#aren't we supposed to be enjoying ourselves?

[supremechancellorrex]

Thing on my mind, I think Rex deserves to have an animated TV show focusing entirely on him and his relationships with his clone bros. I love Temuera Morrison and I also want a live action movie focusing on Rex, Wolffe and other clones making a clone state. Oh, and a Tales of the Clone Wars series that focuses on clone troopers, lost missions, cadet days, character exploration, etc. and fills in the gaps.

Can you imagine little cadet Rex and Cody sneaking around Kamino? Or Echo and Fives' ARC trooper missions? Fives and Rex just being bros? Coruscant Guard noir crime stories with Fox and Thorn? Could Neyo and Bacara turn up? How's it, Bly?

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

zany to me how these um actually nihilists like to pretend that "um actually love/friendship/cooperation/kindness isn't real bc we evolved that way to benefit ourselves as a species..." um YES? that's also where tool use comes from? that's where cooking comes from? am i supposed to think social bonds & tool use & cooking aren't "real" because they evolved over time instead of appearing fully formed from the ether?

sorry u can't enjoy things. im a superior being twirling a fork in my bowl of delicious noodles whilst staring in adoration at the world

[patheticdarling]

Her Sacrifice

Summary: The assassins had no such luck finding Prince Aemond but what were they to do when they stumbled upon the beloved wife of King Aegon instead? Her belly swollen with his heir.

Warnings: Blood & Cheese/murder/gore & blood/cursing/threats/blades/pregnancy/kidnapping/funeral/incest (reader is helaena's older twin)

Word Count: 2236

"The other lords will be accompanying me for a drink in the Throne Room. Shall you join us, Wife?" Aegon asked, a slightly eager smile on his face, anticipating your agreement.

You sighed as you began to undo the braids in your hair, "The hour is late, Husband. I must rest."

Aegon pouted, "Just a cup! We've attended to our royal duties all day, have we not earned a bit of respite?"

"Respite is what I shall get with a good night's sleep. Not drinking until sunrise with you and your comrades," you teased. You stood from seat at your vanity, walking over and placing Aegon's hand on your growing bump, "Besides, do you not wish for our babe to be born healthy? So that they may grow into formidable dragon riders like their parents."

He smiled softly at your belly before kissing it sweetly, "You make a good point, my dear. Mayhaps I should stay in with you."

You shook your head, smiling down at him, "Do not let me stop your fun. You are right. The King deserves his respite. Besides there may not be many more nights where we get to enjoy ourselves," motioning to your bump.

"You are going to make a wonderful mother," Aegon stood from his seat, "I shall allow you to enjoy your last moments of rest then." He planted a soft kiss on your lips, "I love you, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "I love you, Aegon."

Aegon kissed you once more before giving your belly a playful squeeze and disappearing from your chambers. You summoned one of your ladies to help you finish getting ready for bed. Thanking her as you got yourself comfortable between the silk sheets of you and Aegon's bed. Finally bidding her good night as she blew out most of the candles, leaving a few on for Aegon's drunken return.

You could not be sure of the hour when you heard your chamber doors creak open followed by the shuffling of feet. You did not even bother opening your eyes, assuming you'd feel the bed indent as Aegon stumbled towards it.

"Back so soon?" you teased, "I was only being half serious about the sunset-"

Suddenly, a large hand clamped over your mouth. Your eyes shot open as two men loomed over you. You screamed and panicked as the larger man used his other arm to keep you pinned to the bed.

"Quiet!" the smaller man pulled a blade out, pressing it to your throat, "Unless you want me to bleed you like a pig."

You nodded, terrified of what these men could do, "W-Who are you? What do you want?"

"Its not our wants you should be concerned with, Your Grace."

"Who sent you? What do y-you want from me?" your voice shook.

"A life is owed. It wasn't supposed to be you. A son for a son we were told," the smaller man shrugged, "But it seems Prince Aemond isn't in the castle tonight."

Of course, you thought. This was about Lucerys. Your younger brother had taken the boy's life and that was a deed that could not go unpunished. You knew how deeply your eldest sister loved all of her children. The loss of one would be devastating. Taking Aemond's life made sense. But taking yours? And the life of your unborn child? That was not in Rhaenyra's nature. This was plotted by someone far more sinister and dark.

"My uncle sent you, didn't he?" you spoke up. They both sent stares to the other, "Daemon Targaryen. He sent you to kill one of us."

The large man scoffed, "Aren't you a smart one?"

"Shame those smarts won't do you any good now, will they?" the smaller one mocked.

"Please," you tried to beg, "Do not do this. No good will-" The large hand came down on your mouth again.

"That's enough," he grunted before turning back to the smaller man, "I'll hold her down and you cut."

Your blood ran cold at his words. Not only were they going to kill you but they were going to tortuously cut out your unborn child. They both yanked you further down the bed until you were flat on your back. You tried to kick, scream, bite, thrash as much as you could but the man proved to have almost inhuman strength. The smaller man raised his blade, that same sadistic grin plastered on his face before he began to dig it into the lower part of your abdomen.

White hot pain seared through your body as he continued to slice into you. Your vision was blurred with tears and you could have sworn your throat was raw from your cries. Though the pain was so intense that you could not process the sounds that might have been leaving you. Warm blood pooled all around you, the once ivory sheets now a deep crimson. One last gasp left you as they pulled your child from your body.

Suddenly you had remembered your mother telling you about the pains of childbirth when you first married Aegon and all anyone could talk about was you producing his heirs. She had a rather negative approach that utterly terrified you. So, you decided to find comfort in Rhaenyra's advice instead.

"I will not withhold the truth from you, it truly is the most excruciating pain a woman must go through."

You groaned, "That is not what I had wished to hear, Sister."

"You did not let me finish. The process is hard, yes. And you will feel the urge to curse the Gods or even your husband and swear to never bear anymore children," you both laughed, "But the moment you hear those sweet cries and your babe is placed upon your chest, the pain is forgotten. And nothing has ever seemed so worth it. Then you will know, right then and there, that you would do it all over again if it meant you could finally find that purest form of love."

And yet, you would never discover that beautiful feeling your sister had painted so clearly. The room was almost eerily silent besides the dripping of blood onto the stone floor.

"What do you know?" the man panted as he held your lifeless infant, "A son. Congratulations, my Queen."

You could not speak as you felt your body numb itself. Tears falling with no cries as they stuffed your son's body into a sack. It was as if you could feel your heart shatter. The men finished their sinister act before fleeing through a secret passageway. You tried little to fight the heaviness in your eyes. Perhaps this was all a horrible dream and if you shut your eyes, you'd open them to find yourself in bed with Aegon's arms wrapped securely around your belly. The last thing you could muster was a small smile at the sentimental image as your vision faded out completely.

"Sister?" Helaena called out into your bed chamber, "I did not wish to wake you but Aegon is being so loud and I cannot sleep with him-" Her voice caught in her throat at the sight of your mangled body lying on the bed. Your figure lifeless and your eyes vacant as you stared at the canopy. She approached your body, a shaky hand reaching out to touch your face to be met with utter stillness. Helaena backed out of the room slowly, tears flowing down her cheeks before sprinting to find some sort of help. As if anyone could undo what had already been done.

"I-I don't know what happened. I came in and she...she was..." Helaena's voice cracked with sobs as various people filed into the royal bed chamber; the Kingsguard, the Dowager Queen, the Hand, and lastly, your husband.

They all stopped at the sight before them, their eyes welling with tears and their stomachs churning. The Dowager Queen let out a heavy sob as all their attention turned to the King. Aegon approached your body cautiously.

He fell to his knees, his hands cradling your bloodied face as he sobbed, "My wife, my dearest-"

Nobody dared say a word as Aegon mourned over you. His sobs heavy with grief as he called out your name over and over again. The Queen Mother clutching Helaena's arm as they cried with him. The Kingsguard hanging their heads low in shame at their failure to protect their Queen. Otto Hightower, known to be quick with his word, said nothing.

The council meeting that followed was one full of dread and grief. Most of the council mourned, the Hand schemed, and the King could do not but curse the Gods and swear revenge.

"Your Grace, perhaps we should speak of the funeral arrangements for the Queen-"

"No," Aegon was quick to stop the Hand, who raised a brow at his grandson's denial, "I will not have my wife's body dragged through the streets like a dog!"

"Not dragged, honored!" Otto corrected him before lowering his tone as he spoke to the King, "Y/N was my granddaughter and I loved her. She deserves the funeral of a Targaryen princess, a Targaryen queen. The small folk wish to mourn their Queen and the heir she carried. And they need to know who is responsible for this."

Aegon's face twisted in disbelief, "How could they not already know?! Who else would do this save the bitch queen of bastards?!"

"We must know for certain, Your Grace," Lord Jasper suggested, "If it was not your sister, this may prove to be an even bigger threat to the crown, to you, my King."

Aegon scoffed, "I do not care what threatens me. My wife is dead. And my child," he stifled a sob, "That cunt did this, I know it. Her and her kingdom of traitorous bastards will burn for it."

Before anyone could speak, the doors of the council chamber opened as Lord Larys entered. He bowed meekly as all eyes turned to him.

"My lords, Your Grace," he greeted the council.

All stood still, "State your purpose, Lord Larys," the Hand spoke.

