#because they feel like distinct entities

[apollos-boyfriend]

peach's personality very much revolves around being a princess and she takes pride in her femininity and being dainty and neat. thats not to say she WON'T rise to an occassion when needed and she does talk back sometimes as seen in games like M&L and pm but thats not her default!!

even IN games where she's more forward and talks back more, it's still DISTINCTLY peach. my main games have Always been paper mario, and yeah, she has her more snippy moments because of the fact that she's given more dialogue and her circumstances are different than most of her "normal" appearances, you can still recognize her as peach. i even feel like those games Should've been their main basis off of movie peach, because the more snippy peach is clearly what they were going for. but instead they just?? replaced her with the fucking girl character from the emoji movie.

if you gave me some lines, mannerisms, and key traits of a paper mario peach, without giving me her name, i'm sure i'd still be able to Understand you were talking about peach, because at her core, she's still the same character. even when she's more witty, it still Feels like peach, because the way she retaliates is in a very princess-like manner, if that makes sense. she still has a high and proper regal way of talking back. if you did the same thing with movie peach, i would never guess you were talking about princess peach in one million years, because there is nothing that's remained. she talks like she's a riverdale character. she's not allowed to feel any emotion other than girlboss and Maybe some longing/soul-searching for two seconds but ONLY THAT we don't want people to think she's not emotionally strong. how is the audience supposed to think she's capable if she's not 100% girlbossing it up 100% of the time?

[neanderthyall]

Only watched the first episode of the second season but my thoughts are: bad

Fair, i definitely struggled through the season because, in my opinion, we're getting a lot of things that are clearly trying to get at the source content/arcs/whatever, while shoving three book series into a single show. Like, there are little bits that I felt I could really like, but the way it was written was so weird. Like, kaz having flashbacks in the stadwatch wagon with Jesper is both acurrate and inaccurate in such a weird way that i can't fully enjoy it or hate it. Idk im currently at the point where it all just feels weird to me and im being pretty selectove over choosing what bits i pay any attention to and care about lol

[strawberrysapphocake]

my gender is literally just whatever Jackson & Jillson have going on…

[forpiratereasons]

ok so here's the thing about izzy imo. narratively speaking, izzy's adoption into the crew in eps four and five is more about the crew than it is about izzy.

the crew is at each other's throats, suspicious, angry, ready to snap. conflicted. they only come together and work through their trauma by coming together and doing a craft project to help someone who clearly needs some help. it's not that izzy especially earned their acceptance or their adoption or their forgiveness. it's that the crew chose all these things regardless. that's healing for the crew. they saw someone hurting, who needed help, and they helped him. offered community. offered stability. they could still do that together.

even stede does this imo. the whole "training montage" thing, when you really look at is, is like, pretty limited? izzy tries to teach stede two things and stede is not at all shown to improve at either. i would eat my shoe if ed actually said izzy taught him everything he knows. frankly i'd eat my shoe if ed had actually said anything to or about izzy since izzy shot him. but izzy is only happy (...in his own way) when he feels needed, or useful. stede knows that he and izzy aren't in a place to have a conversation that would end in a helpful place. instead stede lets izzy feel needed and useful, puts him in a position where he can prove to himself that he's still worth something.

why?? why bother?

because they recognize that izzy's suffering. because they recognize izzy devolving into his own kraken era. because they've learned something about people in crisis through ed's experiences, and they're trying to do something to help. because they're the kind of people who help. because they're embracing stede's culture of kindness. because it heals something in them to do it.

sometimes, and i don't mean all the time, god knows, but sometimes. life will give you people who need to be forgiven even though they haven't earned it, maybe even when they aren't sorry, because you need to do that for your own self. sometimes you need to do it to heal, or for closure, or to cut off the last thing tying you to an ordeal. sometimes you need to do it to prove there's still something inside you that's capable of it. that you are still capable of goodness or kindness or even just fucking. moving on. this isn't true for every case, not for every person or every truth, but sometimes. and izzy is that sometime.

notably, this does not extend, thus far, to ed. ed and izzy have not spoken since izzy shot him. i guess i would be surprised if ed and izzy didn't eventually have A Conversation About Alla That, but at the start of ep 4, neither ed nor izzy were in a position to have that conversation. ed needs to do his healing with stede. izzy needs to learn how to exist as a separate and distinct entity from ed and from blackbeard. izzy could never have gotten there without being shown that he can be that by the crew; his arc is not, for lack of a better term, self-powered. they show him how it can be and he allows himself to be brought into change. then ed and izzy can heal what they need to heal. to stop hurting each other.

the narrative is just setting the two of them up to get there.

[writingquestionsanswered]

how does one cope when mid-way through they realize they are writing a tragedy and there is no possibility of a happy ending? especially when that was not the original intention? i'm absolutely gutted by this realization and i hate that i feel wedded to it.

