't want to spend an hour explaining why they won't work to everyone who's "helping".

(But you can't just ignore the "helpful" posts and not engage with them, because then you start getting accusations of being "elitist" and "standoffish" and jesus, lady, we're just trying to help here, why do you have to be so fucking rude and stuck-up, you full of yourself bitch.)

If you are any less gracious to the 40th person than that person thinks they deserve, there is a very good chance they're going to call you a cunt and drag allot their friends in to dogpile you and make the site unusable for at least three days.

The third degradation threshold is when you start needing to regularly call your local police department and politely remind them there are people who get very mad at you online and will try very hard to have you murdered by armed agents of the state and you'd appreciate it if they didn't do that.

I first had that conversation with my local police department in 2003. It's gotten faster now, at least? You usually don't have to start by explaining what social media even is.

Bluesky has tighter thresholds than Twitter did. On Twitter it was nicely exponential: the breakpoints were around 1k, 10k, 100k. Bluesky is running faster. I'm getting Twitter 10k annoyances at a Bluesky 3k. I am trying very, very hard not to switch over into Twitter 10k defensive posting.

I want to leave the defensive posting back on Twitter. I really do. I want to be able to bitch about a thing without having to wade through 20 "go try [extremely obvious thing]". I want to post about a thing I enjoy without 20 people yelling at me I'm bad for enjoyjng it.

There's a difference between arguing about an idea (which I love) and the onslaught of constantly infuriating replies plucking at your last goddamn nerve. And the more "last goddamn nerve" replies you get, the crankier you are, and then people lose their shit at you because you snapped at them.

So maybe let's all start keeping a few principles in mind: 1) if there's more than one reply, check to see if your point has already been covered. If it has, you don't need to repeat it.

2) Even the funniest joke gets old after the 20th time you hear it in 3 hours.

3) "I'm going to jokingly do the exact thing you just were complaining about because ha ha the real joke is I would never do that asshole thing" is never funny, and it is indistinguishable from you actually doing the asshole thing.

4) If there is no question mark in the tweet, think twice about offering "helpful" advice unless you and the poster know each other *mutually*, not just parasocially, you know it's likely to be new info for them, and you ask "do you want to hear how I handle this?" first and get an affirmative.

5) If you are going to ignore 4, ask yourself "is this a suggestion that someone with a reasonable level of generalized adult knowledge would think of trying within the first 15 minutes of approaching the problem?" If so, do not suggest it.

6) Do you really need to nitpick that grammar, spelling, or word choice? Did you understand what they were trying to say before autocorrect mangled it or they blanked on the exact word they wanted and found a close one? If you understood the meaning, don't be their volunteer copyeditor.

7) Is someone excited about a thing you hate? Are they having fun with the thing? Is the thing a front for white supremacist recruiting or organizing the overthrow of the US government? If the answers are yes, yes, and no, respectively, shut the fuck up and let people enjoy things.

8) We are all occasionally That Commenter. If someone you have a pre-existing relationship with replies to you and lets you know you're being That Commenter, it's because they have a positive enough impression of you they don't want to go straight to block. Treat this like the warning sign it is.

9) It deserves repeating: remember the Law of Large Numbers. Even if you only commented once, you may be the hundredth irritating comment that person got that day. Bluesky's terrible threading makes this worse: people don't keep a single thread of mounting crankiness the way they did on Twitter.

9a) If someone's top tweet sounds really annoyed at something, maybe check their timeline or follow back their nested self-QTs to see what level of irritable they're at and over what so you don't step straight on the same rakes they've been dodging all day.

10) However, remember that BSky also doesn't show replies made by people the OP has blocked in a thread. If they post about a pattern that's making them cranky and you look and don't see anything, they probably already blocked the worst of it. They still saw it in their mentions in order to block.

I really cannot overstate how absolutely exhausting and soul-destroying the experience of having a large account can be. It's also somehow still rewarding, or we wouldn't do it. But especially if you're a woman or a person of color or a female POC, that balance is really, really close most days.

And of course, the ones who stay are the ones who do find it still rewarding enough to keep doing it despite the constant irritations.

From here, the thread moves into a conversation about stuff specific to BlueSky, but the majority of the thread is truly applicable to Tumblr as well.

You may be the first person to comment "op lives on a planet without music," or "op has never heard of [thing OP didn't mention for whatever reason]," but you're probably not, and at a certain point, it becomes like someone tapping a sunburn.

So yeah.

#how to tumblr #other people's words

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mcytblrsexymen · 2 years ago

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thanks for playing!

(an image ID is under the cut, as well as in the image description. the artists credits and their social media links are also listed under the cut - go check them out!)

hey y'all. we've been quiet a bit. that being said, we have one last thing before we get this event behind us.

this was a really special thing to be a part of. what started as a silly joke we didn't think would get very far ended up being a cultural event within the fandom. thousands of votes, participation from everyone, a thing we'll never forget. we can't express enough how exciting it was to be a part of everything. we, the mods, had a fantastic time with everything. a once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience, you know?

but it wasn't us that made this what it was. it was you all.

we just want to say, from the bottoms of our hearts: thank you. thank you for all the campaigning - for a while, it was practically all we could see. thank you for all the fic - we have a canonized ao3 tag, that's wild. thank you for all the art - several fandoms were practically revitalized by this and it was beautiful to watch. thank you to the ccs who went along with the bit - it was a delight to have you playing in here with us. thank you for the stories you told with this. for the narratives you created. for alliances we would have never seen coming, for betrayals, and most of all for being here, together, doing this. thank you all so much for making this what it was.

anyway, so this art is my thanks to everyone. i commissioned a number of artists from as many different fandoms involved as i could find in hopes of capturing some of the chaotic energy of what might be some of the single most insane two weeks of my life. (and click on the piece so tumblr compression doesn't ruin it - there are SO MANY FANTASTIC DETAILS to look at!)

cheers, everyone. thanks for playing. you've made something special that i don't think we could ever create again, and it was a moment to remember.

<3, second and the sexyman mod team.

ART CREDITS:

confetti @bdoubleowo: goodtimeswithscar, technoblade, ldshadowlady, scott smajor

genesis frog @aroaceacacia: joe hills, saintstarling, itssubz, rtgame, composition, lighting/shading adjustments

siren @chronophobica: zombiecleo, grian, ranboo, tubbo

fluffy @fluffy-papaya: pixlriffs, vikingpilot, zloyxp, rythian

colten @malewifeph1lza: slimecicle, captainsparklez, jschlatt, dream, illumina

kish @kishdoodles and brynn @brynnticus: docm77, aimsey, mythicalsausage, orionsound, clownpierce, eddie the rabbit, owenjuicetv, seapeekay, ashswag, lighting/shading adjustments

td @paradoxalriven: quackity, ethoslab, stage

thank you <3

image ID: a portrayal of the mcytblr sexyman competition, as done by seven different artists, each with their own artstyle. it portrays many mcyters crowded around a stage, onto which a spotlight shines on the finalists. scar and joe are posing at each other in competition. to the right, quackity is climbing onto the stage, boosted by etho. around the stage there are a number of additional mcyters; technoblade, ldshadowlady, scott smajor, saintstarling, itssubz, rtgame, zombiecleo, grian, ranboo, tubbo, pixlriffs, vikingpilot, zloyxp, rythian, slimecicle, captainsparklez, jschlatt, dream, illumina, docm77, aimsey, mythicalsausage, orionsound, clownpierce, eddie the rabbit, owenjuicetv, seapeekay, and ashswag can all be seen cheering on contestants, talking to each other, and watching the competition. there are additional nondescript shadows around the stage in the background, implying an even larger crowd. the image also has the logo for the competition on it.

#mcytblr sexyman #mcyt #hermitcraft #dream smp #lifesteal smp #dominion smp #empires smp #trafficblr #joe hills #goodtimeswithscar #quackity #it feels rude to tag everyone else who is not focal so i will not #but they're all in there!

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theoxenfree · 2 months ago

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LUCID

sleep paralysis demon x reader | 3k | 18+

you've never known a true, good night of sleep in your entire life. when your doctor and best friend, dr. sujay patel, offers to vouch for you as the perfect candidate for a "last resort" sleep study and medication trial, you don't have high hopes. the first night of the trial, things go sideways very quickly.

warnings; technically somnophilia, dubcon, hair-pulling, restraint, some eerie/unsettling details, breech of patient-doctor boundaries, alcoholism, implied addiction/addictive personality, academic cheating, some culturally sensitive discussion, roughly proofread.

this is the first concept piece for my upcoming sleep paralysis demon x reader story!! to help me shape the story, pls answer feedback questions + reblog!!!