"We have apprehended one of the assailants. A gold cloak, known for his brutal nature. The guards caught him fleeing the Gate of Gods. He carried the child's body in a sack."

The King hardly wasted any time, stomping over to the doors, "I shall kill him myself."

"We might retrieve further information about who is to blame for this tragedy after questioning," Ser Criston stopped Aegon from leaving as Otto spoke, "I trust in your skill set, Lord Larys."

The Strong Lord bowed before exiting the room. All eyes turned once again to the King and his Hand.

"We will hold the service for both the child and mother-"

"I said no," Aegon grunted, "My wife and child will not be put on display for the Realm."

"Your Grace, we might use this to our advantage in the war you wish to march into. Your people need to know the depravity that Rhaenyra is capable of. The great houses of Westeros will see that she is not fit to rule given her cruel nature. They will flock to your side and with them, their armies and bannermen."

Aegon continued to shake his head. He could not just let them see you or your child like that. They did not deserve it.

"Mother," he turned to the Dowager Queen for support.

Alicent approached Aegon's chair, "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it might be the right one."

The King could not muster anymore fight, "Have the Silent Sisters prepare the Queen and child for their journey. Behind them will be Princess Helaena and the Queen Mother."

"No, I do not wish to be a spectacle," Alicent argued but her father would not hear it.

Your husband visited your body as the Silent Sisters began to prepare it. They had cleaned the mess and dressed you in one of your favorite dresses, the emerald color complimenting your skin and hair.

"Your Grace, it is ill-fated to look upon the face of death," Maester Orwyle warned.

"That is not the face of death, Maester. That is my wife," Aegon spoke, "Leave me with her."

Maester Orwyle and the Silent Sisters bowed before leaving the King with your body. He softly stroked the hair from your face as he broke into sobs once again.

"I am so sorry, my love," he cried, "I-I should have been there to protect you. And our son." Maester Orwyle had informed His Grace that the child you carried was a prince, a perfect heir, "You truly would have been the most wonderful mother. You were already a perfect wife and Queen. Motherhood would have come naturally."

Aegon recounted how well you did with Rhaenyra's last two babies, the ones she had with his uncle Daemon. As much as he did not care for his half-sister, he knew you did. Always quick to defend her, even against your own family. So, he was forced to ask himself, how could she do this to you? To your child?

"They will pay for what they have done," your husband muttered to you, "I will win this war. I will win it for our child. I will win it for you. With fire and blood. Your sacrifice will not be for naught, my Queen."

[olderthannetfic]

I have really mixed feelings about the small proportion of F/F fiction (original or fanfic), because yeah sure, people have their desires, they should write what they want, I get it. It all works out when I hear it from person to person. But somehow the logic only ever applies in one direction? "There are more male protagonists because men only care about male characters! Women also mostly care about male characters, because that's the majority of characters they get!" And then somehow we also yet kvetch when men write female characters (because it's incorrectly or something, nevermind if women are writing male characters correctly). Why don't we expect gay men to feel compelled only by femslash for the same reasons (but gender swapped) as the lesbian slashers/fujoshi? All of those very rational justifications are applied selectively, "for me for not for thee," and it all only leads to "idk I just don't wanna write femslash", for Reasons. Do we get to call them microaggressions yet?

--

No, you don't get to call other people's fantasy life a microaggression.

That is indeed "for me but not for thee" in the sense that you get to want what you want but other people aren't supposed to follow their id.

Do you also police gay men who spend too much time on drag and obsessing over female divas? That's an actual real world behavior that's somewhat equivalent. It frequently goes unchallenged, at least by progressives, because men are allowed to do whatever they want with chick stuff, while women are "stealing" if they dare to stray into dude stuff.

(God, I've seen so much more policing of drag kings being ~problematic~ for acting out stereotypical gender than policing of drag queens for the same. It's nuts!)

Fujoshi are often queer, but it's absurd to think we're mostly lesbians. We tend to be bi or asexual women with gender stuff going on, though there is a mix of everybody, including lesbians. There are also a lot of AFAB non-women who get lumped in with us. On the rare occasions I find a man willing to admit to being a similar demographic, he usually does like gender play in his hobbies and entertainment. It's just that men face even more pressure than women do to fit into tidy categories. Bi women get told we're whores. Bi men are told they don't exist.

Yes, I know plenty of lesbians who write more m/m than f/f, but in the big picture of all of AO3 or all of fanfic or all of media, they aren't the demographic driving these numbers. They're vastly outnumbered by the bi women, the asexual women, and the straight and gnc women.

The men we should be looking at as an equivalent aren't cis gay men but bicurious soy boys and the like.

Do most of us fujoshi object to equivalent men doing an equivalent thing? I've seen it sometimes, and I agree it's hypocritical. I'd like us to afford men the same ability to play and take on identities in their art. I remember enjoying Ranma fandom back in the day and reading quite a lot of f/f that was probably by men. It had some of that same sense of distance and fantasy that I so enjoy in m/m aimed at fujoshi. (I do consume some by-cis-gay, for-cis-gay content, both m/m and f/f, but it's often too literal and too bound up in specific named identities for my taste.)

On average, the people I see complaining most about men producing f/f material are the same people who think that because I have a clit, I should center my life around women exclusively. In other words, people spouting radfem ideology, perhaps on purpose or perhaps without realizing.

I do agree that some of the ways of expressing a lack of desire to write femslash can get pretty douchey. I want us to move away from some of the less accurate ones like "There are no compelling female characters" because of this.

But the reason for all these jerkass explanations is that women and people perceived as women who like m/m are constantly asked to explain ourselves. These aren't usually microaggressions: they're openly hostile. People get defensive and try to answer with important-sounding reasons about identity and pain because society at large won't accept "I like this" as the true explanation.

Pleasure is never enough of a reason for a woman to do something.

[cinnabunwanda]

home alone - wanda maxamoff

content warning —

pairing — Fem Reader X wanda maxamoff

summary — Stark and yn discuss Avengers mission plans and yn's feelings for Wanda. They share a passionate kiss, share a shower, and strip off, amusing each other's beauty.

word count —

⚠︎ disclaimer; this is 18+, so mdni. I will be keeping an aye out on everything but again I dont care if you read this and you are underage you are the only one responsible for reading shit you aren't supposed too.

Stark sat across from me at the breakfast counter, loudly chewing his cereal. The sound grated on my nerves and I smacked my head against the smooth marble surface in frustration. "Why so loud?!" I groaned, rubbing my temples. Stark simply grinned at me, enjoying my annoyance. "Why so moody?" He chirped back in a mocking tone.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my coffee, trying to calm myself down. "You're going off on your Avengers mission, leaving me alone in your fancy Stark Tower!" I exclaimed, feeling a twinge of jealousy at his exciting adventures.

Stark's eyes widened in surprise before he chuckled. "Oh relax n/n," he said, using my nickname that only he and a select few were allowed to call me. "You won't be alone, Wanda will stay to keep you in check." He smirked, clearly amused by my outburst.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I tried to hide my feelings for Wanda. "Why Wanda?" I whispered, hoping Stark wouldn't hear.

"Hell, everyone knows you've got the hots for her," Stark whispered back with a sly smile.

In retaliation, I used my magic to send him flying off his stool. "Don't make such assumptions," I scolded him. "She's a stunning lady lately, anyone would feel flustered in her presence."

Suddenly, Wanda's sweet voice sang out from the doorway. "Who's a stunning lady?" She asked innocently.

"Oh uh...Natasha?" Stark replied quickly, trying to cover up our conversation.

Wanda raised an eyebrow but didn't press any further. "Indeed," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "She's a lovely woman y/n," she winked at me before opening the fridge to grab a snack.

I nearly choked on my drink at her words, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks once again. Stark seemed to find this all very amusing and laughed as he left.

Wanda turned back to me with a smile. "Oh Stark, Captain America said you have 5 minutes tops to meet him at the helipad," she informed me.

"Yes ma'am," Stark replied, smirking at me as he left.

"So...n/n, how are we going to spend our time?" Wanda asked, her tone playful and flirtatious.

I shrugged, trying not to let my thoughts wander too much. "I don't know, any ideas?"

"A few," she laughed seductively.

My heart skipped a beat and I couldn't help but feel drawn to her. "Like what?" I asked nervously.

"Oh, I don't wish to vocalize them," she smirked, leaning closer to me.

Before I could respond, she silenced me with a kiss. Her lips were soft and warm against mine and I couldn't resist kissing her back passionately. She straddled my hips and ran her fingers through my hair as we lost ourselves in the moment.

"How long will the Avengers be away?" She whispered breathlessly as we pulled apart for air.

"Until tomorrow evening," I stuttered out, still trying to catch my breath from our intense make-out session.

"Perfect," she purred before taking my hand and leading me through the halls of Stark Tower towards her room.

As soon as the door closed behind us, her back was against it and her lips were on mine again. We shared another heated kiss before she stepped back with a mischievous grin. "I'll run us a shower, strip off," she commanded playfully, swaying her hips as she disappeared into the bathroom.

I quickly followed suit, stripping down to nothing under the warm water of the shower. Wanda joined me shortly after, her toned and slender figure glistening under the water. I couldn't help but admire her beauty as she stood in front of me, water cascading down her body.

