#and is trying to appropriate it while condescending to people

[super-clark]

Some people say that acting too shocked when someone comes out is a bad reaction. That it shouldn't be a big deal and nobody should be gasping or clutching their pearls over it. In fact nobody should even have to come out at all, straight people don't after all.

Others have claimed that being too casual isn't great either. Responding with a simple 'Oh okay' or 'Yeah we kind of figured you were' could be interpreted as demeaning or going by stereotypes to try to put people in boxes.

Clark's mind races through everything he's read on the topic. What could possibly be the most appropriate thing to say?

Realizing he has now been quiet for far too long, which could possibly indicate to Bruce that he doesn't approve of this new information, he panics even more. He doesn't even know what Bruce came out as. Gay was the most obvious answer but it didn't have to be that. Maybe he was bi? Or ace? It could be anything and the words Clark chooses could very well alter their relationship forever.

"Oh." It just slips out and Clark goes beat red. "I mean I'm happy for you! Not that you broke up- Not that- The other thing. I-... I am so sorry."

After keeping his face buried in his hands for a while he exhales deeply and wraps his arm around Bruce, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm really proud of you Bruce."

" ...Was that a tad condescending?"

I need to speak with you. Privately. -BTW

Of course Bruce, I’m assuming you’re at home? Be there in a- Right now.

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

❄️

>>> part iii

for @kultiras🖤

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divider credit here

[sundrop-writes]

Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Summary:

While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader - Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut, Sexual Tension.

Word Count: 2,800 words

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of ‘pickup artistry’: the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl’; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good’ as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama’ (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader’s neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing’ (in this case the word 'little’ is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: This was based on a request, and the original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn’t stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn’t want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it. 

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable. 

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous). 

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable. 

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life. 

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey. 

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression. 

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.) 

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique. 

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic. 

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do? 

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages. 

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up. 

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway. 

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you. 

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him. 

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you. 

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him. 

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech. 

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice. 

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man. 

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door. 

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside. 

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking. 

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.” 

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?” 

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle. 

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds. 

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.” 

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam. 

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake. 

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.” 

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation. 

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom. 

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin. 

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her. 

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid. 

You had to do something. 

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you. 

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop. 

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it. 

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips. 

You imagined her approaching you at a bar. 

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you. 

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now. 

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her. 

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy. 

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off. 

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips. 

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.) 

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close. 

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm. 

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-” 

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief. 

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet. 

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious. 

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you. 

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight. 

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light. 

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch. 

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves. 

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding. 

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest. 

“You.” You whined quietly. 

Emily chuckled gently. 

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction. 

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue. 

“Come to me.” 

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“Come on. Come to Mama.” 

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog. 

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss. 

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy. 

She was showing you who was in charge. 

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now. 

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control. 

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight. 

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.” 

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone. 

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.” 

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a continuation of it. If you enjoyed the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written here. And if you like my writing style, please check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist or my other Masterlists for other fandoms.

[nkn0va]

THE LAST MINUTE RUSHED AS HELL CHRISTMAS EVENT

I'm writing this shit on Christmas Eve night, speedrun mode activate

Thanks to everyone who submitted and supported this rushed thing here. Hopefully next year if we last that long I'll be able to give you all something better. And hopefully none of this comes off as too half-baked.

Fun fact: Blazblue was not a two way, not a three way, but a FOUR WAY TIE, EVERYONE WANTED A DIFFERENT CHARCTER

To settle this dispute, I did it in the only appropriate way I knew how:

We will be revealing the winners for each fandom as voted for by the submissions and the prompts that have been chosen as we go along here.

Without further ado, enjoy the first ever seasonal event on the NKN0va blog. Hope you all have a jolly Christmas day.

(Spoilers mentioned for Persona 5 Tactica in that section, proceed with caution)

Helltaker: Judgment's S/O getting her to ice skate with them on Christmas

-You bring this idea up to Judgment on Christmas Day after breakfast, much to the fallen angel's confusion.

-She has heard of skating before, and knew that there was a kind of skating specifically for doing it on ice, but that sounded extremely dumb and quite dangerous, especially to regular ol' fragile mortals like yourself.

-It takes a while, but she eventually gives in, she doesn't have the heart to shut you down entirely. Of course it's under the guise of protecting you and making sure you don't get hurt.

-It's best that you don't go to a public skating rink with her lest you get unwelcome stares from everyone and scare the children, so you manage to find a frozen lake somewhere with ice thick enough. Despite being alone, Judgment is still very much tense.

-Judgment for her part when she does get on the ice falls over a few times. Balance isn't her thing, but she does get it eventually, watching anxiously as she keeps an eye on you as you start getting on the ice.

-If you cannot skate she'll have a few words for you, but since you're already here you might as well do it together. She'll put your arm around you shoulders as she tries to keep you both upright until she is certain you can go on your own. Depending on your own balance this will have varying results.

-Consider her pleasantly surprised if you know how to skate without falling over, she thought you'd be struggling a lot more. Expect her to make some kind of competition out of the ordeal and taking it way too seriously. By the end you're aching all over and she has to carry you home. 10/10 would do again.

~~~

Under Night In Birth: Surprising Wagner with a Christmas Gift

(Thank you Vivian for breaking the tie this was way easier than if I got the alternative on a coin flip and had to do the other option instead)

-Wagner is no stranger to gifts. Especially super extravagant ones around the holidays thanks to her family background. This put you in quite the conundrum.

-As long as you've known the Crimson Knight, she's always been very hard to please. That fact that you're a normal person with a normal income also does not help matters. Trying to go extravagant enough to impress her would only break your bank in the process so you had to had to get more creative.

-You'd have to appeal more to her sentiment, and eventually an idea came. The only thing you knew of that appealed to her sentimentally enough was, well, you.

-Your gift searching soon turned into a craft session, taking photos from your phone of you two, printing them out, and putting them in a memories book of sorts and decorating it to what you felt was her liking.

-When the big moment came and it was finally in Wagner's hands, she sits there holding it like she doesn't know what the hell it is. It's only when it's opened that it clicks.

-She'll smirk and call it quaint in a half condescending, half endearing way. Some people might be offended by it, but you know better. This is her way of hiding her true emotions. Deep down this will be treasured for the rest of her life, anyone that dares touch it other than you will be turned to roast beef.

~~~

Persona 5: Erina ending up under the mistletoe with her S/O

(AU where Erina doesn't disappear after the events of the story)

-It had been quite a while since any holiday was able to be celebrated, thanks to Marie. There was a special feeling about Christmas this year around, being able to finally celebrate it peacefully.

-Erina for one seemed to be the most excited. Due to her...origins she'd never celebrated it properly before, and was learning the ins and outs of the festivities and traditions for the first time, her eyes lighting up at every new thing she saw.

-The two of you were walking around the town plaza taking in all the sights, watching as the citizens put up decorations. Out of nowhere, right in front of a bakery in the plaza, she stopped you and pointed up towards a strange looking plant hung on up one of the support pillars.

-While you were already dating Erina, it hasn't been all that long into the relationship, thus you were still taking to intimacy. With a slight bit of nervousness, you filled her in on what this mistletoe thing was.

-Erina takes in what you say with a thoughtful look. Then, as straightforward as ever, pulls you by your collar and gives you a longer than normal peck on the lips, pulling away with a slight redness on her face but a satisfied smile. She mentions how this might end up becoming a favorite holiday tradition of hers before dragging you through the city once more as if nothing happened.

