#and this can be a perfectly normal statement because most if not all my friends and mutuals know im aro

[justablah56]

me when the mutuals rambling got me sighing lovingly and listening to my playlist full of love songs

[gynnnicsworld]

REC LIST STEREK PART II

So I was going to make a well-structured rec list, but the more I try to organize it, the less I can find a proper order. So I decided to do it from the most recently read fic to the oldest one in my AO3 history.

__________________________________________

Get You The Moon

BY: AClosedFicIsNeverRead

words: 180.785

Derek looked up in surprise to note that they were taking a private jet. Dread settled into his gut like a stone. “It has a cage, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly, and noted the subtle changes in his family members’ posture. “Is it for me?” Cora gave him a pleading look and nodded. “Is it because of what you’re going to tell me?” he asked, voice like gravel. Another nod confirmed it. Stiles. Oh, GOD. It had to be Stiles. Derek would not lose control over anyone else in Beacon Hills and they damned well knew it.

- OR - The one where Derek has been gone for 6 months building a new life, finds out that Stiles is being assaulted by Theo, so he comes back to Beacon Hills to kick some serious ass and rescue the loudmouthed human who stole his heart. (You will need ALL the tissues, but it will have a happy ending by the time all is said and done!) Title inspired by song: ‘Get You The Moon’ by Kina ft. Snow

(This fic is and always will be one of my favorites, it has a really special place in my heart. It has sensitive topics, so I recommend you read the tags, but it's worth going through all the angst to get to the happy ending, because it DOES have a happy ending.)

True Love's Kiss, Attempted Murder

by: cowboilikeme

Words: 120.040

Beacon Hills has never been the most normal of towns, but recently things have been happening that are getting harder and harder to explain. And it's becoming more difficult to keep the supernatural a secret when something newer, darker and scarier comes to town in the shape of a teenage girl. But she is only the beginning to their problems. And what she brings with her is the worst this town has seen in a while. “What’s so bad about getting a ride in this?” Derek sounded like he was smiling, but as beautiful and unbelievable as that sounded, Stiles still refused to look at the man, “It’s a good car.” “Overcompensating?” Stiles ridiculed, knowing perfectly well that there was no way Derek wasn’t packing something impressive. “I think we both know that’s not true,” Derek was smirking when Stiles finally turned to him, if only in shock by the werewolf’s statement. “I think we both know there is no way I could know that,” Stiles winced at how bitter he sounded, but once it was out, there was no point in trying to suck it back up.

(So this is the most recent fic I read, and I loved it, I really loved it too much, and it makes me really sad that it's not very well known or spread, because the characterization that the author puts to the characters is really realistic, it's literally like reading and imagining a different season of teen wolf, it really impressed me too much. I highly recommend this fic, it's very good, and it may have some other unrelated things but they are not very relevant things, it doesn't affect the fic at all. For real, run to read it! and comment what you think! Give the author a lot of love so that he/she continues writing more works of art in this fandom.)

Lead You Home Again

by;GotTheSilver

Words:49,962

The first time Derek meets Stiles, the kid’s brown eyes are wide, and he’s staring up at him with a mischievous grin as he tugs at the arm of Derek’s first ever Batman figure like he’s trying to separate it from Batman’s body. An alternate take on Teen Wolf, wherein Stiles and Derek are childhood friends, and things unfold from there.

(I don't know about you, but I have a soft spot for fanfics where Derek and Stiles are childhood friends and grow up together, it's like really exciting to read, because this has a certain degree of canon, because it is known that Derek and Stiles knew each other as children but for some reason they have forgotten it? or decided to avoid it? I don't know, but I do know that you will love this fic, it is tooth rotting fluff, Okay, yes there is anguish, but afterwards everything is so fluff)

Fixing What Has Been Broken

by: JustJim & Useless_girl

Words: 102,205

Derek Hale is dead. That’s something Stiles Stilinski refuses to believe even for a second once he gets the call from his dad. He heads back pissed, because he’s convinced that he can fix that mess with or without the help of his old pack, because it is Beacon Hills we’re talking about. A town where no one stays dead for long. But maybe there’s more to fix along the way…

Or our reply to the Teen Wolf Movie's mess.

(we all know how awful THAT movie was, so our beautiful authors use their talents to fix that terrible movie and give us this wonderful fanfic that is everything it should be, we have mpreg (yes beautiful, and beautiful mpreg that explains Eli's precious existence) we have a little bit of feral derek (I know, we all love when derek gets a little bit feral) and we have a damn happy ending which is the best of all.)

Lock All The Doors Behind You

by:entanglednow

Words: 25,960

He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

(Yes, sorry, I really do have a guilty pleasure for feral derek, it's just that it's the moment where Derek allows himself to be honest with himself and his feelings, without so many complex thoughts that prevent him from acting on his instincts. And yes, his instincts always tell him that Stiles is his safe place, his anchor, he likes his smell and basically follows him everywhere because he likes him.)

don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you)

by: crazyassmurdererwall

Words: 30,926

Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously. (He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)

(This one may seem funny (which it is) but it also has some sad backstories, it's actually a light and very entertaining read, you guys are going to love it, you'll probably get frustrated (like me) that Stiles doesn't tell Derek what's wrong. I really recommend it, those scenes with Talia are painful and beautiful.)

It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real 

by: waterella

words: 32,741

“At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.” “Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.” “Hey!” Scott insisted. “He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.

(This is very funny, and just read it it's good, My favorite parts are where Derek keeps making excuses and Stiles only accepts them because they both want to keep kissing.)

The Price

by: theroguesgambit

Words: 18,452

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

(you guys have no idea how good this fanfic is, please please do yourself a favor and go read it right now, it's painful to read but i promise it has a happy ending for derek and stiles.)

Getting Better

by: The BadassIsIn

Words: 205,156

The season 4 rewrite absolutely no one asked for where Stiles actually deals with his trauma from the nogitsune instead of being a-ok with it all and added Sterek.

(So this is quite therapeutic to read, seeing how both boys deal with their traumas and get better together, it's really nice to read, but of course there is angst, but it has a happy ending, so don't worry, I would never recommend a fic that didn't have a happy ending for Der and Stiles. So feel free to go read it and cry a little, get emotional and feel like a band-aid is put on your hearts as you see how our boys finally deal with their traumas.)

i fell into the moon 

by: Iscar123

Words: 234,122

Laura Hale is arrested hours after returning to Beacon Hills. Derek Hale returns to town to bring his sister back home and together they are drawn into the mystery of a rogue wolf on their family land. They also can't seem to stop bumping into the Sheriff's son, Stiles. Laura is determined to make Stiles her new best friend and Derek just wants everyone to survive so he can get the hell out of the town that took everything from him. Stiles just wants everyone to be happy.

(If you like fics where Laura appears, I really recommend this one, because Laura and Stiles become an amazing duo against Derek, it's very funny, but I recommend you read the one shot from where this fic is inspired first, it's very good too. Derek using his charm with Stiles is my favorite thing ever.)

can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? 

by: whiry

Words: 120,369

here's something strange about Beacon Hills. Stiles can't really put his finger on it, but the way certain classmates look at him at school and the way certain adults look at him in the grocery store has him curious. And it's not the sort of pitying looks that his mom's coworkers used to give him, but these ones are longer, more searching, like they're looking for something. Not to mention the weird noises that sometimes come from the woods when he runs, too human to be animal and too animal to be human. Plus the way the Hales have seemed to sequester themselves to the wild and give Stiles serious Cullen family vibes. But Stiles, like everyone else apparently, ignores it. Until it becomes too great to ignore and he has to investigate for himself and find out what is actually going on in Beacon Hills. +++ Or, the one where Stiles and Derek meet, hate each other, slowly get to know one another, and fall totally head over heels for each other all while avoiding curious classmates, an angry ex-girlfriend, and, oh yeah, imminent death.

(If you like alternative universe- High School fics like I do, then you have to read this one, plus the entire Hale family is alive, and the werewolves are revealed, and Derek and Stiles have this awkward crush on each other that slowly develops. You HAVE to read this, it's spectacular. And cora is cora haha)

Molten

by: sugareey & wolfspurr

Words: 27,896 

"Stiles, is that you?" He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know why he’s hearing it here though, in whatever cold, dark cave he’s found himself in. The owner of that voice is supposed to be miles away, back home in Beacon Hills. Unless Stiles is the one that’s ended up further from home than he could possibly have predicted. "Derek?!"