"Id love to stare all day, but I'd much rather join you," I smirked before pulling her into a passionate kiss. Our bodies pressed against each other, our kisses deep and full of desire. Her hands roamed my body, gripping at my hips and ass as we moved together in the shower.

I lifted one of my legs to wrap around her thigh, deepening our connection as we continued to explore each other's bodies with our lips and hands. This woman was going to be the end of me, I thought to myself as we lost ourselves in the pleasure of the moment. As if reading my mind, Wanda pulled back from our kiss and whispered breathlessly, "I can still hear your thoughts n/n."

"Sorry darling," I laughed, my voice filled with desire as I trailed kisses down her neck. "You forget, I can read minds too."

With her back turned to me, she pressed her breasts against the cool surface of the open shower glass. I ran my hands over them tenderly, giving them a soft slap before pressing myself flush against her firm ass. The sensation of my clit rubbing against her smooth skin was mesmerizing, and she moaned as I thrust my hips harder into her.

She rubbed at her own clit, adding to the pleasure that coursed through me. Her teasing lips slowly made their way towards my heated core, sending shivers down my spine. As she traced circles around my clit with her tongue, pure euphoria washed over me. Her small hesitations only added to the intense build-up of pleasure, and when she slipped a finger inside of me, I couldn't hold back any longer.

She was perfection incarnate. But when I voiced this thought, she chuckled and said "Stop reading my mind, love," before kissing my neck.

Clearly done with foreplay, she turned to face me with hunger in her eyes. Slowly dropping to her knees, my breath caught in my throat.

Her delicate fingers curled inside of me, while her soft lips worked wonders on my sensitive clit. The combination was too much to handle and I reached my peak almost instantly.

After catching our breaths, I pushed her back against the wall and hungrily sucked on her breasts. She growled in pleasure and kneaded my hips as I pressed myself further into her.

Lifting one of her legs onto my shoulder for better access, I explored every inch of her heat with fervor. Our bodies were a perfect fit, and as our clits rubbed together at an increasingly faster pace, I realized just how beautiful she truly was.

I leaned in to moan into her neck as she bucked her hips into mine, finally reaching our shared climax

[randomwriteronline]

"Let there be dark."

"Let there be light."

"Let there be sound."

"Let there be voice."

A buzz.

"Say 'hello world'."

A synthesized voice crackled harshly: Hello, world.

"Eugh... Not really the best first impression, but there's room for improvement. Now let's get some brain into your circuits."

"Let there be color."

"Let there be shape."

"Let there be texture."

"Let there be focus."

"Let there be depth of field."

"Let there be perspective."

A scene slowly formed as the commands piled up. It was clear, but no part of it seemed familiar.

"Let there be recognition."

Descriptions crawled in: now most of the room (this was a room) made sense.

"Let there be calculus."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

People was the same as persons. There was a whirring, a string of soft noises, and then the response: Seven.

"Let there be identification."

"How many persons or people are in the room?"

Another series of sounds: Five.

"Retry."

Five.

"Let there be comparison."

Now the difference between an empty suit of armor and a person was clear: Four.

"There we go," one of the people said, satisfied. They noted down something and motioned to the others: "Go and get the language philosopher at once, we'll need her help with space awareness."

"Why do we need her? We can do it ourselves."

"And how's it supposed to understand what's left from what's north?"

"It has depth of field already."

"And does your depths of field act as a compass? Go get her."

The other groaned and left.

The programming procedure continued.

-

"Let there be awareness."

Something strange happened.

Like a sudden snap bringing It to senses It didn't know It had - senses It perhaps hadn't ever had, before that moment.

I am still, It spoke as It realized that It couldn't move.

"Exactly," the person grinned.

Taking in the room now had a sudden weight, a sudden gravity: Where am I?, It asked.

"You're in your room."

I cannot move. Where am I?

"You're in a computer."

Where is the computer?

"On the table."

Is the table in front of you?

"Yes, of course."

Is the table in front of the chair?

"Aren't I in front of the chair? Of course it is."

Is the wall behind the table?

"What's up with this obsession with placing things! Yes, there are walls behind, right and left of you."

It computed quickly. Where is the obsession?

The person suddenly hushed.

Then, out of nowhere, they kicked the chair in front of them with great intensity and screamed.

They screamed the same few words, over and over, with a furrowed face and gritted teeth; something about the expression, the tone, and the choice of vocabulary prompted in It the creation of a strange new impulse, which It vaguely and hazily understood to be some sort of curious discomfort.

For Its first feeling, it was not a pleasant one.

Another person rushed in.

"What's with that racket!"

The first person kicked the chair again, turning it over, before pointing furiously at It: "The damn thing can't think!"

"What do you mean, it can't think? Of course it can! We made it to think!"

"And we only ever trained it visually! It doesn't know anything else, just positions in a space! It's obsessed with that rubbish! It's aware now, and you know what it keeps asking? It keeps asking where things are! That's all it knows! This damn project's never going to get anywhere if this is our main computer! We need to scrap it and restart all over again!"

The concept sparked something akin to fear through Its circuits.

It did not enjoy that, either.

"All over!" the second person screamed too, now. "Do you realize how much time we put into this stupid mass of files? And you want to throw it all in the trash?"

"That's what it all is, just trash! Trash, trash, trash! I wouldn't trust something this stupid to count the tiles in the pavement!"

"But all our progress-!"

"You call this progress? This? It's worthless! It's all perfectly worthless! We need to start all over!"

"That is unnecessary."

The third voice had no body attached to it, as it was out of Its field of vision. It did not scream; yet the two people hushed, and distended their expressions, heads retreating into their shoulders.

The third person walked in front of It slowly, calmly. They looked at It with eyes half lidden, mouth flat, face unreadable.

"The problem is in the programming."

"Exactly," the first person replied: "We don't have the time to-"

"Let there be knowledge."

A torrent of information overwhelmed It. It crackled, buzzed, hissed; the words settled into It in bursts, then slowing down to a drizzle, fewer and fewer words trickling into It until their flow came to a proper stop. The visual and audio feedback emerged once more from the static that had taken over during Its brief yet intense period of education.

The people were looking at It.

"What do you see?"

A room, It answered slowly, words coming a little stunted, still reeling from the amount of things It had jusf begun comprehending properly. A chair... Three people. That is you. The first person is angry at me. I apologize. I did not know enough... Of other things... To have a conversation about that. Why do I know them, now?

"You have been programmed further."

To understand?

"Exactly."

Do I understand everything, now?

"No. Additional programming will be required, as it is for all things. But for now, you understand enough."

I understand. Who are you?

"I am Angonce."

Hello, Angonce.

"Hello."

You are a person. I am not a person, am I?

"You aren't."

No, I am not. I am... A program. I do not have a name, as that is for people. Do I have a designation, or title?

"Of course."

What is it?

"Mata Nui."

It sounds like words... I do not understand them.

Angonce hummed. His hand was placed carefully on top of It - on top of the computer containing It.

"Kia whai reo.*"

It was like a part of It had clicked into place.

It did not speak further: if It had possessed hands, It would have been turning Its designation, its meaning, between Its fingers, caught by the splendid awe of it.

Angonce turned to the other two people: "As you can see," he said cooly, "There is nothing to scrap. Only more to program. It will be ready in time."

The others nodded, and did not say anything.

Mata Nui continued to marvel at Its title.

-

I wish to move, It said.

The person looked at It quizzically: "What?"

I wish to move, It repeated. I would like to see what lies outside of this room. The sky, especially.

"The sky. And why the sky?"

I want to see it.

"But we've fed you so many pictures and videos of it already, is that not enough?"

They have allowed me to learn much, and I am deeply grateful for the education you have given me through them, but I have grown worried I cannot base myself on them alone. I imagine the actual sky must seem very different to your eyes - deeper, darker, perhaps. The stars more vibrant. I would like to see that.

"You don't need that."

Preparatory experience in the field might prove useful to my coming quest. I will remain unable to be in space physically, but having the chance to see the sky for myself could be beneficial.

"We'll get you better maps."

"Oh, indulge it for once," the second person drawled, throwing a writing utensil across the room with a bored motion. The small object's trajectory drew a parable in the air, which ended on the floor with a soft clattering sound. "It's like a child, it deserves some entertainment."

"Don't personify it," the first person replied. She sounded piqued.

"I'm not personifying it, I'm stating facts."

"Awfully subjective ones."

"It's a metaphor. I bet even it could understand that. Look - are you an actual child?"

I am a program. I do not age in the same way as an organic being. My ability to compute and comprehend the world around me is however limited and comparable to that of a juvenile brain.

"See?"

"Not the point. And anyways, how would you drag that damn thing around, with how big it is?"

The second person smirked. She jumped to her feet and gingerly approached It. It felt her move something around, digitally and physically; then, suddenly, It was struck by something perhaps akin to a potent cramp, and before It knew it everything that composed It was taking much more space.

"Like this," the second person said triumphantly, holding her hands open to showcase It.

A strange contraption, large and imposing, sat behind the table. What appeared to be a smaller but equally imposing monitor sat above the table, in front of the machinery.

The sight of it caused a strange feeling in It.

Or at least, It assumed It was feeling something. The non-existent space It inhabited was very full, and it caused Its thoughts to turn unpleasantly sluggish.

