#and when both of you are perfectly aware of a lot of that rhetoric it's really easy to escalate into SRSLY uncomfortable situations

[dialux]

Me, as someone who has, actually, attended conflict resolution seminar(s) and ALSO read the majority of the accepted literature on the topic: I would literally rather commit arson than have to conflict resolute with my sister ;)

[imagine-darksiders]

Thank you to the marvellous @humboltsquid for commissioning a fanfic with pregnant Reader attempting to hide said pregnancy from the Horsemen because she fears they'll buy into the social rhetoric surrounding single mothers who don't know who the father is.

TW: Vomiting, morning sickness, drinking, Pregnancy, briefest allusion to sa, no actual sa took place, everything was consensual, both parties were drunk, Reader remembers most of the night except the guy's face and name. Horsemen are predictably angry about someone touching their little sister.

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Porcelain, cold and consolidated, bites into the sensitive skin of your palms as you grip the edge of the bathroom sink, your arms locked like overheated pistons just to keep yourself standing upright in defiance of how your legs seem determined to collapse out from underneath your weight.

To your right, the loo gurgles noisily, flushing away any traces of the meal you’d spewed up into it only moments ago. At least the sound helps to drown out a voice thundering at you from the other side of the door.

“Let us in!”

Fumbling with the tap for a moment, you bend down, spooning a palmful of fresh, cooling water into your mouth. As you do so, you spare a baleful glance down at the loo again, and the food lost to its pipes… Perfectly good rations… all gone to waste.

Five years on from the Great Resurrection and Earth’s agricultural efforts are finally on a steady incline. While the food situation isn’t anywhere near as desperate as it was when Humanity woke up to a world without excess, that doesn’t mean you’re particularly pleased to see precious rations wasted because you couldn’t hold them down.

And now that you’re supposed to be eating for two…

Groaning, your expression twists into a look of remorse, and you place one hand gently on your stomach, roaming a palm over the bump that lays hidden beneath the baggiest jumper you could find. You’re only too aware that it won’t be so easy to hide the swell in another couple of months.

You barely manage to bite back another miserable groan as a colossal fist hammers against the door so viciously, you almost wonder if the wood will splinter and break, which starts to seem more likely when seconds later, a familiar voice booms out, “If you don’t open this door, I’m tearing it from its frame!”

Ah… That’ll be War; youngest of the Four Horsemen, an armoured, muscle-bound colossus who also just so happens to be one of your very dearest friends.

A friend who has been growing rightfully suspicious of you over these last couple of months…

There are only so many excuses you can fall back on to explain away your frequent and unexpected dashes for the nearest bathroom. You can only thank the Creator that neither of the Four seem all that well-versed on the more delicate biological functions of humans.

Swiping a wrist over the back of your mouth, you lean away from the sink and assess yourself in the mirror, doing your best to ignore the taste of vomit still sitting like a layer of fuzz on the roof of your mouth.

‘How long are you going to keep this up?’ you pose to your reflection, her sleep-stained eyes bearing back into yours as if she too has had the same question.

It’s been like this for a few weeks now, ever since the dreaded Morning Sickness wrapped its hands around your guts and wrung them with a relentlessness that leaves you scrambling for the closest bathroom at least twice a day.

It wasn’t this bad in the first trimester… Now entering your second, things are getting a Hell of a lot harder to manage. To hide.

Slowly letting your eyes slip shut, you exhale through your nostrils in exasperation as a different voice accompanies the first. “Kid? I uh… I think he means it. We just wanna make sure you haven’t drowned in there.”

Strife… The humour he tries to inject into his quip is overshadowed by his hand rattling at the doorknob. He’s worried. They all are. You wouldn’t have thought it possible, if you didn’t know them personally, though each Horseman will swear up and down they don’t ever feel such trivial, human emotions.

Actions, however, speak louder than words.

Their sister, Fury, has hardly left your side ever since Mrs Gaffe tutted at you from across the hallway and you immediately retreated into your apartment, leant back against the door and wept into your hands. She didn’t know… She didn’t know Mrs Gaffe who lives on your floor is also a chemist, and she’s also the very woman who sold you your pregnancy test… and the subsequent tests you went back for when the first came up positive. You’d spent over an hour convincing Fury that, no, she doesn’t need to defend your honour by besting old Mrs Gaffe in combat. Though you let her know you appreciated the gesture.

You try to think the best of your neighbours. And you certainly didn’t like to think of Mrs Gaffe being a gossip, but judging by the curious and frequently disdainful glances other people in the building sent your way, you soon came to realise your secret was not such a secret after all.

You’re pregnant. And the father is nowhere to be found.

You only hope word doesn’t get back to the Horsemen somehow. You don’t think you could bear it if their gazes turned sharp and pointed as well.

Outside the bathroom door, you hear War grunt at Strife to move aside, and at last, you decide you’ve stalled enough.

Shoving yourself off the sink, you spin around on a hell, regretting the action as a wave of dizziness threatens to knock you back down to Earth, but it’s soon dispelled with a deep breath and a second to gather yourself, calling, “Okay, okay, I’m coming out.”

Someone – Strife, you think – grumbles, “Finally.”

Grabbing the handle, you pull the door towards yourself and tilt your head back, blinking up at the two, immense shapes blocking the entire width of your hallway. If it weren’t for the space between your bedroom and bathroom being meagre at best, you imagine you’d have the remaining two behemoths cramped in there as well.

“When did you guys get to be so clingy.”

War’s ice-blue eyes glare down at you from beneath a crimson hood.

You start to edge past them, feeling like a fish trying to squeeze between a pair of grizzlies. Just as you make it past and put your back to them entirely, you hear Strife announce, “All right. That’s it.”

“What’s it?” you ask hesitantly as he advances on you, his heavy, metal boots thudding on the carpet. Before you can react, the Horseman suddenly slings a bulky arm around your waist and hoists you off your feet, tucking you into his side. You’re forced to fold almost in half, bent over Strife’s uncomfortable gauntlet with most of the pressure bearing down on your stomach.

“STRIFE!” you exclaim, horrified.

“I’m not lettin’ you go until you tell us what’s been goin’ on with you,” he huffs, clomping into the living room with War bringing up the rear. By the window, Death twists his bone-mask towards the commotion, his shoulders flattening, unimpressed. “Brother…” he warns.

Fury too, tosses Strife her own disparaging glare from the sofa and barks, “Is it truly necessary to manhandle the human?”

You, however, hardly pay attention to a word they exchange. Your mind is utterly and wholly on the point of your stomach that’s digging into the Horseman’s gauntlet. You can cope with the discomfort, but it isn’t just you anymore.

There’s no thought to the cry you let out, just a plea borne of a desire to protect the little life growing inside you, by any means necessary. “Strife!” you exclaim, smacking your palms against his armoured thigh in a bid to relieve some of the pressure around your gut. “Put me down! The baby-!”

No sooner has the word left your lips than you find the arm restraining you springing open, letting you tumble to the floor. A jolt shoots through you as your hands and knees strike the carpet, but all you can celebrate in that moment is that the strength of a Horseman is no longer curled around your vulnerable stomach.

You don’t look up at the Horsemen until you’ve pushed yourself back to your feet, patting down your jumper. When you do happen to glance up, your face immediately falls.

Death has shifted from his position by the window and now stands several, jarring feet closer, he and Fury both, in fact. The latter has somehow leapt from her seat on the sofa in the time it took you to gather yourself up off the floor.

But more disconcertingly, they’re still. Utterly motionless as if they’ve been caught in a pocket of frozen time.

Gulping, you tentatively twist your head over a shoulder, only to find War and Strife are in much the same state.

Strife has backed up to stand next to his brother, his liquid-gold eyes round beneath his visor, neither one of them twitching so much as a single muscle. It’s… eerie. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so still before. Death, maybe, but not the other three.

It only occurs to you then that you might have let something slip.

Then, at last, just as you wet your lips to call out to one of them…

 “What did you say?” Fury breathes, cutting neatly through the heavy blanket of silence draped over the room.

Blinking owlishly, you turn back to face her, your mind scrambling for an adequate response.

“What… what do you mean, ‘what did I say?’”

Feigning ignorance it is.

You actually leap several inches off the ground when the Horseman suddenly explodes back into motion, storming forwards in your direction and exclaiming, “What baby?!”

“B-baby?” you double down, backing away from her until your spine collides with a solid torso – War. “Who said anything about a baby?”

“You just did!”

“Did I?”

“Y/n…” Death utters in a slow and cautious tone as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt at the slightest provocation - Hell, given the furtive glances you keep swinging around his side at the door to your apartment, he might be in the ballpark. His voice alone carries enough authority to silence his sister, and more than enough to make you clamp your jaws shut painfully tight. “You’re with child?”

It’s strange, but despite the inflection on his last word, you get the impression he isn’t asking you if you’re pregnant, but merely whether you’re ready to admit to the fact.

The hopelessness of it all dawns on you when you meet his enduring, gilded stare.

He knows.

And if Death knows, there’s little point in continuing your efforts of duping the other three. In spite of outward appearances and their frequent, often frightening disagreements, the Four Horsemen have a bond stronger than tungsten. So, with a head that suddenly feels weighed down by months of secrecy and deflection, you lower your gaze to the floor near his boots and give a slow, sombre nod.

It’s as though your little confirmation is all that they needed to lift the veil on any and all doubts.

The shadows they cast on your carpet suddenly start to tremble as an overhead light flickers, strobing on and off until it sputters weakly back to life and holds steady, albeit dimmer than it had been before.

The Horsemen seem to grow in size, muscled shoulders bulge like raised hackles and four sets of eyes flare with an ethereal light as they shift their weight, bearing down on you like toppling monoliths.

“I’m gonna kill ‘em,” Strife mutters venomously under his breath, “I’m gonna kill whatever bastard laid a finger on-”

“-W h o  t o u c h e d  y o u?” the eldest Horseman’s growl cuts him off. It’s guttural and animalistic, so much so that you can’t withhold a flinch. You could count on one hand the number of times Death has outwardly lost his temper, which makes it all the more alarming to witness.

Stumbling over your words for a beat, you keep your eyes fixed to the floor as the Old One stalks across the meagre living space towards you, his ominous shadow growing along the carpet to swallow you whole. When it seems he’s right on top of you, you finally blurt out, “N-Nobody!”

In hindsight, that wasn’t the most logical answer.

Fury – her vibrant hair whipping behind her like angry, coiling snakes - scoffs, tucking her arms firmly across her chest. “Nobody?” she parrots, “I’m no expert, but don’t these things usually involve two parties?”

“Great! Now she’s lying to us,” Strife barks, pacing back and forth behind you and throwing a hand up to rake the fingers of his metal gauntlet through his stiff, black hair, “I don’t believe this, we go off world for two weeks-!”

“Were you hurt?” War’s voice, though less jagged than Death’s, is pitched low enough to rumble through you until it resounds inside your chest. You can feel his presence behind you, too close for comfort, the living embodiment of rage and violence.

You suddenly fear for the man whose face and name you can’t recall.

“I… no,” you protest, hugging your elbows close, “It wasn’t anything like… like that. It was an accident! We were out drinking, and I-“

“DRINKING!?”

Your mouth snaps shut as Death lurches towards you, and you’re finally forced to tear your eyes off the carpet when his sinewy fingers slide around your biceps and he hauls you a foot off the ground, holding you up to his mask and subjecting you a shout that’s rife with unparalleled urgency. “You know what that does to a human’s inhibitions!” he demands.

His hands are gentle, neither hurting nor bruising the delicate skin on your bare arms, but the power behind even his gentlest grasp is frustratingly insurmountable.

You’ve never liked how easily he can manhandle you. “Yes, Death! I know what alcohol does!” you snap back, kicking your legs and trying to twist out of his grip, “I’m not a kid anymore, stop treating me like one! And put me down!”

You’re aware that your point is all a matter of perspective. For the Horsemen, there’ll always be some small part of them that continues to see you as a youngling. You’re human, after all. A hundred years wouldn’t even see a Nephilim out of adolescence. Not to mention that the Horsemen have all but declared you as one of them… One of theirs - an unconventional, human sibling they’ve taken into their fold.

It's not so easy for them to simply stop seeing you as their little sister, no matter how much you might wish they would sometimes.

As your retort fades into silence, Death blinks, recoiling his head slightly with wider eyes, and it will only occur to you later just how rare it is to make Death falter.

The other three, although their bodies still quiver with barely contained adrenaline, have fallen quiet whilst you stare down their eldest until at last, he lowers you gingerly to the floor, setting you safely on the carpet once again and retrieving his hands.

You’d never dare to say it aloud, but in that moment, something like shame flashes over the dark sockets of his mask.

“Why didn’t you tell us, kid?” Strife asks, the crux of his question tinged by badly concealed hurt.

“This, Strife,” you sigh, throwing your arms out towards he and his siblings, exasperated. Fury with her face set into a thunderous scowl. War’s metal gauntlets curled into bludgeoning fists. Even Strife is idly tracing a finger on the stock of Redemption in its holster, and Death – especially Death – whose ancient magics are still causing the lamps in your room to fade in and out…

Heaving another, immense sigh, you continue, “This is why I didn’t tell you.” Well. It’s one of the reasons, but at this point, it’s a fairly vital one. “I mean, look at you!”

Each Horseman shares a glance with one another.

“You’re all raring to go on a manhunt to find a guy who didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“Didn’t do anything wrong?” War grunts, teeth still bared despite following the lead of Death and reeling in his temper, if only slightly, “He mated with you-“

“Oh, hell, War, don’t say it like that,” Strife complains, grimacing under his visor.

“-and now you carry his child, and he has abandoned you both?”

Biting at the soft flesh inside your cheek, you withhold a frustrated groan and remind yourself that War’s sense of Honour is vastly inflated. The ‘father’ of your child’s ignorance won’t excuse his absence, not in War’s eyes.

Even so, you try to dissuade any ideas of retribution before they can gain traction.

“He didn’t abandon us, War. He probably doesn’t even remember I exist! Goodness knows I can hardly remember that night…” You trail off, lowering your gaze to the floor.

Death’s eyes are suddenly the hardest to meet. You recall your first introduction to Lilith; the self-proclaimed mother of all Nephilim, and subsequently the Horsemen themselves. You know of the demoness’s… reputation. You also know firsthand how much the Eldest Horseman despises her. You’re terrified Death will see something of Lilith in you, that you’d be so liberal with your own body as to end up with a child.

The inside of your eyelids start to burn. “And now everyone is gonna think I’m just some skank who went and got knocked-up by a stranger and… and-… They’re always gonna look at my kid and wonder who the father is. I don’t even know who the father is.”

There are tears prickling at your eyelashes, but you force your hands into fists at your sides, refusing to wipe them away lest your draw attention to them. The Horsemen see anyway.

Light blooms back to its full power across your apartment, your lamps stop trembling, and a pale finger crooks beneath your chin, tilting your head back until you’re peering up at a stoic mask of bone.