-In all fairness, you probably should've seen that one coming.

~~~

AND TO BREAK THE STAGGERING (but probably not unexpected in retrospect) FOUR WAY TIE, THE WHEEL HAS DECIDED ON...

I see the audience has a particular type...

Blazblue: Nine's Christmas Day Celebration with S/O (post Dark War)

-While Nine is typically a very busy woman, she is extremely family oriented above all else. She will take holiday time off, regardless of what anyone says. Not like they can stop her anyway.

-Definitely the type to go all out to spoil the people important to her. Over the top decorations, forcing the weather control system to make a light but not overbearing snowfall, and as many presents as she can humanly think of.

-This is probably the happiest you've ever seen her. With all the tragedy in her and everyone else's lives over the past decade there's so rarely been a time to truly let her guard down and celebrate a holiday like a normal, happy, healthy person.

-She wants to do every traditional (and perhaps cliche) tradition she can think of. Between having largely no parents growing up and spending most of her life during war time she's never had the chance to do any of it. Decorating a tree, giving out deliberately wrapped presents to you and everyone else important to her, going out to see the magical and technological lights hung up around Ishana, having a fireplace lit up and watching old movies.

-This is her way of healing from the long lasting trauma inflicted on her by circumstances outside her control. If the holiday season is about the people important to you, then she wants to take that time to cherish those people while she still has the chance, even if she can have a hard time expressing that.

-Also you're probably gonna have to stop her from bullying Terumi even now. If left to her own devices she is dressing him up in the most stupid holiday themed shit imaginable for her own amusement. I'm talking reindeer antler headbands and a Rudolph nose.

[mottemotte]

and that is the "tea".

Yikes

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. Hi, me again!! Returning to your amazing site!! I hope you can help me find this fic!! I'm looking for a fic where WWX doesn't die in his first life, but he ends up in a paperman and in Yummeng they have to find a way to returning him to his body!! Please help!! Be well :) @monicaop21

NOT FOUND! 🧡 a paper friend by soft_wanning (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Paperman!WWX, Identity Porn, Meet-Cute, Different First Meeting) I'm not sure this is right but I'd thought I'd mention it just in case - Mod C

I remember this one but can't find it! Iirc, WWX was in a coma in Lotus Pier, but the rest of the cultivation world was told he was dead. Can't remember how his spirit ended up in a paperman, but all the Lotus Pier people knew, and eventually LWJ figured it out when he was visiting for a cultivation conference or something. I think they were trying to figure out how to get WWX back into his body when MXY did his ritual and WWXs spirit was pulled out of the paperman and everyone freaked out that he'd died for real this time

FOUND!🔒 something like by silversshadow (T, 69k, WangXian, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Temporary Character Death)

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2. Hi!! Thank you for all your hardwork here.

I was looking for this fic where Wei Wuxian doesn't get adopted by the Jiangs.( I'm not sure if it was because he retained his memories of his earlier life.) Anyway... he gets the Dafan Wens at Yiling and closes Yiling with a barrier that no one can break through.

At some point Lan Wangji comes by and meets Wei Wuxian and there's a little bit of an identity crisis happening because Wuxian doesn't want to tell Wangji who he is but the smart Lan figures it out (I think lol) Also the war happens (again not so sure) but anyway all the sects comes to ask for refuge at Yiling.

The part I remember really well is where The Jiangs come by boat and Yu furen is her usual self with her condescending attitude.

I also remember a section where, towards the beginning, Wuxian actually cures the Burial mounds and like the entire village just loves him and takes care of him because he's such an angel.

Please find this for me cuz I went through 115 pages in my history and still couldn't find it. @poetic-writes

FOUND? The Devil That You Forgot by pottedplnt (Not Rated, 20k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, YLLZ WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Angst, Sentient Burial Mounds, Demonic Cultivation, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sunshot Campaign, Chronic Pain, JFM and YZY Bashing, Bad Parent YZY, Jiāng Family Bashing)

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3. hiii for the next FF I’m looking for a modern wangxian fic where wy is a toymaker and LZ is a writer and single father to lsz. It’s largely comfort where wy reintroduces LZ to the magic of imagination I think and idk if it’s only where i stopped but the most recent scene was lz’s mother being stuck in the hospital. I also rmb that wy couldn’t leave the toy shop for long. @crazy-gay-killxr

FOUND! Pure Imagination by Witch_Nova221 (T, 119k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JYL/JZX, LSZ LWJ & WWX, modern w magic, Romance, Toys, Toy maker, Magic, Found Family, Family Feels, Family Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitals, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s))

~*~

4. Hi!! Thanks for your work, I have been looking for a fic I read I while ago. It is a MDZSxTGCF crossover, it starts with Wei Ying arriving to ghost city after his death and Hualian finding him (I'm pretty sure he calls Xie Lian an angel at some point). Some time later, Lan Zhan travels to the ghost city to find Wei Ying, he doesn't find him but Hua Cheng lent him some luck so they can reunite soon.

Thank again for everything!!! @jesuqueso

~*~

5. hi! im looking for a fic where the juniors of lotus pier think wwx gives the worst punishment. in reality, wwx just deliveres them to the most appropriate adult to deal with it. like if the best punishment would be "im not mad just disappointed" lecture, then he'll drop the kids off to jaing yanli or if they need handstands then to lan wangji and so on.. but wwx himself rarely punished them and somehow the juniors came to the conclusion that he must give out the worst punishment

this was just a small scene from a long fic. not even related to plot, i think this scene was towards the end. @mumblerovertmblr

FOUND! I'm pretty sure 5 is And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) or one of its sequels / yes like previouly said, it is in And Time Is But A Paper Moon by sami, in chapter 20!

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6. For the next Fic Finder – I was looking for a fic to suggest for an ITMF request, but I can’t find it! It’s a modern AU, where LQR suggests a marriage between JYL and LWJ (after a scandal with JGS comes to light, making JZX a bad option even though JYL still wants to marry him). But LWJ and WWX are already secretly dating, so WWX chaperones JYL and LWJ on a “date” where they finally tell her they are together, and then go about telling the rest of their family through the rest of the fic. @eorlgreylady

FOUND! I think 6 is A Sequence of coming out by kippalittlefox, but it seems to be deleted.

~*~

7. What I remember from it is that WWX was in the bath before some people broke into the jingshi and held him hostage when LWJ got back. He had a string to his throat, or a knife not fully sure. After the guys that broke in were killed and it was like the next day, JC came by and the three of them started talking in the middle of CR so that the others would know that LWJ killed the men because they tried to kill his husband and if they wanted to see the scar left across WWX's throat.

This part was at the end of it, but I don't remember it being long. Don't really remember honestly

FOUND! sounds like No journey is too long by dea_liberty (M, 12k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Found Families, Epilogue, Happy Ending, Some angst, a lot of feelings, WWX has some PTSD to deal with, Minor Violence) the last in a five-part post canon series. The incident takes place in an inn, not the Jingshi, but other details match

~*~

8. Hi! I’m kinda desperate now.

I’m looking for a fic where a-yuan or I think OC child is wwx and lwj biological child. I remember there is a chapter wherein before dying (due to canon stuff), wwx confessed to lwj that they had a child together. Then wwx died and I think they search for for the child (I forgot who saw the child but I sure it is either lxc or lwj)

I really appreciate it if you help me😭

~*~

9. Hey! I'm looking for a fic I've read once but can't seem to find it anymore.

It was a modern Wangxian au where LWJ is a motorbike racer and WWX is a single parent to A-Yuan. LWJ sees WWX on the street as he drives by and circles back just to ask him out on a date. Incredibly sweet fic and I would like to read it again.

Thank you! 😘 @lucica-stuff

FOUND! My Heart is the Finish Line by UseMyMuse (E, 29k, WangXian, Bikerji, dadxian, Mpreg)

~*~

10. There's a long modern au where lwj and lxc are art agents or something and wwx is an artist. But the main thing of the fic is that wwx hears from mxy that lwj FUCKS and might have a spreadsheet for it. This turns wwxs world upside down cause lwj is his best friend and he'd never known this. Then there's pining. Wwx painting a triptych, pining while fucking and finally the two idiots talk. There was also a b side version from lwjs pov. I cannot find this fic now. Help.

FOUND! show me a quiver, give me tonight by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, lwj/others, communication failure, mutual pining, artists, demisexual wwx, angst w/ happy ending)

~*~

11. hello! i need help looking for a fic please 🙏🏻

i remember a lot but these are the important bits: modern au, wwx & lwj used to be classmates, nhs finally convinced wwx to confess his feelings for lwj, and when he did (in public, blurting out loud cause he was VERY nervous), lwj thought it was a prank, got angry and rejected wwx. wwx was devastated, nhs felt guilty, planned to drink & then met wen xu. wwx and wen xu get together, but wwx ran away (?) with wx. he was actually in an abusive & manipulative relationship with wx. then wwx adopts wen yuan and he fled with wy. years later, wwx owns a cafe, wy is a teen and they accidentally meet lwj again at the cafe. the junior ensemble is there, things happen and wx finds wwx but there is a happy ending.