Children at your daycare liked to draw you fanciful pictures of the other lives they lived in their dreams during afternoon nap time. You were shown orange tabby cats with green eyes garbed in full-plates of knight’s armor, brandishing a fish sword against a foe to save the world. Most often, they dreamed of their families and drew bright, brave versions of themselves holding hands with a parent, a sibling, a bipedal family dog with an electric collar. A few of the children never smiled in their self-portraits.

The proportions of everything were always silly: gigantic tree trunks with tiny, green bundles sitting atop of them, three enormous fruits supported by brittle vines and growth in bushes, cats and dogs with ears as tall as their bodies, Mom with purple skin instead of brown, Big Sis looking particularly volatile with a theratrically large snarl. Despite this, the children beamed in pride whenever yesterday's drawings would come down off the wall to be replaced with the new.

For some of these kids, this was their own equivalent of having art hung on a refrigerator; to you, it evoked dull, thready jealousy because they were in possession so simple, so biologically normal to them and everyone else around them that to be incapable of the same thing was, surely, a major defect.

Sleep was already a treasure you were seldom allotted the pleasure of greedily surrendering to, but to dream sounded like a terrifying experience to you altogether. It took work; a stringent routine of warm showers (hot and scalding water was forbidden), with an array of chalky, dissolvable tabs and shower gels and shampoos and moisturizers and essential oil dehumidifiers and soy candles and hot tea and special pillow sleep spray you’d seen in an online ad while thumbing through socials.

It took pajamas that were loose, soft but not silky, it took a satin bonnet and a satin eye covering (the kind with pockets for your eyelashes to move), comforters soused in lavender spray meant to magically work out the tightness in your shoulders and calves without the need of paying for a masseuse’s bony elbow. It took purchasing a battery-operated alarm clock to wake yourself for work so you could shut off your phone and leave it plugged into the wall downstairs.

You'd nearly forgotten—you couldn't have sugar after half past six, you had to stagger your water consumption after that time as well because the urge to piss would keep you awake for hours after the fact. The television needed to be off once you finished putting away dishes after dinner.

If you were lucky, this would work and you'd sleep a total of two or three hours uninterrupted—never fully tipping over the edge of wakefulness into deep sleep, but enough to keep yourself going during the day, grocery shop, wrangle the small children, scrape at a bar, get dicked down into your mattress every now and then, and visit Sujay for your usual appointments.

“How do you feel about trying something different?” he always gestured to one of the modern-looking armchairs upholstered in teal polyester before bringing you a tea of some sort. Today was a floral white tea with a spoonful of honey. “Ah, my friend, I worry for you. We've done so many studies, we've tried so many different things. Does none of it help? At all?”

“Not really.” you admitted after a sip, singing your tongue once and placing aside the cup and saucer pair. “I don't know if I can keep doing this until the day I die, Sujay. What do you recommend next?”

Dr. Sujay Patel was your neurologist, an utterly brilliant man, and a close friend from your early university days. Despite the rest of your friend group falling apart, pulled in separate directions by the strings of fate and temptation of money, you'd managed to stay in contact with Sujay throughout grad school. There'd been an intermission, probably a period of two years, where you'd forgotten he even existed.

You were out making a disaster of your life on sleepless, drunken benders because you hoped enough alcohol would either knock you out or kill you. The normal distractions came with it: your entire family dynamic corroding and combusting, an ex getting too big for their britches, and a roommate suspiciously eager to rally behind that ex.

Sujay came back into the picture following a nasty incident of alcohol poisoning that left you bedridden in the hospital for a week. You had decided then, in that uncomfortable bed with their starchy, crunchy white sheets and the bathroom being too far away to simply get up and walk to, that you'd abstain from alcohol forevermore.

He'd seen you in a state of soul-weary disarray not long after you were discharged and had decided to take you on as a patient.

“Now, you have a choice here, just remember that.” Sujay sat adjacent to you in the exact chair you were in. He wasn't daunted by the heat from his tea and took some time with it, whether to savor the subtle notes of it or to consider his words, you weren't sure. “But, a colleague of mine at a… pharmaceutical company has been working to get an experimental sedative into some studies. Testing periods, I guess you could say.”

You're convinced by his dedication to his tea to pick up yours again. “Does it work?”

“As of now, one-hundred percent of those who have participated have reported high-efficacy, or at least have claimed it to be effective in some manner.” His mustache moved as he sipped. You drank as well. “I think you should submit to the study and if you're accepted into one of the control groups—commit to it. We're running out of options otherwise. I don't want you to start mixing up your own cocktail of things. All it takes is the wrong thing once, y'know?”

The chair groaned while you adjusted your weight in it. You sighed. “Would that once be such a bad thing, though? At least I could sleep.”

“I'm a doctor,” Sujay looked over his square-rimmed glasses at you, forehead wrinkles enormous, whites of his eyes showing more than the hazel of his irises. “Behave yourself.”

“Fine.” Mesmerized by the stray tea leaves that had managed to escape the metal ball steeper, you said, “tell me what I need to do.”

Sujay had sent you away that day with a whole host of follow-up appointments and a glowing review to his colleague in hopes of skipping the line as much as possible. Sometimes, it was beneficial to have friends in high places, especially when that means you get a call two days later for preliminary, formal interviews and an offer to participate in said study once clearances came through and your blood work came back as desired.

A month to the day when Sujay first mentioned the possibility of a magical cure all to your relentless insomnia, you were brought into a minimally furnished room—the standard, bland cookie cutter type that hadn't an ounce of personality—dotted from head-to-toe in stickers for neuromonitoring, heart rhythm, and whatever else they fancied, you supposed.

It was only after you had changed into your soft, but not too soft, pajamas and covered in wires that you were handed a tiny purple pill. The color of it was obviously a dissolvable casing and food coloring, but what amazed you was the fact a drug this small was meant to induce the best sleep of your life.

“Take the pill, drink at least four ounces of water, and lie supine.” The technologists outside your room, speaking into an intercom, elaborated afterward that they wanted you to stay on your back while you slept. You didn't bother to point out that you weren't stupid—just tired. “We understand that not everyone finds this position comfortable, but to receive adequate results and to measure your vitals at all times, we ask that you try your best.”

You weren't going to hassle them about this and did precisely as they instructed. Shoved the pill down the back of your throat, drank the bottled water, and tried to get comfortable on your back.

You closed your eyes.

A part of you wondered why you had assented to Sujay’s suggestion so easily, especially where everything else had failed. He was one hell of a friend, and had always been that way for you, but as a doctor, you wondered if two years of cheating through medical school, so as to not royally piss off his parents and be disowned for failing, was finally catching up with him somewhat.

You recalled being startled when he told you he hadn’t married yet and didn't intend to as some deep-rooted act of spite against his family and the traditions they had held over his head all his life. Traditions that had been weaponized against him, rather than supplement his life as an extension of his history, of the things he loved, of a chance to explore more of himself.

You had listened wordlessly the entire time he spoke about it, still sipping on his tea, the results from your latest brain scan clamped to a clipboard on his lap—

This wasn't working.

This was so stupid.

You opened your eyes and sat up in the stiff bed, carefully maneuvering your fingers around your orbital bone to force away the puffiness and exhaustion still lingering behind them. It was only as you rubbed your eyes that you noticed your face was empty of cold stickers and a thousand wires. You didn't hear distant blips in the machine measuring your heart rate, nor track the voices of anyone outside your door.

The room was still the same—the outdated, bulky dresser with claw feet, a few gray chairs you could buy on display in a window somewhere, a low oval table, a bedside table for your glass of water and a crisp, neatly folded change of clothes for the next day.

It was only unusual that you were bare of the technologist’s monitoring equipment and sitting amid an unfaltering, deep silence that amplified the sounds of your very existence. Your slow breaths with a quickening heartbeat, blood pumping in your ears, and the coarse rustle of bedsheets as you shifted around the mattress to bring some sense to what was going on.

Would the technologists have come into the room and removed everything from your body without waking you? More miraculously, without you rousing and throwing your hands on them for touching you first?

“Maybe the drug worked?” you had to consider the possibility, even though it still felt as far-fetched as the holistic medicine practitioners online telling you that an herbal cleansing juice could regenerate organs entirely. “Did I actually sleep? I don't remember dreaming, though. Aren't I supposed to dream?”

You looked to the one, single-paned window across the bedroom to spy how far along the morning had progressed, but found yourself sucking in and holding in a breath instead.

There, standing in your view of the outside, was the silhouette of a tall man. Everything about him was indistinguishable aside from the depth of darkness that made him up. Within the confines of the dim room, alight by a single lamp with an amber bulb that seemed to weaken by the second, this man stood apart from the shadows as something deeper, blacker, but corporeal.

He was every bit a part of the dark as much as he wasn't. And you couldn't tell if he was fading you or turned to look out the window at the parking lot two stories below.