(I like fics where Derek and Stiles are put in a cave or cage, and they only have each other to get out of that scary situation, but Derek's wolf always ends up very attached to Stiles. This is kind of like that.)

Spellbinding Mishap 

by: Wasterella

Words: 45,855

Stiles winced, rubbing the back of his neck, and looked over at Derek again. “So... you know how you told me not to touch anything?” Derek stared at him for a second, not seeming to understand, and then Stiles knew the moment it clicked because his entire face set so concretely it might as well have been carved out of stone. “What?” Scott asked, looking between them, confused. “What’s going on? I don’t understand. What happened?” “Yeah,” Stiles said slowly. “So the thing is, I uh, touched something. In the Witch’s house. And Derek came in and grabbed it from me. So he also touched it. And now it uh, it seems like whenever the two of us are a certain distance apart, we start getting sick. Or like, double over in pain. Or, you know, start dying.”

(Derek and Stiles are cursed and consequently can't be away from each other, so if you want to have a laugh, you can read this fic.)

Not So Boring

by: wasterella

Words: 69,062

“It was an accident!” Stiles continued, trying desperately to explain that this was all a huge misunderstanding and that the Demon clearly had to cut him some slack here.

It didn’t seem like he would be getting his wish, because the Demon’s annoyance melted into frustrated incredulity and he said dryly, “You summoned me by accident.”

“Yes!” Stiles insisted.

“How is that even possible? How do you accidentally summon a Demon?”

“You know, by accident!” Stiles argued.

“So you accidentally drew the summoning sigil into the floor, and you accidentally had an offering available, and you accidentally stood in the circle while accidentally reading the summoning spell?” the Demon asked dryly.

Okay, well when it was said like that, Stiles could understand the skepticism.

(And I close this rec list with another fic of our beloved westerella, and this is one where derek is a demon and stiles accidentally summons him. And it's really funny honestly, you have to read it, it's great!)

After months and months I finally bring you these recommendations, and I promise to bring you more, but I won't commit to saying that it will be soon.

Please tell me if you've already read any of the fics I put on the list, and tell me what you think of these recommendations, is there anything in particular that you would like me to recommend? Please let me know.

And if you have any to recommend to me, I would really appreciate it, tell me which is your favorite fic and I will read it.

[viktoriamagrey]

So sick and tired of the focus on women's ""beauty"". Older women seem to be more focused on looking "young" than they do being healthy. Skincare isn't by itself terrible, but it's often used as a proxy to the same problem and is just as much of an industry. Why is the focus on the "beauty" of my skin? I know more about how to take care of my female body at 20 than many older women do. I know more about my cycle and how my body functions. My skin is not the most important part, especially if it's not getting in my way or hurting me. The focus is always cosmetic. As usual.

It's just depressing to see, because I respect the wisdom of my older women; but I almost find myself (a bit unfairly) wanting to turn them to my side. My teacher (and friend!), one of the most bright and incredible women I know, often complaining in jokes about her weight. So many of my male teachers have been overweight. Not a single one has shown this behavior. My therapist, another brilliant and diligent woman, telling me not to make her feel even older and worrying about her age, just because I asked her how I should address her. This isn't uncommon, it's baseline. I've never met a woman who doesn't mention some form of this when I ask. It's discouraging. There's nothing more flourishing than having people to look up to who are unapologetic about their age, who focus on living healthy and productive lives, and these women are, by all means, so close to that! They're successful, they're brilliant, they're free, and yes, they are perfectly, physically fine! But for some reason, it always needs to come back to their ""looks"", or their age, or some other socially imposed insecurity I've never seen many men blink at to the sheer scope these women do. And I've had so many women in my life like this. My mother, my other therapists... No offense to her, but my sister doesn't even like the *idea* of being called Señora and I think it's telling how much women seem to despise it, while Señor is almost coveted.

This is not normal. This is not fine. And it shouldn't be radicalizing of me, or "feminist", to just want to live a normal life where I can be myself without making a statement, where I'm not afraid of just becoming older and looking it. Where every amazing woman in my life isn't cutting herself down over the stupidest (and I'm sorry for saying that, I know their insecurities have a reason) reasons. So many skilled women I've met, and not a single one hasn't made repeated or offhanded comments about some aspect of her body that's not "attractive."

It's so discouraging, and makes me feel so alone; as if I'm very radical just to expect them to respect themselves on a deeper level. I want older women to be my role models in more manners of self-acceptance too.

[knightobreath]

Why do you like showvember so much? (not/neg)

alright folks youre going to need to remove your cringe and irony-poisoned glasses for this one, i'm going to be genuine

This is a question I've been asking myself for a while! Sometimes things just make my brain really really happy and I can never tell why, but I've done enough research on myself to know SEVERAL reasons why Showvember specifically appeals to me.

Of course there's the more normal stuff that it shares with a lot of my other fandom-able interests. It's funny! I find it very entertaining! I like Popcorn's character!

And then. There's the part that puts it apart from the other stuff I like. If you aren't familiar with Showvember, it was made in a way comparable to the drawing game exquisite corpse. Each episode is made by one person with as little information about the other episodes as possible. They only have character designs/names/pronouns and elimination order to work with.

I think the key factor to why I'm obsessed with it to this degree is it's inconsistency! You'd think this would make it harder to engage in fandom, but I love the challenge! My favorite type of fanwork to create is just filling in plot holes and connecting dots to expand or explain canon. Headcanons! I like the world-building and logistics side of headcanoning over characters though. Showvember is a lot of work to be a fan for, but it's not a chore to me, more like a challenge. This was a large part of my enjoyment of MCYT and probably the big reason why i stuck around that fandom so damn long.

There's also this part of Showvember that really lends to it a lot of charm, and that's its messiness! It's an art game played by a group of friends and that shows! You can really see the strings and I like that in works. Being able to sort of see through a creation makes it more meaningful to me. I put this in a lot of my own works, I think it can be important to see the brushstrokes.

If you didn't properly remove the cringe and irony-poisoned glasses that I asked you to, you may be laughing at how I've referred to Showvember as a "work" and "meaningful." You may be confused that I'm treating it like a proper art piece and not just a silly joke. And that's because it is! it is an art piece with meaning, even if that meaning is not some grand theme or statement! I love these sorts of things. My greatest interest is in internet and specifically fandom culture, and one of the most infuriating things I come across is the discrediting and disrespect towards internet art and fanworks. And so I will treat these things with the respect and genuine care that they deserve as legitimate art. I will die on this hill and I will die on it next to shitposts and fanfics and silly YouTube shows that are basically one big joke.

So, in conclusion, Showvember is a show that I not only find entertaining but also manages to lend itself perfectly to my preferred type of fanwork. It is also a show that comes from a culture I am very passionate about. All of this intersects into a piece of media that I find very enjoyable to engage with both in and outside of fandom.