i have TRIED looking for it myself but to no avail. (This part added to an itmf)

we are blessed in this community for all the work that you do, thank you so much! 🙇🏻‍♀️ @emkaii

FOUND! how to make your dad fall in love with your high school teacher in five steps; the complete and bulletproof guide by ravenditefairylights (T, 90k, WangXian, Modern AU, Coffee shop AU, NB LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Genderfluid WWX)

~*~

12. Hi i'm looking for a wangxian fic were everyone watches (fallows lan wangji) wei wuxian and thinks that he gave birth to lan sizhui. its on ao3 @sansfan286

FOUND? Assumptions by draechaeli (T, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, not mpreg, Not Established Relationship, Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, gender non-conforming titles) the mirror follows WWX but they assume A-Yuan is the bio kid bc of convos they overhear but

FOUND? We made every mistake by JosieLinton2002 (T, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Mpreg) also features a mirror where they spy on WWX and they discover A-Yuan is Wangxian's bio kid

~*~

13. Hi can you guys help me find a fic? It was a modern au; it was about Lwj slowly realizing the Jiangs neglect Wwx or something along those lines. I remember two scenes, one where they were talking about gifts, and Wwx said Madam Yu got him shampoo and conditioner for his birthday, and Wwx thought that was normal. The second scene was Lwj learning Wwx is left alone in the house when the Jiang family goes on vacation.

FOUND? Lessons in Belonging by Nyatci (M, 12k, wangxian, Modern, Childhood Friends to Lovers, POV LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canonical Child Abuse, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Homophobia, Good Uncle LQR, background 3zun, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assumed Asexuality, some mild non-overly-explicit smut, LWJ really wants to put a ring on it so he does, Domestic Fluff, wangxian adopt a-yuan, 5+1 Things)

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14. this is for ficfinder.

I read a fic a couple of months ago and I can't find it.

in it, lwj dies because of the lan elders in the cave, and wwx gets really really mad (obvi) and then gives half of his heart to lwj surgically (literally)

FOUND! To Love a Lonely God by sunandseas (E, 6k, WangXian, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Wwx gives Lwj his heart, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, Hurt LWJ, Dark WWX, Dark LWJ, Temporary Character Death, sacrifice as a form of love, Murder Husbands)

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15. For fic finder: It was a modern au about sport dueling. You could duel in pairs or one on one, and WWX and JC were raised to be a pair but Madame Yu kept them apart, I think? Anyhoo, JC goes on to pair with Jiang Yanli and WWX eventually teams up with LWJ and win the championship. I feel like someone got kidnapped halfway through?

FOUND! I feel like I win when I lose by so_shhy (T, 25k, wangxian, modern cultivation, Sports AU, Getting Together, some semblance of a plot, gently implied 3zun, obsessively observing someone from a distance is super romantic, LWJ pls use your words, really WWX cannot be blamed for obliviousness in this one, WC causing trouble, WN is precious, Fluff, Podfic Available)

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16. Hi! I can't seem to find a fix I really loved -- I remember it was sort of cyberpunk cultivation world and wwx downloaded himself into a sexbot which fought with lwj who realized he was fully sentient and took him home. There's eventual wen remnants and wwx has a secret agenda.

FOUND? In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, wangxian, modern cultivation, scifi au, android WWX, tone: neon seedy, rich people are bored and terrible, post-apocalyptoc landscape, happy ending, smut, severe major characger injury, time loss)

~*~

17. Hi! I read a fic ao3 and i forgot to bookmark it. It’s a modern and i remember wwx being a ceo of a huge tech company and lan zhan ran away and kinda asked wwx to be his sugar daddy??

FOUND? finally safe (for me to fall) by sassybluee (E, 77k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Sugar Daddy, Age Difference, Sex Work, Rich WWX, Older WWX, Service Top WWX, Poor LWJ, Single Parent LWJ, Sugar Baby LWJ, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Cockblocking, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, No Lube, Lube, Addiction, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, wangxian + others) sigh so good

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18. Hii I'm looking for these fics I read not long ago, couldn't find it anymore,

A) it's a short one I believe? Where nie huaisang kinda drags wwx with him to the past and wwx was livid (wwx chocked nhs or something), the scene happened in front alot of ppl .

B) I've read multiple like this one can't remember the exact one but it's where wwx was actually female, and hid her true ID from the jinags, and was discovered by the Lans or something

C) it's similar to b but I remember this scene it was an established Relationship post canon? Where wwx got her og body back after being resurrected by male mxy

Thanks in advance ☆ @karinasnowwwx

18A)

FOUND? Selfish by Valeska (T, 2k, NHS & WWX, Time Travel, NHS Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Hug, YLLZ WWX, Sunshot Campaign, NHS kinda messes up, WWX needs a break, Hurt No Comfort, no NHS bashing even if it kinda sounds like that in the summary, he's tired and desperate, which doesn't mix well with presenting opportunities as we know)

18B)

FOUND? 🔒 Fallen Flowers and Closed Blooms by mondengel (M, 1k, wangxian, Female WWX, Creepy JFM)

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19. hello, I am looking for a fic " where lan wangji save wei wuxian after he jump from the cliff. baoshan rescued wei wuxian, lan wangji ang wen yuan from a cave and save wei wuxian by giving him his mother's core, later wei wuxian and lanwangji become demonic cultivator and immortal. "

FOUND? It's not a perfect match, but Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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20. Hello! I’m trying to find a modern AU fic where the Lans still run a school, and in the backstory, WWX did something, got expelled over it (can’t remember why, it’s either punching JZX or messing with LWJ) and after being sent home, Madam Yu disowned him and threw him out of the house. There was also a mention that LQR was horrified, because the other times he expelled someone, they simply petitioned to be readmitted to the school and he was expecting that to happen with WWX.

Unfortunately that’s all I remember. Any ideas help!

FOUND!🔒With Intent by KizuKatana (E, 14k, WangXian, modern cultivator au, Modern with Magic, First Time, YLLZ WWX, WWX/others (minor), Jealous LWJ)

~*~

[binniebeams]

The Sweetest Drink

Pairing: Jongho x AFAB Reader

Genre/Rating: Vampire AU, Smut, 18+. MDNI

Summary: Seeing the boost your friend gets after her late night adventures at a certain club, you decided to join her and see what all the fuss is about…

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: Club settings, alcohol consumption, sexual conversations, blood, descriptions of feeding (Vampire). NSFW warnings under the cut.

A/N: This is so delayed but hopefully it lives up to any expectations!! Also my app crashed mid editing and formatting so there may be mistakes I missed! I’m so sorry!

Tags: @twisted-tales-of-all @yoonguurt @kwanisms @kpop-stories-21 @stardragongalaxy

NSFW Warnings: Vampire biting/feeding leading to sexual desire, fingering, bloody make-out session, fwb-ish relationship.

---

It had only been a few years since the government released the information regarding their acknowledgment of vampires living among humans, following it with new laws and regulations to make living beside each other a safe and harmonious experience. Restaurants had to expand their menus, and grocery stores did not have to partner with blood banks or donation centers to ensure everyone was accommodated appropriately. Those are all wonderful options but once the sun sets and hunger arises, people resort to…less organized or regulated options… Underground clubs started to pop up left and right, causing a quiet stir among the more curious humans. One of them happened to be the very reason you found yourself sitting in front of your mirror and getting ready for a night out.

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous to go, I’ve been going for months” Kelly was on a whining spree again as you finished up your eyeliner. She was a regular at the club, forming a feeding pact with some guy she said was named Yeosang if you remember correctly-. A change was definitely noticed in her ever since she started seeing him, from her hair looking better, her skin being clearer, and this air of confidence coming from her every time she walked into a room as if she was commanding attention. You wanted that life so badly, you wanted even an ounce of the power she was oozing… “Oh I don’t know, maybe the idea of someone biting into me and sucking my literal blood out is just a bit nerve-wracking?” Your retort had her rolling her eyes in a playful demeanor as you both slipped your shoes on to head out. Clubs weren't really your thing, you were a homebody, and the idea of a bunch of hot and sweaty strangers grinding on each other just didn’t seem like your cup of tea…But here you were, standing at the door waiting for Kelly to pay your cover and get your hand stamped.