“Hi—hello. Are—are you one of the techs?” you had finally let out that breath, now focusing on gauging the guy’s level of sociability, and by extension, his friendliness and the likelihood of him lunging at you. “I, uh, just would've really appreciated it if someone had woken me up before taking off the stickers.”

You were able to see out the window from the gaps around his body, taking note that it was still dark. Very dark. Beyond that, nothing else was discernible from where you sat and what he blocked.

The study wouldn't have finished yet.

Those techs would've taken precaution to wake you up if something had happened.

“Am I asleep?” you asked the wordlese man. “Am I dreaming now? Are you a dream? Is that what it's like?

You never imagined that there could be so much lucidity within a dream, a level of consciousness so similar to a state of wakefulness. When you thought about moving, you could perfectly flex your fingers, curl your toes into the high-pile carpet underfoot, touch the airy fabric covering your body and feel it touching you in turn.

How normal was this really, though? No one had ever told you about dreams like this. Theirs were always fragmented and discombobulated, just like the kids in daycare who drew pictures of pig astronauts and flame extinguishing spatulas. You knew of a rare few in the population capable of controlling their dreams, steering the outcome in the direction they pleased, but even those people were overrode by their own brains.

This was something completely different.

You became especially convinced of this when you thought the stifled air suddenly shifted with a light breeze, a soft whoosh in your ear. A chill erupted over you, making your skin burst with goose flesh, your brain chasing a shiver down your spine as if cold fingers stroked you all the way down the length of it. Those same fingers stayed low, hovering across your lower back before pushing into you, arching you down onto the mattress.

That freedom you thought you had only moments ago was gone, stolen by this invisible hand on your body that was rounding to you and reaching for your chest. Until now, you thought this had simply been a part of the dream—something you had believed to be in control in when the reality was much different—but, as the buttons on your sleep shirt unfastened before your eyes, the thin layers opening you to the cold, inky air, you weren't sure what to think, to do.

Another hand joined the first with long, heavy fingers to knead at your body and take your pants off of your hips until you were fully exposed to the darkness and the thing still dwelling within the room. It hadn't moved an inch since you'd noticed it a while ago; it never became any clearer, any more defined in the clothes or wore, and trying to look upon its face only filled you with puzzlement and dread.

The large hands were so cold despite all their movement on your hot skin, all of the work they did to start riling you up and making you moan. One of them groped your chest, felt your throat, squeezed your jaw as though to force your gaze at one point in particular (the ceiling), pushed apart your lips to dip into your mouth and wet its fingers on your tongue.

You did so as it was the only thing you could do freely right now.

Those fingers, covered in your spit, caressed you between your legs, stroking you in motions neither gentle or harsh. The muscles in your thighs flinched, stomach tightening, your throat vibrating to produce a moan smothered by the second hand circling your throat, gripping firmly enough where you could breathe, but just barely.

The thing couldn’t stop your thoughts, as much as it seemed to try, so it took to interrupting them—distracting you but squeezing your neck, yanking your head back into the pillow by your hair, adjusting itself to thrust multiple fingers into your body, burying them to the knuckle.

You tried to win this war of willpower by thinking about Sujay and his mustache and his stupid glasses. They were green, sometimes blue; seldom did he like the tortoiseshell look.

The thing lunged at your neck again, this time taking you underside the jaw and forced your head back into the pillow while it fucked you deeper on three fingers.

You wanted to make a sound; a moan, a scream, a torturous whimper or pleasure for the way your body was rocked on the bed, creaking with the weight of a pair combined and not just how it appeared. Your nostrils flared, heart rate at an uneasy high, breaths stuck in the column of your throat behind the hand holding it.

The pressure continued to stack higher and higher, building to such a point where you knew you were about to lose it, unravel, praying that this thing would grant you the kindness of fucking you out of your orgasm.

Your abdomen was wound tight, your groin ached terribly, and your thighs started to shake. Behind your eyes, the kaleidoscopic wheels of color intermingled with the darkness and it all slowly burned to white.

And then—

“Good morning!” you were being shaken awake by one of the technologists, a middle-aged woman with blue eyeliner. she didn't expect for you to jolt upright, stick straight, and launch the covers off of your body. “Oh—hey, honey, you alright? We’re done until tonight. How do you feel?”

You were slow to respond to her, occupied by the morning light filtering in through the window across the bedroom. She gave you some time to gather your bearings and took her time removing the stickers and wires from your skin, suggesting you spend some time really scrubbing in the shower later to get off all the adhesive.

“How about now, honey?” she pulled the last sticker and wire combination off of your shoulder. “You with us?”

You didn't know how to answer that, especially not with how damp you felt inside your thighs.

a/n; thank you for reading and choosing to help me shape the story further!! this is all inspired by the fact that I have frequent bouts of sleep paralysis myself and on three consecutive occasions, after taking some questionable drops from an ex-friend, I saw something. I want to make this very clear that this story is intended to be pretty extreme psychological horror. anyway, here are the questions

sujay will be a major supporting character in the story, so what would you be interested in seeing more: 1) sujay and mc further blurring that boundary and possibly becoming a pair, but their "relationship" becomes thwarted by SPD 2) sujay, possibly, ends up with more yandere tendencies as the story progresses and with the development of the plot, could result in a terrible ending for him—but interesting 3) sujay and mc are inherently a toxic duo, but he tries his best to support mc (platonically or one-sided romantically) as they spiral out of control?

in terms of SPD's appearance, what idea do you like better: 1) him, eventually, having a definitive, solid form and features across the span of the story 2) he remains like a "black silhouette" with the invisible hands, but he has the sort of voice that's lulls and lures and manipulates 3) he takes on features that mc (you) find attractive, but they're all wrong and progressively becomes more monstrous 4) he has a physical appearance that's "all wrong", but you can never figure why or what he actually looks like despite SEEING him. if you want to choose multiple, you need to get VERY specific.

I intend for this story to be incredibly dark in terms of sexual content bc SPD is a demon/monster. he is not good. he is not loving. when you think of "dark" for smut, what would you want to see??

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warabidakihime · 5 months ago

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Rules and Roses Chapter 2

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic).

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n:

hello!!!

first of all, i am so sorry for taking so long to update this story. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

life happened and i got sooo busy. the time i uploaded this fic was when i just started at my new workplace and shortly after a few weeks, i was already preoccupied with work. at first, i was laser-focused on getting used to my new work and the culture. then later on, i found myself playing a more important role in the office that required my undivided attention lol. besides that, so many things happened in my personal life as well that i didn't have the time and energy to write.

btw i'm now a writer by profession as well so oftentimes i would feel drained af after writing corporate write-ups. tbh, i also got hit by writer's block, especially for this fic because the plot i have in mind for it is lowkey intricate, and for the most part, i haven't decided on what route i should take story-wise. so during those 2 years, i was constantly trying to reconstruct the story in my head, and here we are!

i'm back but i'm not so sure about updating regularly as i'm still incredibly busy, but i will do my best! the latest kny seasons inspired me to write again (aka my crush for muzan lol).

hopefully, everyone is still here to read this. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

happy reading!

"Can you outline your key policy platforms should you be elected President of Phario? Given your extensive background in the human resource industry as well as your rich connections owing to your business ventures in Obelisk Kibutsuji, do you first plan to address the pressing issue of the national unemployment rate?"

"Indeed, that's correct. As President, one of my top priorities will be to strengthen our nation's workforce, which is crucial for advancing our economy. I have a comprehensive plan focused on job creation, vocational training, and support for small businesses. These initiatives will not only reduce unemployment but also stimulate innovation and competitiveness within our economy.

I also aim to implement policies that ensure equal access to education, equipping our citizens with the skills needed for the evolving job market. Healthcare reform is high on my agenda. I'll ensure healthcare assistance is accessible to everyone, public hospitals are well-maintained, and healthcare workers are fairly compensated and protected by the state in any dire situations. Additionally, I'll push for technological advancements and infrastructure development to attract both local and foreign investments.

Addressing social issues is equally important, and as a devoted ally of these communities, I'm committed to fighting all forms of discrimination, especially against women and the LGBTQ+ community. We must ensure everyone, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or identity, has equal opportunities and protections under the law.

Moreover, I'll advocate for the rights and welfare of people with disabilities, ensuring they have access to the necessary resources and support to lead fulfilling lives. This includes improving accessibility in public spaces and promoting inclusive employment practices.

Animal welfare will also be a significant focus. We need to enact and enforce laws that protect animals from abuse and ensure humane treatment.

Lastly, I'll champion the rights of minorities and immigrants. Our nation is built on the strength of its diversity, and it's imperative we create an inclusive society where everyone feels valued and respected. This includes reforming immigration policies to be fair and humane and implementing programs that support the integration and empowerment of minority communities.

In essence, my administration will be dedicated to creating a sustainable and inclusive economic environment where every Pharian has the opportunity to thrive and contribute to our nation's progress."