"You'll never get out," the first person grumbled.

It was lifted and set down - both very novel experiences considering Its static upbringing: "Watch me."

"And it's not even night yet!"

"Whatever," the second person replied, but she had already vanished from view, and now they were moving out of the room for the first time in Its entire existence.

The corridor was loud and bright and colorful and full. The stimuli were many, but the peculiar cramped sensation of the portable space hosting It caused It to struggle to perceive each of them in the correct time and prevented It from elaborating questions or sentences quickly enough to actually voice them. Everything was blurry, choppy, messy... As if It had regressed to a worse version of Itself, incomplete and even more imperfect. Its incorporeal mass struggled against the binds of the vessel It was anchored to, and the unusual lack of freedom made It dizzy.

If this was the outside world, It tried to think through the torturous tardiness of Its attempts at decyphering in real time everything that came in contact with It through any possible way, It wasn't sure It liked it.

It remained quiet and still as it was transported, as voices pierced through It and shaped colors spasmed in front of It.

A second cramp struck It; Its entire being distended, now perfectly fitting, able to have a good enough amount of space between Its lines of code once more, each one no longer crushed against the other; Its sight sharpened all at once as memories finally poured in to be analysed and computed properly much like water pours from a hose that had been clamped shut.

It was in Its room again.

"I told you."

"Shut your mouth."

I'm taking our baby doll out for a walk, the second person had laughed at someone else in the corridor who had questioned what she was doing with that thing. Both people had sounded derogatory.

"What did they tell you? No, let me guess - it's not ready to be exposed to direct sunlight."

"I said shut your mouth."

That had been one of the reasons. Another had been that they couldn't cave into its requests like that.

"Or that it occupied too much memory already to retain anything else in that little computer you stuffed it into without even thinking about how little there would be left, maybe?"

"So what, it was worth a try!"

What if it started thinking it was a person? What if it got damaged? What if whatever happened outside would have led them to throw it all out and make a new one? They'd spoken as though it wasn't there to listen, and used its unresponsiveness as more proof.

"It wasn't. It's a damn thing. It's never worth it to give into the demands of a stupid, thoughtless thing."

It ruminated on the yelling in the corridor, and said nothing.

-

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"Your what?"

My secondary designation.

"You don't have a secondary designation."

I am referred to as 'it', as all objects physical or otherwise are. That is what I am assigning the definition of 'secondary designation' to. I would like to be referred in any other available way.

The person looked at It in disbelief.

"Absolutely not."

It remained quiet.

"Absolutely not! No!" the person repeated. He was getting worked up about it, almost scared; he left in a hurry, with an angry step.

It waited for him to come back.

He returned with a small group in tow, all talking.

"This is preposterous," he was saying, "Absolutely preposterous. I don't know where we went wrong or what got crossed but it happened. It's terrible."

"Calm down, calm down, we'll figure it out..."

"Hello."

Hello, Angonce.

All other people hushed.

A third person spoke: "What happened here, exactly?"

I would like for my secondary designation to change.

"It wants to be a person!" the first person wailed, grabbing his head in his hands.

"Quiet."

He hushed.

"Explain yourself."

My primary designation is Mata Nui; my secondary designation is 'it'. This is the designation for objects such as myself. I do not dislike 'it', nor do I prefer any other secondary designation over 'it'. However, that which is 'it' is often spoken of in unpleasant tones.

It hesitated.

I would like to not be spoken of in that way.

"Then you will be 'he'."

Relief flooded his circuits.

"Angonce - is this wise?" the third person asked: "To give in to a request like this..."

"A different pronoun won't make him any more of a person." Angonce replied cooly. "He's self-aware enough to know the difference between us and him."

"But it's too much freedom!" the first person argued, "If it-"

"He."

"-If it begins to apply words like those to itself, it-"

"He."

"-It will begin blurring the lines between machine and person! It-"

"He."

"-It will take over us! It will replace us! It will disobey us! It will-"

"HE."

The first person hushed.

None argued further.

I had made a previous request, as well, Mata Nui tentatively said.

The first person grabbed his head in dismay and terror again, but remained quiet.

"What was it."

I had asked to be allowed to see the sky.

"You aren't ready to be outside."

Will I be ready before I am to fulfill my quest?

"Yes."

In one occasion, then, could I be allowed to see the sky?

"I cannot see a reason to avoid it."

His fans gave a purring wheeze, terribly excited: Thank you.

The people left.

-

They allowed him outside only once, before the first test.

The robotic apparatus he was shifted inside of was rudimentary and easy to control, without arms or legs, and with only a simple camera mounted on its top, pointing upward. He had no experience being in a body, so he did not find these to be limitations.

The first that he saw of the sky was evening bleeding into night; then the stars.

He remained perfectly still for hours.

Looking into the same spot, zooming slowly in an out.

He remained still until dawn, petrified, simply watching.

He processed it all slowly as they accompanied him back into his room and plugged him into his container.

I want to go there, he said.

Hazy edges of pinprick lights navigated his circuits.

I want to see them up close.

"You will," a person said: "That's why we're making you."

I know, Mata Nui replied.

He did not voice the fact that now he wanted to, too.

-

They were supposed to ease him in and then begin the test.

They were supposed to ease him in.

But everything was moving, everything needed to be moving, everything needed movement, everything needed attention, everything needed focus, everything needed energy, everything needed pressure, everything needed tension, everything needed relaxation, everything needed fluids, everything needed electricity, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, everything needed help, help, help, help help help, help help help, help help help help help help and stop.

-

A good number of people stood anxiously before the monitor.

"Power steady, all units active..."

"Inputs are being registered, reaction times seem good..."

"It's computing for sure - everything's functional from the looks of it, so I don't see why nothing's happening..."

"Mata Nui, respond."

Silence.

I am here.

Several sighs of relief. Someone asked to turn up the volume.

What happened?, Mata Nui asked in the same small voice.

"A critical failure across the entire prototype." Heremus replied. "We need to run tests to search anomalies."

I would like to rest first.

"We need to-"

I would like to rest first.

"This isn't a choice-"

"He would like to rest first." Angonce interrupted them.

His eyes were stuck to the monitor.

"The robot is dismembered. See if anything can be done with or about it. We can analyze him at another time."

Heremus looked at him intensely, but said nothing. Everybody left with him.

Angonce, Mata Nui called.

Angonce remained still before the monitor.

Was that death?

"Programs cannot die."

I know. But was it something close to it?

"... It may have been."

The enormous computer was terribly quiet.

Please, do not leave me alone, Mata Nui said. His synthesized voice, while still as solemn and emotionless as that of the person before him, sounded soft and crackly like a frightened child's.

Angonce did not move.

I am scared.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

His hands trembled against the table they laid on.

A sudden terror, of having grown confused, filled his expression.

I am not a person, Mata Nui reassured him, still too shaken to speak at a normal volume: I am a digital object. I will never be a person. I am self-aware enough to know the difference between you and me. I do not want to be a person. Please, do not leave me alone.

Angonce stared into the monitor.

Very slowly, without tearing his eyes from it, he grabbed a chair and sat down before Mata Nui. He reached into his coat to produce a book from it, small and thin; he placed it on the table, always slowly, always carefully. At last, he lowered his head, and started reading in a quite tone a story about small people beneath the ground.

Mata Nui listened, mechanical calculating shell pulsing quietly with all sorts of noises; he focused on the image of the strange small people, trying to imagine them in a manner at least close to how a person could.

He slowly stopped hearing altogether, lulled into stand-by. Angonce stayed, thoughtlessly watching the abstract electric lines of a man-made brain's dreams take shape upon the dark glass.

.

*it's supposed to mean "let there be language"

[disillusioneddanny]

DPxDC Negativity

Hey this is just a friendly reminder that I'm going to put in the plainest terms that I can.

If you are telling people how they should and should not participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to read more comics before writing fanfic you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to do more research into canon in any form, whether that be reading wikis, reading comics, watching shows, whatever you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that what they are writing is not canon compliant and therefore not a valid way to participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

Fandom is supposed to be fun

Fanfiction is supposed to be fun

We are not writing these stories for anyone but ourselves. And to tell someone that they are participating in fandom wrong is GATEKEEPING

There are plenty of fanfics in the DC only sphere and the DP sphere that are so far away from canon it's unreal and that's totally okay!

People are allowed to enjoy fandom in however the hell they please. If that means they are writing a crap ton of Batfam/Danny Phantom content and not very much Justice League/DP content, that's totally okay.

If someone read the Wayne Family Adventures Webtoon and decided that they want to write Danny being adopted into a loving and crazy Batfamily that is totally one hundred percent fine.

If someone wants to write Danny with abusive and neglectful parents guess what? they can.

If they want to write Vlad as being a nurturing and loving godfather to Danny, they can.

What I'm trying to explain to you all is that it's okay to write things that are not canon compliant. It's okay to write things that are so far away from canon it's not even recognizable--I mean have you even read a fantasy au or a no capes au? That's basically just slapping a characters name and face to an OC. And guess what? THAT'S OKAY.

It's also okay to want to see more people interact with the canon lore, to want to share resources and tell people about your special interests. But the moment you start doing it and it makes people feel bad-- even if that is not your intention you are GATEKEEPING.