An intoxicating smell of alcohol and sweat filled your senses as you made it through the threshold of the building you questioned the structural safety of-. There was no time for trying to distract your mind with small worries like that, you felt yourself getting tugged to the bar where Kelly let out a sort of squeal from seeing her feeding mate “Yeosang!!” Oh boy, here we go, It's time for her to cling to this dude and have heart eyes while leaving you to the wind. “This is Y/N~ That friend I told you I was bringing for Jongho~” Jongho? Who the hell was that? Did she only bring you along to keep some guy company while she escaped off with Yeosang-. “Her? Yeah, I guess she fits his…type” What an ass, what did he mean by that? you were a catch so why did that feel so condescending? He was eyeing you up and down as if he was analyzing you, all the while he had your friend strung up on his arm.

Yeosang pulled out his phone and typed a few things, you could tell it was short and brief from the fact that his volume was on so the sound of his keyboard echoed in your ears when it should have been the blaring music attacking your drums. He didn’t seem to respond to what he had read on the screen, moving his phone to his pocket and whispering something to Kelly as you stood there like a child waiting to hear whatever mom and dad were talking about. You would never get the answer to the questions in your mind, since Kelly had pretty much begged Yeosang to escape away behind the curtain to what you could only assume were private rooms for whatever use seemed to be needed at the time. A roll of your eyes was paired with the sound of her happily being led away and leaving you there at the bar with your almost empty glass and an urge to order some shots.

“Y/N I’m assuming?” The voice that you heard beside you could only be described as blunt but buttery like he almost commanded you to look at him and that's exactly what you did. His eyes pierced into yours as he approached the bar and leaned against it in a way that indicated to you that he had definitely been here before. “And who is asking?” Your voice was laced with a tone of your guard being up, leaving you only to assume this is the ‘friend’ everyone had been mentioning… “Yeosang told me someone was coming and asked me to show you around.” Oh, he’s lying right through his teeth but your judgment was becoming slightly hazy, due to the mix of alcohol and being around him. Jongho could tell you were on edge so he went ahead and ordered a shot for you and waited for you to down it before gesturing for you to follow him. ‘Do you know what this place is for? I’m assuming you do since people don’t just stumble into a place like this”

Did he think you were dumb? Or just blissfully ignorant? If you wern’t so dead set on getting some action tonight, you’d yank your hand away and head to the dance floor. “I sort of have an idea, I just had no idea it was like…this?” There was a pause as you spoke, watching the curtains go past you as he lead you down the hall and your ears were immediately assaulted with sounds of pleasure mixed with pain and subtle cries coming from behind rows of doors. One of which was the threshold you would be stepping through and it was like the world was suddenly so quiet that you could hear your own heartbeat. “I’m not going to kill you, you don’t have to act like your ready to slap me” Jongho released your hand and moved to sit on the plush looking couch in the room, grabbing the drink menu off the small coffee table and starting to browse through as he left you to make yourself comfortable.

“I just uh, haven’t really done this before…” you slowly warmed up to your environment, deciding to make your way over and sit beside him but still at a reasonable distance to where he couldn’t immediately pounce on you. “I can tell, I’m guessing your friend convinced you, enticed you with what kind of place this was and how you would feel?” How did he know? He hit the nail right in the head-. Kelly would go on non stop about Yeosang and how the interactions felt and how it revitalized her in a way, is this just how it makes everyone feel? “She used to be more like me, I guess that’s why we became so close, but lately she’s seemed like a whole new person, like the better version of herself”. As you spoke, he kept his eyes on the menu and just offered subtle nods or small sounds of acknowledgment to your words.

“Did she explain to you how this happens exactly?” This is when he finally turns to you, eye starting to have a hint of red to them and an obvious darkness filling his gaze. “You just have to lay there and be good for me, give yourself to me and everything will go smoothly. Can you do that for me baby?” The distance between you two started to close and you had no idea what was taking over your body. Was it your growing neediness or was there something more to that tint in his iris?…either way, all you could do was nod obediently as he moved you to lay down, his body leaning over yours as he gazed over you to take a look at his…meal for the evening. “I need you to tell me this is okay, that you give consent my dear…” for someone who seemed like a predator looking at fresh prey, we was considerably cautious in the beginning. That is, until you uttered a quiet “I want this” then it was all self control out the window and his lips attached to yours for what felt like eternity but in reality was only a few moment before those plush lips of his were moving their way down to your jaw, then your neck, giving him the chance to get a hint of your sweet smell.

“Do you even realize how delicious you smell…god this is going to be fun” Jongho didn’t frequent the club much, so he made sure to take full advantage of the time he had here, fingers trailing down until the reach the bottom hem of your dress, expertly slipping it up as his attack on your neck continues and all you can do is let out the sweet song that he wanted to hear. Jongho shifted his body to where he was further down and his face was now near your thighs and burning core, exactly where you needed him as he laid kisses to your inner thigh and his fingers worked to slip your undergarments down and tossing them aside to be collected later. be collected later. They were not the primary focus, what was however, was the breath tickling your core and the fingers dancing dangerously close to your clit that was practically begging to be touched.

“Can you hurry up, it will be daytime by the time you get started..” the request, or demand rather, came out as just a whine and the flushed tone on your skin gave away at the fact that you didn’t actually want him to hurry and end this soon. In fact, this prompted him to take even longer, his thumb drawing slow antagonizing circles on your bundle on nerves as he spoke “For someone so quiet. You sure have your own way of being loud”. You could hear his smug attitude without even seeing his face with those words, his hands working expertly before one of his digits teased at your entrance, testing the waters in how you would react. Once he found a reaction from you that let him know you were ready, he slipped one finger in and let you get used to the feeling before continuing.

The cold touch of his skin felt like ice melting on you when your walls squeezed his fingers so deliciously, it brought a whole new sensation to your core and made you clench so sweetly as his lips did their job to explore your inner thighs. Was all of this necessary for Jongho to feed on you? No, but it sure as hell made it more fun. The next touch made you shift slightly, almost like your fight or flight was kicking in and your brain was in prey mode. Newer textbooks and scientific journals can do their best to try and describe the feeling of having your skin punctured by a vampire's fangs but they fall short in telling the full story. It starts with a burning sensation and what feels like a fourteen gauge needle breaking your skin but not deep enough to reach muscle quite like a vaccination or implant. Once the initial puncture was complete, his teeth receding to standard k-9s and the blood starting to flow past his slightly puffy lips and coating his tongue, inducing a groan from him that seemed so animalistic yet erotic at the same time…

The work he was doing with his fingers increased in pace as he sensed you tensing up from the likely pain you were starting to feel, adding an extra finger in and curling his digits pressing against that delicate pressure point inside of you that he knew would drive you crazy. Bloody lips pulled themselves away from your thigh. His gaze stabbed daggers into your expressions, watching the mixture of pain and pleasure overtake you as he spoke “That’s it, focus on me, not on your pain…you’re so good for me…” ironic coming from the guy that’s gripping your thigh as if you could float away and your blood painting his chin. Jongho was growing increasingly hungry but this time in a way that blood wouldn’t be able to satiate, he needed another essence of yours…that however, would take time, he didn’t want to have the whole meal right away.

A knot was quickly forming in your lower half, there was no denying that his hands were like a sculptor making his next piece of art. Pleasure washed over you as you unraveled, causing a smug smirk to decorate his mouth and make his features look all that more proud. The bit of your blood staining his lips was just a cherry on top of the overall look he had as you started to sit back up but your body felt so weak from the feeding and the end of your dry spell. “See, wasn’t so bad was it?” He prided himself in the fact that you wernt crying in pain and still managed to look fucked out from his fingers alone, wiping his mouth and helping you sit up and collect yourself. This rush of dizziness but satisfaction was all you could feel as you reached to grab your panties and slip back into them as he settled himself into the couch, watching your every move but also going back to that damn drink menu. Is this how all the interactions always went or was this only for the first one?

“Do I need to sign anything or is there anything else involved?” This was your way of trying to hint to him that you satisfied but also this lingering sense to be around him, almost like you two have bonded… “No but next time don’t wear lotion, it messes with the taste when I need to bite”. That damn smirk was going to be the end of you but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself mentally at the idea there was going to be a next time. Was it already having an affect on you? Only time will tell but one thing was for sure, this wasn’t going to be the last time you stepped behind that curtain. Now to find Kelly and actually get a club experience in before you needed food to replenish-. Hopefully she was done already, but if she wasn’t, you knew where you could turn…