Muzan stood confidently at the podium, a modest yet proud smile gracing his face after addressing a journalist's question amidst a room bustling with media personnel.

Today was the day where presidential candidates shared their platforms, which also served as an open forum for engaging with the press and fielding inquiries on a wide array of topics—from current events to personal matters.

With his seasoned composure before cameras and crowds, Muzan navigated the spotlight effortlessly. His articulate delivery drew admiration from all corners as he outlined his plans for the presidency, filling you with pride as you watched from the audience.

Among the attendees, your smile beamed with pride and unconditional support for him. Akaza, who is sitting right beside you, maintained a stoic demeanor outwardly, though inwardly, he couldn't deny a hint of impressed regard. Muzan's comprehensive platform and commanding presence left an undeniable impact on him.

Eloquence had always been Muzan's forte, a skill honed through years of being a businessman and somewhat of a public figure, as among his peers and in the business landscape in general, he is well-revered and widely celebrated.

Beyond his ability to articulate ideas, he possessed a magnetic charisma—an invaluable trait for navigating the intricate world of politics and public service.

Several hours later, the policy speech slash press conference finally ended, and now you were on your way to meet up with Muzan at the lobby of the hotel where the gathering was held when a few journalists spotted you among the sea of people who were also exiting the function room.

Akaza was right behind you and is also on full alert, an important instruction your husband told him when he appointed him as your personal bodyguard a few years back. Committed to his duty, he stood there in a stance where he is ready to take action should anything happen that is out of the ordinary.

Mics were stretched out and placed within just a few inches of your face, and one of them took the liberty to ask you a question: "What are your thoughts on Kibutsuji Muzan's campaign platforms?”

Very much like your husband, you also wore a modest yet confident smile on your face as you held eye contact with the journalist who asked you that question before displaying your own version of eloquence as you answered,

"To say that I am proud while listening to him share and advocate for the causes he wholeheartedly believed in would be the biggest understatement of the decade," you said with a fond chuckle before continuing, "even before he filed for his candidacy and even way before he became the man we all know now, he has always been outspoken about these things. He would always share with me his desire of making significant changes in the world, hoping no more children would have to endure what he did. As many of you know, Muzan, my dear husband, came from very humble beginnings, and unlike me, he has faced challenges far beyond my own. His vision and intuition surpass that of most, and so, as cliché as it may sound, his words and strong convictions carry a weight and authenticity that are strong enough to enable him in doing the impossible and inspire others to believe that a better future is within our grasp."

Akaza listened intently to your answer, finding himself captivated by your words. The way you addressed the press made you sound like a candidate yourself who's also sharing her platform. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of pride as he continued to absorb your statements.

The journalists surrounding you mirrored his sentiment, clearly impressed by your response—no surprise from the esteemed Ballerina Queen of Phario.

It had been quite some time since you last entertained interviews, having retired and chosen to stay away from public engagements.

"Among the plethora of initiatives he wishes to take action on once he's elected, what resonated with you the most?"

You paused, contemplating the list of campaigns your husband had presented earlier. Just as you were about to respond, an arm encircled your waist and gave it a tender squeeze.

It was Muzan.

"Knowing my wife's love for animals, I'm certain she's most excited about what I have planned for animal welfare," Muzan interjected warmly.

You playfully rolled your eyes, eliciting amusement from not only your husband and your respective bodyguards but also the press. "You say that as if it's a bad thing," you quipped.

Muzan chuckled fondly. "Not at all, my love. Your passion for animals is one of the many reasons I fell for you."

The same journalist who had asked you the second question now directed his attention to Muzan, eager for his response. "Based on the most recent public survey, you're likely the most favored candidate to win the elections. What can you say about that, Sir Kibutsuji?"

Muzan smiled bashfully at the reporter, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and determination. "I'm incredibly honored and thankful that our fellow countrymen have placed such faith and confidence in me. It's a humbling reminder of the trust they have in our vision for a brighter future. This campaign has always been about bringing real change to Phario, addressing the pressing issues our nation faces with innovative solutions and inclusive policies. The support we're seeing reflects not just my efforts, but the collective desire of our people for progress and unity."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the room, before continuing with renewed conviction, "Though I would like to emphasize that I don't take this trust lightly, it actually fuels my commitment to serve with integrity and purpose, to listen to the voices of every Pharian, and to lead with compassion and foresight."

By now, the press was highly satisfied with the answers both of you had given, granting you the freedom to depart. Clearly spent after the eventful day, you exchanged farewells and well-wishes before going your separate ways.

With Muzan's arm still draped around your waist, he guided you towards the grand entrance of the hotel. Meanwhile, Akaza made his way to the basement parking lot to retrieve your car, preparing to drive you both home. Kokushibo remained close to Muzan, ensuring your security as you awaited the car's arrival.

Turning to Muzan, unfazed by the bustling activity around you, you placed a tender kiss on his lips, smiling warmly. "Great job out there, my love. You did so well today. I'm incredibly proud of you."

Clearly elated, Muzan mirrored your smile and returned your affection with a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Thank you, darling. Your support means everything to me."

"Truly, I was beaming throughout your speech. You were absolutely amazing. Phario is fortunate to have such an admirable leader like you," you praised sincerely.

Right there and then, Muzan couldn't help but raise his eyebrow and playfully smile at you, prompting a confused raise of your own eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" you asked.

Muzan shook his head with a playful smirk before replying, "You're not showing favoritism now, are you, my love? I know you adore me, but let's keep it fair, hmm?" he teased, his tone light-hearted and affectionate.

You rolled your eyes at his playful accusation. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Muzan. I'll take it back, then."

Muzan laughed wholeheartedly, drawing attention once again. "I was just joking!" He then smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting pride. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Hearing that from you means more than any applause, you know?"

You reached out to pinch his cheeks. "You play too much sometimes, you know?" you said with a chuckle before continuing, "But like I said, hearing you speak today—and in all those times you shared your aspirations with me from when we were students up to now, as you finally have the opportunity to make all come true��it's evident how deeply committed you are. Beyond your skills and capabilities, your passion is what makes you so compelling, Muzan. It's what makes me believe in you, too."

Minutes later, while waiting by the entrance, Akaza finally pulled up with the car. You and Muzan bid farewell to those around you before stepping into the comfort of your vehicle.

As the city lights blurred past the windows, you reflected on the day's events.

"You know," you began, glancing at Muzan beside you, "I have a feeling your speech today touched more hearts than just mine."

Muzan smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"I hope so. Though the election is still months away, and who knows how things might shift, that's why I don't want to take any of this for granted. I'm in this for the long haul. You'll be there with me, won't you?"

He looked over to you, and in that moment, despite his big words, he looked absolutely adorable, with his ruby eyes shining at you and his lips slightly pouty as he waited for your response, which you gladly provided through the means of placing yet another sweet and passionate kiss on his lips and squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"I'll always be here for you, Muzan, through every challenge and triumph."

"I love you," he whispered lovingly, his expression sincere and heartfelt.

"And I love you," you replied with equal affection.

With a comforting squeeze of your hand, you nestled against Muzan's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment as the car navigated through familiar streets towards home.

Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Akaza's face remained unreadable. He was outwardly indifferent to the tender exchange between you and Muzan, but inwardly, he was seething with rage.

You think you're so clever, spouting all those promises and pretty words, playing the saint for the public eye. But I see through you. You're nothing but a manipulative snake, a liar wrapped in a facade of righteousness.

His gaze hardened and his grip on the wheel tightened as he stared ahead, the streetlights casting shadows on his determined expression.

One day, your mask will slip.

I will fucking rip it off your face, even if it's the last thing I do.

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shadowmythe · 5 months ago

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𝕍𝕒𝕝 𝕆𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕫 ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 ℍ𝕔'𝕤

Summary: What it would be like to date Val from Inside Out 2

pairing: Val Ortiz x afab!mexican!reader

warnings: yn is implied to be non-binary as well as AuDHD and explicitly mexican, nsfw content below, also reader is implied to be a theatre kid and has female anatomy, mentions of Riley being bi, mdni

a/n: this is heavily self insert but I don't see a lot of representation so leave me alone 😤

✮ Lesbian power couple!

✮ Val loves to show you off

✮ Your friends with her friends (the hockey team) and she's friends with your friends

✮ Loves to kiss you at the end of a match (especially if her team won)

✮ Handles Riley's crush really well

✮ After practice makeouts in the locker room!

✮ Super supportive of you and everything you do

✮ Loves going to your shows to support you regardless of whether your on stage or backstage (tech crew represent!)

✮ Listens to you rant about your special interest/hyperfixation

✮ Always there for you, especially during crowded events/parties

✮ Carries fidget toys and loop earplugs for you in case you forgot your noise cancelling headphones

✮ Super protective of you

✮ Accompanies you to see whatever broadway tour you want in SF

✮ Loves eating food your parents make

✮ Very understanding and respectful of the culture, loves to learn about it!