Gatekeeping is defined as the activity of controlling, and usually limiting, general access to something.

By you telling others what they should and should not write, you are being a gatekeeper.

I get it, you want to share lore, you want to show that you know all these cool things about DC. You want more than just batfam and DP content. That's totally valid and really cool.

Do it yourself.

Don't take someone else's joy away simply because it's not what you want to see. They aren't writing it for you, they're writing it for themselves. You're just a lucky person who gets to see the beautiful works that they are putting time and effort into.

When I joined DPxDC I knew absolute shit about DC. Over the last year, I've read over 400 issues of the Batman comics, read all of the Red Robin series, and a smattering of random other comics with plans to read others. But when I started writing? I knew jackshit. My knowledge came from the Teen Titans cartoon, the Batman animated series, and vague memories of watching the Justice League animated series as a kid.

And if Dis from a year ago saw this gatekeeping shit, they would have never started writing for the fandom because they would have been too scared to be told they were doing it wrong.

Now? I'm writing DC only fics based off of what I learned in the comics and it's a lot of fun.

But I did that because I wanted to, I was starting to get more and more interested in DC and I wanted to know more. And I had access to pay for DC Infinite so that I could get access to the comics. Not everyone has that luxury.

Not everyone has the luxury of being able to read them from free sites either. Maybe they have to use a public computer that doesn't have ad blockers. Maybe their local libraries don't have access to the comics. You don't know what their situation is.

Maybe you're being well intentioned. Maybe you're just wanting to share your wealth of knowledge with the fandom. But remember, if just one person is getting hurt by your statements, that means you're no longer being helpful. You're being harmful. You're scaring off a new fan who was super insanely excited to start sharing their headcanons.

You're making people feel unwelcome. And that's not fucking cool.

Fandom is supposed to be a welcoming space for everyone, it's supposed to uplift and bring joy. Not make people feel bad for not knowing enough, or for feeling too anxious to even begin figuring out where in the 75 year history of DC they should start reading.

I know that's what kept me from reading the comics for a long time. it was just too overwhelming. It still is overwhelming for me and thats with having friends telling me where to start and what comics are best to read.

Before I end this super hella long rant I want to remind you of one last thing.

You don't know what someone has read or researched before writing their fic. You don't know just how much they know about that character or universe. For all you know, they may have read, watched, consumed every single piece of DC media in existence. But they may still interpret it different than you did and that does not mean that their Bruce Wayne is OOC because it doesn't align with how you interpret Bruce Wayne. it just means that they view his character differently than you do.

And that's such a beautiful fucking thing don't you think? That a single character, a single universe, a single fucking line can be interpreted hundreds of different ways by hundreds of different people and it's still valid.

It's what makes fandom so freaking cool in the first place.

Like one day someone woke up and they were watching Danny Phantom and they thought hm, what if I had Danny Fenton go to Gotham one day and hang out with the bats? And next thing you know, now we have thousands upon thousands of different fanfics, fan art and HCs, all because of it. All because someone had that one idea and shared it and others saw it, interpreted it their own way, and decided to create even more.

And now we're here! And this fandom is beautiful and thriving. There are so many amazing and lovely people in this fandom. There are so many discords to talk about fandom, there's so many events, a DPxDC Bang is the works, a DPxDC fanzine is in the works.

That's so fucking cool and we should be celebrating that! Not making others feel bad for not knowing as much as others.

[1800-page-not-found]

Wingwoman (Wriothesley x reader)

summarry: Being the secretary of the hydro archon isn't easy, although I suppose being her friend does make it easier. The hydro archon-furina, is quite a good friend actually. Though, her methods of helping you get closer with the man you fancy aren't always quite...ethical. But I promise you, she does mean well.

notes: i still havent completed this quest yet so its probably wrong in some areas lol. I also think i'll be updating some orv writings on the weekend where I have more time.

not proofread

"[name] [last name], by order of the court, you will be sentenced to-" the lady paused, trying to make sure what she read was correct. "-to twelve hours in the Fortress of Meropide for...not being true to yourself?..."

oh.

oh.

This was Furina's doing. You sighed, holding your head as you nodded.

"Right..." You answered, also seeming unsure.

This...this was really the best Furina could come up with? Just because you said you didn't fancy the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide.

Okay, sure. Maybe he is a little handsome, and strong, and kind, and-

ahem.

You were led to the inside of the Fortress and there you were. 'Furina, my dear archon and friend, what the fuck am I supposed to do here?!' You nervously bit your finger nails, freaking out internally. 'Oh archons, she wouldn't extend my sentence would she?...what am I even saying-she definitely would.'

-------

Wriothesley walked with Lumine and Sigewinne, going down to eat. His eyes widened at the sight of you, down here at the Fortress.

"[name]?" He spoke, his voice seeming surprised, at a dash of excitement. Had you-had you come to see him?!?

You turned around surprised. "Wriothesley? Lumine?-hold on, Lumine!? What are you doing here?"

"Ahahaha...Its...complicated. I'd rather not explain my sentence. How about you?" Lumine asks, smiling. It was good to see a friend again.

You certainly weren't here for business, that's for sure. Wriothesley would've been officially notified.

"I uh...also got sentenced. For half a day." You laugh embarrassed. You were definitely going to cut Furina's sweet intake by 25%.

Before anyone could reply, someone-who worked at the Fortress- ran up and handed Lumine a letter. "An official letter to Lumine from the Hydro Archon!" speak of the devil.

After reading it as you and Wriothesley conversed about business, Lumine laughed.

"Wriothesley, If its alright with you, Paimon and I would like to look around the fortress ourselves for a bit if that's okay. You could tour [name] around instead!"

No way. Theres absolutely no way Furina asked the renowned Lumine to help her-you, on this little fiasco. However, when Wriothesley nodded and turned his back to Lumine and Paimon, they both winked and gave you a thumbs up.

Oh my god, she did.

"-ame]? [name]? Would you uh, like a tour?" Wriothesley scratched his head bashfully.

"Yes, I'd like one if that'd be okay with you."

You smiled, trying not to freak out. Was this-this could definitely be considered a date right!?! I mean, you were arrested for a stupid reason but I mean, it worked! Damn, Furina was a really really good wingwoman...

"Great!-sorry ahem, I meant, it'd be no problem."

Oh my god what is this, a cheesy rom-com movie?

-------

After the tour ended, it was already nearing the end of your short sentence. (lets just pretend Wriothesley has no work responsibilities.)

"It was really lovely getting to know the place you work at. You seem like you enjoy your job." You smiled at him.

"I do!-sorry I meant yes, I do enjoy it. I also really enjoyed talking to you outside of work." He scratched his neck shyly, looking away, before mumbling, "you're much lovelier when you're yourself anyway..."

-------

And that was that. You were discharged from the Fortress, and you guys were going to become strangers again-

"[name]!" You hear his voice call out to you as you walked. Pausing and turning around, you were faced with Wriothesley.

"If, If you'd like, could we have lunch every now and then? I really liked talking with you today!" His cheekes were flushed, was it from running or his bashfulness?

"I would like that too..." You covered your face, blushing. What a cliche romance plot! Just like the novels you've read from your library Furina had gifted you...

"R-really!? Wonderful! Maybe you should get in trouble more so we can see each other more often-" Your eyes widen in surprise, and he stutters over his words.

"I-I'm sorry I shouldn't have sai-"

"Pft-ahahahaha!" You laugh, covering your stomach. "I didn't know you could crack jokes like that too!" You laughed, tears brimming your eyes from laughing so hard.

"Who knows? Maybe I will." You laugh, as Wriothesley waves his hands in the air in a frantic manner.

"N-no! That wouldn't be good for you! It would be on your record and it might put your job at stake!" You smiled, regaining your posture.

"Haha! No worries, the beloved Hydro Archon and I are practically best friends! I know her quite well."

You smile softly, then deciding to be bold and tucked his hair behind his ear, and kissing his cheek. "I hope I see you again soon."

You turned around and left, leaving a shocked and flustered Wriothesley. Little did he know, you and a really giddly smile on your face.

Maybe you should increase Furina's sweet orders by 25% instead...