[aronarchy]

Compare:

Those takes come from a view where racism/antiblackness must result from individual “feelings” or nebulous internal “prejudices” rather than specific systems. That’s bullshit. If someone chose to own slaves under a racial slavery system then he was automatically racist. If someone chose to own a vastly disproportionate amount of property and live a bourgeois lifestyle while others were forced to starve then he was automatically classist and furthering their exploitation. If he's a white person chose to remain aristocratically rich under a system of racialized white supremacist capitalism then he was automatically racist. That’s what racism and classism are. It doesn’t matter whether he had other “ideals” or “feelings.” Clearly he didn’t respect them enough to hold the ideal that he was morally obligated to give up his privileged lifestyle to stop exploiting them. Does he think all this great human progress just occurred just because? Do better conditions appear out of thin air? No; wealth has to be redistributed (or, more accurately, seized back) for there to be more equality.

This is also why “but what about a person with a hypothetical psychologically ‘race-blind’ exploitative antagonism existed, what then” carries a false premise. Even if you, personally, might be “race-blind” in a vacuum, you do not live in a vacuum; if you go with a “default” then in a racist world the default will be racist. The mere ability to hold such a removed, detached individualized “ideology” or nebulous set of “beliefs” distinct from “real,” grounded ethics is already a product of privilege and indicative of privilege (as well as oppressiveness). The oppressors have always had varying “ideologies”/dispositions of this sort; they have the luxury of being able to hold these ~alternative views~ because they have a privileged vantage point where it all isn’t personal, it’s all low-stakes. But liberal “equality” or egalitarianism isn’t actual equality. This is condescending and useless.

It’s gross how many (almost always white) liberals try to justify owning slaves (“historically”). Fuck “it was just a product of their time.” People have ethical obligations no matter what time they’re in. And there will always be at least some people who (actually, radically) resist the dominant narrative, even if they are less visible or not heard. The exploited classes often/usually understand that their exploitation is wrong; they feel the trauma and the outrage themselves. Even some people of the privileged classes will dissent. “But I just had privileged foisted on me against my will I totally couldn’t help it or change anything” is the coward’s way out, is unrealistic, and denies agency.

(These are also the same types of people who take huge offense and clutch their pearls at statements like “all white people are racist” and claim that as justification for promoting entryist racist talking points in return like the specter of Black liberation activism going too far/being extremist/unreasonable now, but at the same time set up their premises so that that would be the logical conclusion from their scenario given a more honest use of definitions and interpretations, which is pretty ironic. Which is it? Was/is it not all white people, or yes all white people they couldn’t help it though it was just a product of their time?)

I mention this although this was said in a context of analyzing fiction because the OPs indicate they believe this is appropriate in any context in general, and people in general do not restrict this analysis to just fictional characters; these are extremely common talking points about real people, real-world situations and scenarios, and IRL oppression, both historically and in the present. These myths are taught in school and peddled in public discourse and sold as policy. They are dangerously wrong and need to be discussed and challenged.

[theatrediva1975]

Redemption | Chapter 3

HOMEWARD BOUND

Sam stared out the window wistfully, taking in the beauty of her island home as the plane approached O’ahu.  The older gentleman next to her caught her expression.  “Ever been here before?”

“I was born here,” Sam smiled.

“Really?”  He seemed shocked.  Sam laughed.

“I know, I know.  I still get ‘the look’ from native Hawaiians who don’t believe me, but I was indeed born here.  My father was stationed at the Naval base at Pearl Harbor.”

“Well, thank you to your father for his service and I apologize if I offended you,” he replied.

“Thank you and not at all.  I got it all the time growing up.  Being a tall, red headed tomboy on O’ahu was a bit of a challenge but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” she said proudly as she turned back to the window.

Plenty of other things I would change, she thought.  But not growing up here.  Not for a second.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Once Sam landed and got through baggage claim, she headed to the rental car kiosk.  While she waited in line, she texted Mae who informed her that she and Paula were out shopping.  Paula had insisted.  Sam could just see the scene playing out in her head.  Mae hated shopping but would have humored Paula, who thought retail therapy was a valid response to any crisis.  So, Sam decided to use the delay to gather some intel.

Parking outside of the Honolulu Police Department, Sam stepped inside the precinct and was greeted by a perfectly perky young lady who asked her to have a seat while she located Detective Daniel Williams, the officer in charge of the investigation. 

Within a matter of minutes, the receptionist informed her the detective was not in the office.  Sam left her cell number and asked that the young woman give it to the detective when he got back in.  “Is there anyone else working the investigation with him?  I mean, John McGarrett was HPD.”  Sam assumed that they would have at least two or three officers on the case of a murdered, albeit, former cop.

“No, ma’am, Detective Williams is the only officer assigned to the case.”

Sam stood there, trying not to look shocked.  “I’m sorry, a murder investigation of a former officer only warrants one detective nowadays?”  The tone in Sam’s voice came off more threatening than she had intended but still got the appropriate response – this little wisp of a thing was definitely intimidated by the SWAT officer.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, ma’am, I really don’t know.  I’m just the receptionist.”  Never had she ever been more grateful to say those four condescending little words.  The fire that flashed in this cop’s eyes scared her.

“Right,” Sam said, eyes narrowed.  “Please ask Detective Williams to contact me as soon as possible.”  With that, she stalked out.  She pulled out her cell phone and sent a quick text to call in a favor.

Feeling restless, Sam decided to do what she did when she was in LA and needed a break:  she drove.  Sam found the island’s classic rock station on the radio and turned it up.  Loud.  She put the windows down, pulled her ponytail up into a messy bun and pulled into traffic, heading towards the beach.  She tried to turn her brain off for a little bit.  Didn’t really work, but she put the effort in as Guns ‘n’ Roses, Journey, Van Halen and Lynryd Skynyrd blared through the speakers.  

After a brief drive, Sam found herself at Kakaako Park.  As she got out of the car, she couldn’t help but take a deep breath.  Sure, California had sun, surf, palm trees and their share of citrus but there was nothing – absolutely nothing – better than Hawaii.  There was nothing like being home.  As she was about to step on to the boardwalk, her cell buzzed.  The email she had hoped for had come in.

The ‘jacket’ of one Detective Daniel Williams.  She smiled down at her phone.  It was good to know she still had people she could call when she needed them.

Sam walked along the boardwalk for a bit before finding an empty picnic table to climb on.  She read through what she could on the small screen and discovered this Williams character actually seemed like a real stand up guy, the kind you want watching your back.  Sam started to feel like he was being railroaded, handed an impossible case.  Jersey cop or not, there was very little in his background that she could find that would prepare him for catching the likes of Victor Hesse.

Sam closed the file and stuck her phone in her back pocket.  Looking out at the Pacific, she sighed as a single tear ran down her cheek.  The effects of yesterday’s nightmare, which rolled into last night’s nightmare, followed by an excruciatingly long plane ride were starting to take a mental toll.  

Get it together, you freak, Sam thought to herself.  It was only going to get worse over the next few days.

Sam lost track of time as she just sat and stared at the waves crashing on the beach.  She nearly missed the vibration of her cell phone.

“Devereaux.”

“Miss Devereaux, this is Detective Daniel Williams, HPD.  I understand you were looking for me.”

Sam was surprised by the fact that she had gotten a return call.  This century, even.

“Detective, thank you so much for the return call,” Sam started.

“Miss Devereaux…”

“Lieutenant Devereaux,” Sam corrected.  

“Lieutenant, really?” Danny asked, mildly surprised at the title.

“Yes, LAPD SWAT Lieutenant Samantha Devereaux.  I was calling to inquire on the status of one of your cases.”

“Really?  Which case of mine has garnered interest from LAPD?” Danny asked cautiously.

“The John MacGarrett…murder.”  Sam choked out the last word, hoping the detective wouldn’t catch it.

“MacGarrett?  Huh.  Well, Lieutenant Devereaux, I’m not sure why LAPD has a vested interest in the murder of an ex-HPD cop who hasn’t left the island in years.  Perhaps you could shed some light.  Or is this of a more…personal nature?”

Dammit.

Maybe the ha’ole isn’t quite so stupid after all, Sam thought.  Play dumb?  Probably not.  Go the honest route and hope for the best. And by honest, she meant sentimental.

“Look, Detective Williams, John MacGarrett is…was, my mentor and friend.  I was just hoping that I may ask for a little professional courtesy and see where the investigation stood.”  Sam held her breath.