✮ Would love to accompany you to visit Mexico!

✮ Learns Spanish for you!

✮ Top! Loves to be in charge

✮ Very affectionate and passionate

✮ Very respectful about your boundaries and open to anything you want to try out

✮ Pleasure dom, loves to bring you pleasure

✮ Y'all are very happy together

✮ Posts you so much on her insta

#val ortiz x reader #val ortiz #shadow writes #inside out 2 #- 🧚#- val 🏒#-☁️#-🌶️#inside out #headcanon #wlw ns/fw #audhd #mexican #theatre kid

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specialagentartemis · 29 days ago

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Inspired by @clonerightsagenda’s thoughts about the Ambiguously Brown Spacefuture trope, I kinda want to see more creativity with how Earth is treated in spacefuture sci-fi.

There are plenty of examples where Earth is the center of everything. Star Trek is the obvious one: it’s a bustling interstellar multispecies space society, and Earth is where Starfleet is headquartered and it’s often reflexively and unthinkingly treated by the narrative like it’s the most important planet in the Federation. (Most of our main viewpoint characters are Human, so it’s the most important planet to THEM because it’s their home, but even beyond that, Earth is treated as critically key to the Federation in a way that, say, Betazed is not.)

More recently, the common trope is that the centers of society and culture and economy and politics are elsewhere. Other planets are important, and Earth is either an unimportant backwater that no one really cares about, or galactic humanity has nearly forgotten about it entirely. This is explicit in Becky Chambers’s Wayfarers, strongly implied in The Murderbot Diaries, and one line in Ancillary Justice suggests that too. Ofc this isn’t entirely new—from what I understand it’s what’s going on in Dune too.

And they do this for obvious reasons: the authors are all interested in social and political worldbuilding that is not tethered to real Earth nations, politics, prejudices, and general baggage. Second-world fantasy authors are allowed to do this with no strings attached, but sci-fi authors who want to do social worldbuilding from the ground up have to justify why people don’t appear to identify as Chinese or Latino or Hopi or American anymore (and more often than not, not Jewish or Catholic or Muslim or Hindu or Baha’i or whatever either), why those identities don’t come into conflict with the new planetary identities and spacefuture religions the author wants to write about. It’s been so long that the origin of humanity is forgotten or irrelevant.

Star Wars is honestly underappreciated for the bold, creative, unique choice to have a bustling interstellar multispecies space society with lot of humans… and no Earth. At all. Where do humans come from? Irrelevant. Not Earth though.

And honestly I wish more sci-fi that wants to write in this space took more of a cue form Star Wars to just own it. (I actually thought the Imperial Radch HAD done the same thing—functionally a second-world fantasy, but in a spacefaring setting—until Kat pointed out the reference to arguing over which planet was the real origin of humanity.) If you posit your space future as our future, but Earth is no longer relevant and is generally forgotten… I guess it depends on how far out it is, but it strains my credulity that no one remembers or cares! The Jews in the spacefuture don’t know/remember/care where Jerusalem is? Muslims in the spacefuture decided that going to Mecca just kinda isn’t worth it? The spacefuture Papal seat is no longer in Rome and the future Catholics don’t know or care that it was ever anywhere else? All the Hopis left the Three Mesas and all the Navajos left Dinétah and all the Māori left Aotearoa and then just… forgot about it? Really? That isn’t true after hundreds and even thousands of years today; why would it be true hundreds or even thousands of years in The Spacefuture?

There are some works that do a little more complexity with spacefuture planetary societies and cultures vs. memory of Earth—the Vorkosigan Saga positions Old Earth as a culturally important memory even if it’s not a politically important planet, and The Locked Tomb makes Earth a holy center place that is mythicized more than it’s known or inhabited, for magic necromancy reasons.

I’d like to see more of that, Earth holding some sort of unique place in spacefuture humans’ culture in a historically informed way, even if you actually want to write about other things. Or go the Star Wars route and proudly proclaim that this takes place a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, don’t worry about it.

#long post #Tropes #science fiction

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zoloteh-volossya · 3 months ago

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Minthy and Trust

One of the interesting things about the evil endings from patch 7 is how surprised Minthara is if you enthrall her with the Brain or murder her as a Dark Urge who embraced Bhaal. I've talked a little bit about it before here, but a conversation with @alicelufenia that resulted from that post got me thinking.

Minthara grew up in a culture where backstabbing is pretty much de rigueur. She has spent at least two centuries living and loving in a city where she could not trust anybody, and where lovers and family alike may try and betray or murder her at any given moment. It's implied that she's survived multiple such attempts. Why, then, does she put such complete and total trust in you? Shouldn't she be more wary?

Part of it could be her faith - or rather, the gaping hole where her faith once was. She was completely devoted to Lolth until she encountered the Absolute, and while her faith in the Absolute was forced I think the habits we see - her prayer after her romance scene, for instance - are genuine. After Moonrise, she has lost two faiths in rapid succession. I think she'd done with gods for good, but still wants - almost reflexively - something or someone to believe in. Lolth's favor is described in some D&D novels as being able to feel her love, however fleetingly. I think a partner whose acceptance and affection she can actually feel goes a long way to filling that sudden void in her life. (I also feel like she does best with direction, that fundamentally to some extent she is a follower and not a leader. A partner provides the support she prefers in this sort of context; she can essentially make them her purpose. But this is more of a headcanon and not as strongly textually supported so I will not actually argue it. Feel free to disagree.)

Part of it could also be her loneliness. Minthara is clearly an introvert but all people need social contact of some sort. Back in Menzoberranzan, she would have been enmeshed in a strict social sphere that would have provided both regular opportunities for social engagement and rules for how to go about it. Minthy obviously feels very defined by her (former) social station - per her act 2 romance scene she doesn't know who she is without it - and laments the loss of the structure of her former life. On the surface, she thinks (incorrectly) that no one likes her, and she lacks the status and strict rules of behavior that once shielded her. She has nothing and no one... until the protagonist comes along. Once in a relationship with them, it feels like Minthara is almost trying to make them the entirety of her social life (which is hella unhealthy, girl). We see this the most in the evil endings, where she is fine with the loss of all the companions so long as she and the protagonist are together.

But my above two paragraphs explain why Minthy would want to trust the protagonist (a want, a burning driving need, a drowning woman grasping a rope, desperation making her overlook warning signs and red flags), not why she actually does. I think the answer to that can probably be found in her act 2 romance scene. She asks to see the protagonist's mind in their entirety and uses it to verify the protagonist's opinion of her. This is something she never was able to do in Menzoberranzan. For once in her life, she (thinks she) is able to confirm that this lover is safe, that she can completely unabashedly trust them. And so she does - she throws herself into it completely and utterly, as she does everything she sets herself to. It never occurs to her that this might be a false assurance, that her partner could change or be less devoted in their affections than she is. She checked; it's safe.

Until it isn't.

#bg3 #patch 7 spoilers #minthara #meta #discussion #analysis #alice i tagged you to give credit where credit is due #you don't need to engage unless you want to #mine

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months ago

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Yo! Good morning/evening, hope you are fine^^💝. I wanted to ask you a question but I was afraid that it may bother you or something (you know..that feeling when you are scared that you might disturb someone or being an unwelcome person) but yeah I will ask you since i was serious about your answer for some time now so I hope I'm not annoying you or something *feel free to answer only if you wish^^. You seem to know the characters pretty well, you are quite capable and great at reading and understanding them, one of the things I'm serious about is what do you think would make someone qualified enough to be with malleus? Do they have to be of the same species?certain Reputation, stature or traits?(sorry can't help it since I can't rest until I know everything about what interests me and figure it all out😅). Thanks for giving me some of your precious time I really like your blog, you're amazing💜

No worries, you’re not bothering me at all ^^ I love to talk about my hyperfixations www

Now, I know a lot of fans (particularly on the EN side) like to ship Malleus with their OC and especially with Yuu so I want to first make it clear that my response is NOT meant to invalidate those Malleus shippers. Whatever I say here is based on my own interpretation of canon lore (and let’s be real here, TWST won’t ever confirm if anyone is romantically interested in Yuu because it might not work with how some players view their own relationship with that character). In fanon, anyone can be with anyone, but in canon there are very specific in-universe rules and expectations laid out for Malleus so these are what I will be referring to.

I also want to emphasize that the final traits I discuss in this post do NOT reflect Malleus’s personal tastes or views. He has little say in what kind of an individual his spouse would be, so his own preferences are not speculated about or taken into account here. The traits I will be bringing up are based on what I believe the lore implies are the desirable traits for those marrying into the Draconia royal family.

We got it? Good 👍 Read more below the cut!!