Death’s ebony hair falls in curtains around his face as he bends a little to speak to you in a hushed yet urgent tone. “He didn’t…” Hesitating, he draws in an unnecessary breath to fill dead lungs and alters his trajectory. “You were not forced…?”

You wish you didn’t know why that question is so important to Death, why the concept of consent means more to him than it might the others.

“No,” you reiterate miserably, “That’s one thing I do remember. I wanted, uh… it, at the time, a-and so did he. He didn’t know this would happen any more than I did.” You pause to lay a hand over your stomach, furrowing your brow as you give it a pensive stare and missing the way Death’s shoulders slump with relief. After a second or two, you hesitantly raise your chin to look him in the eye again, hoping that what little determination you can inject into your voice will hold strong. “… Look, I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I can’t change things… and… I’m keeping them. I’m sorry, but I’m keeping this baby.”

You hold your breath, expecting arguments, expecting a rebuttal or perhaps even a scoff or two.

“Why would you be sorry for that?” Strife pipes up instead.

It throws you off kilter. Pulling away from Death, you swivel around to frown uncertainly at War and his brother, fiddling with the hem of your jumper’s sleeve. “Well… I mean… I-I’m having the baby…“

When you don’t say anything further, War raises a hand and pulls down his hood, exposing the full extent of his wispy, white hair. “Yes?” he prompts, the unspoken ‘and?’ ringing clear as a bell.

“I’m having the… baby of a… of a man I don’t… know?” you finish slowly, glancing at each of them in turn.

“Big deal!” Strife announces so abruptly, you have to do a double-take, “You don’t need him to help you raise a little human! You’ve got us!”

Nodding her head, Fury adds, “Far be it from me to agree with Strife, but… in this case, he may be right.”

War grunts his own agreement, and when you throw an incredulous look at Death, you’re floored to see him dipping his head in concurrence as well.

“You’re…” Darting your tongue out to wet your dry lips, you squint at the eldest Horseman, asking, “You’re not angry?”

He’s quiet for some time, contemplative even as his gaze roves lower until it comes to a stop on your torso. Then, gently, he replies, “The only qualm I have is that you’ve been trying to bear this weight on your own two shoulders. And while I wish you had told us sooner, at least now we know how to help you.”

“Help me?” you utter, voice cracking.

Death’s eyes dance with a sudden fondness. “Well,” he replies, “As I’m sure Strife has told you repeatedly-“

“- you’re one of us,” said brother butts in, expertly finishing Death’s sentence and stepping up beside you to lay a heavy palm on your shoulder, “We take care of our own. Same goes for your kid.”

You’re too late to stop a choked noise from escaping the base of your throat, but before you can say anything, War steps forwards, towering over you as he pounds a solid, metal fist against his chest, directly over his heart in a show of allegiance.

“You and yours will always have the protection of the Four,” he proclaims.

“You… you don’t have to, you know,” you sniff, swiping a few fingers beneath your eyes, “I signed up for this baby, you guys didn’t. It’s okay if you don’t want to get involved because -“

“-Oh, don’t talk such nonsense,” Fury gruffly interjects, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think either one of us will be leaving your side for the foreseeable future.”

“Fury,” you laugh wetly, aiming a wobbly smile at her, “You mean that?”

The surly Horseman’s lip curls but she merely shrugs and retorts, “I may not care much for children, but someone will have to stick around to teach our youngling how to fight.”

Our youngling…

Your heart squeezes appreciatively, even if she might not have noticed the slip.

“That’s just her way of sayin’ she cares about children if it’s yours,” Strife’s voice murmurs in your ear, and with a gentle nudge at the small of your back, he pushes you towards the sofa his sister has vacated. If Fury hears him, she doesn’t dispute his words.

As you’re herded to sit down, War, ever the more practical of his siblings, is busy casting a rather dissatisfied look around your apartment, making a quick mental note to ramp up fortifications. He’ll have to schedule watches between himself and his siblings too…

“I can’t believe it,” you mutter, half to yourself, half to the Horsemen, sinking down among the cushions of your sofa and shaking your head, “I’ve been so worried about telling you guys I’m pregnant, and you’re just… okay with it.”

“As if we’d be anything else,” Death sighs, roving a quick look over you from head to toe. Squinting slightly, he adds, “Hmm… I’m not, however, okay that you can’t seem to keep food down lately. I take it that’s why you’ve been disappearing so suddenly of late?”

Giving him a sheepish nod, you shuffle to one side, allowing Strife to flop heavily onto the sofa next to you, his enormous thigh squashing you up against the arm rest. “I’ll go for more rations in a bit,” he announces, eager to provide.

“I can go,” you say, “They are for me, after all.”

Burly shoulders bristle in a display of faux authority as Strife instantly argues, “Nuh uh. You’re stayin’ right here where it’s safe.” He grumbles a nonsensical sound, then begrudgingly admits, “Hate you leavin’ at the best of times…”

Despite the niggle of exasperation that begs you to remind them you’re not helpless, just pregnant, you offer him a warm grin and bump your shoulder against his side, saying, “You’re going to make a great uncle, Strife.”

To say the Horseman’s mask almost flies off as he whips his torso around to face you would be an understatement.

You have to lean back, as though pushed away by the sheer intensity of his blazing stare. “What’d you say?” he breathes.

“I… oh, I, er…” Realising you may have overstepped, you swiftly attempt to backtrack. “I mean, that’s not what you have to be called, I was just-“

“-Uncle... That’s the brother of a human’s parent…” His eyes shine like the sun as they bore into you across the sofa. “Right?”

Uncertain, you quirk a brow at him. “Uh, yeah?”

He contemplates that for a second before he asks in a far smaller voice that almost doesn’t sound as if it belongs to the boisterous Horseman you know, “I’m your brother?”

“Of… course?” you blink, surprised that he’d need to even ask that question, “Of course you are. You said it yourself, I’m one of you. Sorry to say it, but that goes both ways. You’re my brother Strife. A-and if you’re okay with it… I’d like you to be this baby’s uncle.” Tearing your eyes off the sharpshooter whilst he none-too subtly coming apart at your side, you send a tentative look up at War, peering at him from under your lashes. “You too, big guy. But! Only if that’s okay with you? I just… want them to grow up knowing who their family is…”

War coughs into a mighty fist, hoping to hide the tiny smile that’s trying to bloom at the sides of his mouth, “In that case, it would be an honour to be acknowledged as the child’s ‘Uncle,’ until my dying breath.”

Always so serious. Giving your head a fond shake, you flash their sister a knowing look and call, “What about Aunt Fury? You on board?”

“Hmph, well,” she shrugs one shoulder, turning to glare at the wall, “It… has a nice ring to it, I suppose.”

You’re not fooled. The way she’s keeps having to wrestle the corners of her lips back into a terse line speaks volumes.

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten about you, Death,” you say, at last addressing the Reaper who is watching the proceeding with a calm, reserved expression. At least until he catches the little smirk lifting your cheeks. “Or should I say, Grandpa Death.”

At once, the Nephilim’s expression flattens, unimpressed. “If you introduce me to that child as ‘Grandpa Death,’ perhaps I won’t be sticking around.”

“Ah, you love it, Gramps, don’t try to deny it,” Strife teases, leaning in to stage-whisper in your ear, “Look at him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the miserable bastard this happy.”

You have to stifle a snicker for Death’s sake. True to form though, while his eldest brother’s fearsome scowl persists when it lingers on Strife, it soon grows soft again upon turning back to you.

And in that one look, shared between a human and the eldest surviving Nephilim, you realise categorically that Death is with you. All of them are. They aren’t worried about your reputation. They won’t concern themselves with the idle gossip of your neighbours.

They’re family, as is the small spark of life steadily growing inside your stomach.

And father or no, your child is still going to grow up under the watchful eye of the Universe's most diligent and protective guardians.

[dailydragon08]

I hate the “no attachments” rhetoric so much and I hate that both Ahsoka and Luke in Mando and TBOBF fell straight back into it. Cuz they especially should know more than anyone that the feelings of isolation, feeling like you’re not in a safe space to healthily process your emotions—which requires actually feeling them and being in an environment where you’re allowed to feel them—and feeling like you have a support system where you can speak your feelings without judgment to get guidance and support is REQUIRED for Jedi to stay on the light side. Cuz loneliness, feeling like a burden, feeling like if you have one bad emotion it makes you all bad because of rules around feelings that are unrealistic and too rigorous makes you way more susceptible to the dark side.

Trying to beat bad emotions out of people completely is unrealistic. Expecting literal children to not feel those feelings and just know what to do with them cuz you’ve created a space where those feelings are forbidden is unrealistic. Pushing feelings and emotions down and “burying” them (re: obi wan telling luke “bury your feelings deep down” in ROTJ) and expecting those people to be perfectly healthy is unrealistic. Wanting this level of control over people, their thoughts, and their emotions, and this black and white thinking is not only toxic and dangerous, but is akin to cult culture. The PT era Jedi were extremists in this way and just too blind and couldn’t accept any criticism enough to see it because for some reason, a bunch of old guys decided evolution was not allowed and they’d just keep running the system the same way they always had with no room for change and that would somehow be this foolproof path to survival—which is a complaint a lot of people have about our current irl political system and is causing a lot of damage, btw.

Like wasn’t that the whole point of showing the Jedi’s fall? And doesn’t clone wars especially show how this thinking created all these cracks in the system that Palpatine was easily able to exploit and manipulate and Anakin was just someone who wanted change in the order and he was ostracized for it, so Palpatine latched onto him and Anakin was like “oh finally someone values me,” just to be manipulated and abused and have his whole life blown up to the point that he thought the empire was his only option (obv not excusing the atrocities, just saying I can see how he got to where he did mentally by ROTS)? Like he literally tells Luke that they can team up to overthrow the emperor and in ROTJ, when Luke tries to get him to run with him pre-throne room battle, he says “it’s too late for me,” so he KNOWS this is bad and only going to get worse, but has resigned himself to it.

Like wasn’t the whole point of the OT and the “I can’t kill my own father/there’s still good in him/I can turn him back to the good side” meant to prove that Jedi DO NEED healthy connections in order to thrive and stay on the light side? If they wanna forbid anything, they should be forbidding possession and control, but the PT Jedi Council instead used that for their own benefit and lacked any self awareness to see they’d just become what they were preaching against.

Like give me a post-OT Jedi council who teaches healthy connection and letting things go that aren’t meant for you to control and that friendships and relationships can be powerful things that bring you back to the light in your darkest moments, and a more Legends-esque New Jedi Order that values emotional health and well-being and is a safe space for not only the galaxy, but Force sensitives, no matter how they’re built instead of trying to force everyone into the same box. This is the order I wanted to see Luke cultivate in canon and I will forever be salty that this isn’t what we got.

[uhgood-girl]

people are having a lot of interpretations on the line jk used in his apple music interview my views were different but messed not clear when he said I will never cross the lines with armys which a singer or artist should maintain everyone taken it as he is saying he will not use them for his benefit, sexual desires, hook up nd all crap they assumed but I don't think he want to say that can u please explain ur point of view not share it please.

hi anon, i hope you can forgive that i'm not sure how to answer this without sharing it? maybe i was supposed to post about it unprompted but to be perfectly honest, the quote in question didn't stick out to me at all before this.

i personally haven't seen any discourse over it either and am confused as to why there would be any as it seems within the lines of the normal boundary setting most of the members have done at some point or another to me.

but to be fair to you and this ask, i went back and watched it again just to make sure i didn't miss anything. the section being discussed starts around 26:13 and ends around 27:40 and in summary the interviewer asks jk about the special relationship bts have with army, how unique and symbiotic it is and what is jk's favorite part about this dynamic. jk answers that he agrees it's very special and how it's important to him personally to continue to try and have "authentic and comfortable" convos with army that show a real version of him. he adds the disclaimer that he knows that there's a line that shouldn't be crossed between performer and audience and he won't cross it but he wants to be our "friend" as much as he can.

so, do i think the "line" he has no intention of crossing here refers to not using army for his benefit/sexual desires/hook ups? uh, no, i'm with you anon, i don't think that's what he meant at all. but not because that line doesn't exist for him, i think it does, but like, that goes without saying, right? assuming jk is a decent human being who would never use his fame or money to unfairly take advantage of anyone, which is something i hope we're all on the same page about here as i don't know why anyone would ever willingly be a fan of someone they thought with high probability would do such a thing, would that not be saying the quiet part out loud? is there some group of genuinely delusional y/n's in a foxhole some where needing this spelled out still? (rhetorical, please don't make me think about saesangs today)

i put quotations around the word "friend" up there because at the end of the day, there will always be a (needed) barrier between idol/artist/performer and fan and jk can't really be our friend in the true sense of the word, which he's aware of. the nature of this type of relationship as a whole already maintains a weird, fluctuating power imbalance between both parties as one cannot exist without the other and you won't get very far, on the artist side of things especially, without understanding this.

but jk has kind of, sort of already crossed some "lines" with us in how willing he has been to show and share so much of himself with us, over the last year, in particular. in case you just fell off the turnip truck yesterday, as my very southern grandmother would say, getting to witness someone as famous and untouchable as jk chilling in real time in their home and bed even, is highly unusual. most celebrities with that level of status wouldn't be caught dead sharing something like that and understandably so, tbh, as most fans couldn't handle that level of intimacy with their idol. hell, a lot of people who consider themselves fans these days apparently can't handle it either, which makes me very sad and tbh how dare you potentially ruin the trust so many of us have spent years building up with them. rude. taking things for granted is how you lose them and the special relationship bts and army share only stays special with effort, but i digress.

i think jk's disclaimer here was an assurance that he's very aware of what he has chosen to share could be perceived by some as having already gone too far but that his boundaries are still firmly in place. "authentic and comfortable" are a priority to him but he's not going to exceed our shared comfort zone. he may be a lot more candid than some, say seokjin, who may as well be an international man of mystery for as much as he's willing to show off the clock in comparison, but jk knows what he's doing. and considering how young he started and how long he's been in the spotlight, he seems exceptionally well adjusted and savvy overall at navigating these extremely tumultuous waters, imo.

anyway, respect your artists as human beings and know your own fan boundaries, folks. there's always some nuance to be had, especially on a site like this where it's a mostly contained bubble for us, the audience, to throw around our fiction and theories and odes to how beautiful they all are but when you leave this space with any of that (minus the odes, maybe) and put it in front of these very real people in question, you've gone too far. don't be that asshole. everyone despises that asshole. (including said artists! they're never going to say it that frankly but i will ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

[sansloii]

Meta + enemy (Andris)