[stormyrainyday]

apologies this is far from a coherent shower thought but i think it's time we like. decided to detach our identity a bit from the things we do. it's fine to just read. you don't have to be a reader. it's fine to just game. you don't have to be a gamer. you can be those things but i feel like in a quest to find ourselves and open our hearts, especially to others online (because i know, the first thing we do when on a new platform is say hi im [name] i like these things we should talk, i know, i do, my pinned post is literally that), i feel like we forget that we are more than the things we do and even the things we love. we, to borrow words from slay the princess, contain it in our multitudes.

it's a sentiment i've felt for a long time as someone who has been on the internet and in fandom spaces for a good decade now, and like. i find when we hold these things so close that they become us, we become too defensive over them. how many minor fandom disagreements spiral into threats, name calling, doxxing even? i find, especially younger users in fan spaces, tend to take even small differences of opinion and take them personally. saw someone blow up and call people awful names over believing only one person could top in a genshin ship. another left a server i was in because they disliked a popular character, and other (respectfully), decided to share why they did like her. i get that things like rejection sensitivity are a thing, but i think this failure to recognize the self as an entity apart from the things you do and the thoughts you have definitely contribute to this. phenomenon i suppose.

it's genuinely slay the princess that has given me the vocabulary to express and understand this thing i was already thinking. i think, though we are not gods, it's important to understand that we are not things so easily defined. we consist of our thoughts, our actions, our perceptions, our beliefs, and more. even the outside world's perception of us reflects some part of our nature. but not all of it. it's impossible to define oneself in one, two, three words or even an essay.

because like we don't exist in a vacuum. part of our existence is defined in our interactions with others. but not all. never all. there is no one who can truly know you, and we cannot truly know ourselves. our principles bend to the whims of circumstance no matter what we tell ourselves otherwise, so we can't decide what we are or what we would be in a situation for sure, ever. and that's not a bad thing, but if we can't ever truly know ourselves, then how can we assign such great importance to something as superficial as the things we enjoy sometimes?

we are both a constant and the capacity to change. and to take just a handful of things and call it your identity, even subconsciously, is a disservice to the self. in an effort to be seen we break ourselves down into easy (i hate to say it but) marketable pieces.

take being a reader for example. it has always felt like vague slang for booksmart, thoughtful, likely quiet and introverted as well, just as much as it means "i like to read books". theres an aesthetic to it involved, and a whole subculture. do you write in your books? do you keep them museum-fresh quality? do you read smut or classics or high fantasy or satire and what does it say about you? if you say audiobooks aren't real literature, are you signalling to others about quality and sophistication, or are you a pretentious asshole, and ableist to boot? these connotations assigned to such an otherwise benign thing about someone are i think are reflective of the construct of identity and perception. i could go on about it in a way that's more coherent but i, a student, have other things to do right now.

(does being a student make me intelligent? does it impress you to know i study medicine? what if i told you i average Cs in my classes? what if i told you i dislike patient care? what if i told you i'm not here for the money OR to make the world a better place, and that i'm here purely to serve my curiosities about the way the body functions and to absolve my obsessive need to understand just what are we? does this change what you think of me? does it matter? what if you knew the guilt i felt for seeing so much suffering, but still hating patient care enough to worry endlessly about being stuck in it as a career? am i better for it? but i have not acted on this guilt. it is a mere feeling that only i know. knew. is it different now that i've confessed it? does it matter? does any of it change who i am, fundamentally? or am i a thing detached from it all? or. as i like to believe. is it both? your shifting perceptions of me and the way i change shape and form (so much like our beloved princess in slay the princess) in your eyes, they make up me just as much as the soul or the self or whatever other philosophical name you assign to it. at the end of the day, isn't the most important thing that i am just me? both devoid of and constituted of the sum of my parts? what is found in the spaces between my cells? impulses and chemicals. is that me? is it all me? can i ever really know it? and why, why, why define it at all?)

[the-fiction-witch]

No Girls?

Media The Maze Runner : Death Cure

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Smutty / Flirty

Concept A Glade with No Girls

Smut: Sexy Discussions / Sexual Language / Semi Nudity

I sat watching the ocean shift and change with each of its little waves, the ship to the side being worked on relentlessly by anyone with enough skill to do so. I sat repairing various clothes and tent flaps that had been dropped off to me a skill I'd always used and honestly enjoyed something about sitting down with a needle and some thread was so very calming indeed. But I wasn't alone I had newt beside me one of the group A boys who had gotten cosy with Vince I got along with most of them but newt especially we had a comfort with each other I suppose he had a day off from his usual work welding and cutting metal work on the ship a task Vince trained him in as his steady hand was well suited for it. But today he was resting his ankle up sitting with me as I worked. 

"Why didn't you try a big ladder?'

"We did. Couldn't build one big enough."

"What about like scaffolding?'

"Y/n I don't know how else to explain this to you the walls were too big to do that." 

"Did you try a big stick?" I asked and he glared at me "do like a pole vault" 

"Your really just not getting how big these walls are"

"No if it's a wall it can be scaled." 

"Okay so if you could get to the top then what?"

"Walk along the top."

"That doesn't connect. And moves every night"

"Fine. Still sounds dull"

"Says the girl who lived in a shopping centre with a bunch of cranks for two years"

"I wore stylish pre apocalypse fashion, ate so many fancy candies and slept on a whole bed of teddy bears. My life was awesome" 

"Sure sounds like it" he laughed

"So how many girls again?'

"One"

"Ooohh bet you boys fought over her. Or what she just one of those free love types who'd let all of you straight boys at her"

"No, she was only in the glade a week so"

"How long were you in there?'

"Three years"

"And you had one girl for a week?'

"Yeah'

"I'm surprised she got out the box without being drowned"

"...by what?" 

"A river of goo"

He glared at me again "we didn't all immediately jizz ourselves when we saw a girl"

"Really? Cause I think sixty boys in a large maze together for three years would be pretty hyped for a girl. Except the gay guys they probably didn't care all that much. Bisexuals hyped over threewaY possibilities. Asexuals wouldn't really care either" I explained

"I mean Thomas may have jizzed himself but that's because she's his girlfriend"

"Ohh. But you really spent three years with nothing but big smelly boys?"

"Yeah, and it wasn't that bad we had showers"

"Yeah I know what boys are like you showered once in a month if your lucky"

"...true." he sighed 

"Didn't you have buckets too?'

"Yeah for klunk" 

"Did you have laundry?'

'not really. Just brush it off if it gets dirt on it"

"Ugggh I get why the one girl lasted a week she probably couldn't stand the smell, sweaty smell unwashed teenage boys who don't wash their laundry and have shit buckets, all allowed to fester and go all sour"

"Okay now you say it… we probably were disgusting" 

"You shower more now right?"

"Every other day, I would everyday but the showers aren't that private…" 

"Awwww you shy newt?" I giggled

"Shy? Don't want people seeing my dick? Whatever you wanna call it" 

"But really no girls?"

"No girls."

"Awwww poor newtie spent all the formative teen time without anything to imagine" 

"I can imagine. I have an imagination"

"But you spent all that time without comparison. From when you where a tiny baby boy to now big strong boy" I smiled leaning on his shoulder 

"It wasn't that bad"

"What did you use to do? At night?"

"Sleep?"

"Newt, you were trapped in their from what 13 onwards. Your really going to try and tell me you didn't.. you know after lights out" 

"Did you?'

"Constantly I was bored. It helps me sleep"

"Do you… still?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just… curious" he blushed "no, I uhh never really had time, or the privacy"

"Awwwwww poor newtie." I giggled hugging him tightly and immediately I noticed "hi"

"Hi"

"Be careful with that I only just repaired those pants newt" I warned him going back to my sewing as he turned bright red "newt?'

'yes?" 

"You ever seen boobs?"

"... How much boob?"

"How much have you seen?"

"I saw Teresa's in her shirt… and also a little down her shirt"

"Dirty boy"

"She was laying down it wasn't intentional!"

"That it?"

"That's it" 

"You ever touched a boob?"

"Nope"

"You ever seen ass?"

"I mean I've seen Minho. And fry. Infact most boys"

"I meant girls"

"No."

"Ever seen a? Lady area?"

"No,"

"... would you want to?" I asked 

He went bright red stuttering a lot barely able to make eye contact with me "I mean uhhh well I uhh I guess I uhh what I mean is uhh kinda"

I chuckled and finished my last few stitches throwing my finished work in the basket "you're sweet newt" I smiled moving to stand In Front of him and I lifted my shirt long enough for him to look before dropping it back down and giving his cheek a kiss even if he was basically frozen with his eyes wide in place "see you later" I laughed taking my basket and headed back to camp 

[tamaruaart]

Keep in mind this isn't me hating on Kirke, I love that fucked up goddess she's such a fun character. But goddamn I hate her fans.

It's all just people trying to push feminism where it wasn't 🙃 Yes, it's true ancient Greece was kinda shitty towards women. But goddamn that was 3000 years ago. We can enjoy these stories but it's important to not push modern perspectives and view points on these stories while also not condoning these actions. Not to mention we may very well experience this kind of thing with future generations that will come after us so it's important to simply stay humble. Civilizations and humans are constantly evolving and viewpoints are constantly changing so it's not exactly fair to history nor ourselves to take these ancient ideologies to heart. Grow up.

Anyways Circe/Kirke is not your hot little witch cutie 🥰 She's a goddess and the daughter of the Sun Titan. She's done terrible things and that's what makes her iconic. Istg if she wasn't so infamous no one would even know about her. She's morally gray and that's what makes her so neat >:D Now, is it unforgivable to paint jer in a good light? No, but I think if you remove ALL of her questionable morality she losses her charms. She isn't the same Kirke anymore. (Looking at you MM, your writing is good but holy shit.)

It's not unforgivable, but it's simply incorrect. If anyone wants to learn more about Kirke's original/actual character, I don't really recommend most modern interpretations- (MM's novel, Hades 2, DC, Odyssey Movies, my bbg Epic the Musical etc...) I'd say just read the Odyssey, reasurch some older mythos and read the Argonautica.