Firstly, I’m completely disregarding the ideas of “Malleus can love whoever he wants to love”, “Malleus can scare people into accepting who he loves”, and/or “Malleus can change the law so he can marry who he loves” (a la Sultan from Aladdin or through some other Disney magic or logic). Here’s why:

In general, those solutions for “high stakes issues” are too simple, and that has never been how Twisted Wonderland tackles complicated problems. Just look at every single OB boy’s backstory. They’re so complex that they aren’t totally resolved by the end of their books; these problems persist and are long term things each of them are working on addressing. This is also true of the politics TWST introduces to us; Leona for example explains how there is social pushback and resistance to the idea of infrastructure reform because the culture of the Sunset Savanna stresses harmony with nature. This has made it difficult for them to adopt new technologies because real politicians in their world have to seriously weigh their cultural values with their health and societal progress. The only time there are really easy solutions are in events or vignettes where the emotional stakes are not super high, but who Malleus marries is, in fact, super important since this will entirely change the life of a main character and his country.

With that first bullet point in mind… No, Malleus cannot love whoever he wants to love. Certainly, he may feel affection for another but he can never truly be with them. He is royalty and the only heir to the throne of Briar Valley. It follows that he is expected to marry for political reasons/to better his nation. This is a non-negotiable obligation for him.

Rather than saying, “Malleus cannot scare people into accepting who he loves”, I think it’s more accurate to say Malleus knows he probably shouldn’t. I mean, yes, he may be upset about his S/O not being accepted by his people but I feel that is discrediting a lot of the loyalty he has for his own country. As a kid he may have thrown tantrums when he was upset and potentially harmed staff, but as a 178 year old he has a much better understanding of decorum and maintaining it in spite of his own grudges. For example, even though he personally dislikes Leona he still commands Sebek to apologize to him because, at the end of the day, this could harm Briar Valley’s relationship with the Sunset Savanna. That’s not to say that Malleus can’t be petty (he definitely is)—but implying he would be petty toward basically his entire country just because they would disapprove of the one he loves?? (We know this would likely be true because Sebek’s parents faced similar backlash when they got together.) I feel like his own sense of awareness and responsibility for his country, crown, and people would override that. As an example, Malleus states that he has never been in a car before because the senate would be against it and often kept Malleus in the castle. Someone of his power could easily ignore them and sneak out and do whatever he wanted, yet the dialogue implies Malleus didn’t. He obeyed his political advisors even when he was younger and arguably much more immature. Malleus might not like certain decisions made about his life but it sounds like he ultimately complies with them.

Continuing from the previous point, let’s say for the sake of argument that Malleus does scare everyone into line. What about his public image and the mental health of his S/O? Maybe Malleus can frighten people to not talk out of turn to his face, but he cannot control what people whisper about him behind closed doors or to treat his S/O well or like they actually like them. Not only would they be alienated (away from their own home and forced to adapt to a new one) but they’d be treated oddly by others too. What kind of reputation is that for Malleus? To be a tyrant king who throws a hissy fit anytime someone talks about his partner in a way he doesn’t approve of? With a spouse who is not at their best mentally because of the constant ostracization? (This is similar to what Leona experienced in his childhood.) I don’t think Malleus would want to subject anyone to that kind of life, especially not one he loves. And again, this attitude would be the vast majority of his people. It’s not like it can be avoided or resolved in an easy manner, especially when the people of Briar Valley have proven to be against change.

Lastly, Malleus would not change the law so he can be with whoever he wants to. To begin with, I doubt this is a unilateral position the senate would approve of. But okay, let’s accept that Malleus is royalty so his power overrides the advisors’ power. So he effectively just changed a law for a very selfish and personal reason rather than changing something to actually benefit his people. That doesn’t feel in-character for him, not when Malleus seems to understand that it is the duty of those in higher status to help those below them rather than themselves (see: Riddle’s Suitor Suit vignettes. Malleus has acted selfish before, yes (who remembers Endless Halloween Night? His Dorm Uniform vignettes? I do.)—but never at the cost of changing the status quo of his country. (Book 7 is not included here because he’s in a very distressed emotional state then; this “new law” scenario posits that Malleus is in a normal state of mind.) This is a major change—change which Briar Valley, its people, and most importantly, Malleus, are not ready for. You think there wouldn’t be social pushback against this? From a society that has become complacent with its own way of life and is still isolated from the rest of the world? That Malleus, someone who struggles greatly with accepting life changes himself, could enact such a big change so easily? (On a more technical level, you don’t just pass a law and it instantly becomes tangible or real, there is a process of approval and then implementation.)

Additionally, it’s made clear in Ghost Marriage that “[Malleus] cannot enter into an engagement lightly”, which is why Sebek goes in his place. Eliza, the Ghost Bride, is royalty (er, albeit dead) but it seems that royal status is not enough to qualify as his partner. Maybe this is because she’s dead and doesn’t have anything of value for Briar Valley (no land, no people, no political power), but it could also mean that the partner has to be given the thumbs up by other parties.

All that being said, here are some of the conditions I think would have to be met for Malleus’s future spouse:

Has to be someone of equal or at least high status. This means they also have to be a royal or at least of nobility. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who is referred to as a duke.

Because of how self-contained Briar Valley is + nocturnal fae having beef with diurnal fae, I imagine his partner would have to also be a nocturnal fae. This would also solve the MASSIVE lifespan difference between fae and non-fae because at least fae would be far closer to each other even if their lifespans fluctuate but subspecies.

Someone suited to rule by his side. Being married into any royal family is no joke—it comes with the expectation that you will contribute somehow, and the partner should be fully equipped to enter the world of politics with him.

Piggybacking off the last point, I think mental fortitude is also a prerequisite. This is because being a politician (navigating the social climate both within your country and outside of it, keeping your people and colleagues happy, maintaining public approval, managing laws, dealing with potential attempts on your life, etc.) can be very stressful and can hurt those who are faint of heart or not prepared for the responsibility. Leaders have to make tough calls at the drop of a hat, and they have to be ready for it.

Has a lot to offer in terms of benefits to Briar Valley as a country. This could be in terms of resources, connections, and/or political savvy. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who acted as a diplomat for Briar Valley.

Vetting and formal approval from the senate. lmao good luck with that

Has to be able and willing to have a child. They at least need an heir to the throne to succeed Malleus. (However, knowing how exclusionary and conservative as heck the senators are, I doubt they would accept anything but a biological child 💀)

Preferably someone with powerful magic or is skilled at magic already so as to lessen the chance of “tainting” the bloodline with a weak mage or a non-mage.

I believe that Briar Valley would prefer someone with old fashioned values like them, not someone pushing for massive reform. They have a culture that is resistant to change and a history of fighting for resources with outsiders, so if Malleus’s new spouse tries to introduce a bunch of technology or open its borders to other countries (even if they have good intentions), the people + the senate may oppose them. His father is implied to be open-minded, but he at least understood that such change isn’t reasonable without time and effort dedicated to the endeavor.

All that being said 💦 I think that this topic is actually less about what Malleus as an individual wants and what his country, his people, and, yes, even his asshole senators, want. This is basically an arranged marriage situation so that their country can maintain power and relevance. It’s about the collective and what Malleus must do for their perceived security and prosperity.

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writertothemaximum · 6 months ago

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Yuuji with a tall (pushing it at 198cm) scary transfer student from America who's kind of a punk but he's sweet sometimes (mainly only to yuuji) perchance?🧐(N/sfw)

ヤンキー・Yankee: Pt. I

Yuuji x tall delinquent male reader

content // Reader comes from a strict American family, canon-typical violence, reader is a juju tech transfer student, reader is a bit depressed, Reader is smitten™️, (yuuji is too), very wholesome, pre-relationship

note // read part two here! (nsfw)

-When your family moved to Tokyo for “business” related reasons, nothing could have prepared you for the culture shock. The language was one thing, but there were all these social customs that were just implied. No one said anything bluntly to your face, even if they did speak comprehensible English, which a lot of people did. Was it because you were an outsider? Was it because you were American?

-Maybe because of this, you found the life of delinquency easy. Maybe it was because you were 6’6” and no one was going to fuck with a dude twice their height, because nothing meant a quick trip to the hospital like getting into a fight with you.

-But people did. And you busted their faces in. It’s what they deserved. One time you broke your fist on someone’s nose. It was worth it. You got suspended and grounded by your parents, but so what? You never provoked people, they just came at you, and it was within your right to defend yourself. Isolation wasn’t caused by ostracization, it was caused by defense, and in your opinion, there was a lot to be defended.

-One day, your parents told you that you were getting transferred to a select school a little bit outside the city. A strange man (who was surprisingly close to your height) came by the house, offered to fist-fight you, and for the first time in your life, you got your ass whipped.

-It was a this point that you realized that the “imaginary friends” you had been seeing since childhood were called “curses,” and that maybe there was a place in the world for your violence. It had just been an outlet, maybe now you had a purpose.