Andris isn't someone that typically likes to make enemies, especially in the workplace. He has some bite to him but if he's being perfectly honest with himself, biting is a hassle and it can potentially lead to a lot more trouble than he's willing to deal with at a given moemnt. That, and the man is a people pleaser.... so the first instinct, for him, isn't to.... show anyone who's boss or anything like that ( because people should know that much already ). It's to make himself likeable — it's to shmooze and maybe be a bit of a kiss ass if he feels like sweetening the interaction a little more. of course, it's not like... people aren't able to see right through Andris, because those tendencies are amplified when he knows it's going to benefit him and that he's going to get something out of it. it's not overly done or saturated with fake kindness or a "customer service" act ( thought, he'll call it that ) — it's him being personable. It's him being relatable. It's him dressing down a little bit and, you know... pretending that in that moment, he isn't just doing it to make you soften up a lil bit and be a little bit more open to talking with him.

now that said, we're under no impression here that Andy's lil facade is impenetrable. it's not easy to tell when on/off but if you've got like... a seasoned bullshit detector, you should be able to tell when Andris is on/off day-to-day or at least have some idea. And you'll realize how much Andris is "on" when he's interacting with others...even with people that he gets along with ( at work and sometimes... not at work ). *That's* what usually makes people side-eye him and that constant knowledge — that constant awareness that Mr.Jansone--is just....putting this carefully curated, only slightly flawed first foot forward and nothing else :)

now... this isn't enough to make enemies out of someone and andris usually is pretty good about minimally engaging with people that *know* he's like this and will probably give him shit for it ( for example, Joseph — although Joseph is just very judgemental and doesn't really say anything ). where that rears its ugly head is Andris' penchant for being condescending and using rhetoric that intentionally can piss people off. to illustrate this easier, we're going to also use dakota's manner of being condescending because they approach it in two different ways. say we have someone who... they feel is saying things that are untrue about some sort of deal or contract or prior discussion during a meeting. it's clear that both sides are in a little bit of a disagreement of what the actual truth is and thus, we have this dilemma.

first we have dakota.

she will say something to the effect of "Actually, what we discusssed and what you're saying now are two different things. I'm not sure where your version of events are coming from but it's clear that you need something clarified for you. Isn't that right?"

next is andris. he will respond with something to the effect of "I don't recall that being apart of our previous discussions and it seems we're on two, vastly different pages. If you'd like, I'm more than willing to go over the facts of your situation with you so no one here is confused about where you stand."

dakota is very direct and speaking in general plain terms. she's not pleased, the recalled event is wrong, and she will clarify it for them. andris is still direct but the tone of his words is softer and said person must be confused, must need his "help" to fully understand things, needs him to be but a humble person guiding them... despite the fact that in both cases, they are calling the other person incompetent at best. it's that type of terminology that really needles its way under some people's skin and given that Andris has to do that anyway with his subordinates, he just keeps it on if you just so happen to be someone he really doesn't like and can probably get away with talking as such to. like dakota, he talks down to people. and, for someone in his position, that can earn him a bit of a reputation.

@royaletiquette | send META + a word, name, or phrase for a headcanon

[whimsicalpoet44]

Currently in the life of a Cycle Breaker | Spiritual Person 😂

This is a rant | sarcasm induced rage (kinda) | trauma dump because I'm exhausted and no one else understands this path except other astrology/spiritual people. And if I said this to the average person they'd look at me like I had lost my mind but it's decades worth of knowledge I've accumulated over time after consulting with other spiritual mentors\teachers.

If you don't agree that's fine. This has just been my experience and I can talk about any of it if you so wish, because there's a toxic rhetoric associated with a lot of things in the spiritual community, but it's just been misconstrued and idolized, resulting in misinformation. And it's extremely dangerous to spread said misinformation without doing thorough research and offering proper education on the topic. And if you believe I'm wrong, I invite you to educate me, because I always want to consider other viewpoints and be respectful.

Your beliefs might not align with mine and that's okay. I have friends in various spiritual circles and we all relate on some level even though our practices are very different. I have friends that are Christians, Witches, Christian Witches (Surprisingly), Pagans, Buddhists, Root Workers, Atheists, etc. But ultimately, we all feel called to a hyper-specific path and purpose, and we lean on one another. My hopes is to extend a piece of my journey to you all to create a sense of community if you're in need of one. No matter what your beliefs are.

Not to mention, I feel like it's relevant because so many placements correlate with an interest in the occult and mysticism. But I never really see anyone talk about them together.

Me in my fourth house profection year after working through my Saturnian lessons in my 2nd and 3rd house year, with my Saturn return on the horizon preparing to knock me on my ass while I battle the figurative demons of maternal generational trauma. While also implementing the lessons I learned regarding Saturn in the 3rd House by readying myself to unleash my truth in the form of a poetry book. While also grieving the unmet needs of my inner child due to grief associated with a parent I never got to know.

Then the Universe decides to drop kick a strange synchronicity regarding my twin flame after he's been haunting my dreams FOR THE PAST YEAR after I haven't thought about him in like five years. But I didn't know he was my twin flame (And that's just a very confusing topic with a lot of nuance that I took a very long time to examine and dissect carefully because spiritual psychosis is a thing, but I've made a determination after consulting with my mentors. I can talk more about this if yall want. Specifically from an astrological standpoint) and the math starts mathing. Because the coincidences no longer feel like coincidences.

But now Idk wtf this means and it's confusing. Because I'm also working through lessons with a karmic, to which we are both very aware that we are each others' karmics and we're ok with that because we make better friends anyways and have agreed it was a relationship of convienece while we sort our own shit out. (not ideal but we were literal teenagers when we got together + inflation is a thing so it's what works right now)

All in the midst of a career change, trying to get certified in astrology, and learn tarot, while also beginning a path of working with Hekate (I can also talk about this if anyone wants more info) and constantly arguing with my ancestors because they want me to complete my lessons quicker than I am, but I have to kindly humble them that I'm undoing the trauma they left behind. While also helping my niece break generational curses in the midst.

And I find no peace in my sleep because I accidentally astral project every other night because I have a 12th house stellium. Or my twin is barging in my perfectly peaceful dreams out of no where, to which I'm instantly annoyed about. So I'm always exhausted.

But I really just want to get my Saturn return over with and get to this glow up everyone raves about and experience a tiny sliver of peace for five seconds. 😅

Sooo, follow along the hot mess express to watch a Saturn return happen in real time to a Cap Rising to see what it entails and how much my life falls a part in the process.

But for real though, I like to be open with all of you. We all have our own path and it consists of different things. Not all of us will adopt the same ideologies or opinions about certain things in the spiritual world. And that's okay. To each their own, as long as you aren't condoning abuse, culturally appropriating, or talking down to others, whatever your path consists of is okay!

But seriously, know the signs of spiritual psychosis. Dissect spiritual ideologies you hear about online with a fine tooth comb. Consult experienced spiritualists or mentors. Find a community you can trust. And I'm going to say it again - don't culturally appropriate.

Also, don't jump headfirst into something you don't know anything about. Especially regarding paganism and witchcraft. Research. Consult others. Listen to your intuition.

I'm happy to answer any questions you all might have! (Just remember though, it might take me some time to get to everyones questions, but I will get to all of them). My take on things will likely be very different from another spiritualists', but that's ok. You learn by asking and seeing if it resonates.

I've been on this path for quite some time, and felt like it was the right time to share some of what I know, in hopes it will help someone else that's in the same spot I was in years ago.

Especially if you're an 8th/9th/12th Houser, you could be pushed to adopt new belief systems. Yours doesn't have to look like mine, but I'm happy to share my journey about how I landed where I ended up landing with my belief system and how I was sure it was right for me.

It doesn't feel right to keep it to myself. So please, ask away. I was also hesitant to share this because of others' pre-conceived ideas and beliefs, but I know there's someone else out there feeling how I was feeling in the beginning.

Not me finishing this hearing a literal owl hooting outside my window. 💀😂😂

[act-novel]

Development Notes #1 | Reality Layer Zero

Note: This development notes entry was originally posted to act-novel.itch.io on August 17th, 2022. It has been carried over to this blog for posterity.

Hello. This is Garrett Thompson, sole member of Act-Novel.

It’s been a little over two months since Reality Layer Zero was officially announced. I’d like to take a moment now to write more at-length about the project and discuss how development will progress over the next several months.

Reality Layer Zero, as stated previously, is a card-based debating RPG. In more plain language, it’s a card game with debate-inspired rules. Making arguments, criticizing your opponent, defending your points, and other aspects of verbal debate are represented mechanically by the rules of the game. Additionally, cards level-up and grow stronger as you progress through the story, and you’re free to choose which ones to use and which ones to ignore.

The debating system is loosely based on a model for persuasion that Aristotle put forward in The Art of Rhetoric. The three modes—Logos, Ethos, and Pathos—as well as the concept of an “Enthymeme”—can be traced directly to that work.

Core to the design of this system is the theme of deceptive communication. As required by the rules of the game, both players must declare their intention to their opponent. By “intention”, I mean the following: Debates are won by resonating (scoring) arguments. This can only be done if the cost of the argument can be met. This cost is clearly printed on the argument card itself. This means that both sides are aware of the opponent’s objective. Consequently, both players can guess at what kind of cards their opponent might want to play to reach that objective—and, conversely, what kinds of cards they are less likely to play.

However, both players’ hands are mutually invisible, so it’s possible for either player to make surprising or unexpected decisions. There’s an interesting tension to this that I think mirrors real-life communication in some ways—if not perfectly, then hopefully at least enough to be interesting!

The RPG system surrounding the debate system is decidedly more “genre” in inspiration, but I hope you’ll forgive a degree of unoriginality in exchange for the expressive potential these genre staples bring to the experience.

A person can be thought of as a collection of ideas. Some of those ideas are more developed, while others are less developed. Questions of which ideas get developed, why those ideas (in particular) are developed, and how the development of certain ideas (versus others) changes the options available to a person—these are, I think, uniquely ripe for examination under the lens of this familiar style of progression system.

The answers to the questions posed above are likely subjective—variable from person to person. Thus, I hope I can give players a satisfactory degree of freedom to explore them in a similarly subjective capacity. By that, I basically just mean that I’d like to add lots of different argument cards and give players a lot of different ways to approach similar challenges. It’s one of my personal development goals.

Speaking of development, the production of Act I is currently well underway. At this time of writing, I anticipate completing the “core” of development in late September or early October. Once complete, my attention will shift almost exclusively to audio production, which I anticipate will take an additional three months or so. Add an additional month or two on the end of that to concentrate on rebalancing the gameplay, fixing any bugs that appear in testing, and adding additional polish, and Act I will be completed. It will then release as a free demo, as is currently the convention for such things.

Please note that overshooting projections happens to be a special skill of mine. However, barring significant unforeseen delays, that’s a rough estimate for when it might be available.

Thank you very much for your interest in this project. Thoughts or questions are welcome, as always, and I hope to see you around when Act I comes out!

[atzsslut]

ateez as sensual korean songs

warnings | includes smut/suggestive, explicit descriptions based on the song chosen, all these songs are bangers idfc (includes kpop and krnb)

smut | fem/afab reader, includes details of sex, somewhat dom!ateez, explicitly mentioned kinks, daddy/sir kink, sensory kinks, mentions of bdsm, voyeurism, etc.

smut under the cut, minors do not interact

Kim Hongjoong is ♪ “Feel Like” by WOODZ ♪

The song is smooth, sexy, and has one of the best guitar riffs I’ve personally heard in a Korean song (and gfriend’s navillera)—and perfectly describes Hongjoong in bed.

Beautifully musical and absolutely sultry. Although he doesn’t treat you exactly like his members, he brings certain “leader” characteristics in the bedroom that you absolutely adore.

Domineering, in control, but always having his senses alert to know exactly what you want. Joong considers you his muse, and would do anything to make you know that every time.

And just like the lyrics, Joong is also very much always captivated by you. Especially the chorus when it reads “I feel like you”, you both cross that line of absolute intimacy that increases the pleasure, as if you’re one soul in two people.

Is it also too late to mention that Hongjoong seems to have a little bit of a bondage kink? Nothing painful, but he likes to see you decorated for him.

“You pull me in like a magnet, you know that?” the question almost rhetorical, since you both knew it was a ‘yes’, “Every inch of you leaves a sweet flavor on my tongue, darling. It’s sinful.”

Park Seonghwa is ♪ “Peaches” by KAI ♪

Just like the song, the soft yet beat-filled flow explained his sex completely. Seonghwa is intimate and almost treats you like you’ll break, but even when he’s rough, he knows that he’s only piecing you together with pleasure.

The lyrics perfectly explain his attitude as well. He loved to compliment you, praise you, but it was all so dirty. It was all so sexual. And only Seonghwa could be your sin and your paradise at the same time.

Hwa liked things that were sweet. And to him, you were the sweetest of them all. He even liked to call you ‘peaches’ as a pet name.

But you drank him up just as much as he did you, pleasuring one another until it was light out because you both couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

Seonghwa loved to kiss you as he fucked you, tasting your soft lips as the sweetness spreads in his mouth, his tongue entangling with yours.

Whenever he was inside you, whether it was his tongue, fingers, or cock, you already felt like you were overflowing from how good it felt.

“Am I the bad guy? Am I the one to blame for how vulgar you’ve become, peaches?“ he chuckled, his ring and middle finger knuckles-deep inside your sopping cunt. Even though you were too engrossed into the lust to answer, he knew the answer—and he liked being the bad guy.

Jung Yunho is ♪ “Light a Flame” by SVT ♪

This may sound weird to say, but Yunho has sex like the way he dances—filled with confidence, just enough energy, and undeniably attractive.

SVT always does sensual songs with a clear pace and soft, yet significant beat. Trust that Yunho always likes pacing pleasure. He isn’t too slow or too fast, but he likes seeing you writhe or feeling everything you were doing to him.

He doesn’t like missing any second that he makes you react. He drinks in every moan, whimper, mewl, and word that you let out for him. All for him.

The song has a lot of references to heating up, fire, excitement from a lover, lighting a flame—and that’s exactly how he makes you feel. Yunho was this presence you couldn’t shake off, and he was well aware of the power he possessed.

Though not necessarily a different person in bed, compared to his “golden retriever” everyday personality, Yunho let lust and love take over when he was in bed.

See, Yunho had a bit of a size kink. No, he didn’t care about your weight, body measurements, or whatever—but as long as he felt like he was looming over you, it drove him mad.

Yunho, who had just clarified his height in the WIRED interview, was more or less 190cm. And he used that to his liking during sex. He enjoyed caging you in between his arms or, when he was feeling spicier, making you play with yourself while he’s standing up on the edge of the bed watching. (Is it too late to mention that Yunho likes a little bit of voyeurism?)

“Did I say you could stop?” the words rolling of his tongue, not matching his sweet tone of voice, “Come on, doll. I know you can give me a little more.”

Kang Yeosang is ♪ “DDD” by EXID ♪

The song’s about being underestimated and questioning “How can you laugh at me right now? I’ll make sure you shut up”—AND THAT’S EXACTLY what Yeosang is like.

What do I mean? Well, Yeosang is unexpectedly good at sex and he surprises you every time. In a way, he almost loves it since it feels like he’s reminding you of your place.