“Well, uh, I’m very sorry for your loss but as this is an active investigation – and you are not a family member – there is unfortunately nothing I can share with you at this time.”

Dammit.  She could hear it in his voice – there was no way he was going to back down.  

“I understand.  Thank you for your time,” Sam said tersely as she stabbed her finger on the ‘end call’ icon.

Fine, Sam thought.  I’ll just do it my damn self.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Frustrated by her phone call with the detective, Sam decided it was time to suck it up and head home.

Home.  The word brought a small smile to her face.

Hawaii would always be home to her.  Always had been.  Then why the hell was she living in LA, she thought.  I can’t be thinking about that right now, she thought, running her hands down her face.  One personal crisis at a time.

Sam headed back up the boardwalk towards her rental.  She just reached the car when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.  

Someone’s watching me.

Sam kept her sunglasses on as she slowly turned around, as if to take one last look at the ocean.  Nothing stood out, but she could still feel it.  Someone’s eyes were watching her.  She intentionally dropped her keys and got down on all fours, as if feeling for them under the car.  In actuality she was doing a cursory, visual sweep for an explosive or any other type of device under the car.  Seeing nothing and not wanting to draw too much attention, she grabbed the keys and got in the rental.  Holding her breath, she started the car.  Everything seemed normal.

Normal?  Then why did I just act as though I was in the middle of a desert minefield?  Sam shook her head as she carefully pulled out of the parking spot.  

I’m just imagining things.  It’s because of the nightmare.  Hearing Victor Hesse’s name after all this time is what did her in.  It’s just bringing up bad memories, she tried to convince herself.

Sam kept a vigilant eye on her surroundings as she made her way to the home of Jim & Paula Brookes to pick up Mae.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  She hadn’t noticed a tail.  But still.  She felt something was off.  She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

Sam made her way into the Brookes’ neighborhood, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror.  When she finally mentally kicked herself into submitting to the fact that no one had followed her, Sam drove up to the Brookes’ house to see Mae sitting on the porch with Paula, drinking…well, with Paula, you never knew what you were drinking until you were under the table.

Sam had known Jim and Paula Brookes since she was 8 years old, when Jim had been stationed at Pearl with her father.  Paula had become fast friends with her mom, Stella, and Sam had befriended their daughter, Tammy.  Sam liked Tammy just fine.  Everyone had hoped the two girls would become best friends, but Sam was having none of that.  She already had a best friend.

Steve MacGarrett.

And no one was replacing him.

Sam smiled at the memories flashing through her head.  She was so lost in thought, she jumped when  suddenly Mae opened the car door.  The two women just looked at one another and grasped hands with sad smiles.  Sam silently backed out of the drive and headed for home.  The constant glances in the rearview were not lost on Mae.  

As Sam slowed the car to pull into their driveway, she took a moment to stop and look at the McGarrett house.  Neon yellow crime scene tape was still taped to the front door.  Sam’s mind wandered as she parked the car.  How many nights had she slept there?  How many times had she eaten dinner with them on the lanai out back before ignoring the “don’t swim for an hour after you eat” rule so she could race Steve down to the beach or just sat with Mary in her lap, braiding the little girl’s hair?  She had lost count of how many nights she sat on the beach with John, drowning in beer and liquor over Ben’s death.  John talked her down so many times…

They made their way inside the house, with Sam taking one last weary look outside before she locked the front door and set the alarm.  Sam stole a look out the French doors leading to their deck.  The urge to walk out those doors, through the yard and around the fence to the beach next door was so strong, Sam felt like she couldn’t breathe.  She was never going to be able to do that again.  He was gone.  John was gone and with him a piece of Sam’s heart was gone, too.  She dropped her bags on the floor where she stood in the middle of the living room and turned to Mae.  Without a word, Mae walked over to where she stood and grabbed Sam as she crumpled to the floor.  Mae wrapped Sam in her arms.  

Mae had always marveled at the tough façade Sam projected.  She knew there was so little Sam could tell her about her days in the CIA.  The immense burden of what she did in the name of God and country and the fact that she could never speak of it…it scared Mae.  Even now, as a SWAT lieutenant, Sam would retreat behind the walls she built to keep her emotions at bay.  Every so often, the cracks in the armor would show and when they did, all Mae knew to do was to hold her and love her and pray to whoever was listening to give her girl some peace.

Tonight, the façade was crumbling.  Mae was now holding the little girl she held night after night after her parents died.  This was the young teen she consoled when her other surrogate mother, Doris McGarrett, died in a horrific car accident.  This was the young woman who mourned the loss of the first boy she ever loved and the best friend she felt abandoned by when his father sent him away.  This was the human behind the machine that was Samantha Devereaux.  

And as quickly as the human had surfaced, the machine re-engaged.  After a minute, Sam sat up, squeezed her eyes shut for a brief instant and wiped the tears away.  The two women stood as quickly as they had fallen.  Squeezing her hand, Sam looked into Mae’s eyes and the look Mae saw was one of steely determination.  It was the look of a woman on a mission.

And the mission was to put Victor Hesse behind bars.

Or better, in the ground.

Sam cupped Mae’s face, kissed her cheek and walked upstairs, bags in hand.  

And as soon as Sam was out of sight, a tear escaped. Mae looked heavenward.

“John, you better keep an eye on our girl.”

[ollieflopkins]

15 Questions, 15 Friends

Tagged by @kraeki tysm babe 🥰

Are you named after anyone? My mom used to teach preschool and her favorite student’s name was Lacey. My middle name is a family middle name!

When was the last you cried? While I was reading my vows at my wedding last week hehe

Do you have kids? No but maybe one day idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

What sports do you play/have you played? Was a football kid from age 5-15 (was a brick shithouse CB/LB) and then I quit football to play tennis in high school. I am MUCH better at tennis than I am at football lol. I also swam in hs and rowed in college (5 seat best seat) and now I like to do yoga and walk mostly.

Do you use sarcasm? I do, but I’m getting better and reading when it’s appropriate and when it’s not. I like to communicate clearly and not be condescending as much as possible.

What is the first thing you notice about people? HEIGHT and hair and smile. Then sense of dress. Although to be clear none of that matters if their personality sucks and they’re unfunny lol

What is your eye color? Blue/grey

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings 💯 I don’t like scary movies or really any horror. I like psychological thrillers and such but I don’t like violence/body horror/gore in film at all and avoid it as much as I can.

Any talents? I’m very musical (I can sing, play guitar, keyboard, drum, read music, etc), I can write, uhhh I’m good at taking to new languages, uhh I’m kind of good at a lot of things but an expert at nothing really

Where were you born? The US!

What are your hobbies? Watching football, going to football matches, talking about football…lol yoga/dance class, spending time with friends and my husband, listening to music, walking, learning German/taking adult German class, writing, reading, playing video games, whatever strikes my fancy at the moment. I can have fun doing pretty much anything

Do you have any pets? Two dogs!

How tall are you? 5’9”, like 175cm?

Favorite subject at school? English!

Dream job? No dream job I wish I didn’t have to participate in society in a way that exploits me! I’m a staunch anti-capitalist so my dream job is (post collapse of capitalism) taking care of young people like I do now but we’d all like…garden and go on hikes together and read and write poetry and I wouldn’t be coaching them on how to like…take standardized tests lol. Or maybe I’d be a farmer and take care of cows.

✨✨ Okay haha I always try to not double up too much on tagging people who have already been tagged in these games 😂 no pressure but if you want to participate @kloppinthekop @mebiselfandi @jarellquansah @erlingshaalands @endowataru @curiousthyme @thicctorhugo @shob-chop-lai @photmath @lastpenaltytaker @antspaul @liverpool-enjoyer @walkon-throughtherain @brinywxter @trentione

[puppyluver256]

There's a certain post going around where I agreed with the spirit of the message, but the way it was worded (especially the intro) felt very condescending to me, and they'd turned off replies so I can't respond to that part without putting that post on my blog and I'd rather not put something like that on my blog. Instead, I'm gonna make my own post in a hopefully less condescending tone.

Religion =/= Cult

Not all religions are high control groups, ie. cults. While many religious groups, particularly many branches of christianity, do exert very rigid control structures on their members, there are just as many who merely share core beliefs about something and truly value their members' merit as individuals. I'll admit, I'm not exactly prepped with a bunch of examples here as I'm not familiar enough with most religious groups to be able to give a definitive example, but even I can see the difference between the methodist church and, say...the mormons or jehovah's witnesses, and that's just within christianity.

Cult =/= Religion