-Very quickly, you realized that Jujutsu Tech also wasn’t home. A part of you wondered if anywhere in Japan could be. Before you were even given your own dorm room, you were sent with another student for a “trial run.” He didn’t talk to you much, and it took two hours into the thing before you even learned his name. It was like your parents had sent you to military school, and in a sense, they did.

-That was until you met Yuuji.

-Yuuji wasn’t like the other students. In many ways, he was like you. To no surprise, many of the students at Jujutsu Tech were also former delinquents, Megumi included—But Yuuji was different. He had blood on his hands, but there was no way you could tell. From the moment you met, he actively talked to you, tried to get to know you, treated you with respect, that’s just how he treated everyone, that was Itadori Yuuji.

-It’s not like no one had ever given you the kindness of humanity before, but Yuuji was different. Why wasn’t he afraid of you? Why wasn’t he intimidated? Maybe he was and he just never let it on, maybe it was because he’d beaten up kids just like you when he was in middle school, you didn’t really know. But it wasn’t just that. He was sweet he was funny he was kind. You were a friend, just like anyone else.

-Yuuji liked watching foreign films, and would invite you to go watch them in the city if any theaters had showings (and since it was Tokyo, they almost always did). After the movie, the two of you’d walk around and discuss what you liked, what you didn’t. One time, Yuuji asked about your home. He asked if you missed it, and a part of you did. A lot of you did. You didn’t talk to your friends anymore since everything had changed. Would they even believe you, anyways? Fighting monsters, living in what felt like another world?

-Yuuji understood you, he always did. That’s what’s so charming about him, is that he can feel what you’re feeling. At that time, he gave you a hug, and told you that he can’t send you home, but he can do his best to make Tokyo your new one. Maybe there’d be a piece of home here, maybe you could find a quiet spot, surrounded by the greenery of your youth, and the two of you could sit and chat while the memories flooded in.

-That was the first time you had cried since you moved abroad, and you vowed to make it your last. Somehow, Itadori Yuuji had weaved into your heart, and you weren’t about to give him up anytime soon.

If you liked this story, please give the post a reblog, or send me another request :)

Thanks for reading!

// read part two here! (nsfw)

#yuuji x you #yuuji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #itadori x reader #male reader #w2tmhcs

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warsofasoiaf · 3 months ago

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A feudal contract is a method of gaining power for rulers, ensuring loyalty of the support base they need. The Targaryens didn't need the nobles as a support base before the dance, they were kept around as a convenience. The field of fire and Harrenhal prove that beyond any doubt. Even after the dance you had people like Aegon the Unworthy brutalizing people and taking noble women as he pleased (heavily implied to be without consent in some cases). There was no feudal contract, The Targaryens began as absolute monarchs with dragon power and continued to act as such until people realized that they could put a stop to it.

Westeros is it's own world with it's own politics and culture. You can't understand it perfectly by assuming it functions like medieval Europe. The fact that letting the peasants die during war is standard practice disproves the idea of a feudal structure on the lower end of society as well. The social structure is closer to ancient China.

A feudal contract is also a means to devolve power in the absence of a established central bureaucracy to administer territory. House Targaryen's use of Torrhen Stark to put down the Sunderland revolt or the various (failed) uses of viceroys and other noble appointments to administer the failed conquests of Dorne handily rebut your thesis that they kept around the nobles as a "conveinence." Aegon ruling on legal matters using maesters to advise on legal precedent and customs, and Jaehaerys I's consolidation of the legal code to ensure specific rights granted to lords, knights, and kings from everything to the right of pits and gallows to who is mandated to sit "above the salt" demonstrate that there are very clear structures in place that are very much not an "absolute monarchy." Nobles inherit their fiefs by right, a hallmark of a hereditary military caste and one of the key elements that advanced aristocratic power in regards to royal power.

Moreover, the predation of the nobility over the smallfolk, from Aegon IV's use of the Goldcloakd as his personal kidnap squad to provide women for sexual assault to the vast toll that noble warfare takes on the peasantry is very much keeping in line with history, and GRRM's writing style of "history taken up to 11." Legal protections for young peasant women who found themselves pressured to satisfy a King's lust were minimal (feudalism depended on legal inequality between the social classes). Warfare on medieval Europe often depended upon the chevauchée, a deliberate targeting of peasants to weaken an enemy's economic base and stir up unrest from the peasants who would fear the lack of protection. Medieval warfare of knights versus knights was often a chaotic affair, it was more reliable to strike at a noble's lands and villages, raiding the granaries and terrifying the populace. Taking into account GRRM's own self-described penchant for exaggeration for dramatic emphasis and his style where he often focuses on the lurid even to the detriment of the book in question (Coryanne Wilde), it's quite understandable.

I've never pretended to say that I understand Westerosi society perfectly as you assert. GRRM has been rather open about using a rough layman's grasp of English and European feudalism as a model for the political landscape of Westeros that he drew from that is relatively common to plenty of fantasy writers. He draws from plenty of sources that have shaped his own life as well - a lot of the troubles of war against the smallfolk are drawn from his experiences as a Conscientious Objector in Vietnam portrayed through medieval warfare. He's not a medievalist, but to deny that feudalism is a key component of Westerosi society is not correct, going either from GRRM's own statements or an analysis of the text as a whole; it's just flat-out wrong. You seem to have a singular fixation on the idea that because of the dragons, the Targaryens acted like absolute monarchs, but that's both not true and a remarkably limited conception of what feudalism was.

-SLAL

#feudalism #writing

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vigilskeep · 11 months ago

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hiya!! I never learned much about oghren besides what I needed to because, from what I remember, he pissed me off so bad with misogynistic comments that in both my playthroughs I kicked him out of the party as soon as the game would let me😂what would you say is the appeal of his character? it seems there’s more to him if I could’ve got past that, based on the posts of yours I’ve seen

i’m not going to make an argument for pushing through if you can’t deal with how he talks because like, it sucks and as i say, they did not do anything with it or make him get better on that. that being said, i think there is something interesting to his character and what can be done with it.

maybe i’m just desperate for dwarven lore lmao. there are three, total, dwarven companions in the series, counting one from a dlc, and i will take whatever lore i can get from my beloved orzammar

oghren operates in a really fascinating space in orzammar’s caste system. he’s born warrior caste, and once, he was everything orzammar values and a great prospect for a brilliant girl from the smith caste. then when she’s less than twenty and he’s presumably around the same, she becomes a paragon, a living legend, the voice of the ancestors. they soar up to being a noble house in a role neither of them are prepared for. oghren goes from being a very desirable match socially to an uncultured hanger-on who doesn’t even have branka’s attention as she becomes obsessed with her work (and quietly seeks a lover elsewhere in her new house). when branka goes into the deep roads two years before the events of the game, she takes the whole house—except him. and she doesn’t come back. oghren’s the single leftover of a house with no head. he’s also a berserker with ptsd, and when he loses control of himself in the proving arena and kills a young man, he’s no longer allowed to fight within the city bounds. if he left it, he’d be casteless; but inside it, he’s not far from that, unable to be the warrior that orzammar’s culture has always told him it is his only role and purpose to be.

there’s a lot of orzammar caste and gender politics in all of that. the guard who tells you about oghren says that he might have been something to be afraid of before the assembly “practically gelded him” by banning him from fighting. losing your ability to perform your caste role is emasculating and oghren’s over-exaggerated masculinity in his crude jokes is a response to that perceived shame. even before the ban, orzammar has the biggest gender inequality of anywhere we’ve spent time in thedas, and there’s a lot of implied social loss in becoming the lesser partner to his wife. both because she’s a woman and was once a lesser caste than him. in his fade nightmare, he’s drunk in tapsters, as strangers berate him for being a shame to branka’s house, dragging it down. he’s openly mocked in the same way in orzammar for all of this. for him in this dream, and in his life prior to meeting the warden, it’s easier to drink than to listen

there’s a lot to get into about how orzammar treats its warriors. they’re sent against the horrors of the deep roads, taught to harness this berserker rage, to be the only thing that stands between their home and the darkspawn, and... then what? is there a system in place for taking care of those veterans? i doubt they hold the same value once they lose the ability to perform their caste role. oghren talks a little about this, but he’s not even able to conceptualise that he should have been helped, it’s more like, how could they teach me how to fight out there like that and expect me to be able to hold back in that proving fight? a warrior’s going to do what a warrior’s going to do! but i don’t think it’s a surprise that someone like oghren turns to alcohol and i sincerely doubt he’s alone in that. compare it to someone like warden brosca’s mother turning to alcohol to deaden herself to life in dust town, and you can see that the dwarven love of drink so often played for laughs is the weight of the caste system in action

#oghren #no real conclusion to these thoughts but that’s the rudimentary basics of the interest he holds for me personally

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grison-in-space · 2 years ago

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man I've been listening to Guards! Guards! again, right. I was going to do Feet of Clay again but I wanted so badly to spend some time with Lady Sybil in her element, so I detoured over to the beginning. (Incidentally, Making-Money!Vetinari up against Guards!-Guards!Vetinari is one hell of a contrast. One gets the sincere impression that older Vetinari would wipe the floor with his younger self if they ever met, and then be painfully embarrassed afterward; and yet you can see the potential among the arrogance. I wrote this bit before I wrote a longer piece about that exchange, but I'll get round to linking it in here in a moment.)