He can make you tremble. From a single hair on your head to the tips of your toes, Yeosang knows how to play your body like a Flute and often is on the “Giving” end.

Some people from the outside might assume that Yeosang’s more of the sub, since he’s always listening to you, subconsciously agrees with you, and lets you kind of take him anywhere.

But when the doors are closed, you’re on your knees from him, nodding obediently at every command and wanting desperately to make him feel good. When he feels like it, Yeosang can be a bit mean.

“Aw, baby. You’re shaking. Am I making you feel good?” he teases at your state while he’s still continuously rubbing your clit. When you answer with a breathless ‘yes’, he stops and licks his fingers clean only to say “Then, beg for it.”

Choi San is ♪ “Tail” by SUNMI ♪

Something to know about San was that when he was crazy about the person he was having sex with, there would be no way for you to dislike whatever he was doing. And he was the type to fall hard, and fast, if it was with somebody in particular.

You were the person in particular.

Cause he made everything feel like fucking Heaven on your body, but it also felt so wrong because of how dirty he was. Like what the song alludes, San was feisty like a cat and had a curled up, devilish smile that you had fallen for.

A colour that perfectly described sex with San was red. He was your flame, and he made your body heat up like no other. Not to mention, he had a particular talent for teasing and foreplay.

Which would be amazing, except that San also had a definite edging kink.

He’s also a switch, but prefers to be the dominant most of the time. And even as the sub, he was bratty and had demands of his own, clawing into you with lust.

Being in bed with San was also not particularly fast, but it was heightened and was satisfactory to your libido, any night spent with him easily replaying in your head until the next. He was that fucking good.

San also has a definitive daddy/sir kink, preferably daddy. But, he also really, really likes it when you moan “Sannie” while begging. So cute, yet so lewd.

“Say my name, sweetheart.” he smirked, liking your panting state just from his fingers working your pussy, “Say it, or I’ll stop and you won’t cum for a week.”

Song Mingi is ♪ “Bambi” by BAEKHYUN ♪

Sex with Mingi is like a fairytale. It’s unreal, magical, but most importantly—romantic.

Even when tracing back to when you first met Mingi, it felt like you had known him for ages. And when he first touched you, just for more than a kiss, it felt familiar. Like rain on your skin dripping from the edge of an umbrella after a busy day.

Out of all the members, it seems like Mingi is the gentlest one—but that doesn’t exactly stray him away from being vulgar.

Mingi is a definite switch (I will not accept any arguments on this), but even when he’s bottomed out, he still has the upper hand. He remains the one in control, especially when he slightly bucks his hips into you when it’s unwarranted.

“Bambi” is a very, very sultry and sexy song. The beat is gentle, the vocals are only powerful at times and yet still so restrained—and it perfectly describes Mingi in bed.

He loves having you close, as if he’s afraid to be apart from you even on the same bed. He also loves pacing out sex, as if on a constant tempo, but it’s exactly the right timing to make you feel every single thing he does to you.

Mingi, after all, had a thing for sensory play. Whether it was with temperature, or you were blindfolded, he definitely enjoyed the thrill.

“All I want is you and me, baby.” he whispered as he pushed into you, making your back arch and eyes shut from his size, “Especially when you feel this fucking good all the time.”

Jung Wooyoung is ♪ “Love Talk” by WayV ♪

specifically the english version !!!!

Indecent, risque, filthy, pornographic—all those words described Wooyoung's attitude when it came to sex. As the song reads, "touch me, tease me, feel me up", Wooyoung likes to urge you and your desires. Because he knows it's what you both want.

It wasn't that Woo was gentle, but he's very, very sensual. He likes the closeness of sex, the fact that it breaks personal space and he's in such a close proximity to you.

With hooded eyes, he especially likes to be above you, drinking in your appearance. He likes to see you flustered, which you eventually feel when he's breathing down your body, occasionally kissing before finally taking you whole.

He's also a mother fucking deviant. He's cocky, maybe sometimes too full of it, and knows damn well that he makes you feel good. He knows exactly how to get your attention, but knows just as much that he wouldn't live without it. Without you.

Also, he's definitely got a daddy kink.

"I'm out front, baby." he spoke through the phone, the sudden 11pm phone call making you jolt out of bed. "I don't think it's good to keep daddy waiting for too long at the door."

Choi Jongho is ♪ “Bad Boy” by Red Velvet ♪

listening to this song slowed is another experience, trust me.

Being the youngest in ATEEZ, Jongho had some pride to him that he had to be the best you’ve ever had. No matter what. And he surely was.

The specific lyric in the beginning about the boy having a nonchalant expression, and it resides accurately with Jongho’s attitude.

Of course, he’s sweet and treats you with great care and respect, but because of his obsession to be the dominant, it adds on to his generally cold impression. Which, you had to admit, was hot.

He had a habit of staring into your eyes, keeping eye contact throughout whatever he was doing to you, enjoying how shy you got from his undivided attention. Especially when he was nose deep into your cunt, lapping at your clit feverishly as if he had never tasted you before.

And the song speaks on how alluring you are, which is why Jongho took interest in the first place, but he is just as much. He caught your attention first, he pulled you in first, and only then was he falling for you that he no longer wanted to get away.

Mesmerizing, desirable, and fun. All of those explained sex with Jongho. Despite the fact he was definitely matured, he was still maturing. You’re both still young and understanding the ins and outs of sex, but you’re doing it together.

He doesn’t particularly know if he likes being called daddy/sir yet, and still prefers his name as long as he was in charge. Though, if you moaned it, he liked it.

“Babe, you need to hold still for me.” Jongho teasingly laughed, carefully tying the rope around your ankles according to the instructions he read earlier, “Your squirming is making it obvious that you’re turned on.”

[luvsicksubs]

 ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

sweethearts - bakugo katsuki 

wc: 1.6k 

cw: pegging / anal fingering, degradation, dacryphilia, sub!space, dom!reader (afab but i dont think there’s anything gendered?), using the word cunt for bakugo,  pro-hero!bakugo, and a lot of super fluffy aftercare at the end. 

“Y-you’re so — hic — so fuckin’ mean,” 

Your laugh is warm - too warm for something like this. With Bakugos face pressed firmly into your shoulder, strong arms wrapped around your neck - your laughter feels cruel. It sounds sweet but Bakugo knows better than to fall for it - aware of the irony in his words as your hands grip the meat of his thighs. Your fingers are bruising as they hold onto the muscle, legs lifted and wrapped your back with his calves twitching and trembling. 

You’re trying to hold in your amusement - refocusing your eyes on Bakugo in this state. Your favorite pro-hero’s expression, normally so stoic and cold now broken. Skin flushed red from the tips of his ears down to his chest - warmth running down his back in waves. He’s sobbing poor thing, nails scratching up your back without remorse.  

In an effort to get him to show some submission, you pull out full-stop. Bakugo gasps at the emptiness, whimpering as your heavy eyes watch his hole tremble. So pretty and so desperate, the feeling of hot plastic is replaced with strong hands - angular and plunging. You lay him on his back and lean back yourself, your fingers teasing and prodding the sensitive ring of muscle. It’s sore, red and puckered from exhaustion - stretches all too easily around your thin fingers. 

But it’s more precise this way, Bakugo realizes in half-terror and half-lust - eyes flickering down to your middle and and ring fingering scissoring him open. Not a tight fit by any means but Bakugo clamps down on you anyway. You laugh at him, can’t help yourself as your hand presses down on his belly. 

“You’re so mouthy, aren’tcha brat?,” you tease, pressing a kiss to the calf at your face, resting your cheek on it as you position Bakugos hips up using a pillow. His cock weeps pathetically onto the muscle of his stomach, red and burning and aching. Everything in him feels warn out and he can’t do anything but sob - not a thought running through his mind other than missing having you inside. 

“So damn disobedient but this always shuts you right the fuck up, doesn’t it baby?,” and the question is rhetorical - always is. Your fingers are angled directly at his prostate so perfectly, practically milking the orgasms out of his body with only one hand. Everything is too much. 

“Too much - ‘s too much, fuck,”  

He’s thrashing, arms desperately clawing into the sheets for life as you easily work another orgasm out of him like this. He’s lost count, doesn’t even care to know as he feels your other hand simply brush against his sore cock. He can’t breath, half choking out a sob as his body floods to weakly spurt out a thin stream of cum, if you could even call it that. 

“See? Didn’t talk back even one time right there, did you?,” and your hands, cruel as ever - draw a line in the cum that coats his stomach and the sheets. He shivers, eyes welling up with tears of shame.  

“This is the only way pretty boys like you know how to cum right?,” you ask, hand landing on his and leaving another familiar print in your wake. The pain jolts him awake, makes him drool. 

“Like your body was made for me to fuck ‘n use like a little toy, right Katsuki? Pretty little hole you got is begging to get fucked all over again,” 

“I don’ like it, swear I don’t, swear  — fuck,” 

You grin - so much spitfire in your sweet brat. You take pleasure in pulling your fingers out and thrusting them right back in, massaging his g-spot with intensity in your gaze. His eyes shoot open, frantically searching for your face in pure need before seeing your feral expression and swallowing. 

“Liar. You love it when I use you.  So pretty and perfect like this,” 

You lean up, the weight of your body pressed against his - lubed plastic cock grinding hard against his own. He bites his lip hard enough for it to swell moments after, arms desperately coming around your body for support as he loses strength. Fuckfuckfuck. 

“Tell me you love it - tell me how much you love when I ruin this pretty lil cunt baby,” 

Bakugo swallows a heavy breath as his body tightens up. Your hands feel good but it’s not enough, he knows he needs more. His body trembles, throat hoarse as he sobs and sniffles into your chest. Bruises and hickies blooming all over his skin create a hazy buzz in his head as panicked eyes find yours - gasping as he desperately tries to find his voice. A hand wrapped around his throat has him shaking violently. 

“I love it — hic — fuck.. fuck me already,” he chokes out the words between sobs, fat tears sliding down his face and onto the sheets as his hands lock around your shoulders - desperately searching for reprieve. His ass is grinding against the strap even more eagerly than before, cock almost limp and making a wet noise as it moves against his belly. 

The tip of your cock presses right against his hole, and you grin. A hand around his throat, another pressed on his stomach - you lean low. Teeth catching his ear lobe, you whisper. 

“Say please, Katsuki.” 

“Fuck, please!,” 

Like something had been triggered in you, you immediately pull-back and slam back in one fluid motion. Bakugo cries out - moans so brokenly in a silent scream as you set a violent pace. He uses his hands to hold his legs up, afraid of what’ll happen if he doesn’t as you jackhammer him into the bed. The mattress ricochets off your every movement - headboard banging loudly against the walls. But Bakugo’s voice is louder, lewd and desperately croaking about how fucking good it all feels. His cock stands to attention again - and the pleasure drowns out the blurry pains of overstimulation like a drug. You grit your teeth as the friction of the strap grinds against your clit. 

Your hand pumps Bakugo’s cock furiously as you fuck him, and Bakugo has given up on doing anything but repeating your name like a prayer. His incantations send shivers up your spine as you grunt into his ear - your own orgasm mere seconds away. 

“One more yeah? Give me one fuckin’ more - be a good little cumslut for me and give me one more baby,” 

“Oh, god,” 

Almost in tandem, you reach your orgasm only seconds after your boyfriend reaches his. You nearly choke at how hard you cum, lungs burning as pleasure curls through your body and you’re groaning into neck. Panting desperately, you lift your head-up to meet Bakugos with a soft smile

You kiss his jaw softly, smiling. 

“You did so well baby,” you hum against his throat, brushing his hair back. 

“Let’s get you fixed up,” 

__

[ after-care ] 

You would argue this is the best part. After fucking the daylights out of your bratty boyfriend - he’s half-way there as you kiss and massage his body. He’s pliant, dizzy - somewhat gaining his consciousness. He can only half-find it in himself to argue with you as you take care of him. He succumbs to your touch and silently plants himself in your lap or otherwise as you do. In the bath, he spent ample time having you hold him and scratch his scalp as you wash it. 

When he wanted kisses, he simply looks up at you - vermilion eyes catching light as you laugh lightly and kiss whatevers closest. He only closes his eyes against when he’s satisfied with it. The warm water helps him feel steady, relaxing into the water. 

You dry his hair off in the bathroom before transpiring back to your bedroom - where Bakugo curls up exhaustedly in the corner as you fix up the sheets and get him to lay down. 

You talk idly as you rub lotion down his body - watching his eyes flutter close. Your hands go over all the marks, bruises, bites and scratches with soft kisses before paying special attention to them. For the first time since you’ve finished, you get a sentence out of him. 

“You’re a demon,” he slurrs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh, you hands squeezing his pecks before bending down to kiss him. A glass of water by the bed-side prompts him to sit up and drink before leaning against the frame. 

“Nice to see you, baby,” you joke. You grown serious just as fast, sitting between his legs with his face in your hands - observing him. 

“How do you feel, angel?,” 

His eyes flutter open - sleepy and full of vulnerable adoration. You’ve fucked the fight out of him, literally so he’s in no place to deny your affection. He yawns. 

“‘s fine, stupid. ‘m okay. Are you?,” 

Your heart flutters. Sometimes he reminds you in little ways like this that this goes both ways. You nod, hold one of his hands in yours. 

“I’m fine. Worried I was too rough on you, or too mean,” 

He scoffs, almost offended. 

“Who’dya take me for,” comes his reply. You laugh, softly placing his forehead against his - shrugging. 

“Right, right,” you hum, leaning forward to kiss him deep and slow. Everything is still, slow and perfect. He opens his eyes, overcome by his own emotions and hugs you tiredly. 

“Love you, dumbass,” he chokes. You yawn as he clings to you, kissing the crown of his head. 

“I love you too, Katsuki,” 

 ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

[atlafan]

Juvenile and Family Law, is it something that a kid dreams of practicing? No, not really. Is that where the big bucks are if you’re not interested in taxes and wills? Yes, it is. College is expensive, and so is law school; gotta pay it off somehow. It takes a while to build your clientele, a lot of it is word of mouth. You work your way up, and slowly but surely, build a good reputation for yourself. And if you’re lucky, you’ll make partner.

Harry Styles is good at his job, and is on the brink of making partner at his firm. Gallagher, Hilson & Associates Family Law is a great place to work. Isaiah Gallagher and Maria Hilson are two incredible lawyers, and the other associates Harry works with aren’t too bad either. He doesn’t always love working nearly sixty hours a week, and some of the cases he handles have caused him to see the bottom of one too many bottles, but other than that, he’s happy.

Family Law means working all kinds of cases. Custody, spousal support, paternity, and divorce. All of those cases are messy, rarely are they clean cut. Harry happens to specialize in divorce, which in turn can lead to all of the other things listed above. What’s worse is that a lot of his clients will often flirt with him, so he’s started to wear a fake wedding band to ward off any and all inappropriate behavior. It doesn’t happen every time, but it was often enough that he decided to find a way to just avoid the unwanted attention.