It kind of feels like when I was younger and I would fish out all the stranger pieces from the lego bin to make something with all of them. I love all the parts and where they came from, and would like to puzzle them all together into something just as fun. My Showvember fanworks are just as much an expression of my love for the show as they are for the OSC, for fandom, for the internet, and for silly art everywhere.

okay. we can go back to joking around now. the real reason is because i have brainworms that make me look at 50 popcorn showvember pics a day.or i die

[lokielly]

don't let people mislead you about friends (the sitcom)

now, this post may be long, so, tl;dr: friends is actually a really good show, and actually is not as outdated as people say it is on lgbtq+ issues.

i watched friends for the first time in 2017, when i had just turned 15 years old. i loved it so much! i was completely obsessed to the point where i watched it like three times over just in the span of a couple of months. after that, i didn't watch any of it for a long while. and slowly, i kept hearing this rhetoric of "friends isn't funny" and "friends is such a lame show." then, "friends is homophobic" and friends is transphobic." with the loose memory i had of the show as years went by, i sort of agreed with people on statements like those. i figured that i must have loved the show so much because i was young, and "basic" and "corny" things appealed to me. i also remembered they made a lot of gay jokes, and looking back without remembering the details of the chandler's dad situation... yeah, i could see that it was homophobic and transphobic. well, that was until i rewatched it this year. three times actually.

i don't agree with any of those statements people make about it anymore really.

for starters, it is a good show. of course, this is subjective. now, there were better sitcoms on the air at the same time, or a better sitcom, i should say; my favorite show ever, frasier. so yes, friends is not the best sitcom in the world by any means, but i think as a sitcom, it is incredible and actually defines the standard of a sitcom to me.

friends does an amazing job at truly being about an ensemble cast of characters. every character feels like they get an equal amount of screentime and the same amount of respect is given to each of them by the writers. each character is also so unique, making the ensemble dynamic so interesting no matter which two you pair up. the show is also cast perfectly. every actor brings exactly what their character needs to the part, and the comedic acting is some of the best of all sitcoms i've watched (and i've watched a lot of sitcoms). matthew perry especially deserves a shout out for this; chandler is probably the most interesting and entertaining character in the show, and without matty, he probably wouldn't have been. plus, the humor is much sillier than people make it seem like it is. it isn't as "millennial coded" as you'd think.

all of that isn't to say there weren't things that weren't written well or were just off. a lot of ross and rachel's whole thing i have a lot of gripes about, but even then, most of it can be chopped up to the type of people ross and rachel are as characters (which i could write a whole other post about).

when it comes to how friends approached the lgbtq community, people love to say that it's horribly outdated, homophobic, and transphobic, but here's the thing: of course it's outdated, it's 30 years old. what really matters is what it was in it's time.

there was a lesbian couple on friends that literally got married on screen. they were treated like a normal couple, and whenever any character (usually or really always ross) made a comment about them, they were presented as in the wrong in that situation. yes, there were also moments where chandler and joey especially fetishized lesbians, but overall, i'd say the shows impact for lesbians was positive, especially for the 90s (i should add here that i am a lesbian so this is my take on it as someone who can speak on this issue).

chandler himself is another interesting situation to me when it comes to looking at this show and the lgbtq community. chandler was originally written as a gay character, but ultimately ended up getting played straight. this is why there were always jokes about him being gay and why he sometimes has those little moments where it comes through. this, to me, makes him so very bisexual. and that's just a headcanon that i consider canon in a big way; phoebe literally was implied to be bisexual. she never said it, per se, but there were multiple times where she expressed attraction to women in some way. that's big for the time, and it got very overlooked.

that leads me to transphobia; i must preface this by saying that, though i am non-binary, i don't consider myself to be trans, so none of this is me telling trans people how to feel. this is just my take personally. chandler's dad (this is how i'm referring to her because it's how chandler refers to her, but she was confirmed to be trans by one of the creators of the show) being played by a cis woman was much better than the alternative for the time, which would have been a man playing a trans woman and making a transphobic mockery out of being trans.

on top of that, the way the entire plotline with her was handled was incredible. i was bracing myself when i got to the episode where chandler goes to vegas to see her because everyone made me remember it as being transphobic, but it was wonderful. the whole point of the episode was monica pushing chandler to realize he was finally mature enough to push pass whatever biases he had against his dad and try to make a connection with her. chandler took a chance and saw her even though he was nervous, and actually reconnected with her, letting her back into his life. i think people only think this episode was transphobic because chandler doesn't stop calling her "dad," but i have seen children of trans people take their time with changing how they refer to parents. chandler just reentered her life. the way i see it, he just needed time. time longer than what we got to see on the show, but we could see he was taking steps toward that because of the moment that episode where he calls her "ma'am" (which was actually so sweet).

rewatching friends now that i'm 7 years older really helped me see how good this show is. between how many more shows i've watched since then and my experiences with being lgbtq, i have much more of a grasp on what makes it as amazing as it is. i will never let anyone make me think this show is anything other than good ever again.

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter III "Dragons are extinct"

Chapter IV ''Flames''

In the evening, she still didn't tell the maid what she found in the basement. She preferred to keep silent about it until she decided what to do.

She also wondered about her dream - the sight of the capital captured by someone, and then that woman on fire... Was it some kind of sign, message for her? Until she puts these thoughts in her head, it's better that she doesn't take any action.

"Selaria!" she shouted suddenly, touching her loose hair. "Find Ser Barristan and tell him I want to see him in the gardens." she said as soon as the maid entered the chamber. In fact, as quickly as she entered she left, and Visenya was left alone again.

She went to the wardrobe to take out a dark coat, which she then put on. Before she decided anything, she had to ask him what it all meant. Why did he give her the egg and what is she supposed to do with it?

Immediately after putting on the cloak, she left the chamber and carefully, avoiding the guards as much as possible, went to the castle gardens, starting to slowly walk through them. What did she actually want to say? Ask him everything directly, without worrying that someone might overhear them? And will Ser Barristan be able to come at all? After all, he might be on guard duty somewhere and he won't just leave it for some stupid conversation with her...

"My queen..."

She turned around very quickly when she heard that. Opening her eyes wider, she looked at ser Barristan, who bowed slightly to her.

"What are you saying, ser? I am no queen, you can even lose your life for such statements." she looked around the garden slightly panicked to see if there was anyone there, but fortunately she only saw Selaria standing nearby and looking out to see if anyone was coming.

"I knew your father, I was friends with him..." he began. "And I know you shouldn't be so afraid of who you are, who you could be." she sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers and closing her eyes.

"I have no family, no support... The war is over, I want... I just want to live normally, at home." she explained quite calmly.

"At home? Do you really think they'll let you stay here?" she removed her hand from her nose and crossed her arms over her chest. "Lord Tywin Lannister will marry you off at the first opportunity."

"He won't do it because no one will want me." she shrugged.

It was obvious to her, no one would want a "princess" from an overthrown dynasty. What would such a marriage give him? What's more, she is almost in no way connected with the Lannisters,  what counts most is blood ties - and of course she had none. Well, except Martells.

"There will always be some sadist who will pay a lot for a pretty face." she looked away from him, disgusted. "Forgive me this directness, Your Grace, but this is unfortunately the way of the world."

Visenya didn't answer.

What was she supposed to say? It was obvious that she couldn't stop him from calling her names, no matter what she said. She was only afraid that someone would overhear all this and report them, and she would only get punished unnecessarily. She didn't even want to ask the question, she was already perfectly aware of his goal - he wanted her to fight for what was taken from her.

But how was she supposed to do it? Without any support, without family? She had nothing. No army, no lands, no wealth... How did he think she could do that, with words? It's laughable... And sitting in King's Landing, locked up, she won't be able to magically conjure up all this (although even if she could travel freely around Westeros, it wouldn't be that easy, if not impossible).

Is it so bad that she wanted to live in peace? No problems, no quarrels... She managed to come to terms with the fact that everything had been taken away from her. Now she was supposed to start fighting for it?

"Your Grace..." he began quietly, moving a little closer to her. "I'm leaving soon, I know perfectly well that they want to send me away anyway - I won't give them the satisfaction. And I can take you out of here."

"What...?!" she almost couldn't hold back a scream. She immediately looked up at Barristan. "No, it's... It's impossible..."

"There is a way to get past the guards... You can't just give in to them, no matter how much they have stripped you of who you are over the years." she sighed quietly.

Could he be right? Should she fight, despite such low chances?

"I can't, not now." she said quite confidently. "Thank you for everything, but..." she turned and pointed at the Red Keep. "This is my home, my place in the world."

"A house that isn't yours." she decided not to comment on it and there was a longer moment of silence. "Then you need to find..."

"My Lady...!" Selaria suddenly ran up to her, out of breath. "Ser Jaime is coming here, quickly..." she gasped. Before she could say anything else, Ser Barristan was gone. But within a minute Jaime Lannister appeared next to them.

"What are you doing here, my Lady?"

"Something happened?" Visenya asked as if nothing had happened, as she just went on a walk.

"Stannis Baratheon attacked the capital. You are not safe here."

* * *

She didn't like at all that her conversation had been interrupted like that. It's true that she didn't have much to say anymore, but still... And now? She sat in one room with the servants and the queen, while the defense of the walls took place outside.

She sat against the wall, once again refusing wine from the maid. She watched the girls standing in a circle and praying.