As stated above, a cult by definition is a high-control group, and while it is more common for such a group to be centered around a god or gods, a cult does not have to be a religion. Political extremist groups, "self help" groups, academic groups...hell, you could probably make a cult out of Burger King or something. (please don't make a cult out of Burger King) I'd say state atheism counts as an atheistic cult of sorts, for one, and as an atheist myself I have nothing good to say about state atheism and would oppose it just as strongly as I would any theocracy. It's not about whether or not they agree with me on the "are there any gods" question, it's about the societal and/or legal coersion to follow beliefs that one might not necessarily have.

If you want to try and judge whether or not a group could possibly be a cult for yourself, regardless of whether it puts a deity or a charismatic human at its center, please look up actual anti-cult resources. I'd suggest giving the BITE model a once-over, even if the guy who created it may have convinced himself transgender people are a cult somehow because he came across...well, let's just say something created for a certain purpose for a specific audience that is not indicative of all transgender people and may not even have anything to do with actual gender identity to begin with. But I digress.

So to echo the sentiment of the post that inspired this, if someone tells you that they are a cult survivor, the appropriate response is not "all religions are cults, that's nothing special" wrt religious cults nor is it "how can it be a cult if it wasn't even a religion" wrt secular cults. The appropriate response could be something more along the lines of "I'm sorry that happened to you. If you need me to help you get through that, I'm here for you."

[qqueenofhades]

i keep seeing things like "the master's tools will never help us dismantle the master's house" from anarchists/leftists/etc and it's started to become funny to me, honestly, because sure, while that's a point you can make, the right is definitely going to use the master's tools to "fortify" the house even more, and ultimately, you're relying on the neoliberals you scoff at who continue to show up and vote, to keep the full descent into fascism from happening. that's what i find a little ridiculous, all these people who condescend about being above the broken system we have relying on those bootlicking neoliberals to keep this country from falling to full-out fascism while they have their revolution fantasies.

i also just don't understand why people can't vote AND do all this stuff that aligns better with their values. no one's saying you only have to vote and do nothing else and call that sufficient activism. you can vote and build mutual aid networks and organize and everything else. it's not one or the other and if holding your nose and voting is really that big of a deal how effective is the rest of your activism going to be

The thing is... "the master's tools will never help us dismantle the master's house!!!" is the kind of slogan that sounds appropriately cool, counterculture, and like a good rationale for doing nothing, but it's also a metaphor that totally falls apart under the slightest critical examination. Because okay, let's say you have a house. It's a pretty shitty house, there's a lot of things wrong with it, it needs a thorough revamp and rebuild, and the neighborhood around it is also not the best. In front of you, you have a toolbox containing the tools that a terrible construction company, let's call them "Republicans," have used to build more of these shitty houses, where people are basically trapped and things are constantly getting worse. You have a bunch of people with you, and theoretically if you picked up the tools (after all, they're just tools and can be used by anyone; they don't possess inherent volition or morality of their own), you could fix some of the damage to those shitty houses, make parts of them habitable, and shelter some people who need it. Maybe you can't raze the whole neighborhood (thus leaving EVERYONE without housing, no matter how terrible), but you can fix the house that is in front of you. And with steady work, you will fix more.

So what do you do?

Option A: You stand there, moralizing loudly at the house, ridiculing and shaming anyone who picks up the tools and tries to use them as "complying with the Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Status Quo!" and otherwise acting like they're idiots. You argue among each other as to who has the best idea of the tools (not the tools themselves, just your abstract formulations of what they are). You insist that nobody should touch the tools on pain of being deemed Morally Impure and exiled from the group, and any insistence that you could also pick up the tools and use them, in the middle of your loud self-righteous sermons, is derided as nonsense. Meanwhile, the Republicans return from lunch break, pick up the tools, and keep using them nonstop. More shitty fascist houses continue to be built. There is another construction company, let's call them Democrats, trying to fix the worst parts of the houses, make them more habitable, improve the neighborhood, etc. You insist they are just as bad as the people building nonstop fascist houses and actively undermine anyone trying to join them or support them.

Or, do you:

Option B: Pick up the damn tools, learn how to use them, acknowledge you're obviously not going to repair the whole neighborhood overnight but you have a moral responsibility to the people stuck in those shitty houses to help them, and productively criticize the Democrats when they could be using the tools better, but otherwise pull for them and help create the circumstances for their success, since they're the ones actually doing battle against the Republicans every day and trying to stave off both the block and the entire neighborhood from being filled with shitty fascist houses. You do other things apart from using the tools, yes, but you USE THE TOOLS. And lo and behold, some of the houses get better, some people's lives improve, and they in turn are empowered to pick up the tools and pitch into the building effort.

Hmm. It's a mystery.

[snarky-gourmet]

necessary context: x

I'm posting these all together to more effectively address these-- thank you for taking the time to write this out. I'm not going to lie, for several days I've gone back and forth between whether or not I'd direcrtly answer you or not because some of the wording you used set off alarms not only to me but to other people I asked their thoughts on all this. I'm choosing to still take your words in good faith, and I hope that isn't the wrong decision.

I straight up don't know what you mean by "people in the leftist sphere deliberately engaging in dual loyalty blood libel." I know what dual loyalty is, I know what blood libel is, but when I tried to gather context for that combined phrase, all I got were zionists claiming it was antisemitic to claim that the israeli occupation was deliberately targeting palestinian children in the genocide. That is what the israeli occupation is doing. To be clear. Like that is what they are doing and that is what supporting zionism is also endorsing... it's not feeding into a conspiracy theory to state that they are killing palestinian children, on purpose, for the sake of committing a genocide, and I'm remarkably concerned with not being able to find anything not highly suspicious to help sort out what you meant.

Out of an abundance of caution and desire to be as clear as possible, I also don't wish for this to descend into a back and forth argument of "what you said was suboptimal" "oh yeah well what you said was also suboptimal", however I want to make clear to anyone who reads this that your words are your own and I am also not necessarily in agreeance with bringing up and emphasising OP's status as a muslim while trying to discern their motives, or the (accidental?) condescending tone that accompanies "i think they're hurting But(..)", nor am I particularly comfortable delving into the topics of religiosity in this context, as you said it is a separate issue, but also because I think it's a road to nowhere for two people who are not jewish, and presumably not muslim, to weigh in on. However I want to thank you for bringing up the contents of their blog, and their habitual conflation of zionism with judaism, because if you hadn't, I would not have gone to check, nor been made aware that there actually are more relevant examples of blatent antisemitism on their blog that inform the place in which they wrote the post in question from earlier. Someone who makes that sort of post is not someone I want to engage with or agree blindly with on any level.

I think despite both of our best efforts, this will ultimately still boil down to a case of semantics; we seem to have different understandings of why exactly general comparisons between nazism and zionism have been made, as well as why it persists, and colloquial use of the terminology with regards to what constitutes someone or some entity receiving accusations or a label of specifically nazism over fascism.