Due to how many hours he works a week, Harry’s social life is a little lackluster. By the time he gets home work, all he wants to do is kick his shoes off, plop down on the couch with some greasy Chinese food, and catch up on some television. He lives in a nice enough building in the city. His apartment has one bedroom, and one and half baths. On Friday nights, he’ll go out with some of the other associates for a drink, so he gets a bitof social time in. He’s not lonely, he actually quite enjoys the quiet and solitude. He’s got a cat, Gerry, short for Geraldine that he takes care of. He has what he needs, and he’s perfectly content.

Whenever he dates, people always want to talk about his work. The last thing Harry wants to talk about after a long day at work, is more work. So, he sticks to meaningless hookups, and his own hand, when he needs that type of release.

He doesn’t have too much to complain about. He’s thirty, and massively successful. Some of his friends still live at home while working retail jobs, not that he’s judging. He was twenty-six when he moved out, and he’s grateful his parents let him stay rent free so he could save up for his own place. He doesn’t like to compare himself to others, but it makes him feel good to know he’s all set. He works hard, yes, but it’s all worth it.

//

With how quiet his personal life is, it’s hard to imagine Harry being a shark in the courtroom, but he is. He’s a master in the art of persuasion and rhetoric. Having been a communication major in his undergrad career, and all. He knows how to read a room, and how to read people. The jury is just an audience waiting to watch a live performance. His theater minor also comes in handy here. Being a lawyer is an act, a role he plays. He knows how to play the part when it’s in a large courtroom, or when it’s just a small meeting in a conference room to divide up assets. It’s not always easy, but he makes it look that way. Harry typically wins most of his cases, and when it’s something small, he’s usually able to get his client the majority of what they asked for. Every customer leaves happy.

These skills can’t all be taught and learned. Some people are born with natural talent, skills they learn to hone in on and perfect. It’s a craft that Harry has worked on for years. Again, he’s only thirty, but because he has such precision and talent, it makes him the hot commodity. The office is constantly getting calls for him. It’s why they want him to become the next partner. Having his name on the plaque as you enter would surely put people at ease. Isaiah and Maria saw potential in Harry from the beginning, and they feel lucky that he’s one of their associates.

There other very qualified associates as well, like Niall – who specializes in custody cases – he’s well on his way up. There’s Candice – who specializes in prenuptial agreements – she got into the lawyer game a little later in life, but she’s as sharp as a whip, and shouldn’t be underestimated. And lastly, there’s Byron – who specializes in paternity cases – he thinks he’s going to be the next partner because he’s a bit full of himself.

Harry and Niall are the closest in age, so they hang out more often. They both really like baseball, and will go to a game or two during the season. Candice is the surrogate mother figure. She has no children of her own, she’s the fun aunt to her nieces and nephews, but she feels oddly maternal towards Harry and Niall. The boys often call her “Ma”, instead of her actual name, and she loves it. She looks out for them, and there when they need someone to listen. She’s fifty-seven, and enjoys baking in her free time. She often brings the boys homemade muffins on Monday mornings, and they adore her for it.

Byron…well…Byron is a forty-year-old womanizer who totally clashes with Harry. Does Harry have one-night stands? Yes. Does he ever lie to his partners? No. Byron enjoys playing the game in all facets, and Harry never takes part in it. Needless to say, Harry hates when he has to partner with him on a case, and avoids it when he can.

Isaiah and Maria each have their own executive assistant, or para: Michele and Kyla. They’re both in their late twenties, and rocking it. Harry only interacts with them over email. He, Candice, Niall, and Byron all share the same administrator: Ronnie. Ronnie is twenty-six, friendly, and organized. She doesn’t have time to help everyone on their briefs, but that’s what interns are for, and there’s an abundance of them circling throughout the office.

Harry has a nice office. Plenty of natural light from the windows, he has a desk riser so he can stand up periodically, and he even has his own mini fridge. (He’s often paranoid about people taking his Bubbly, so he just brought in his own fridge.) He’s got a decent enough view of the city; he likes it best at night when the twinkling lights come through. It reminds him of how lucky he is to be where he is in life. He knows he’s more fortunate than others, so he tries to be grateful. He gives back when he’s able, donate to different scholarship funds and whatnot.

Harry is a good man.

//

On a particularly cloudy morning, Ronnie lets Harry know his 10AM consult has arrived. He didn’t know much about his new potential client, but he was always willing to hear someone out. He stands up from his desk, and waits for the woman to enter.

In walks a young woman wearing an expensive, red pantsuit, black heels, and a dark red lipstick. She gives a soft smile to Ronnie before she closes the door. Harry walks over to her, extending his hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

“Mira.” She shakes his hand.

“Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the two seats on the other side of his desk and they both sit. “What brings you to my office today?”

“I heard you’re a pretty good divorce lawyer, and I need a divorce.”

“Is your spouse aware that you’re seeking counsel?”

“No.” She shakes her head and swallows. “I…I’d be putting myself in danger if he knew I wanted to leave him.”

“What kind of danger? If he’s physically abusive, then you need to- “

“He doesn’t put his hands on me like that. It’s…I don’t love him, and I never have. I was essentially…I was sold to him; it was an arranged marriage. I thought maybe I could learn to like him, to love him, but it’s been three years, and I can’t stand him. I need legal help.”

“What do you mean you were sold to him? Were you a child bride? Were you sex trafficked?”

“No.” She chews on her bottom lip. “He made a deal with my father. Thomas got me in exchange for…something. I can’t get into what exactly with you just yet.”

“Does he think you’re happy?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Well, for the most part. I do my thing, and he does his. His job keeps him pretty busy, and I often pretend to be asleep when he gets home. He doesn’t satisfy my needs, so to speak, and I’ve given up on trying. I want to be freed from him.” She pulls out a packet of paper from her purse, and gives it to Harry. “That’s a copy of the contract he and my father signed when they made the deal. I’m not great with legal jargon. I thought maybe if you decide to take me on you could look that over and tell me if there’s any way, I can get out of this.”

“Are you over eighteen?”

“Yes, well over.”

“And were you over eighteen when you were married?”

“Yes.”

“Then how could your father barter you?”

“Where I come from…it can just be like that. The goods we get in exchange for my hand outweighed my happiness.”

“I’m so sorry.” Harry frowns. “My services aren’t exactly cheap.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to be. I can pay top dollar, if that’s what you require. I have money of my own.”

“Alright.” Harry sets the packet of papers onto his desk. “I’ll take a look at that soon, and give you a call.”

“Does that mean you’re taking me on?”

“I hate to see such a nice person be so unhappy.” Harry frowns. “I got into this business to help people, so I’ll help you, Mira.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” She smiles. “There are going to be some things in that contract that may shock you, so please don’t hesitate to call me directly with your questions.” She takes out a business card from her purse. “There’s all of my contact information. If anyone other than myself contacts you regarding all of this, don’t say a word.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at keeping things confidential.”

“I heard you’re a very trustworthy attorney.” She nods, and stands to her feet. Harry does the same. “Thank you for taking the time to listen.” She extends her hand, and he takes it to shake.

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.” He smiles and opens the door. He watches her leave, maybe for a little too long.

[DARK SIDED, COMING TO PATREON ON SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2ND @ 8AM EST] [Ask]

[akookminsupporter]

Not to belabor this, but I think it is important that everyone recognizes what is actually going on with BTS and Billboard. This piece by Lainey Lui perfectly articulates just how unfair and different the standards and goal posts are for BTS within the western eco-system. It is very much worth the quick read.

https://www.laineygossip.com/bts-covers-billboard-article-unfairly-questions-if-bts-and-their-label-have-been-manipulating-the-charts/69257

Highlights:

'Billboard is complaining about BTS gaming their system – but they came up with the system, and BTS isn’t finding loopholes in the system, they’re actually adhering to the system! If you don’t like your own f-cking system, then you fix it, don’t go around blaming the people who have used it to great success.

Is this really about BTS winning at the Billboard system, or is it about WHO Billboard wants to see winning at their system? If Taylor Swift was doing the same thing as BTS (and Billboard’s recent rule changes were made because Taylor Swift and other artists were bundling merchandise along with music and counting that towards chart performance – which is NOT what BTS does, all their sales numbers are music-based and have to do with different version of their songs, so it tracks back to the actual art and not sweatshirts and hoodies), would Billboard be interviewing Taylor Swift and accusing her of cheating the system?

F-CK NO.

That’s what RM is getting at here when he says that it feels like they’re “easy targets”. Because we all know, if Billboard did manage to score an interview with Taylor Swift or Adele or Justin Bieber or any of the top-selling western artists, they wouldn’t dare put that conversation topic on the table.'

'One of the main reasons BTS’s ARMY is so committed to understanding chart requirements and then using their knowledge to organise sales initiatives among the fandom is because of how BTS has been historically ignored by the traditional media that has been a resource for western and English-language artists to amplify their music. For a long time, despite interest and appeals from BTS’s fans, radio stations, television shows, magazines, and other pop culture media outlets ignored BTS, even though they had the talent and the numbers to back it up. Even now, for all their achievements, as we have seen, there are media personalities who still make racist jokes, television personalities who still dismiss them, programmers who brush them aside.'

'Billboard is talking out of both sides of their mouth, because while questioning BTS’s accomplishments by side-eying their fans, Billboard is also doing the most to profit from BTS being on their cover, shooting the band as a collective with all seven members, but then also releasing solo covers featuring RM, Jin, Suga, j-hope, Jimin, V, and Jungkook individually, hoping to get some of that ARMY money. It kind of undermines the argument that fans are manipulating numbers when you yourself try to drive up your numbers by lubing up those same fans.'

BTS BROKE NO RULES.

THEY ADHERED TO THE SYSTEM.

And this is not, as Lainey says in her post, a call for journalists to be sycophantic or grovel to BTS or their fan base. There is a difference between being biased against someone's success and having an agenda, and impartial.

A white institution is simultaneously devaluing and using a Kpop boy band. And yes, I am aware that the author of the Billboard article is Asian. Yes, there are Asians who don't like BTS and don't see their success as 'organic' and valid. White supremacist ideologies permeate many platforms in our globalized media. And yes there are reputable journalists who have no problem repping the agenda of a powerful institution to further their career. To claim that billboard did not come off elitist, othering and exclusionary is like when someone on tumbr writes something obviously racist and then one or two or their good friends step up and say "well I am that minority and I was not offended so this is ok."

It gets tiring. Also, the fact remains that BTS's fanbase is predominantly female and we all know that pop media favored by women is not taken seriously by cultural gatekeepers.

The way you and your commenters and readers have tackled this article has been wonderful. No one is coming at it firing personal shots or being rude. As always, your blog is a place of respect. I have only seen facts. It's sad when a tumblr blog comes off as a better source of discourse than allegedly reputable platforms. Billboard making money off of BTS while questioning their status as artists equal to Justin Beiber is pretty rich. You can dress up racist rhetoric in a lot of creative ways, but it still is what it is.

"You can dress up racist rhetoric in a lot of creative ways, but it still is what it is."

Hello, anon. I think there is little I have to say about your ask, you articulated everything that many of us believe is going on with western industry, especially the US, perfectly. Although I do want to add something and I don't know if I said it before but I will say it anyway, I think the problem is also control. The western market, however you want to understand it, has not and will not be able to control BTS, their agency and their fans. Or they can't manipulate them I think is a more appropriate word. Instead of companies or record companies buying BTS or the company they are a part of, BTS's company bought a US company but first made sure that BTS was untouchable and could not be influenced. I also think the problem is that the western industry has is that they are not gaining from BTS' success. A lot of things come down to money and at the end of the day, this is a business too.

I will wait patiently for the day when BTS announces a new tour, stadium tour and tickets sell out in a matter of minutes. I want to see how the industry will say that BTS and their fans manipulated that too.

Thanks for the positive view you have of the blog anon, thank you.

[angelicmichael]

living after midnight

Brooke Thompson x Montana Duke

Summary: Brooke and Montana get a bit intoxicated and get a bit carried away while going night swimming. Based off this post I made a week ago hehe

Words: 3.1k+

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and also vague mentions of weed, stripping (no nudity tho LOL), lotssss of sexual tension, lots of fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, weird yearning angst for like .02 seconds lmao

A/N: Hey guys, sorry if this is random but I got random inspo for brotana so.. here this is lmao. Believe it or not I did try to make this under 1k words but.. I got carried away so I’m sorry that’s it’s long 😭. But the fic happens sometime after Brooke and Montana meet but before any camp redwood fuckery happens lmao. Anyway I hope y’all like this!! This is also probably the fastest I’ve ever written a fic so I hope it’s atleast decent haha. Anyway enjoy <3

A gentle breeze danced against Brookes exposed skin. The midnight air cold on its own regard but it seemed to blend perfectly with the extensive heat that radiated from the bonfire she sat in front of.

The night was entirely pitch black. The moon was vacant from the sky, leaving the only source of light to come from the giant fire that sat at Brookes shoes.

It was admittedly a bit unsettling being in almost the total darkness, especially with how many girls had recently gone missing in L.A as of late but the beer in her system had mostly put those thoughts to rest. Plus, being with three men and Montana was also reassuring. Even if she didn’t exactly know Xavier, Chet or Ray that well but.. she knew Montana.

It was nearly impossible to forget about how they met.. in the girls locker room in the showers and well; it’s not as if things were any less weird now. Showers or not.

It’s not as if Brooke and Montana were best friends or super close, because that definitely wasnt the case; but they weren’t acquaintances either by any means. The weird tension and ‘playfulness’ that lied between them ruled out being friends.. or that’s Brooke liked to think anyway when she had one too many things to drink. Like now.

Her legs twitched a bit restlessly; content at the ambience that surrounded her but not content with her current state of being. Like how she knew she should be enjoying herself, drunk, not caring about particularly anything at all but instead all she could do was fucking care. Her thoughts were purely infiltrated with Montana and it was embarrassing, to say the least but now that she was intoxicated there was really no harm in fighting it. No matter how annoying and taunting those thoughts truly were.

After all, Why should she not think about how nice it would be to feel Montana’s hands (which she knew had to be soft and delicate) on her waist and down her back? Why should she not think about Montana’s soft lips moving against her own, a few strands of her bleached hair (which definitely had lost it softness due to excessive over bleaching) brushing up against her face accidentally?

That was a rhetorical question; because she knew exactly why she avoided those type of thoughts on a normal day to day basis. Not because it would make things awkward between them but because it was beyond fucking painful to imagine scenarios that would never happen.. Never.

The smell of the fire and the sounds of the wood crackling, which was far too dry and poorly stacked (neither Xavier, Chet or Ray could build a proper fire to save their life), helped bring Brooke out of her thoughts and bit more into reality. So did the gentle sway of the tree branches which she could see in her peripheral vision, since they were right on the cusp of a forest that cut off to a beach. Ocean waves which slowly dragged across the sand were also soothing to listen too, albeit distant over the sound of Brookes friends screaming and laughing and being heavily intoxicated over what was more than just alcohol and weed.