One day she might have joined them, but she stopped believing in Gods a long time ago. What did they give her? They definitely took more than gave, not listening to any of her prayers, they did not even fully fulfill her request to come back home. After all, she is not the lady of her castle, she is only a guest, an unwanted one.

And she didn't even know what Tywin's plans were for her.

"Maegelle, child, come here." she suddenly heard. She immediately looked towards Cersei Lannister, who was calling her name. She rose from her seat and walked over to the queen, sitting down where she indicated. "You won't pray?" she nodded towards the circle of girls, sipping some wine.

"No, Your Grace." she shook her head. "I don't believe that the Gods want to help anyone."

"I think so too." Visenya was genuinely surprised to hear this. Cersei just admitted she was right about something? "If they were merciful towards everyone, they wouldn't be Gods, would they? But just look at them, I'm surprised myself, but I don't want to take away their hopes..." Cersei sighed heavily. While Vis turned to look at the circle of girls, Cersei ordered wine to be poured into another goblet and held it out to the young Targaryen. "Especially the red-haired one, it's Sansa Stark. She is so naive and innocent in her childishness."

"Isn't she that rebel's sister?" of course, she knew the answer to this question, but as she took the cup from the queen, she wanted to say something.

"Yes, and my dear Joffrey still wants to marry her." Cersei shook her head, as if in disbelief. "Beauty can easily confuse men. You, for example, you are beautiful." she smiled at the silver-haired girl, seemingly kindly, but with a hint of contempt, watching her sip her wine. "You probably don't know this, but many people came to my father to ask for your hand in marriage soon after they saw you. But he always refused them before they even finished talking..." she snorted, ordering Vis and herself to pour more wine before continuing. "I always wondered: Why? Why doesn't he just let you go somewhere with your new husband and start a family? I finally understood it. He always had a candidate for you."

"E-excuse me?" she didn't really know how to react to these words.

Tywin Lannister always knew who he would marry her to? There were people willing to marry her?

But the better question was: Who was it about? Who was Tywin's "chosen one"? She was a little afraid to know the answer to this question, but at the same time she was very curious. Just like when he was going to marry her off and where she would have to go. The fact that she didn't want to get married at all was another problem.

"For some time I didn't know who it was either and I thought about various options for a long time... But the answer recently came to me, although I thought it was all just a bad dream." hearing such words, Visenya held her breath and was unable to drink the rest of the wine. "Do you want to know who will put children in you unless the capital falls?" Cersei raised an eyebrow.

"Who...?"

"My darling, goddamn, twin brother." she replied, keeping her piercing gaze on the silver-haired woman and drinking the rest of the wine at once.

When Cersei heard this from Jaime, she thought it was another bad joke. But then he showed her a letter from their father and she realized he wasn't joking. And that was actually the worst thing, even though she thought her brother wouldn't agree to something like that, he didn't comment on it in any way.

Vis didn't respond to this in any way. She stared into her wine and tried hard not to think about what she had just heard.

She never thought Tywin would want to marry her off, especially to his son. She lived peacefully with the thought that she would be able to live in the capital, in her home, for the rest of her life. As she could see, life changed her plans once again.

For the rest of Stannis' attack, she only exchanged a few casual words with Cersei, not even looking at her much. As soon as she could return to the chamber with Selaria, she did just that, but she quickly told her to leave and bring some dinner.

In fact, she just wanted to be alone. She still hadn't digested what the queen had told her and couldn't imagine herself as Jaime Lannister's wife...

Maybe she should escape from the capital? Leave it all behind and... But where exactly was she supposed to run to? What was she supposed to do with herself after all, she had no one... Besides, the dream she had recently experienced was still floating around in her mind. She wondered if it had any greater significance and why it appeared at such a moment.

What if this was some kind of sign...?

And anyway - what does he actually have to lose?

She got up from the bed and, while she was still alone, picked up one of the candles that lit her room and began to slowly approach the window. Looking at the flame, she brought it closer to the light curtain. She didn't have to wait long for the material to catch fire. She dropped the candle on the floor and, not paying attention to the fire spreading, went for the egg she found in the basements under the castle.

She pulled it out from among the folds of fabric in her trunk and decided to do the same as the girl in her dream. Allow the flames to engulf the egg.

Visenya paid no attention to the fact that everything around her was burning. Dress began to turn into ashes, furniture that could never serve her again - it didn't matter at all. Nothing was truly hers, everything was given to her by fate, and she didn't really feel good anywhere.

Holding the egg in her hands and bringing it close to the burning curtains, she looked at the fire that was all around her. She thought it would be different, that the smoke would choke her, that the flames touching her skin would burn her, that her body would eventually start to burn.

She honestly thought she would die this way, although something made her think otherwise. Suddenly, apart from the sound of the fire consuming everything, she heard some frantic footsteps outside the door. At that moment she felt some movement on her hand.

The flames were slowly burning her dress while she was completely focused on the eggshell that was starting to fall apart. She was fascinated by it, looking at it with amazement, especially when she finally saw a small creature, very similar to the one she had seen in her dream.

"Maegelle?!" she heard right after the door to her room opened with a bang. By then a little dragon had already managed to climb up her arm and snuggle against her breast. She turned slowly, looking with surprise on her face (though Selaria was even more shocked) at the maid. "You have to get out of here..." despite the simultaneous shock and terror, the maid reacted quickly. She took off her cloak and, leading Vis out of the room, untouched by the flames, put it on her. She pulled it forward so much as to cover the dragon nestled into the girl. "Wait here, my lady... I'll immediately inform guards about the fire." saying this, she left her in front of the chamber, running alone along the corridor.

"Just like in my dream..." Visenya whispered to herself, looking under the coat for a moment, where, apart from the slightly burnt dress, she saw a white-scaled dragon that seemed to be taking a nap in her embrace, well hidden under the coat.

~

-> Chapter V "I'll take what is mine" -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[smograbbit]

Autism related rant incoming (sorry moots but I have nowhere else safe to put this and it neeeeeeds to get out of my head)!!

I’m so fucking tired of constantly having to explain to the same people that I can’t match my tone to the way I actually feel. 90% of the time, if I’m happy, sad, neutral, or excited, I just get told I “sound angry” or that I’m “acting mad” or, my personal favorite, that I need to “drop the attitude”.

But to me it genuinely doesn’t sound like that. To me it just sounds like normal talking. And when people accuse me of being angry when I’m legitimately not, that pisses me the fuck off. That actually makes me mad. Especially when people close to me, who claim to understand that this is an issue I genuinely have no control over, say it to me. I’ve spent, at the very least, ten fucking years trying to fix this. Possibly more that I don’t remember/wasn’t aware of. Nothing works, because it’s literally how I was fucking born. You can’t change genetic coding.

This isn’t something I can just turn off. I understand that it’s probably really, reaaaally off putting, and more than likely could be seen as offensive. But I wish these people would put themselves in my fucking shoes for once. At least try to understand how I see it.

Picture this: you’re sitting with a group of friends, family, acquaintances, whatever. You’re all having a nice conversation. You make a statement to continue said conversation. And even though to your ears, it sounded like a perfectly rational, calm thing to say, suddenly everybody looks at you with confusion, concern, or downright rage. They ask you, “why the fuck are you angry?” Now, you’re confused, because all you did was contribute to the conversation. You start to question what you did wrong. You start to wonder if you should have worded it differently, if that would have even mattered. You genuinely are not aware that you may have sounded mean or upset. You don’t have an answer, because to you, it just sounded like a normal sentence. And so, scared now that you’ll upset someone else just by existing, you go silent, completely ceasing to talk. After a while, you quietly exit the group to avoid another conflict. That’s how most of my conversations go.

And, seriously, how many times should I have to re-explain this to people? The same people nonetheless?? I can change a lot about myself, but I can’t change how I was born or what I was born with. I can’t change the fact I have autism. It’s not like my depression and anxiety, which can be managed or “turned off” with the correct medication. It’s literally how my brain is wired.

I wish people would listen to me when I say “pay attention to the words I’m saying, not the tone in which I say them”. I’m basically begging the general population to use that advice. And if you’re unsure, just fucking ask me!! A simple “hold on, are you actually angry, or is it the autism thing?” Or something similar would clear up pretty much any confusion. But no. It’s easier to just say I sound angry, tell me to calm down when I already am calm, tell me to drop the attitude, call me a bitch, etc.