But I wanted to discuss Sybil.

The first thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is an archetype of a certain kind of autistic person, usually a woman (or a queer man). You find them in every kind of domestic animal fancy, although Sybil is of the class and rank that generally focuses on relatively large, expensive, and impractical animals; the dragon fancy is mostly based on the dog fancy, with strong influence from horse fancies and sometimes cat or falconry fancies. It is not a coincidence that Sybil is unmarried and that most of her time is spent with other women, often middle class or upper class women, who share her all consuming interest in dragons; this has been a really common social circle for autistics, especially autistic women with independent money, into a given animal fancy since the cultural concept of animal fancies existed.

The second thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is not at all a conventionally attractive woman. Here are the things we learn about her as Vimes does, in order: she has inherited wealth and status that she does not particularly care about; she is large--taller than Vimes himself, or at least tall enough to loom over him--and "booms" confidently and incomprehensibly at him; and even after she takes off the heavy protective armor useful for conducting a dragon mating, she's tall and fat and (implied to be) heavily muscled under the fat. Her figure is compared to the Venus of Willendork, or perhaps an operatic Valkyrie, and she wears wigs because she is generally fairly bald, or at least singed. She's loud by nature. She wanders around with a dragon on her shoulder creating awful smells and occasionally dribbling.

God, I love her. Speaking as another erstwhile animal fancy autistic, she's really living the dream there. And this little Watch man shows up in her life, totally fails to understand what she's asking for when she tries to conscript him into the easy job for the breeding she's trying to facilitate, and then sits and asks her a bunch of pointed questions about her beloved dragons. He's weird in his own way and a little drunk, and he really is unfortunate enough not to have any dragons experience at all, but he sits down and he asks her questions and he listens to everything she can infodump at her with, as far as I can tell, rapt fascination.

This is not an experience Sybil Ramkin has frequently had. He doesn't try to escape or change the subject or draw her back to the pieces he cares about even a little bit. He's clearly dazed and confused and probably, knowing Vimes, a little bit drunk, but he's not even visibly discomfited enough to shove poor old Dewdrop Maybelline Talonthrust the First out of his lap. Sybil clearly knows that most people don't appreciate being drooled acid on, and tells Vimes repeatedly that he can shove the old man off, but he makes no effort to do so at any point. Given that dragons are described as having a quite pervasive smell, and given all the other details of their biology, I can't even begin to imagine how awful the old dragon must smell... and Vimes just sort of rolls with it.

(It's a pity Pterry didn't understand show names at all, of course; the ones we get should tell us something about the relationships among dragons and kennels, and the prefixes should be repeated, and whatever Sybil's own kennel name is should be present in many of the dragons she mentions. Probably it's either Talonthrust or Moonmist, but either way Goodboy Bindle Featherstone of Quirm is named entirely wrong. He's clearly of her own breeding, so he should have a kennel prefix or suffix that aligns with hers, not a name that has nothing in common with her other dragons and implies that his dam was bred by the duchess of Quirm rather than by Sybil herself.)

He listens and he listens and he asks questions and he goes down to the kennels to look at her pride and joy and listen to her explaining what makes each of them so nice. And then he brings her an incredibly exciting present. And he expresses interest in the sweet little whittle she's been trying to work out what to do with, who is totally not a breeding specimen but is too weird even for the sort of people who adopt dragons from the Sunshine Sanctuary. He doesn't even try to leave until the big dragon overhead causes a big stir, and then when she has him taken to her house to recover, she finds him reading her book about diseases of the dragons with every evidence of fascination.

Small wonder she takes notice of him, really.

#discworld #sybil ramkins #sybil

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mimicdive · 7 months ago

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Proof of Concept?

Summary: Bi!Reader feels insecure in their sexuality and Spencer offers validation. Word Count: 933 Content Warnings: referenced/implied biphobia, no pronouns are used but reader is AFAB, mostly dialogue Author's Note: written for @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride Challenge! written as a combination of the bisexual prompts :)

As pride merch began to weave its way back into mass-consumer culture, large chains preparing for Pride Month, you couldn’t help the niggling of doubt in the back of your mind. Growing up, sexuality wasn’t an open topic of discussion in your family, and though you’d eventually been able to figure it out on your own with the help of the internet, social media, and several very attractive celebrities, it wasn’t uncommon for you to feel insecure in your sexuality. Bisexuality, despite its status as one of the most common sexualities in the queer community, was often overshadowed, both in your life and in the larger community.

Of course, it was easy to fall into stereotypes–bi with a preference for women, yet still dating a man. Not that you could complain about Spencer, he was everything you’d ever wanted and more. Yet, that doubting of your sexuality still bothered you from time to time. Were you really bisexual if you’d never been romantically involved with a woman? If the only kisses you’d ever shared with a woman were fleeting and meaningless? When the only romantic interests you’d pursued had been male?

It was difficult to articulate, even more difficult to say aloud. Many of your close friends were straight and were unable to offer more than comfort. And your boyfriend…well. You weren’t unhappy in your relationship with Spencer, far from it. Part of you was worried that a discussion about your sexuality would cause him to feel insecure in your relationship, and that was the last thing you wanted. Another more irrational part of you, built out of feelings of shame and doubt, feared that he would confirm your worries and invalidate your sexuality.

Logically, you knew Spencer wasn’t that kind of person. Armed with this knowledge, you brought it up after dinner one night as you were perched together on the couch, watching an old foreign film with a name you wouldn’t even attempt to pronounce.

“Do you think that it’s weird?” you blurted out.

Spencer furrowed his brow and paused the movie. “Do I think that what is weird?”

“That I say I’m bi even if I’ve never been in a relationship with a woman? Or even pursued one?”

Inhaling sharply, Spencer frowned. “Is this your way of telling me you want to pursue a relationship outside of ours?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, not at all. It’s just…you know, Pride is rolling around soon, and it caused a thought spiral, seeing the merchandise resurfacing in stores. I mean, am I really valid in my identity if there seems to be nothing indicating that I am truly attracted to women?”

Spencer visibly relaxed when you clarified that this was nothing about your relationship. He moved closer to you, taking your hand in his and interlacing your fingers.

“Love, there’s nothing wrong with being queer in a straight-passing relationship. And not having previous involvement in romantic relationships with someone of the other gender doesn’t mean that you’re not bi. Sexuality isn’t defined in concrete terms. It’s fluid, and it’s a different experience for many people. Plus, you don’t need to prove it to anyone. You can be attracted to women and never have been in a relationship with one. How you feel is how you feel.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Plus, I’ve seen how you look at the women in your favorite shows.”

Your face heated, and you groaned.

“And in public, for that matter,” he added with a chuckle.

You buried your head in your hands. “I was just admiring their outfits…”

“It’s understandable for you to feel the way you do,” Spencer stated, voice taking on a more serious tone. “Society places a lot of pressure on labels and certain boxes you have to conform to if you identify with any label. We’re told how we can and can’t present ourselves. But really, all that matters is that you’re true to yourself. And at the end of the day, you don’t need to have a label if it’s causing undue stress.”

“It feels like I had everything figured out about my sexuality when I was younger. I knew I liked men, and I knew I liked women, and everyone and anyone in between. I didn’t care what other people thought. But now that I’m older, it just feels like I’ve adopted a label that doesn’t matter. All people see is that I’m dating a man, and they make assumptions based on that,” you sighed.

Spencer brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Like I said, it’s about what’s true to you, not anyone else. You’re no less valid for being in a relationship with a man than a bisexual woman would be for being in a relationship with a woman. Bisexual erasure is unfortunately common, even in the LGBTQ+ community, with people preferring absolutes–you’re either ‘gay’ or ‘straight’ or it’s too complicated. You don’t have to ‘pick a side’.”

You felt tears welling up as the burden you’d learned to ignore seemed to dissolve, lifting an immense weight from your shoulders. It’d been eons since you’d allowed yourself to open up and discuss your anxieties about your sexuality in this manner, and to find yourself supported and seen by one of the most important people in your life was ultimately reassuring.

“I love you, you know that?” Spencer whispered. “Your sexuality isn’t going to change that.”

“I love you too.” You paused, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”

He kissed your forehead as you settled back in, starting the film from where you’d left off.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #mentioningmargins

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