My understanding of the greater topic at hand, apart from the OP's post--which as established, has a bias attached to it that renders it in need of criticism--is that fascism and nazism are not being conflated 1:1 and used interchangably in these instances, nor is the label of nazi being thrown around to punish or weed out "bad jews", as you imply. (As an aside, I honestly am quite wary of bringing up that sort of terminology here when we are talking about an ethnostate abusing judaism to justify its end goals; I'm unsure it's situationally appropriate to liken this to practices of tokenism, and I can see it being read a bit too closely to the common talking point that zionism being criticised is inherently antisemitic, due to misconstruing the point and insisting that it's not the colonial violence, establishment of an ethnostate, racism, apartheid, genocide, etc, that's wrong, but that it's a jewish state doing it that people simply don't like, which is not something I wish to impart, nor do I think that was your intention for that matter, but I do not feel comfortable posting this while not offering a disclaimer.) Rather, it is the label being applied to a geopolitical entity that has adopted ideals, apart from "just" textbook fascism, that are also inherent to those of the broader nazi ideology, specifically--such as but not limited to the topics and practices I previoisly mentioned in the last reply--and also the way in which the israeli occupation upholds ideals of racial superiority, white supremacy in particular. It's nowhere "just" the weaponisation of forced starvation where the similarities lie. If you were to hear someone call a group of people "human animals", or paint themselves as "the children of light" and their targets "the children of dark", for example, it would be reasonable to immediately label this nazi rhetoric, regardless of who is saying it, because things exactly like this were and still are said by those who are nazis. By extension, if you were to see an ethnostate practice and enforce eugenics, such as forcing ethiopian jewish women to take contraceptives against their knowledge as a condition of being allowed into israel, or the marriage laws that exist within israeli society barring jews from marrying non-jews, and argue ethnic superiority, it would be kind of wild to choose to die on the hill of insisting that people not liken that to nazi ideology. Not all fascism is automatically nazism, but if something mirrors nazism specifically, this closely, there are going to be people calling it that, because that's what it looks like and that's what it operates like. I do not believe it is any coincidence either that those who aren't jewish and are on the alt-right very often wind up being outspoken zionists, even in cases where those same people are also outspoken antisemites and even self identify as nazis, neo-nazis, or white supremacists. The ideologies ironically do not conflict like they seem they should, and I firmly push back against the insinuation that pointing this out is feeding into the israeli propaganda that says all jews are only safe as fellow colonisers in an occupied palestine, especially when zionists target non-zionist jews with particular ferocity.

Ultimately, I'm unsure if either of us, as not just one, but two gentiles, are actually in an acceptable position to debate the broader appropriateness of this matter definitively, and how it pertains to the language that we use. But I do think it's remarkably important to pay mind to who we share words from, and how those words may come across, and exercise due caution to avoid missteps.

Among the people whos stances and words have informed my understanding of matters as detailed above, I have seen a remarkable amount of jews themselves liken zionism--and the methods of genocide the israeli occupation implements--to nazis, nazism, and the holocaust, calling to attention their own familial trauma and experiences while doing so, as well as detailing the massive slap in the face it is to all jews for the israeli occupation to weaponise judaism while committing acts of such incredible depravity, especially in cases where defenders of and active participants in zionist violence continue to say "never again". But this very well could be one of those things where it's okay for some people to say, and not others-- and as in cases like the OP of that post, there is a clear problem with someone saying that while also partaking in blatant antisemitism. I'm not sure, as it's not something that everyone most affected are likely to agree on collectively, but I don't think that everyone who makes these comparisons is inherently operating in bad taste, have intentions of malice, or are throwing around words carelessly. I want to make it abundantly clear that I am not out here saying "well I'M going to be saying it, because if they did it then it's ok for me to" or anything of the sort-- because I'm not, and I don't feel it'd be an appropriate response reflective of our conversation's goals. With such an issue, I think it's important to recognise as much nuance as possible, while also treading as carefully as possible, in any given situation, and to carefully examine sources for potential prejudice that alter the overall message being conveyed and the wording used, which are all things that drastically changed the perception of the initial OP's post, and I do want to stress that I am thankful for you bringing that to my attention

[delgado-master]

Okay dude usually I really like your takes, and I enjoy following you, but I think you dropped the ball on this one. “I’ve literally been fighting against antisemitism since childhood” sounds like “but I have black friends”, and when you get to that territory, maybe you need to regroup? I agree and can even understand what it’s like to be labeled ‘white’ as a Hispanic while also facing a lot of racism. It’s erasure and that’s dangerous. And I can see how this treatment can be very similar to anti-Irish sentiment and naturally you are passionate about that. But you projected, and lashed out on another person of color’s vent about white people. They might not even consider ‘Irish’ to be in their definition of white. And while I am not a fan of spacelazarwolf’s (I have him blocked actually), afaik he hasn’t said himself that he thinks you’re white, while you have insinuated that multiple times. Idk, I just hope this gives a fresh perspective. Especially because I actually enjoyed your pushback against Vaspider, and I do think spacelazarwolf needs pushback too, but this wasnt the appropriate way to go about that imo. Hope this wasn’t condescending or anything.

Yeah look, I was off my meds, I’ll admit that, and I was frustrated because it was the 100th post blaming all white people for shit only specific groups of white people perpetrated. And like. He doubled down on being racist, and is now publishing asks saying horrible shit about me on his blog.

And it’s not “I have black friends” it’s “I actively am trying the best I can to not be antisemitic. I’m not perfect but I’m trying and have been for a long time.” And also “I’ve been involved in activism to stop antisemitic hate crimes in my neighborhood.”

[cf56]

Prev prev anon here! I wanted to apologize for being rude/condescending, that wasn’t my intention. I wasn’t aware another person had suggested psych. help before. That’d be a frustrating thing to experience repeatedly. I was trying to empathize with you, I’m sorry it didn’t come across that way.

The thing that you ignored and I really want to make sure you understand: <em>if they’re talking about events that you’re not aware of, then they’re not talking about you</em>.

Additionally, if someone doing stuff that’s bothering you, block them and move on. It takes time to learn that lesson, but fandom experience increases significantly when you figure that out. It makes it better for everyone.

Well, I’m sorry for making assumptions. There were just a lot of things in your ask that lined up with what the previous anon had said to me about seeking psychiatric help. I still don’t think it’s appropriate to suggest that to anyone without personally knowing them and their situation.

I didn’t ignore what you said, I just didn’t respond to it. What you’re saying isn’t necessarily true. As you can see with what I just did to you, people make assumptions that aren’t necessarily correct, attribute certain actions to you that you may not have even realized were a thing. I’m not saying that’s what they thought, but at least part of that post was 100%, indisputably directed at me. When they didn’t name names and spoke generally about a mishmash of different fandom controversies, some that are really serious, it’s impossible to know which parts are about me and which aren’t. So, I’m forced to respond to all of them, if I want to respond at all. The timing of their post did not seem coincidental. I’m sick of all the indirect shot-taking. If there’s a problem with me, talk to me. Otherwise I’m left wondering, even more than I already was, what exactly I did wrong and what the problem even is. It doesn’t help anything.

I still fundamentally disagree with that block philosophy. Just because it’s been accepted on the internet for so long doesn’t mean it’s the right way to go about things. And, honestly, seeing how the internet is in general these days, can you really say that this mentality was the right way to go about things? Blocks are mutual, but only one party has a choice in the matter. Clearly, it doesn’t make it better for everyone, and I’m talking from personal experience. Maybe it would make it better for me if I blocked over any little annoyance, but I’m not the only one who matters here.

Also, you’re talking about blocking people that bother you with while coming to my blog and sending me anonymous asks about how my opinions bother you. I don’t have a problem with it, and I’d never block you over disagreeing with me. (Yes, it is possible to block anonymous askers.) Would you feel the same if it was coming the other way?

[ceo-draiochta]

You Don't Have to be Born in Ireland to Learn Irish Paganism - Lora O'Br...

I would really recommend this video. There is far too much racism in Irish pagan spaces, both overt and more insidious. I see so many Irish pagans on here (usually in NA but not exclusively) peddle disturbing ideas of DNA percentages and how this relates to Irishness. Ideas that cause direct harm to the black and brown people in Ireland. 

Also touches on the American colonialist entitlement that is so prevalent here and the idea that evil Irish people are purposefully trying to gatekeep anything Irish. Irish people love sharing our culture, but having it decontextualised and reduced to caricatures is not sharing. It is appropriation, cultural appropriation. Please understand that this isn’t a random book or fandom this part of a culture that many people lived and died to keep, real people. 

I think a lot of the anti-Irish resentment in Irish pagan spaces does come from a place of insecurity and I hope this video alleviates some of that insecurity, you have every right to practice but please do so respectfully. 

(Standard disclaimer, Lora O'Brien is known for being condescending and short with people and is constantly trying to push her payed classes, which while good, are a matter of paying for convenience, all the information is already out there. This is just who she is as an individual, not a representation of every Irish person)