I’m fucking sick of it. I wish I were normal. I hate being autistic.

[summae]

can you elaborate on your goku is gay and unfit for marriage thing (also loved your kakavege)

Hi first of all thank you :) I'm glad you liked it! Second of all I can but I'm afraid people will stone me to death even though I don't think it's too controversial of an opinion, so I have to preface this by saying that while I am using canon to make a statement I am in no way saying it's the only right way of analysing Goku ok 🫶 have fun be nasty do whatever you want but don't engage this in bad faith because I'm an adult & I don't care about petty fights on the internet.

That being said, my overall opinion of Goku is that he's too Other to fit in. In any sense, he doesn't ascribe to any moral & ethical value of the human world, and how could he, he was socialised by two old men who weren't exactly paragons of virtue (and this plays another part in my analysis) & every person he's met with has only ever thought Ah this is an odd one & all the explanations possibly given fell flat to his ears. Goku can never be anything else than Goku, even before the reveal that he was a Saiyan & not from Earth, he was never going to fit in. That's how it works, you can criticise the choice but I actually think it's perfectly fine. The explanation of alien genetics aside, Goku's role in the story is one of extreme separation. Any choice a 'normal human' would make looks wrong on him. The manga establishes this very well: Goku is not a voluntary hero. He's selfish and greedy, he's childish and doesn't like when things don't go his way. He's singleminded: he fights evil not because it's his moral duty but because he wants to find his limits, he obviously cares a lot about his friends and he wants to protect them, so it's partially incidential that the evil who threatens the planet & the universe is also the evil that threatens his friends. That's why I think his choice to remain dead was at the same time the most selfless he's been & most selfish but that's besides the point.

What I am saying is that Goku isn't made to remain still in a society that wants to bind him to certain hyperspecific roles he doesn't understand. Husband and father are just not things Goku can be; he's too evanescent, he's a presence that guides and leads the narrative but he himself has little place In it, meaning the milieu he inhabits & frequents is not his and never will be, because he has no need to and most likely doesn't want to. And again, I want to stress that he does care about his friends, and he loves them, and he's willing to go to extremes to protect them, but that doesn't make Goku understand social norms. He is wild, and he will remain wild, because that's how he was raised and how he understands himself. His discipline is self imposed.

So he will never be a husband, because he can't be one. He doesn't want to be one, it's too restricting, it's a role he cannot fulfill. Same thing as a father, he doesn't understand what being fatherly entails. We can argue all day whether Goku is a good parental figure or not but on this regard I will only say that caring for your child's wellbeing does not make a good father on its own.

As for the gay aspect, it partially stems from all of this. I don't want to go for the route of 'character x never expressed interest in y gender so they are z sexuality' because that's stupid, & for Goku in specific it can be partially attributed to his childish insight but at the same time. Goku shows interest for other people, he's downright obsessed by them at times, and you can say it's because he admires their strengths but I think it can be read as more than just 'aesthetics'. I think since he was raised by two terrible men his own perception of what's normal in a relationship is askew, add to this the fact that the first people in love he's ever had prolonged contact with are Yamcha and Bulma well, you can guess what that does to a kid. There can be no romance for Goku that is heteronormative, he doesn't care. Like I said, he is selfish & I think that's what compels him. With Vegeta it's mutual obsession, and again in my reading of them as characters they never 'settle down', they'll never have a normal relationship. Vegeta might crave it but Goku is unable to give it to him, because of how fundamentally Goku he is. And to repeat myself a third time, he cares about his friends. He cares about Chi-Chi, just not in the way Chi-Chi would like.

I think what people fail to realise when reflecting on their marriage is that Chi-Chi is an extremely misogynistic character, in the sense that she's written in a very bad way. You're not supposed to like her, that's the thing. She's the shackles & the anchor & what have you, she's written like that & while the way she behaves is absolutely normal in a certain sense (she throws "fits" but they are justified lol...) I don't think erasing the fact that she's a badly written character that upholds misogynistic values in order to make her some sort of girlboss is good. A more nuanced analysis of Chi-Chi's character, and subsequently of Gochi, is what I wish people would go for. A failed marriage is much more interesting from a narrative point of view than a perfect one, and tbh I honestly can't see why people don't try to have more fun with this dynamic! But again, to each their own. I understand the need for comfort, I just don't think any relationship with Goku will bring any comfort to anyone.

Also there's a total of like five women in dragon ball so. It's like lord of the rings.

This has gotten way out of hands, a tl;dr is that I personally read Goku as an outsider from a human society perspective and thus I don't believe he will ever fulfill any kind of patriarchal heteronormative (I know how I sound) role because he hasn't been raised in these boxes and he has no desire to enter in them Now. And stemming from this my own view of the character is that Goku is much more interested in the male form & body and that the closest thing to romantic attachment he can show is obsession. You can read it as aromantic as well, I like the gayaro thing sometimes.

And AGAIN this is MY reading of the character, I am confident in my grasp of canon so I know I'm not pulling things out of thin air, but I am not saying that this is the end all be all for Goku. You can think anything you want it's within your rights & I appreciate any sort of analysis because that's what makes it fun. Ok thank you 😽

[retphienix]

Well that was a pretty fun time :)

I still feel like the scan objectives are just, pointless, utterly pointless.

For most of them it was simple- go to the planet, scan, leave.

But for 2 of the scan sessions it just didn't spawn enough things to scan, or worse, the water one split the scans up RIDICULOUSLY between ground level and 300000000000000 tiles under the sea, it was annoying, not fun.

Anyways, not a big deal in all truth.

I really enjoyed this- moreso after I put a couple mods in place to alleviate the crafting/storage issue and give me a touch more to invest in during the scanning distractions.

But with those? I had a blast. WAY more of a good time than I expected- genuinely :)

The RPG mod is REALLY fun. Overpowered. But really really fun.

For most of the gameplay it wasn't overpowered- but holy hell if for the Glitch orb and final area I was a god, it was unfair, and kiiiiiiiiinda killed some of my fun because there wasn't any challenge anymore.

But! It was ONLY during those segments that it hit- because it was at that point that I unlocked the final version of my class weapon and the final version of the soldier class weapon is Buuuuuuuuuuuuusted lol

It's REALLY FUN, but it's TOO STRONG and made the final boss a joke that I didn't even get to pretend to be stressed over x.x

But I'd say I got far more good out of that mod than bad- I got a LOT of fun from grinding it out and exploring my options, 10/10 experience.

Anywho. Starbound.

I'd love to have some grand statement to say but I kinda don't have anything flowery to say.

The dev is a shitter for what he did.

The game looks aesthetically pleasing.

Scanning was a bad quest objective and the pre-fab locations are far more fun and should have been the vehicle for orb coords- not scanning nonsense.

All of the dungeons (save for the water one) are VERY entertaining- there's even some variance so you don't get bored doing 6 of them! :D

Crafting/storage is balls without a mod to improve storage- but is perfectly fine with a mod :)

The "crew" is barely skin deep- hell it's barely got skin- these aren't even cardboard cut outs- they're paper masks.

BUT. I WANT to like them- because their single note personalities are fun! They don't even get enough to say or do to actually sell those single notes- but I LIKE THEM LET ME LIKE THEM- the final scenes painting it like these are my beloved crew of friends is funny because they really REALLY don't get so much as a flashlight let alone a spotlight- LET ME LIKE THEM, GAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That one genocide lady is just. What a lazy turn lol.

"She's VERY smart and VERY talented and she had her whole family and planet attacked by pirates that were suspiciously lacking in human members and she wants to CLEANSE the universe as it's the only (final) SOLUTION" yeah yeah cry me a river and go fuck yourself- would 2 seconds of writing have been too much to grant her a more interesting character?

Come onnnnn.

There's a good amount of "things" to play with, but a lot of it doesn't feel.... impactful/rewarding enough to do, I guess is what I'd say?

Like I could farm and cook foods that buff me, but I failed to care. Just bring meds and fancy bandages if normal med kits aren't enough (kits were enough).