Brooke reached down and swiftly grabbed the beer can which was previously lodged upright in the sand. Lifting the can up to her lips and cringing and unconsciously tensing up as she swallowed until the can was nearly weightless - wiping her mouth with the back of her hand just to see-

“Montana?!” Brooke nearly yelled. Both alcohol and temporary shock making her speak way louder than what was realistically needed.

Montana, who was previously standing several feet away with the boys was suddenly seated right next to Brooke on the log with no warning. Probably having moved over while Brooke was poorly chugging the alcohol she hated.. but she couldn’t help but to notice that their thighs (as well as basically their entire sides) were touching as she tried to wipe the alcohol that had embarrassingly dripped down her front in a frenzy.

Chet and Xavier looked back at them from a few feet away as they smoked what Brooke knew had to be a joint. Briefly laughing and giving the pair of women an amused glance before turning around and immersing themselves in whatever conversation they were previously having.

Brooke sheepishly met Montana’s gaze, feeling her cheeks grow nearly unbearably hot at the awareness that she was now being watched.. studied almost.

“Sorry,” Brooke added with a giggle.

Montana responded with a slight upturn of her lips; amused with Brookes actions not because she found it necessarily funny or pitiful, but for the sole reason that.. it was cute and endearing that Brooke couldn’t really hold her alcohol for shit.

It made her unique and different from everyone else Montana acquainted herself with. People that Montana had to basically learn to keep up with.. but Brooke on the other hand was different.. She was a breath of fresh air, and that’s why Montana assumed she was so attracted to her (besides her looks, of course).

Montana tried her best to ignore and not be bothered by the fact that Brooke was wasting perfectly good alcohol by wiping it off herself (alcohol that Montana wouldn’t necessarily mind licking off Brookes lips.. or her neck, or really anywhere else off of her). Instead focusing on how suffocated she felt here.

It wasn’t necessarily anyone’s fault. After all; she loved Chet, Xavier and Ray dearly but.. they were also undoubtedly preventing anything from happening between her and Brooke.. and that needed to change.

Montana huffed. Her deep brown eyes quickly flickering at the flame and then Brooke before speaking.

“Im bored,” she announced. Suddenly standing up and not letting her eyes break the gaze she suddenly held with Brooke.

Brooke responded with a simple hum. Her jaw quickly dropping once she noticed that Montana’s bright red nails quickly darted down under her own shirt. Hooking the material under her fingertips before quickly raising the shirt up and over her head. Throwing it back somewhere behind the log Brooke still sat on.. somewhere where Brooke was almost certain Montana wouldn’t be able to locate later.. which was probably done on purpose.

Brookes jaw still stayed ajar when she saw Montana’s hands automatically fly down to the small jean shorts she was wearing. She could do nothing but watch as she saw the button unhook- wait.. what exactly was happening?

“Montana, what are you doing?” Brooke asked with a laugh.

Brooke tried her best to fight the urge to look at her friend who was now well.. in her bra and underwear, out of what she was trying to convince herself was respect, but it wasn’t working. She knew for a fact her cheeks had to burnt bright fucking red; she tried to laugh off the feeling but Montana still stared.. her smile slowly growing wider until sudden laughter momentarily broke the tension again.

Brooke and Montana both looked behind them just to find the boys laughing and whooping as well at Montana’s sudden lack of clothes.

Brooke smiled back at them but it only lasted a second before she found herself overtaken with a emotion she never really felt around Montana before.. was it jealousy?

Just the sight of them staring at Montana (who obviously didn’t give a fuck, or was thriving off the attention more than anything) was enough to make Brooke stand up.

“Go swimming with me?” Brooke suddenly proposed. More than certain that her sudden impulsivity was coming from the alcohol more than anything.. it had to be, right?

Brooke looked Montana in the eyes again as she watched the other woman’s expression suddenly change at her words; looking utterly shocked and.. maybe a bit thrilled.

“You want to go swimming?” Montana nearly sneered, her tone reeked off utter disbelief, “and what are you gonna wear?”

Brooke laughed at what the other woman was implying. Her dark brown eyes slipped down to admire the rest of Montana’s body that she dared not to look at previously. Only looking for a second at the matching cherry red set that Montana wore. A bra which was most definitely too tight and cut a bit small, along with a thong with sat a bit high on her hips which only accentuated her figure even further.

She didn’t have time to think; her eyes darting back up to meet Montana’s which she knew were watching her.

“I’m not going naked-“

“You don’t have too. It’s not like their gonna see us anyway once we get away from the fire. Here.”

They both spoke in hushed whispers. Weirdly paranoid that maybe the boys would overhear and wanna join which- was something they both clearly didn’t want, although unspoken.

The distance between them was minimal enough due to alcohol (and other substances in Montana’s case) running high in their systems. Making personal space something that was now nonexistent.

Montana extended her hand out to Brooke to take. She quickly grabbed her hand, hoping desperately it wasn’t sweaty from how close they were to the fire and also.. just from the situation she was bound to find herself in. But due to Montana’s reaction (or lack thereof) she knew she had nothing to worry about.. sweaty palms or not, she knew Montana wouldn’t judge her. No matter how insane the circumstance; Brooke always felt safe around Montana. That’s why she supposed she was currently following her into the pitch black - her vision getting more and more sparse as they walked away from the fire and into some nearby trees that framed the beach..

“Are you sure they can’t see me?” Brooke asked, trying her best to look through the trees and see if any of her friends happened to be looking but - she couldn’t really make out anything besides the subtle outline of her surroundings which included Montana.

“They can’t see you. Relax,” Montana said with a giggle. “Now do I need to help you undress? Your taking forever and I’m hot- and it’s not like I haven’t seen you wearing less-“

Brooke tried her best to look offended and shocked by her reference to how they met. She knew that normally with nothing in her system she would’ve easily sidestepped Montana’s ruthless flirting but.. something felt different about tonight. After all; why should she keep trying so hard to resist something they both felt? And it wasn’t like anyone could see them anyway..

Brooke quickly turned her head to where she knew Montana was and stepped closer until they were barely a foot apart. Her feet nearly stumbled on Montana’s from the proximity; biting her lip to prevent herself from stupidly giggling once she felt hot breath on her cheek.

She grabbed Montana’s hands which first held hers back limply but briefly held hers tighter before Brooke directed her hands on her shirt.

“Take it off,” Brooke uttered. Her voice barely audible but not quite loud enough to be discerned as a whisper.

Montana didn’t hesitate as she quickly took Brookes shirt off, barely feeling the soft fabric against her fingertips before she quickly threw it behind them into the forest. Montana didn’t wait for Brooke to say anything before her fingers were quickly undoing the button and the zipper of her jean shorts which were only thrown somewhere in the forest as well (hopefully near her shirt.. Brooke could only hope).

Brooke tried her best to not look bothered by her sudden lack of clothes but she also knew that was purely idiotic since they were in the pitch black.

Nevertheless she looked down at herself, trying to discern whether her figure was actually visible or not but Montana grabbed her hand again. Making her gaze snap upward as she led her out. She knew they were going out to the water now; the sand under her feet and the fire now visible from a distance as they continued to go out. The sand becoming more grainy and nearly painful to step on as they got closer to the water.

Brooke quickly looked over her shoulder before she took the first step in - still holding onto Montana’s hand. She quickly glanced to see if any of the men they had came with were watching but surely enough they were still talking and laughing as if they didn’t even notice they had gone missing.. and they probably hadn’t given how fucked up they were.

Perfect.

She continued to hold onto Montana’s hand as she went further and further into the water; not phased by the sudden coolness she felt as the water wrapped around her legs.. submerging her further and further until they both finally stopped. The water lapping around Brookes waist, and well, nearly Montana’s chest since she was a few inches shorter than Brooke.

The water seemed to be a perfect temperature despite them being at the ocean; and the rocks had since disappeared under their feet and changed back into soft sand which also made the current situation a bit more enjoyable.

Brooke tilted her head back a bit, worried momentarily that her hair might get wet but it was worth it. It was absolutely breathtaking.

The night sky which previously looked completely black and void of any light whatsoever was now painted with what looked to be a million stars.

“Do you see this?” Brooke asked.

“What, the stars?” Montana answered, her voice holding a bit of amusement to it and almost as if she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah,” Brooke affirmed with a nod. Still keeping her gaze fixated to the night sky.

“What about them?” Montana asked.

The water rippled a bit as Montana started to a take a few steps closer towards Brooke, dissatisfied at the distance between them.

“Nothing. I just- it’s beautiful. I never do things like this,” Brooke responded, tilting her head down to make eye contact with Montana as she finished her sentence.

Montana smirked.

“Never?” She asked with a laugh. “C'mon. I’m not wet enough, let’s go deeper.”

Before Brooke could protest, Montana grabbed both of her hands and pulled her deeper in the water.

“But I didn’t bring a towel!”

“Your not gonna need one. We can warm up by the fire, remember?”

They continued to keep wading until the water almost spilled over Montana’s shoulders. The water barely touching Brookes collarbones but getting some of her hair wet regardless.

She hesitantly let go of the other woman’s hand in the water, intent on using her hand to help her gain balance since a few rocks were still on the ocean ground but - the exact opposite happened.

Brooke didn’t even have time to gasp or scream before her left foot quickly slid on a random rock that just.. of course.. had to fucking be there. Her hands quickly landed on Montana’s shoulders; the rest of her body accidentally falling into the other woman’s but she only felt Montana’s hands suddenly grab gently at her back. Holding her in place against her body.

Brookes eyes instinctively closed shut but when she slowly opened them and reluctantly lifted her head higher up (silently cursing herself for accidentally getting her hair almost entirely wet now) she noticed.. how close they were to each other.

Her nose was only centimeters away from Montana's shoulder.. which meant-

“Are you okay?” Montana asked softly, speaking unintentionally right next to her ear which made a shiver run up Brookes spine.

“Mhm,” Brooke responded.

She rose her head up further - her vision fully black now due to closing her eyes so tightly and being disoriented from slipping, but she knew from hearing Montana’s voice that she had to be close. Very close.

Moving her head a bit to the left.. almost microscopically, not wanting whatever ‘this’ was to necessarily be clumsy but she knew she didn’t necessarily have a choice in the dark.

“What are you doing?” Montana continued to whisper.

Brooke couldn’t help but to smile and let out a giggle that made her sound far more drunk than she actually was. She knew exactly where Montana’s lips were now due to her speaking. Thank god.

“You’ll see.”

Brooke leaned in slowly. Briefly bumping noses before catching Montana’s lips with her own. The feeling so heavenly and overdue - not enough but simultaneously far too much to take in all at once.

The taste of dull, gut wrenching beer started to flood her mouth. It was all that Montana basically tasted like.. that and a bit like smoke but Brooke didn’t mind. If anything it made the feelings of infatuation temporarily stronger. Brookes nails started to pierce the other woman’s back; wanting nothing more than to just have.. more. More of Montana; her taste, her hands, her touch.. the feeling was both pathetic but impossible to fight any longer.

The mere thought that this was something she was previously holding herself back from having was almost laughable but- that would be something to think about for another time.

Montana’s lips softly broke from hers.

“Eager.. aren’t you?” She teased.

Brookes eyes still refused to adjust but she knew Montana had to be grinning.

“Sorry.. I just-“

“Don’t be sorry. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Montana said lowly.

Montana suddenly leaned in with no warning. Her hands softly grabbed Brookes shoulders; leaning in to pull her bottom lip with her teeth.

After she let go, the feeling to kiss her again was strong but.. she thought of something better. The thrill of the chase was something Brooke always enjoyed, after all.

Brooke took a few steps back suddenly before quickly heading for the shore. Not really going that fast at all due to the resistance of the water pushing up against her legs but she laughed regardless.

She could hear Montana laughing and calling her a jerk in the distance but it was all just noise at this point. Her voice, the water rushing, the fire and their friends (which grew gradually louder as she approached) all started to sound the same.

Maybe the alcohol was finally kicking in.

Even though Brooke definitely felt tipsy, she still felt nervous the closer she got from being fully submerged out of the water. Maybe it was due to the fact she wasn’t certain what was going to happen at the fire, or if their friends had even heard anything but she knew atleast now she would have Montana. Exactly how she had Montana was something to be determined later, but as she finally stepped out and away from the nearly black ocean waves and ran up to the fire to go wait for Montana - she was comforted by the thought that things would now never be the same and forever would be different between the two of them.

Which had to be a good thing; right?

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @king-with-no-crovvn @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @waitinvain @twilightzone24

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[miss-choco-chips]

Umm... I was wondering if you could Maybe do a follow up on your mini fic Last Line from dicks pov? It gave me alot of feelings and i would love to see the fallout?

Your work is really good! Its so cool how your brave enough to put pieces of yourself out there for other people!

Hey babe! Thank you for your kind words! It made me smile getting this, you are very sweet <3

I totally forgot about Last Line lol, but when I saw it reminded me that I actually wrote a bit more of it, both before and after the scene I posted. So, this isn’t exactly what you asked, but here’s some backstory and then the fallout!

---.---

Four years old, and he watches the red string on his finger pulled taunt towards the crying boy, the color of the thread well disguised among the red blood of the murdered acrobats.

Nine, and he watches from the shadows as it swings right and left, following Robin’s pirouettes from building to building. The thread, that usually goes a few feet before ‘vanishing’ from sight, was almost completely visible now, at such a short distance from the person holding onto its other end.

He’s on his twelve when he tries to explain to Dick the importance of him going back home. He wasn’t sure of his success, even though the older hero took him to the manor, because during his whole speech, Nightwing hadn’t looked up from the red joining them together. It wasn’t exactly how Tim wanted him to find out, but… Batman needed a Robin, and he was out of options.

At fourteen, he feels Kon’s hand clenching on his shoulder, as they both watch from the side how Nightwing swept Barbara off her feet and twisted her around, laughter falling from both their lips even as Dick thread’s end was pointing towards Tim. The third Robin didn’t turn to look at his best friend, didn’t meet Bart’s eyes or react to Cassie taking his hand on hers. He just made sure his face was perfectly devoid of any emotion when he muttered, low enough only a kryptonian would hear, ‘I wish it was any of you’. 