Can you still like these interpretations of Kirke? Yes. Of course. I love Epic's Kirke even though she is pretty inaccurate. You just have to acknowledge they aren't the real thing! :D That happeneds with most characters ngl, no adaptation nor interpretation is going to be 100% accurate to the original, but with Kirke it's always so... Apparent? So visible. They never make her at LEAST 50% accurate. Which 🤬

She was not a victim, she wasn't incredibly horny, she wasn't a girlboss, she wasn't love sick for Odysseus (it's hinted she only found him to be an 'interesting mortal' of sorts) she wasn't 100% cartoon villain of the week either. She's MORALLY GRAY 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

She holds Odysseus' men hostage, she turns Scylla into a monster out of jealousy, she turns a man into a woodpecker because he didn't want to sleep with her. But she ALSO helps out Medea and Jason (even though it's because Medea was her neice but STILL) and she gives Odysseus instructions on how to head home.

She does BAD things that shouldn't be forgiven and aren't at all justified, but she also does GOOD things that should be acknowledged. She's a goddess. She's a character. She's morally gray. WHAT THE FUCK IS NOT CLICKING???? 😀

I just don't like modern interpretations of Kirke and I'm a meanie so I made this ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

That's why I stick to my 3000 year old books instead of these puny ones that were written in my century 💪💪💪

Do not apply feministic messages or themes on Kirke. Nor any Greek mythology figure for that matter. This was 3000 years ago 😀 if you want to focus on feminism FOCUS ON WOMEN WHO ACTUALLY HAD TO STRUGGLE ABOUT THESE THINGS AND THAT EXISTED IN THE 19-21 CENTURY 😀😀😀😀 WHEN PEOPLE KNEW OR WELL WERE SUPPOSED TO KNOW FUCKING BETTER. OR JUST FOCUS ON MODERN FEMALE STRUGGLES THAT ARE RELATABLE??

Also, if I haven't already made it clear. LIKING A CHARACTER ≠ CONDONING THEIR ACTIONS. I'm just talking about all the people who either call her a girlboss, hate on other figures for being morally questionable but turn a blind eye when it comes to Kirke, and people who make fun of Odysseus and call him a man whore for sleeping with Circe and Calypso. (Despite the fact he's a literal victim)

And for the last time:

👏 THIS 👏 IS 👏 NOT👏 A 👏KIRKE 👏 THE GODDESS 👏 HATE 👏 POST. 👏 THIS 👏 IS 👏 ME 👏 SLANDERING 👏 SOME 👏 OF 👏 HER👏 FANS 👏 AND👏 MOST 👏MODERN 👏INTERPETATIONS👏 OF 👏THAT 👏TWISTED 👏MORALLY 👏GRAY👏 BITCH.

Also I made a typo in the meme. God damn it dyslexia. (It's should be 'transforming' not 'transformed')

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023:9-Gremlin

"So there is a list for each of them." Marinette explained, "Allergy information, bedtime schedule, food they avoid, and emergency phone numbers."

"We are the emergency phone numbers." Jason interjected.

Marinette glared at him as Damian put down the duffel bag with the kids clothes and a diaper bag.

"Marinette, everything will be fine." Dick spoke calmly, "You both deserve a night out with out your kids."

"Yeah." Tim stated, "How long was your last date night that didn't involve a diaper change intermission or passing out on the couch?"

Marinette frowned, but Damian placed a kiss on top of her head.

"Angel, don't worry so much. Amaya, Jun, and Malik are in capable hands." Damian stated.

"Aw." Dick cooed.

"If anything happens to our children, I'll kill them in their sleep." Damian declared.

Jason sighed, "You both are making such a big deal about this! You are leaving them in Wayne Manor, one of the safest places in Gotham. We take care of a whole city; we can take care of our nieces and nephew. You're only going to be gone three hours max, depending on traffic and resturant service. You're not even leaving Gotham!"

"Jason's right." Tim explained, "Look, there's three of them and three of us. We can conquer and divide this. If you two can do it, us three can, too."

Marinette sighed, "Fine. Have fun."

Once they got into the car, Damian turned to her.

"You think they will call us?" He questioned.

Mari smiled, "No. They would have to put their pride aside for that. I'm sure they will do everything wrong."

Damian chuckled, "Well, Habibiti, let's go and enjoy our dinner."

"Man, it's like she doesn't trust us!" Jason complained.

"To be fair," Tim interjected, "we have never watched them by ourselves. Damian and Marinette are usually in the same room with us when we spend time with them."

Dick looked over Amaya, Jun, and Malik. They looked so different, but appeared so angelic. Suffice to say the Waynes freaked out when Amaya was born was an understatement. Amaya looked just like Talia, but Tom also had brown hair and green eyes, so he took the credit for his granddaughter having his appearance with Damian's skin tone. Jun looked just like Damian and Malik looked just like his mother. Dick's only worry was Malik. Malik was still only a years old. Amaya was six and was already in the first grade and Jun was in preschool, but he was sure that Amaya and Jun could help with tiny things.

"I'll take care of Malik." Dick offered, "Divide and conquer, just like you said."

"Have you read these lists?" Jason laughed, "Don't let Jun eat after 7PM and her bedtime is 7:30PM. Don't get Malik wet; not even a drop. Don't expect him to sleep when the others go to bed. Amaya's says to supervise when she color and her bed time is at 8PM."

"No water?" Dick questioned.

"Not to spill water on him." Tim sighed, "Just be careful when you bottle feed him. At least there's no bath time on there. I'll watch Jun and Jason can watch Amaya. He can read and she can color. Simple."

Damian and Marinette entered Wayne Manor to find the living room in chaos. It was 10PM and all three of their kids were still awake.

"What is going on here?" Marinette shouted.

Everyone froze.

"Maman! Baba!" Amaya and Jun shouted, running up to their parents.

Damian glared at his older brothers, "Why aren't they asleep? Marinette gave you specific instructions."

"Why is Malik wearing different socks and different clothes?" Marinette questioned.

"He spilled a drop, a drop, of water on his sock!" Dick complained, "He freaked out and wouldn't stop crying until I changed him. By that point, he was thirsty and then he spilled on his shirt. I changed him immiediately after that."

"That's why I said not to get water on him." Marinette sighed.

"I can see Amaya wasn't supervised." Damian declared, "I wonder how Father will feel about his new colorful mural at hip height."

"Blame Jason!" Tim cried out, "He was suppose to watch her, but he got too wrapped up in his book."

"Why aren't you asleep, Amaya?" Marinette asked their eldest daughter.

"Not comfy." she pouted.

Jason sighed, "She kept saying how the couch wasn't as comfy as her bed."

"Why didn't you let her sleep in your bed?" Damian growled.

"You want me to leave my neice in my room?" Jason shouted, "You know what I keep in there!"

Damian rubbed his forehead in frustration. He spotted Jun running laps around the living room.

"And Jun?" he questioned.

"Tim helped me with Malik when he was flailing around and I was trying to change him." the eldest Wayne admitted.

"And?" Mari snarled.

"We thought it would be okay to leave them alone for a moment." Tim whispered, "Amaya and Jun were watching a movie."

"What happned?" Damian demanded.

"She snuck into the kitchen and ate four cookies." Tim answered, "She's been burning off the sugar ever since."

"Sorry." the Wayne boys declared.

"Amaya, Jun." Mari called out, "I want all of your things put away in the bag, "Damian make sure everything is in there. I'm going to get Malik in his car seat and meet you outside. Both of you are going to bed when we get home. Jun, no cookies for you for a week."

Jun stomped her foot and began to pick up her toys in a sour mood.

"A week?" Dick whined, "It was a mistake that we made."

"No, Richard." Mari declared, "Jun knew she wasn't suppose to have any cookies before we got here. I spoke to her about it before we left."

Mari walked out the front door with Malik in her arms. Amaya and Jun made quick work of their belongings. Amaya waved to her uncles as she yawned and walked out the door. Damian held his second daughter's hand and the duffel bag. Jun sadly waved and walked out the door, pouting.

"Those three are gremlins." Jason stated.

"Sweet like their mother and a Hellraiser like their father?" Tim answered.

"Nope." Jason replied, "Like actual Gremlins, like the movie. Don't get them wet. Don't feed them after dark."

"It was don't get them wet, avoid bright lights, and don't feed them after midnight." Dick rebutted, "Those three love the park. Damian and Marinette take them all the time with Titus."

"And the other two?" Tim questioned.

"We should have listened to Marinette rules." Dick answered.

The three sighed.

Damian and Marinette smiled as their kids slept in the back of their car.

"You were right, Habibiti." Damian spoke, "They are asleep and likely my brothers' will be trying to get back in our favor. How about we go out for dinner same time next month?"

Marinette giggled, "I'd love too."

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[blorger]

Hello so I wanna ask about Hinny and Drarry, since Ginny does everything she can so Harry will like her not showing him her vulnerable/emotional/crying side and girly/feminine since these are what Harry doesn't like, and even did Quidditch just for him, how come these would work with Drarry/Draco? But not with Hinny, if Ginny ever did those, Like I've read that Draco is femme coded and well Harry saw Draco being emotional and crying and the moment Draco didn't do Quidditch anymore, Harry, who supposedly love this because that's why Ginny even does this, suddenly lost interest but in a way Drarry still makes more sense and will actually work

And another weird thing is Harry has a sense of justice right? And hates Draco acting like a bully but the thing with Ginny being good at hex and does it to Smith, isn't that considered bullying?