Pets are a thing- it just takes a lot of pointless setup to be able to heal and reuse them so I caught some and just never used them, what's the payoff? I have a guy who dies and needs healed? I'll just avoid damage and keep shooting.

Mechs are a thing, not really sure why. I LIKE them but it's such a self contained bit of content- you can do mech stuff to get mech parts to do mech stuff- I have a similar issue with entire sections of content in Warframe- I can do Railjack to improve Railjack to do Railjack (I love Railjack but MAKE IT COHESIVE- MAKE IT WORTH DOING FOR THE OTHER GAMEPLAY!). I do like that you can just start using your mech wherever but it's really not necessary and it's so awkward in some ways- like it's genuinely annoying to mine with.

Vehicles are a thing, not really sure why. I didn't even bother buying one despite having the money lol

Space bases are a thing- REALLY not sure why- I bought one but never bothered building it out because it didn't appear to have any payoffs beyond "a place to make" which is nice! It IS nice! But it's another feature that either lacks payoff or fails to convey what it's payoff is because I couldn't find it.

I LIKE that these things are here- but I wish there was some more interconnected functionality in all this.

If I push the discussion too far I'll just be asking for a different game.

Starbound was far more entertaining than I thought it would be after hearing some critique later in its life.

It VERY MUCH earns the critique- there's a lot of "Why?" in what features are here versus what basic QOL or features or quest design or NPC interactions are missing.

But you slap all that is here together and you still get a nice final game. Not a perfect one, but one I enjoyed plenty :) One I'd gladly play through again in coop (probably with the RPG mods because it is really fun >:) )- and Maaaaaybe- MAYBE- a game I'll come back to to build out a base and enjoy just making more outposts in the stars (not that THAT has much payoff if we're being honest lol).

Game pretty good 👍

I'd give it a "We really thought this was a Terraria killer when it was announced, but what's here is still pretty nice" out of 10 :)

Also a "Get fucked for taking advantage of young artists" out of 10. Probably more that on principle- but you don't really get much of an idea on the game itself from that rating lol.

Oh yeah wait:

My final stats for the RPG growth mod :)

The soldier's class weapon is OP as hell once you get it maxed out, and I say that both as a positive and negative lol

Also my fashionbound (it needs work but I'm not some player with hundreds of hours to actually make that x.x lol)

Fun time :) Pretty good game with unfortunate events surrounding it and bizarre design decisions (still baffled at the lack of QOL around chests in a game like this lmao)

💜

[adragonsfriend]

The Decline of Media Literacy is All Obi-Wan's Fault

p.s. I actually think media literacy is probably about the same as it's ever been. Also I don't mention star wars for the rest of this post. That said,

A bad thing to happen to literary criticism is the automatic association of the term "unreliable narrator" with a narrator who is experiencing, like hallucinations or extreme delusions about reality. Almost every narrator (with the exception of an omniscient narrator) is unreliable to some degree. A character does not have to believe anything particularly weird, or be completely oblivious to everything around them to be a bit unreliable.

Anytime a character misinterprets anything in the world around them, (which at least the author knows the truth about, even if the character and audience don't ever find out the full truth) due to their perspective, that's them being unreliable.

I have a friend who always insists she's bad at singing, despite being literally incredible at singing. She is very reliable about opinions on other people's singing, because she has lots of knowledge about voice things.

Character A might hear someone else say something and assume it was a super pessimistic statement about their odds of living, but really the other character is actually just thinking out loud a little while making a super cool plan to get out of the situation.

The dunning-kruger effect is a lovely example of unreliability.

Millions of people are convinced they can perfectly read strangers' body language. Most of these people are normal about a lot of other things.

I am an unreliable narrator when I assume people are idiots and so over explain my points and then realize later that they probably found it annoying and condescending (or maybe the real unreliability is me over-assuming people have negative impressions of me? who can really say).

Characters are pretty much all unreliable, and that unreliability does not always have to (though it certainly can) be big enough that it's a central plot point.

Tldr; sometimes narrators say things that aren't true, and it's (sometimes) normal

[whenthechickencry]

Umineko EP4. Replay Part 5

We just started and Ange is already tired of all of this shit, damn.

You sure are making theories Battler! Very wrong ones that were the misdirection of 4 chapters ago but you are trying! I guess Ange led you here so I can't singlehandedly blame you.

Rosa feels guilt from the blood on her hands, and as Rosa would, she instantly lashes out against the person she harmed instead of reconsidering her actions.

I think an important thing to realize about Rosa is that she is a Maria parallel, a Maria if she became older but wasn't allowed to heal from her pain. We know she coped through her toys and imaginary friends as Maria did, and they used that as a way to torture her further. She never was able to grow up from that (not that she had a lot of opportunities when she was thrust into single motherhood at like....26), so she has internalized all her abuse. She was a dumb, weird child who deserved the abuse she got and her life would have been fine if she just was normal. So now she has a child she's pushing her own trauma into Maria and forcibly trying to make her "normal". This scene's laying it pretty thick so it's pretty obvious this is what they were going for, but I think it's important to understand in order to be able to understand the cycles of trauma Umineko loves using and how the issue isn't that Rosa is just an instinctually bad person, as hard as it is to see that sometimes. If you are able to understand Maria as a victim, you need to understand Rosa as the victim she was growing up. Obviously, I am not saying Rosa's NOT an abuser or that Maria should have just forgiven her mom more, I am just pointing out why Rosa's like that.

What's the cry count for me at this chapter again? Feel like it's the 10th by now.

There's like 5 different deeply fucked up things you are admitting to in this one paragraph Rosa.

Of course, while Rosa has real concerns worth talking about, she instead puts the blame on an 8-year-old child instead of like, the misogynistic and irresponsible men....

Maybe you should examine your own feelings instead of assuming the issue is the literal child Rosa!

Man, as a child of similar circumstances it's hard to not feel guilt like this even when it might be unfounded, I can't imagine how much it would have broken if as a child my mother confirmed any of these feelings, also I'm crying again ep4 rocks etc.

I have heard similar statements as this of doing your best, etc, though. At some point, it's just justification for shit, of course, but also it's true that struggling young mothers that struggle with raising a child are in fact really trying in a society hostile to them and with few resources. Obviously, though, it's not the child's responsibility, or even something that is impossible, to make up for this lack of support.

Rosa really fucking hates herself.

Maria heavily compertalizing her Mother into Good Mama and Bad Mama and you can heavily see it in this scene, I think it's important for abuse victims to understand that they are the same person when they are bad and when they are good, if you can't it leads into you thinking, well he was just bad because he was in a bad mood, he isn't like this. He was just drunk. Etc. Granted, Maria is 9 years old and she can't be expected to be able to navigate the complicated situation of an abusive relationship perfectly, no one can.

I can't with this scene aaaaa. At the heart of both of Maria and Sayo's coping mechanisms lies the believes that they are fundamentally unfixable and broken forever.

I think the point of this scene is to show how Maria's more violent and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms prevent her from dealing normally with more mundane shit but I am Team Maria here what the fuck Battler if someone woke me up in the middle of the night and then immediately started teasing me i'd also be pissed.

There is something to be said about how the harshest reality, that everyone was bribed, has the most optimistic fantasy where everyone tries to work together and worry for each other...

The times when Kanon is weirdly mean to Shannon always confused me a little before I realized S = K, but they are pretty sad lines once you realize Sayo is calling parts of herself stupid.

We spend a bunch of time discussing the logistics of falling into a pit but the actual reality is they were just lying lol. it was made up. Even if the tunnels are actually real. (but not below the dining hall)

Yeah, I am sure the guy who shut her up to not be emasculated would constantly be telling others how smart she is....

God, can you tell this is Tohya coping about his family situation already?

I wouldn't be surprised if Krauss doesn't actually know here, tbh? I imagine they didn't kill everyone in front of each other like we saw, so I imagine Sayo just divided them in rooms or something.

Lol yeah, I definitely think he know or thinks Natsuhi is alive. I think by this point Sayo just bribed everyone and told them to play along with her game.

Gohda is not very good at this and keeps forgetting the script. This conversation is pretty interesting, obviously, it's hinting at you that S = K and to watch out for when they WERE together, but also it firmly places them as fictional characters aware of the meta.