(A few nights later, when he and Conner were sitting quietly on the Tower’s roof, the clone took Tim’s hand with his own, his lack of red string blatantly obvious as he said ‘If I had any, I wish it could be you’. To this day, it’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to him)

He is so, so tired, and he’s only sixteen. But keeping up with the shitfest that was the Battle for the Cowl, helping Dick while ignoring his red string (pulling him towards Nightwing, now Batman, stark contrast against the dark of his suit, with distracting insistency), dealing with Damian’s abuse as expected of him as the ‘mature, older brother’, coping with Bruce’s death, the shock of Dick throwing him, his soulmate, away so so easily…

(Shouldn't be surprising; Dick had been discarding him in favor of others since they met, shamelessly displaying his various relationships in front of him with an attitude that might be called cruel from anyone else but that just earned him playful shoves from other Leaguers while Tim was expected to swallow his pain, because a red string isn’t a promise, Dick is free… and yes, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean shit to his dying heart)

(Maybe, when he left for proof of Bruce being alive, it wasn’t so much for his old mentor than it was for himself)

----.----

Tim is seventeen and halfway across the world, looking at the string attached to his hand that never truly meant anything to any other than him (not to Bruce, who never took Dick aside and talked to him about consideration with his soul mate; not Dick's conquers, who never gave a fuck  about the red string in the hands that touched their skin, even when a lot of them knew who was on the other end of it; not Dick himself, who after asking every thing out of Tim and having it, forcefully took the one thing Tim wouldn't give by choice and claimed Tim was his equal, his soulmate, so he never could be his sidekick... even if it was the first time ever that Dick even mentioned the string tying them both together), when he thinks 'you were always free; now, I'm freeing myself’.

He gingerly bites on the string, and with his other hand takes a handful of it and pulls.

The pain piercing his heart is expected, but not new. He had been feeling it since the first time he saw Dick's back as he walked away with someone else.

He times it carefully, too. He doesn't think Dick would care, but just in case, Tim waits until it's morning in Gotham, when he's sure Dick is probably sleeping after patrol.

Maybe he would wake up without noticing

---.---

In Gotham, Dick is carried by Alfred and Damian to the cave, when the new Batman's screams of pain woke everyone in the Manor up. They are suspecting cardiac arrest, and then Dick looks down to his hand and notices the string, always tense, signaling him where his north is, where Tim is, laying loose and lifeless.

He panics, asks Superman to track Tim down or something, and when the man confirms Tim is still alive somewhere in the Middle East, he knows.

And like a freight train, the parting words Kori told him the last time they saw each other hit him right in the chest.

"He isn't going to wait for you forever"

----.-----

When Tim does come back, at nineteen, it’s a quiet thing. 

He spent the last how many days carefully setting his systems up, making sure his mainframe would outstand Oracle’s scrutiny when she realized he was back in town and tried to hack her way into his life.

(He didn’t blame her, of course not. Dick was charming enough, good enough, anyone he set his eyes into would be helpless to nothing but fall in his arms.

And, wasn’t Tim the one who would have been intruding, had he tried to chase after the first Robin? Everyone knew he and the original Batgirl were a perfect match, thousands of times better than Tim, whom Fate just wanted to screw over.

But not anymore)

The first thing he did, once the safe houses were chosen and his programs up and running, was to ruthlessly hack into the Batcomputer and take a look at patrol routes. 

He would need to keep clear of Diamond District and Old Gotham, least he risked crossing paths with B and R. The Financial and City Hall Districts were apparently Batgirl’s playground for the night, and if he wanted to drop by and let Cass know he was back, he could always search for her by the Upper West Side down to Chinatown.

He would avoid the Upper East Side like the plague, though. Maybe Coventry too, just to be safe. Lots of skintight blue in that direction.

Which left… Crime Alley, the Bowery and Burnley, mainly. He needn't check to know who’s house that was.

And that’s how he ended, on his very first night back on the streets, dragging Red Hood’s bleeding ass away from a blowing up building.

-----.-----

Apparently, saving a recently rehabilitated murderous vigilante was a bonding experience, because Jason didn’t kick him out of his side of town, nor tell on him. 

He couldn't, however, do anything to prevent the criminal gossip mile from spreading, and before a week had passed, half the city was aware of the new player on the board.

-----.------

Jason was taking a breather, smoking while sitting on his favorite rooftop, when the rustling sound of fabric told him his peace and quiet was over.

“I thought you were back at being N”, he greeted, not bothering to turn around or get up. 

“B was out of town, and Robin needed someone to watch over him during patrol.”

A quick glance around had Hood snorting, “Then y’re doing a shitty job. Don’t see the midget anywhere.”

It would never NOT be weird to hear a strangled laugh coming out of the Bat suit, as tight and humorless as it was now. It seemed big ol Dick wasn’t doing so great tonight.

“Batgirl took him to a party in Diamond District. Gang war.”

He humms in response, not bothering to keep on the smalltalk. N, no, B was here for something, and it wasn’t Jason’s job to ask it out of him; if it was important, he would do it himself.

“Where is him, Hood?”, he finally went to the heart of the matter. 

Jason tilted his head, still looking over his city, unmindful of the steps coming closer to his position, “Robin? Ya just said it, B. Going senile? Gang war, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”

Oh, yeah, Dickie still wasn’t sure what to call Timbo. Criminal gossip only went so far, for someone who didn’t bother to shout his hero name to everyone he beat up. It was very possible only  Jason was aware of his new monicker. All gothamites knew was a young vigilante showed up recently, wearing red and black and hanging out with the Hood, which immediately upped his street rep to ‘not to be fucked with’.

“Lil red?”, he completed for his older brother, feeling both charitable and petty. Batman’s wince was more evident by the rustling sound of his cape; he had hit a sore spot, hadn’t he? 

“Where? I’m not asking again.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not answering. Must be ‘roundere somewhere, the little creep.”

“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”

“And I’m out of cigarettes, your point? I don’t have him on a leash asshole. We just share the same hunting space, it’s not like we go home together and do face masks while we talk about feelings.”

They did go to a safespot, though, and share beer and pizza while cursing their relatives and Fate as a whole, but it wasn’t necessary information for the fucker. He just breathed in the last of his smoke before dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it, stretching as he did.

“Now, any more of this riveting conversation, or can I go? No, wait, it was a rhetorical question; get out of my part of town, ass. I’ve been plenty generous by letting you come this far, but our truce lasts as long as the lot of you don’t build any sandcastles on my playground and you know it. Now, scram.”

He could feel Dick’s reticence at leaving without what he came here for, but Oracle must be talking him into letting it be for tonight, because he didn't push. Jason turned just in the right moment to catch the way Dick looked down to his gloved hand, as if expecting the lifeless red string to be pulled taunt in Tim’s direction by some miracle. Jason felt the smallest ping of pity, quickly washed away by the memory of the younger hero’s haunted eyes as he told Jason the story of his severed soul bond and how he came to do it.

Thirty seconds after the bat vanished into the night, a little red bird landed softly on the spot next to him.

“Thanks, Hood”, he muttered, just as tired and hurting as he’d been ever since he saved Jason’s ass and they became partners, but with the smallest hint of lightness that made him prouder of driving Dick away than he’d ever been.

“Don’t mention it, but fair warning, the big B scomin back home in a few days, and he’s harder to kick out than a hurting, annoying bluebird.”

“I know”, Tim sighed, well aware of both facts. “I’ll play it by ear. For tonight, what about bashing some skulls and ruining Two Face’s new op? Good intel says it’s just a few blocks from here, and shattering bones always makes you smile.”

“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”

“Wasn’t that french?”

“I’m trying to compliment you, don’t be a smart ass about it.”

“I am smart, and I do have a good ass. That seems like an impossible request.”

----.----

[greenie-io]

not Marvel canonically stating Loki is genderfluid only to invalidate the community

Now, I know what you’re thinking,

“Greenie, its a big corporation, its a part of Disney, what did you expect? Also, aren’t you an art blog, what are you doing posting about gender representation?”

Well, first, some research. The smallest amount of self-awareness, perhaps.

And, I can’t keep quiet about this. 

To preface this, I want to elaborate a bit on genderfluidity because I make a few assumptions here. 

Genderfluidity is as the name suggests: a gender-questioning identity to describe a person’s changing gender. I tend to think of a compass with masculinity and femininity on opposite sides and a massive expanse in between.

Some people move linearly in their gender, some don’t.

Some people inhabit the full spectrum, some are only parts of the spectrum.

Some change expression with it (shifting pronouns, shifting styles), while others remain fixed (one style of pronoun, “consistent” styling), or even a mix of both (multiple pronouns, multiple styles).

Disclaimer: There is no perfect model to encompass gender. I don’t claim to know everything about gender or that my model represents/fits everyone. My model is flawed, it’s too simple, and it’s not to be used to invalidate anyone’s gender identity. Its purpose is to give a suggestion of genderfluidity, which is heavily based in my experience. 

There is no singular ‘genderfluid expression’. Every expression of genderfluidity is a valid expression. There is no wrong way to be genderfluid, its simply a truth. A diverse and valid truth. 

Now we look at Loki. 

I’m not criticizing his preference for masculine presentation (pronouns, Laufeyson, clothes, etc.). I assume he has a more fixed expression, which is perfectly valid. 

(Hell, my gender expression is fixed too. There’s nothing wrong with it.)

(although I admit it would be nice if Marvel’s designers would explore other options for him. you can’t tell me Loki wouldn’t want a cinched waist. or heels. please, im begging)

Furthermore, I’m under the assumption Loki’s “broad and wide-ranged identity” encompasses all the gender and fluidity that genderfluidity can hold-- including femininity. 

So, how did Marvel fuck it up?

A throwaway gag. 

“Have any of you met a woman Variant of us?”

“Sounds terrifying.”

Loki (2021) 1x05

They-- They’re women too, though, yes? At least our Loki (2012 Loki) is. That’s certainly the implication of Loki’s “broad and wide-ranged identity”.

But they’re referring to Sylvie here. As if to be a “woman Variant” of Loki, you must too have ‘the parts’.

Marvel...

Marvel, no.

Even if Loki identifies outside of femininity within this instance, his gender is still a hell of a lot more nuanced then just implicitly stating he couldn’t be a woman because he doesn’t present as such. 

Personally, I think the nuance of gender and its expression is what genderfluidity is. And Marvel is just throwing it out the window.

Loki doesn’t have to shapeshift or change any aspect of himself to be a woman.

Moreover, they’re reaffirming transphobic rhetoric. It’s made worse when Loki’s gender reveal said “Sex: Fluid” because-- because he couldn’t possibly be a woman without ‘the parts’, can he? (/s)

Can he, Marvel??

Marvel, you can have a fixed expression of Loki’s gender despite his genderfluidity, but you have to remember there’s so much more there than what meets the eye. Loki is a man, a woman, all that gender can mean, and none of it. He’s in between, he’s undefined, and that’s absolutely amazing-- so don’t invalidate him for a joke.

What’s worse is I speculate they only dropped the “Sex: Fluid” reveal as a gimmick to bring in a feminine-presenting Loki, Sylvie, so he can make out with himself.

Also, suggesting that our Loki (2012 Loki) isn’t also a Lady Loki-- I’m-- just call her Sylvie for pete’s sake

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Marvel.

Hire a trans writer or something!!

Someone has to proofread this! I know you have the money!

Stop invalidating Loki like this. Stop invalidating us.

--

In all seriousness, we can make whatever criticisms of the ships within the show, but this-- this can’t stay quiet. This is damaging, and this show is watched by a massive fucking audience. 

All I’m asking is to spread the word. Don’t let Marvel’s “take” on genderfluidity be the general understanding of what genderfluidity is. 

--

I don’t even wanna talk about the fluidphobia I’ve seen towards Loki and the genderfluid community because it quite honestly fucking breaks me.

Anyway--

I’m probably going to delete this later because I’m a coward.

Before I end up deleting this, please go check out @emptymasks​ posts here and here.

He’s/They’ve put a lot of effort into this issue and it would mean a lot to show him/them the support in pioneering the conversation. Thank you, really, honestly, for speaking where I can’t even find the words. I wish you all the best. 💗🤍💜🖤💙

[benedictscanvas]

etched in permanent marker - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: This is so fluffy it might make you smile, fair warning

A/N: Well, I worked super hard on this today because my love @justkurotingz​ requested it and I couldn’t bear to leave her waiting! Also, I just ADORE this idea of hers and couldn’t wait to get started. Thank you for all your wonderful feedback and for inundating me with requests! I will get through them all as quickly as I can. Enjoy lovelies :)

---

(ways to say i love you) number 12 = “take my jacket, it’s cold outside & number 14 = “can I have this dance?”

“You just add a sprinkle of turmeric, Julie, it’ll change your life!”

There was a chorus of tinkling laughter around the group, and you joined in as best you could even though you felt like you were slowly withering away. Strauss had waved you over to this little circle when you had accidentally arrived much earlier than your team had agreed upon, and now you were stuck here until they arrived. Strauss insisted as she steered you through the crowds that were beginning to form in the hall that these would be vital contacts as you worked your way through the ranks at the bureau.

If these were the contacts you would need, then you didn’t think you wanted to make your way through the bureau in the first place. You were perfectly happy with the BAU, regardless.

There was suddenly a hand on your shoulder and you turned to shrug off whatever FBI hotshot wanted your attention now, but relaxed when you saw Morgan at your side.

“I’m so sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but I just need to whisk Y/N away for a moment,” he smiled that charming smile, before turning you away from them without giving them time to respond and leading you with his hand still on your shoulder towards the rest of the team, whispering as you went, “You owe me one.”

“I definitely do,” you replied readily, with a little chuckle, “You saved my ass back there, I think I was about to fall asleep on the spot.”

Derek laughed as you both arrived at the little circle the BAU team had made upon arrival.

“Y/N!” Emily greeted you with a hug, “You look incredible! You were here early, I assume?”

“I was,” you groaned, “I didn’t notice how early I was when I came in.”

“Strauss caught you?” Hotch asked, a small smirk on his face as you nodded, “Bad luck.”

“Yeah, well, I’m where I belong now,” you beamed, “And the plan still stands right? Form a circle for the night and not speak to anyone else?”

“That’s certainly my plan,” Rossi said with a grimace as he glanced around the room, already sipping a drink even though you had no idea where he got it from, “You’re the only people I can tolerate in this room.”

“We’re glad you tolerate us, Dave,” you said, making everyone laugh, before you noticed a specific absence from the group that you should have noticed sooner, “Wait, where’s Spencer?”

“We assumed he’d arrive with you,” JJ said pointedly, raising her eyebrows and you pressed your lips together to suppress your grin at her words. You and Spencer were still a relatively new item, but the feelings you had for each other were anything but new. The team had been invested in you being together for years. So had you, if you were honest.

“He offered to pick me up, but I decided it wouldn’t look great to everyone else who was here,” you said shrugging, checking the door in the hopes of seeing him arriving. He must be late.

“Since when have you cared what these people think of you?” Derek asked, confused, as Emily nodded her agreement. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t, trust me,” you said grimly, “But I also can’t be bothered with the questions. You know what some of them are like.”

“What some of who are like?” a voice came from your beside your ear and you turned to see the only missing piece in the circle, your face brightening of its own accord. You wrapped your arm around his back lightly, not enough to draw attention to the two of you and pressed a kiss to his cheek in greeting. He was grinning already.

“You look handsome, Doctor,” you said teasingly, straightening his bowtie one hand, the other still resting on his back as you shuffled to allow him into your closed off circle in the corner of the large room. He always looked smart, but you weren’t sure you had ever seen him in an actual tuxedo before. This event was far too fancy for both of your tastes, but you couldn’t deny that it was a silver lining seeing him all dressed up. “And you look beautiful,” he murmured softly, looking down at you before his eyes met yours with a newfound glint in them, “I think red is my favourite colour on you.”