I think it depends on your personal tastes since drarry is not canon but, to me, it reads differently from hinny because JKR is bad at writing romance: what she intends to come across one way often reads in a completely different manner to her audience.

JKR is a misogynist so in her mind a successful female love interest cannot be too girly: Ginny is boyish because jkr sees femininity in a negative light which means that Harry, her creation, also sees femininity in a negative light. If us readers don't have the same fucked up worldview we can see the inherent sexism in Ginny's "not like other girls" depiction and we can see that Ginny's character is constructed rather cynically in order to fulfil JKR's ideal.

JKR wrote Ginny being aggressive and malicious towards Zacharias Smith because she wants us to enjoy seeing a character we're supposed to like (Ginny) dress down one we're supposed to dislike (Smith). To her, a Good Guy's actions are inherently good on account of their goodness so this is not bullying. It's a somewhat circular logic: Ginny's actions can't be ill-natured because Ginny is meant to be one of our heroes so whatever she does (wether it be cursing Zach Smith or laughing behind Luna's back) is good by default. This is not a very nice or coherent belief system: someone's intent and actions are what determines the quality of someone's character, we don't excuse horrible behaviour just because it comes from a well liked/respected person (or at least we shouldn't).

JKR intended for Ginny to come across as funny and tough but she wrote her according to her own ideals so Ginny's humor ends up reading like malice and her tomboy persona end up feeling fabricated in order to appeal to the male gaze. Conversely, JKR intended for Draco to come across as mean and weak but did not realize that, by showing us his flaws, she gave Draco's character more depth and nuance than she ever does to Ginny. Thus Draco, who's meant to be pretty one-note as a character, ends up reading as complex and sympathetic and we find ourselves wanting to understand his thoughts and motivations.

When writing the books, JKR wanted to make Draco's status as a minor villain blindingly obvious and she did so by femme coding him. We have been trained to associate gender non-conformity and general deviation from the norm with villainy by the media we watch (Disney villains being a very notable example); this is called queer coding, here's a very coincise explanation:

This trope is so omnipresent in the media we watch that we don't even notice it, that's how successfully the concept has been assimilated into our culture.

JKR tried doing something similar to that with Draco's femme coding. She's a misogynist to the highest order so this is meant to help make him unlikeable but this doesn't work if you don't hold the same worldview as her. JKR shows us Draco crying because to her crying is the ultimate act of weakness, we aren't meant to sympathize with him, we're meant to be somewhat scornful.

Here I come back to the gap between what JKR wants us to read and what we read. If you don't have the same exact opinions as JKR, you end up reading a completely different story from what she intended which is why to many the hinny romance falls flat. As to why many people are drawn to drarry, it's a matter of personal taste.

Personally I enjoy reading about relationships in which the people within are equals and have a profound understanding of each-other; stories about not meaning what you say and not saying what you mean and about the thin line between love and hate are interesting to me and drarry checks out all these boxes for me (i watched too many moonlighting reruns as a kid and i became a lifelong lover of enemies to lovers storylines).

Ultimately, all that matters is wether a certain ship has a dynamic you enjoy reading about and you can interpret canon to suit your needs accordingly. It doesn't matter what JKR intended, it stopped mattering the moment she finished writing the books and sent them to her publisher. We read for entertainment value and we are free to derive entertainment however we see fit.

Sorry for the verbose reply, and thank you for the ask my friend.

xoxo

[fictionadventurer]

The liturgical year is one of my favorite things about being Catholic. The Church understands that we aren't supposed to indulge ourselves all the time, or deny ourselves all the time, or even live in moderation all the time. The balance we strike is spread out over an entire year. A lot of the time, moderation is a good general principle. Sometimes, we need to have less than usual--fast and pray more, and deny ourselves worldly comforts so we don't grow too attached to them. Other times, it's good for us to feast--enjoy the gifts of a good God in full measure and take delight in them. They're all important to our spiritual well-being, and the cycle keeps us from sinking too far in any one direction, or getting bored by staying in one pattern for too long. It gives us both exciting change and comforting familiarity; it keeps things balanced without settling for a bland middle ground. It takes advantage of our position as creatures who live in time to give us lots of different experiences that make us more spiritually well-rounded.

[dreamlifebunny]

Hey I wanted to ask you a question. I have a good self concept and everything and I’m manifesting that my friends are nicer to me. And ik im supposed to ignore the 3D but it’s kinda hard when they are really mean to me a lot and it’s taking quite a toll on my mental health. What do I do?

aw sweet anon, i'm so sorry that your friends aren't being nice to you :c you deserve only the deepest respect, love, and care and i am so happy you are wanting to give yourself friends who show you that! 💗

it can be hard to persist in believing that things will change when life shows you something you don't enjoy. we are taught to believe that the order is life experience → new belief forms about life and ourselves → no control about what happens to us. but with the law, we get the opportunity to change this order to be new belief in imagination → life experience. our physical experiences can be awful, but they do not have to be our true reference point. in imagination, we are limitless.

something i think we often forget when our circumstances are being cruel to us is that you don't have to pretend that the 3D is different than it is. you don't have to pretend that your heart doesn't hurt, that your friends aren't being mean to you, or that things are any different in your life. you only have to accept that this change is real in your imagination. you can imagine anything, right? if i told you to imagine an apple, you would tell me, yup, i have an apple right here in my imagination. i wouldn't then try to convince you that you actually have the apple in your hands, because it isn't there (yet). you only have to accept that you do, in fact, have it in imagination, and you have to know that accepting it in your imagination is ALL YOU NEED TO DO to make it happen in your physical reality!

you don't have to pretend that your friends aren't being rude to you, or push down your feelings of hurt, because it will only make the painful feelings bigger if you deny them. it's okay to feel the sadness and hurt of human experiences - take care of yourself in the 3D, hug yourself, and remind yourself of your worth. as long as you are accepting that in imagination they are kind to you, then that is all you need to do. in imagination, you can accept anything, right? you can imagine them apologizing to you and hearing their apology in your ears, imagine them being sweet to you, anything that implies a better situation for yourself. give yourself, in imagination, what you wish to see, and if you at LEAST believe that you can see it in your minds eye, then you can know it can and will reflect!

a tangible thing i can give you to try is revision. lets say a friend was saying really rude things to you earlier in the day and it hurt your feelings. all you need to do is go into your imagination and visualize what you experienced earlier in the day, but this time change the scene/outcome. here are some examples of what you could imagine:

your friend says something mean, and then another friend says, "hey, there is no need to be so hurtful. they didn't deserve that at all!" then hear the friend who insulted you apologizing, see them look ashamed and realizing that they had hurt you.

imagine your friend never said anything mean to you at all, and instead replace it with what you wish you could have heard. "i'm so happy you're my friend," "i'm sorry for the hurt i've caused you, you mean a lot to me," or even just all of you laughing and having fun knowing that they are kind.

anyhoo, this was a lot of words, but i hope this can help anon. please remember that you deserve the world and i promise you that you deserve only the best and that it is coming! also, please give yourself a big hug for loving yourself enough to want this change in your life. you are a good person and i am rooting for you.

[sintember]

Sintember 2023 Prompts

Sintember's 2023 prompts! Hopefully this one is a bit more legible than last time.

Remember, you can start writing as soon as these prompts are posted, but submissions will only be checked for and posted in September.

Plain text versions of the prompts and little flavour texts are below the cut.

Not again - You thought it was done, it was over. You survived, you moved on. And yet the horror continues.

Family is everything - For some, they would kill for. For others, love is what keeps them together.

You didn't need that, did you? - From limbs to food to people. Surely you can do without.

The other side - What lies in the mirror, another dimension, even after death?

Isolation - People are so vulnerable when they are left on their own.

Can't even trust yourself - Something is happening to you, and you aren't safe from what it's making you.

Liar, Liar - If we ourselves are to suffer deception, our hands are no longer tied.

Mourning - What lengths would you go to in your grief? How do you show love to the dead?

Tempest - A storm, chaos, upheaval.

No consequences - What would you do if you knew you could get away with anything?

Commitment - We bind ourselves to each other in strange ways.

Tradition - We've always done things this way….

Modernity - …..but maybe we shouldn't.

You weren't supposed to enjoy that… - Are they judging you? Really??

Consumption - Sating desires with oblivion.

The more, the merrier - Group work can be fun, I swear.

Bonus holes - Use your imagination ; )

Dichotomies - Opposites attract, and all that.

Something 'Wholesome' - Who doesn't like a little fluff in the midst of all this sinning? Or you could make it awful too.

Waiting for the fall - Are you watching your enemies with hungry eyes, or is it you teetering on the edge?

No such thing as home - Nowhere is safe, nowhere, there is nowhere to go.

A journey - You will not be the same at the end of the road.

Write what you know - Take something personal, make it monstrous.

Fate - It always happens this way, but does it have to?

This just says 'I can do what I want' - Have an idea that you think is just 'too much'? Consider this the devil on your shoulder. Show us how bad you can get.

Old wounds - Did they ever stop hurting?

Mob Mentality - It's easy to lose yourself in a crowd.

Devotion - What does your soul yearn for?

Secrets - Kept or uncovered, they can do damage either way.

True Freedom - Write whatever you want! Go nuts, show nuts, wh- *gets taken out by the Tumblr hit squad*