The hopeful and calming way she describes dying because it's when she will finally feel to have as much worth as a 'human' is so sad... you can feel how deeply depressed she was here....

Shannon in these conversations is always described as the one who would be happy with dying, the one who thinks nothingness is better than the life she has, meanwhile, Kanon is the one who wants more. The one who thinks their life is unfair, who wants a chance at a better life, despite that being 'impossible' to them.

Did you know Kinzo has a fucked up view of women and love? Because the game is making sure you do!

I mean, she's probably not wrong, but damn Ange!

Hmm? I'd forgotten that detail about the daughter.... I think Nanjo mentions having grandchildren a couple times so I think she was alive at the time. I wouldn't be surprised if that is the reason Nanjo needed money, I guess. Considering he even went as far as deleting his medical charts....

The fact that she did this trick on a 6-year-old who definitely didn't know wtf it meant is kind of funny, though I suppose Sayo assumed she would have given it to her caretakers. Well it's framed really negatively here obviously with the Ange perspective, but I don't think her intent was to freak out the survivors, specifically, it was probably more so just furthering the legend of the witch + easing her guilt by giving the survivors money.

[thoughtfulsidghu]

l would normally begin with a very unique and corny statement, but I decided to stick to the topic. I have changed. Naturally and eventually.

I like staying quiet. Perhaps because I am an overthinker, even if l don’t look like one. And I don’t know if people tend to see everything around them but I observe too much. Or maybe too little.

I believe there is some hypocrisy in us. In our personalities and attitudes, even if we deny it. A lot of times, you’ll find yourself comparing a person who did something unbecoming or inconvenient, to you. You will think that you could have done the same thing in a better way and provided an easier solution. I often find myself doing this. No matter how much I preach about equality and feminism quotes on Pinterest, I still become rude or hypocritical at times. I think to myself – ‘Try better next time. Don’t judge them, it’s just what they could think of.’ The next time, however, I end up iterating the cycle.

My point is, there will always be hypocrisy in you – to some extent. If we were all equal and fair, no one would be equal and fair. Human nature compels you to find flaws in every possible aspect of your life. To be perfectly candid, there is nothing much you can do but simply let it be. Because at times, not everything needs to be positive.

I am surrounded by a lot of people. Like my teachers and peers and family. My schoolmates, for instance, have been around me for several years and I know them quite well. When we were in middle school, I used to have a presumption about almost everyone I knew. I was stubborn that this girl was nosy and that that boy was rude. Later on, there was a long pause and we were not around each other. But, a lot of those presumptions stayed with me; even when I grew older, made new friends and forgot others. When we got back, I was pleasantly surprised. Not just on seeing everyone’s physical appearances but also the moments when I got to interact with them.

I came to the conclusion that I observe too much. Because that one month was quite a reset. All of them had forgotten – or moved on from the fact that – we had had arguments or even significant fights. I spoke to a lot of people for the very first time; even if they had been right there for a decade!

It dawned on me that people can be good and they can change for their own good. It was just me who matured earlier and felt that others would remain the same while I would go on to become an adult. How strangely the mind works!

I now jump onto a new trend. Imperfection is the new perfection. (My friends would definitely call me a hypocrite on this one because I can get fussy about trivial things.) Earlier, communities used to be married to the idea of perfection. The perfect family or the perfect child or the perfect behaviour. Now, we don’t do perfectly. We do imperfectly. (That’s quite a hip thing to say, I must admit.) Why? I’ll just guess, my imperfect answer.

Society took perfection to ungodly heights, in my opinion. Everything had to be in a certain way. It was like that psychology - the more you suppress an emotion or put barriers over things, the more you long for them, and the more inquisitive you become. I am not saying those times were bad, but that nature hung in the air. Opinions weren’t popular, per se. There was definitely some external influence, but I don’t know what changed at that time. I suppose we found flaws in the status quo and disrupted it.

And today, I believe that the reason why imperfection is so powerful is that we want to portray ourselves in the most humane way. It’s like an overly emphasized justification for our mistakes by making those mistakes. Again, if we were all perfect no one would be perfect and again your human nature will do this reverse psychology trick and find flaws and that whole picture in understanding is mind-blowing.

To conclude my very long thoughts, I would say that I would not at all prefer to put lines like - ‘Let’s be positive about everything and hope for the best.’

follow, share and comment for more thoughtful stuff!

Thank you for reading :)

[robert-sims]

Elevate Your Style with the Women’s Small Crossbody Bag Wristlet Clutch

Introduction:

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I have a narrow foot and usually wear 7.5 in flats, 8 in other shoes. I have a few pairs of Amazon Essentials flats and loafer flats and really like them, so I’ll note differences here. I ordered the 7.5 and they fit great (more room in toe than Amazon Essentials loafer flats. There is a LOT of cushion for flats… in the insole and around the ankle. This gives the shoe a wider appearance in the rear, compared to AE flats. There is more room in the toe compared to the AEs, and the AE has a longer, more pointed toe. When I put the shoe on there it was an immediate “feels good” shoe. My only issue is that it rubs on the back of may ankle, but this is common for me because most shoes hit high around my ankle (fixed by adding an insole for height). If this is not normally an issue for you, these shoes probably won’t do that.

These shoes are extremely comfortable. The soft padded heel and padded insole are both amazing. It’s a cute looking shoe too. Sizing is right on point, I’m usually a 6.5 and a 6.5 fits perfectly. My only negative about the shoe is that it runs a little bit narrow so my wide foot kind of makes the sides puff out just slightly. It won’t stop me from loving these shoes though

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[writerthreads]

How to write a gripping beginning

by Writerthreads on Instagram

Personally, I find beginnings to be one of the hardest parts of the whole book because it's so important. The beginning is what makes or breaks your book. It's what keeps readers interested after they pick it up at a store, or when they first download it on their Kindle. Below are some tips, as well as some analyses, on how to perfect a story's beginning.

Introduce your main character and the setting: Mrs. Dalloway

By "introduce", I don't mean a giant 10-page info dump on royal family tree or the ten kingdoms the world is made up of. Rather, I'm thinking of a character in a place, or doing something. The best, and one of the most famous examples would be how Virginia Woolf started Mrs. Dalloway:

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

Already, you have the titular character, Mrs Dalloway, introduced. She's doing something, too. She's saying that she's going to buy flowers herself, setting up a scene later where she's probably going to, or back out of, buying flowers. The pronoun "herself" suggests to the reader in Woolf's era that she's of a middle-class background and that somebody (eg. a servant) would normally be running errands for Mrs. Dalloway, but the character wanted to do this simple task herself.

I could go on forever about how each word in this simple sentence has implicit meanings and my ex-A Level Eng Lit teacher will probably be very proud of me, but that's not the point. The main idea is that in just a single sentence, a lot is being revealed to the reader without the writer having to info dump anything.

Allow me to continue to the second paragraph of the book:

For Lucy had her work cut out for her. The doors would be taken off their hinges; Rumpelmayer's men were coming. And then, thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning-fresh as if issued to children on a beach.

More characters are introduced now: we have Lucy, Rumpelmayer and his men. Mrs. Dalloway's full name is revealed, and so is her personality through her thought. It's childlike, whimsical and light, and that's why her name "Clarissa Dalloway" is used here instead of the stiff "Mrs. Dalloway".

In just two paragraphs, we are introduced to the titular character and some minor characters are mentioned. We also know bits and pieces of what's going to happen. Woolf artistically starts off the book with simple prose. Everything is well thought out, yes, Virginia Woolf is a literary genius, yes, but this is something that we can all do: write a simple introduction without weighting readers down with lots of detail we don't need, and get straight into the story.

Start in media res

Fun fact: "in media res" is also the name of our Discord Server!

When you start in the middle of an action, readers are transported straight to the story, hooking them in. For example, if you were writing a rom com, you could start with the main character bumping into a long-lost friend:

Emma saw a familiar cowboy hat bobbing in and out of the crowd in front of her. Emma found herself pushing through sweaty limbs into the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the person who wore the hat, trying to see whether it was really her friend who had ghosted her five years ago.

Obviously this isn't the best beginning in the world, but you get the point.

Try something interesting

A strong story opening makes you want to know more. Donna Tartt does this perfectly in A Secret History:

The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation.