You tried not to look too pleased with his compliment, instead just looking away bashfully and squeezing his arm before returning both hands to your sides again. You had maybe worn the floor-length strappy red number for his benefit. When you returned your focus to your team, suddenly aware of their presence once again, all you saw were amused smiles on their faces and a very large grin on Garcia’s as she nudged Morgan beside her repeatedly.

“Where’d you get your drink, Dave?” you asked, in a thinly veiled attempt to change the subject which of course your extremely accomplished profiling friends saw right through. Luckily, they were willing to switch topics too, as Dave waved down one of the waiters and everyone grabbed their drinks from the tray.

You talked about every topic under the sun, except from work, which Emily swiftly banned once Hotch had begun speaking about your latest case. JJ and Hotch talked about raising their boys, Emily and Morgan had an argument that you couldn’t quite work out the origin of whilst you, Dave, Spencer and Garcia talked about what books you had been reading (or in Dave’s case, writing) recently.

When Garcia began asking Dave about his experiences with crazy fans and you and Spencer were merely listening, you felt his hand on your back and his breath on your ear.

“You want to get some fresh air?” he asked lowly and you merely nodded as the two of you excused yourselves and ignored any knowing looks from the rest of your team. Spencer’s hand on the small of your back led you through crowds that had multiplied significantly over the last hour. You hadn’t even noticed how many people were in this room, having been so wrapped up in your own team and avoiding everyone else, but now that you had noticed you were glad to be heading out for a little while.

Just as you and Spencer made it outside and the cool air hit your bare arms, he was shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders.

“Take my jacket, it’s cold outside,” he said kindly and you looked up at him with grateful eyes, adjusting the jacket. It swamped your shoulders luckily, and there was no chance of it slipping off. Now that you were outside, you grabbed hold of his hands and linked your fingers together, laughing as he swung your arms between the two of you as you took the few steps down from the building, until you were stood in the car park.

“Look,” you whispered, pointing upwards as you stared at the map of stars above your head, twinkling amongst the beautiful darkness. There wasn’t a time in your life that hadn’t been made better by a blanket of stars in a clear night’s sky.

“I didn’t realise we’d been here so long,” he mused, staring up just like you, pulling you into his side a little so that you and your jacket covered arm huddled against his sleeve. When you took your eyes off the stars and looked at him, the awe in his eyes brought out the awe in your own, but yours was directed at him. Always at him.

“Hey,” you said softly to get his attention, and he gave it instantly, looking down on you with soft eyes and a smile that warmed you more than any jacket ever would, “Can I have this dance?”

His brow furrowed and he tilted his head at you.

“What dance?” he asked genuinely, looking around the two of you, “Y/N, we’re in a parking lot.”

“Can’t you hear it?” you asked right back, encouraging him to strain, “There’s always music around if you listen hard enough.”

He looked even more confused at that statement.

“I’m not sure that’s strictly true, angel,” he said, clearly unsure but you simply let go of his hand and turned to face him properly. You slipped your arms into the sleeves of his jacket properly before running your hands up his arms and winding them around his neck.

“Just-” you sighed contently as his hands found your waist, arms wrapping around you just like they were meant to, “Dance with me anyway? Music or not?”

“You know I’ll do whatever you ask of me, right?” it was a rhetorical question, one that only made you pull him closer and press your cheek to his chest, listening to the slightly unsteady beat of his heart. It made you smile, a little proud smile that you were the reason his heart was beating faster than usual. Yours was too, but he couldn’t hear it and you were thankful. If he knew just how much of an effect he had on you, just how much he meant to you, you weren’t sure how he would take it.

You loved him. Naturally. You hadn’t told him yet, not because you didn’t want to say it first, or because you were scared he wouldn’t return the sentiment but mainly just because it was too early to be saying such things in any normal relationship. But when had your relationship with Spencer ever been normal?

It hadn’t been normal when he span you around in his desk chair at work wildly when it was just the two of you left in the office. It hadn’t been normal when he fell asleep with his head on your shoulder and you had gotten so excited that he had become so comfortable with you that you nearly cried. It hadn’t been normal when he kissed you out of the blue on a case just because you’d made an incredible breakthrough and then instantly looked like he’d made a horrible mistake.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves,” you said as you swayed together, still pressed against his chest with his chin resting on the top of your head gently, “William Shakespeare.”

“You know, that’s actually a misquote of Shakespeare,” he replied and you laughed into him, the feeling reverberated around his chest and leaving butterflies in its wake.

“Pretty misquote, though.”

“Yeah, it is pretty,” he agreed, moving his hands up from your waist and pulling your arms from around his neck, holding them both in his hands, “Not as pretty as you.”

He let go of one of your hands and held his arm up, laughing as you caught his drift and twirled underneath it, then returned to his arms like you’d never left.

With some coordination you didn’t really know he had, he span you out and away him, until you were stood at arms’ length to each other and staring into each others’ eyes, laughing the whole time, before he span you back into him, landing with your back to his chest. You returned to the swaying, with his arms wrapped around your waist and your hands resting on his arms as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back onto him.

“I love you, Spencer,” you said, sounding like you were in a dream, which part of you thought you might be. You never thought you’d say it first. There was a long drawn out silence and you panicked. Maybe you shouldn’t have said it first. Maybe Spencer wasn’t quite ready for you to love him yet.

Before you panicked for too long, which he could feel in the way you clutched his arms a little tighter, he turned you around on your heel so you were facing him and wrapped his arms tight around your waist, bringing you chest to chest and your feet almost off the floor.

“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” he mumbled, stealing a kiss, “I love you, angel. There’s no one else I’d dance in a parking lot with.”

“I know,” you giggled, leaning up to kiss him again, hands in his hair. He picked you up properly, a little surprised noise escaped which he swallowed with his kiss, pulling you as close as he could. When he set you back on your feet, everything felt like jelly and you were glad that he kept his tight grip on your waist.

“Any chance we can join you?”

It was Morgan. You looked over your shoulder, seeing as Spencer wasn’t letting go of you anytime soon and saw the entire team stood there, looking at the two of you with love in their eyes and, in JJ’s case, tears in their eyes as well. You shook your head at her as you laughed and she wiped them away with a laugh of her own.

“In our embrace?” you asked, eyebrows raised, “That would be a no.”

Morgan rolled his eyes fondly at you but Garcia took her phone out of her pocket and pressed a button. Soon, some smooth music began playing out of the phone speaker, which she turned up to the max volume and put in Morgan’s back pocket.

“Could we join the dancing then?” she asked excitedly and when you nodded, she grabbed Morgan in an instant and pulled him into a dance, slapping him playfully when he mouthed for you and Spencer to help him. He got into it quickly though, spinning Garcia around and laughing when she squealed with delight. You rested a hand on Spencer’s chest and leaned your head against his as you watched your friends.

Dave offered a hand to Emily, which she took with a teasing curtsy and they ended up in a very traditional waltz position which made Spencer giggle and you swatted him to stop him, whispering that it was cute.

Hotch was difficult to persuade, but JJ practically pulled him over to the others until he relented, and when he did, only you and Spencer saw his secret smile as he swayed with JJ. The two of you watched your friends for a few seconds, chuckling when they laughed and when they span. Eventually, Spencer turned you back to him.

“You see all this?” he made sure to speak softly so the others didn’t hear him, “Our whole team, even Hotch, are dancing to Garcia’s music under the stars in a parking lot because of you.”

You stared up at him and saw that same awe he held for the stars directed right at you. It was difficult not to just grin at him forever.

“I guess they are, yeah.”

“You know why?” he asked and you shook your head, “Because any regular day can be made so special just by you being there. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“One of the reasons?” you said, a little cheeky shimmer in your eye that made him kiss you chastely despite the rest of the team being right there. When he pulled away his eyes were a bit darker than they had been.

“I’ll tell you the rest when we get home,” he said lowly.

You giggled like a schoolgirl and kissed him again. But then you had a thought that made you pause.

“Spencer,” you said seriously, the tone shifting because you couldn’t help but say it, “Promise me you’ll keep this memory forever. That whenever I ask, you’ll be able to tell me every little detail.”

He grinned at you, beginning to sway to the music once again and revelling in the content sigh it earned him from you.

“Couldn’t forget it if I tried, angel.

[the-ghost-king]

Interestingly enough the fandom isn't always rational with their criticism. Take Percy and Rachel for instance. A perfectly healthy cute and functional relationship dynamic, but people really hated it because it got in the way of Percy/Annabeth.

I think it can also come down to the fact that not all situations are exactly equal if that makes sense. If you have a character dynamic in couple A, that often playfully bully of fight with eachother that's a different dynamic than relationship B, where one person has trauma resulting from bullying and the other parter behaves in roughly the same way as couple A do. In that case the behavior may be seen as inappropriate. Not that this example has anything to do with the ships at hand, but I think a long form meta examining the different paralleling issues from both relationships and their validity would be easier.

Also I haven't seen anything about about Nico/Will being called toxic. Yikes, what are people saying exactly, because I don't doubt a lot of people might be projecting unconcious bias.

Oh absolutely, I may seem young but I remember the Rachel vs Annabeth ship wars all too well... I do not want to go back 😅

The rest is under a read more though, I got a little carried away talking! Also this isn't my best post on the issue by far so please feel free to check out the tags I mention later on!

(AN: I use nblm alongside mlm in this post because some nblm individuals will consider their attraction to men as gay, or queer, while others will not and those individuals are often closely connected to mlm experiences and they also deserve to talk about their thoughts and feelings if they wish. I am aware nonbinary people are not a monolith and not all nonbinary people will categorize themselves or their attraction this way, it's up to nonbinary individuals reading this to determine where they fall on what)

As for Solangelo being toxic some of the conversations revolve around the ableist nature of the ship, this is definitely most obviously a dynamic in BoO, and it's a more than fair point about the ship I don't have anything negative to say there in the slightest!

(The above parallels with the idea that Will is introduced as a "healer character" for the "sad gay kid", which is a fair criticism as well but one that's often left rather one sided, because while that is true- if it's a way Nico likes being treated (watched closely for injuries and cared for) then it's not wrong, and in ToN Will is seen overstepping Nico's boundaries which causes a healthy argument about Will doing so and he stops, so if Nico doesn't tell Will "no" or some variation he's obviously not horribly uncomfortable with the situation, or from the way it would be interpreted alongside previous text, there's fair reason to think he likes it)

The thing with Solangelo I see often is "Nico is still processing trauma, and internalized homophobia and isn't ready for a relationship" which is a huge misunderstanding on how trauma and internalized homophobia work as a whole, because the experiences can be different for everyone. You can absolutely date someone while processing internalized homophobia, you may struggle with certain things but it is absolutely doable for some people. And trauma is such a varied thing, and it's not like he's solely relying on Will either, he is seeing Dionysus for therapy and getting the help he needs! Your life doesn't have to go on hold for therapy no matter how much trauma you are sorting through! (Not disclosing my medical history or anything but I have struggled with both things and my life didn't stop for me to deal with them, I made new friends, went on dates, etc- it is possible depending on the person so the very narrow view of "this is unhealthy" and "this is impossible" rubs me wrong when it's treated as fact over opinion, because it's an opinion).

There's also constant discussions about how fandom (in current) fetishizes both Nico and Will, which I, and other mlm and nblm have spoken our own thoughts on multiple times to be largely ignored by the biggest perpetrators of this "they're overly fetishized narrative". There's also fairly consistent discussion of how fandom treats Nico and reduces him to uwu small gay boy, which more often than not seems to mean "effeminate" rather than actually harmful stereotyping (yes queer men are allowed to be "girly" especially considering there is some canon text that could be interpreted with that meaning, if there wasn't a plausible way to determine canon that way I wouldn't care if people were going after others feminizing Nico a bit- but the issue is again, fact and feeling aren't the same and fandom seem to conflate the two rather often).

(Some of that ties into nonbinary Nico head canons which are common as of current, and that argument quickly becomes transphobic is people don't watch themselves... Even without bringing nonbinary Nico into the equation, headcanoning Nico as femme isn't bad or wrong, and to say otherwise becomes gender policing which is bad).

There's also this weird obsession with there being a "correct way" to ship mlm ships (specifically solangelo), which when considering it's not mlm or nblm saying those things, it becomes really uncomfortable. Especially because the wording of some posts is less "hey this is homophobic" and comes off more like people are more upset at seeing an mlm couple than at the fact that they're being shipped poorly.

All of this in combination with the constant, talking over of queer guys (specifically mlm and nblm) comes off really messed up, and yeah homophobic.

It's not something that can be pinned down to one specific thing but rather a series of smaller microagressions (which in sure most of are intended in good faith but are being filled with subconscious bias) that build up over time- which is why my concern is that solangelo is facing harsher criticism/different treatment that percabeth simply for being a queer ship.

I can't be 100% sure on that like I said, because that's something that is hard to gain tangible evidence for, or maybe even impossible :/

If there wasn't so many other small things going on alongside the harsher criticism of solangelo, I would honestly just ignore it... But the weird policing of "how to ship solangelo" while proclaiming it's "overly fetishized" all while speaking over a not insignificant number of mlm and nblm who have agreed with certain opinions, or taken time to write their own (+ some of the rhetoric that can be found on he blogs of people commonly expressing these opinions) is super uncomfortable and definitely homophobic... Even if they were treating the ship kind of weird, but treating the queer guys talking about it well and actually listening (because the current solangelo fandom probably has the highest proportion of queer guys in comparison to any other fandom I've been in with an mlm ship as of right now) I wouldn't be so bothered... But sadly that's not the case..

(I'd also like to note out of my posts criticizing the current conversations happening around the issue my post saying "listen to mlm voices" got a lot more notes than some of the other ones, which I can't say is specifically anything, because like solangelo perhaps being treated unfairly to percabeth, I am willing to acknowledge there might not be an issue- but it's weird how often mlm and nblm's posts on "listen to us" will be uplifted but never any actual criticism... Just a thought)

I detail things a little closer and in more detail in some of my posts tagged #fandom homophobia, #mlm fetishism, and #gender policing in fandom, it's not a full or comprehensive list (I've only really started speaking up in the last month or so), and it is largely solangelo specific. However I am always interested in listening to the voices of other queer guys about the issues and hearing out their thoughts as well (people aren't a monolith and I'm interested in trying to be as nuanced as possible!) and I acknowledge that although I am mlm and am going to be a little better at recognizing issues and calling them out (although I like every person am not perfect of course)

So yeah! That's a bit of the current ongoings, again not a full comprehensive list, and definitely not my best explanation ever but I think the point gets across well enough? Definitely check out my other tags if you're interested in more, there's also definitely more posts I need to make on some of the things I've seen (maybe not all of them so solangelo fandom specific, and maybe some of them even more solangelo fandom specific) but it's rather slow work in progress!