What is up? Who is Bunny? What's so serious about their predicament? Tell us more!!! Bunny's death makes us want to know what has happened, while mentioning the characters' situation wants us to know what's going to happen. Tartt forces us to continue on to find out the full story.

Lead with a strong statement

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy:

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Tolstoy’s first line introduces the domestic strife that drives the story’s tragic events, using a bold, sweeping statement, while Dicken's catchy first sentence introduces us to the book's main themes.

There are way more examples of good beginnings that you can only learn from by reading. If you're a beginner, literally comb through a library shelf of the genre you're writing in and see how published authors have written their beginnings. Alternatively, you could go check out our post on the best story beginnings for more ideas!

[chaoticparker]

loverboy

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS 

Peter parker x reader

Summary: after just reconnecting with you, peter gets injured—and you're the only person he can go to

w: blood, weaponry  

w/c: 1.6k

masterlist

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this cannot be happening right now.

It was near midnight in New York and it seemed that none of the criminals were taking the night off; and also decided to be much more violent than normal. It seemed as though the multiverse coming together didn’t phase the criminals in the slightest.  

The stab wound in his thigh was starting to bleed onto his hand, a couple cuts along his forehead and a headache that truly made him want to stop swinging and take a nice long nap for a very long time. 

He didn’t know how to stitch himself up—not well at least; he thought if he saw any more blood he would faint. Normally his high-tech suit would spray some chemical mixture that would clean and heal his wound, he also used to have you; but life has changed since then. 

He knew that the wounds would close on their own, but what really pained him was the bacteria from the blade that slashed his thigh. It could lead to tissues damage, which could lead to amputating his leg, which could lead to him dying. 

Calm down Pete, you’re going to be alright.

Weirdly enough it wasn’t his own voice that was reciting the message to him. Subconsciously, his brain made him think of when you first told him that, the night he came back from his first ever patrol. 

It made him want to cry all over again, because no matter what he did, you will never remember that; or any of the other firsts you both experienced with each other, as friends or as partners. 

And what killed him the most was where he was headed, he knew he shouldn’t be swinging here, hell, he just started talking to you guys again. You were friends. He was easily able to slide back into the friend group he had, with you, Ned and Mj, but only because he knew everyone’s likes and dislikes already. It took him so long to do it, to say hi, reintroduce himself even though it was killing him, tell a joke he said before to make you all laugh. 

But it was worth it. He wanted to get his old life back, as close as he could to it. 

When he landed on the fire escape of the building opposite from yours he knew he was fucked. On one hand, he needed medical attention. He can’t exactly go to a hospital, and it's not like aunt May can help him now…

But he needed love too, and if this was going to ruin it, he would gladly lose a limb to be back in your love. 

You can’t exactly do that when you're dead, idiot. His own little voice rang out, and oh how he wished for your voice to return, and there is one way to accomplish that. 

He took a breath and jumped, landing perfectly and quietly on your firescape. 

He could hear your music from the outside and saw the dim lighting of your lamps leaking through the curtains of your window. 

Another breath.

He knocked on the wnidow, he heard something drop and then he saw a little corner of the curtain remove and your eyes. They widened, you closed the curtain completely, then opened it the whole way.

Saying you were surprised would be a light retelling of how you felt at this very moment. You were shocked beyond belief. 

You opened the window, “oh my dfuckucking god spider-man?” You mumbled, more like a question than a statement. 

Peter practically rolled onto your bedroom floor, glad to be reminded how they are not carpet so the blood wouldn’t stain. “Can you grab your first aid-kit?” His voice sounded more broken then what he thought, he could tell it scared you based on how you hesitated leaving his side. But you did quickly grab the box and drop to his side. 

“I need you to sew me up.” He breathed out, his eyes were slowly getting tired and he tried his best to stay awake.

“I-I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” Your voice was a strained whisper and it broke Peter's heart. 

He needed help, and he knew you knew how to. He just needed to jog your memory a bit.

He took off his mask with the remaining strength in his arm, a soft sheik of “Peter?” Escaped your lips and he lazily nodded, a small smile on his face. 

“I promise I’ll explain later just please, you’d do this all the time. It's gonna be like muscle memory.” You nodded your head, looking into the kit. “I need a cleaning agent.”

You took the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and put some on thesan wound, then grabbing a wool ball and putting some of the solution on it, you dabbed his forehead wounds.

Peter's breath started to even out, helping you to calm too. But you were still panicking, millions of questions about Peter were flying through your head you could barely keep track of. You met this kid like a month ago, and know he swings into your room, getting blood everywhere and is spider-man. 

“Now the stitching.” Pete hated his part, knowing damn well you didn’t have anesthetic for the cuts. 

You nodded your head and dot the small needle and thread, you glanced up at Peter and he gave a weak encouraging smile before yelling out a gasp as you pricked his skin. 

It was nice to know that his muscle memory theory was right, or at least you knew what to do on instinct. If mucke memory was still there then maybe you could learn to love him again. 

You brought out the scissors and cut the extra strand, you threw the items across the room then took a couple bandages and put them on his cuts. It sting a bit, but the feeling of your cool hands on his warm face completely made him weak. 

“Is that it?” You shyly asked. You looked at Peter like he was a glass doll that was going to break at any moment; and Peter felt just like that.

“Yeah, my super healing will take it from here.” He told you, letting a beat last before talking again. “I’m sorry.”

“That I had to clean you up or that I found out your spider-man this way?” You teasingly said, taking a couple breaths to calm yourself down, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Both, and for just being in your life all together.” He sadly laughed but you just softly hugged him. It was awkward because he’s still leaning on the floor, covered in blood, but he needed it; and so did you.

“I love you in my life, I feel like i’ve known you for years. Even though I met you a month ago.” You smiled. The corners of your eyes were threatening to leak so you tried your best to look happy, and Peter just thought you looked beautiful. “But seriously you need to explain everything to me right now. Especially how you know where I live.”

“It’s pretty wild, I dunno if you’re going to believe me.”

“We literally live in New York which is practically the hub for all things magic so I think I’ll believe you easily.” You bluntly stated. “Unless what you're saying is too ridiculous then I’ll kick you out. But onto my fire escape because I don’t think you should be moving much right now.” 

He smiled and did another quick inhale then exhaled. He told you about life before, how you knew each other and how when the villains came in and what you all did to help Peter, but his voice faltered when he admitted to the only way he could save everyone…if everyone forgot about Peter Benjamin Parker. 

He just left out the part where you too dated, well more like alluded to a relationship but never wanted to admit it and scare you off; he just told you the most insane thing ever, another unbelievable thing happening would make you think he was lying. 

“So yeah… That’s everything.” You nodded, staying quiet. “I can go if you don't believe—“

“No, I-I think I believe you.” You hesitated on what you were going to say next. “Did we date?”

“uhhh.” Peter awkwardly laughed. “Yes, but I-I don’t want to pressure you into—“

Peter was interrupted by your lips on his and your hand delicately on his face. He melted at your touch and never felt so complete in his own personal hell. 

“I had a good feeling about you.” You admitted, pulling slightly away from his lips causing Peter to lean a little more into to kiss you again. “Maybe I haven’t forgotten everything about Peter Benjamin Parker.”

His eyes watered up, small tears dropped down the sides of his face as he smiled. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted someone to say that. Especially you.”

You kissed him again and you were met with a feeling that felt like home. Maybe it was love, you hoped it was. 

“Tell me about us.” You asked him, stroking the tears away from his face.

“Uhm, in freshman year homecoming, we went as each other’s dates as friends and everyone made fun of us saying we were dating even though we denied it.” He laughed and wrapped his palms against yours, rubbing his thumb onto your skin. 

“I think we were just in denial.” You joked and Pete nodded.

“We were in denial for about 2 more years—“

“No!” You gasped. “Why so long?”

“Spider duties, and us being too scared to do anything.” 

“We’ll, I’m glad we did something this time.”

“Me too.” He smiled, leaning in.“Give me another kiss please, I’m in desperate need.” 

You smiled, wiping away the little tears that had formed in your tear ducts. “Anything for you, loverboy.”

[dreamingofaizawa]

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

*

*

*

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

*

***3 months later***

*

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.