Upset Because Story Went Off the Rails

You're a Writer, Not a Marionette - Long ago, I bought into the believe that characters and stories have minds of their own... that it was beyond my control if my character did X when I wanted them to do Y... that there was nothing I could do if my happy meet-cute story decided to be a dark tale of horror. It can be kind of fun (and freeing, honestly) to believe we're just helpless vessels through which some greater storytelling force speaks, but that's not the case at all. There's no magical entity pulling the strings beyond your control. If your character does X and you wanted them to do Y, you did that, not your character. If your happy meet-cute turns into a tragic horror, you did that, not your story. You're the writer, and you're in control of everything that does or does not happen in your story.

Does It Make the Story Better? - Human brains are incredible things, and sometimes when your character does X when you intended for them to do Y, it's because some part of your brain realizes that's the better choice. Maybe it's more believable or more natural. Maybe it just works better with what you're laying out. Maybe it's just more interesting. So, the trick is to look at the unintended thing that happened and ask yourself if it makes the story better. Make a list of pros and cons... what are the ways the story is better if you stick with X rather than Y. What are the ways it's worse? Ultimately, if the change truly makes the story better, it's worth following through.

Beware of Story Parasites - Parasites are organisms that invade and thrive inside a host organism, at the host organism's expense. When you're writing your WIP and it takes a massive shift in tone, genre, or direction, sometimes that's because a whole new story idea has bullied its way into this one and is now feeding off this story to survive. If the unintended thing doesn't make the story better and leaves you feeling upset about the direction things are heading, you've probably got a story parasite. In which case, the best thing you can do is write the idea down as generally as possible, and set it aside to work on another time. Treating this invasive idea as something distinct from your WIP can help you move on and keep your story on its intended path.

What To Do When the Change Has to Stay - Very rarely, you may find that story's original direction just isn't working, and that this new (and vastly different) direction makes for a much better story. In that case--if you're absolutely certain this is the right path--it's worth making a list of all the reasons this idea will be better. Try to imagine what the story will be like if you stick with the original plan, versus if you make the drastic change. Can you think of anything that excites you about this new idea? Can you find reassurance in the many ways that this story shines versus the original idea?

Ultimately, It's Up to You - If your story takes an unexpected and upsetting turn, and you're certain it's the superior course, and that there's no point in pursuing the story's original path instead, it's worth really taking a look at why it's so upsetting if it's the right thing to do. If you're disappointed that your original plan didn't work out, spend some time trying to figure out how to make the original plan work better than the new idea. If you're upset because this idea is too personal or triggering, set it aside and see if you can come back to it later. You're not obligated to keep working on a story if it shifts in a direction that makes you unhappy or uncomfortable. You can set it aside or figure out a way to keep it in your comfort zone.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[tobi-smp]

you know, with hindsight now what it is I really do think a more literal reading of c!techno's chat would have helped his characterization a Lot

and mind you, this was originally intended to be the case, and very well may have been intended all along even if it wasn't usually emphasized within the lore

and don't get me wrong, I Get why it fell out of favor within the fandom. it coincides with a Very storied ableist trope that demonizes DID and disorders adjacent to it, and Can be spoken about in a way that is essentially indistinguishable from it depending on the word choice.

but the thing is ! not only does it not Have to be an allegory for DID, I straight up don't think it is At All.

because we Know what it's an allegory for. It's His Chat. there's technoblade playing the game, and there's the thousands of people watching with expectations and wants that he's compelled to meet (or, at the very least, pacify through Entertainment).

and this makes much Much more sense when conceived of as Supernatural. be that spirits, gods, demons, or anything that could fill that role. separate entities that, for whatever reason, only techno can sense the presence of and be affected by.

and of course, to an extent this is true for all creators. everyone had an audience that they were meant to entertain and the choices they made were influenced by that fact.

but technoblade came in with a Very distinct set of expectations that heavily impacted the choices he was Expected to make and the kinds of stories that he could tell. he was more or less a living legend in real life just as much as he was in roleplay, and these things were inherently connected.

and it's like !

when c!technoblade says he was peer pressured into killing tubbo at the red festival he Is technically talking about what happened within the roleplay. schlatt was demanding it from him, there's a sort of pressure there. but schlatt was also the dictator they were set to kill, and techno has never had any trouble fighting people he considered a dictator before, and certainly not Schlatt of all people.

but he WAS being peer pressured By His Audience. by thousands of people, most of which were demanding blood Because It Was The Expectation, because it'd be Fun.

out of universe technoblade made the decision he thought would be the most Entertaining, and he was right! consistently he made choices that would let him do the most bombastic Spectacles possible. And It's Great. he's Excellent at pulling dramatics and making a compelling scene that give other people room to work off of. in that sense I'd consider techno an Excellent actor, and I have to imagine that he was fun to work with.

the problem is when you then have to justify it from an in character perspective, grounded in those mushy things like Feelings with characters that can be traumatized and sustain lasting damage, Especially Without acknowledging the out of character incentive.

mind you, it's not Impossible to Create a backstory that could justify it. why a character as consistently powerful and feared as technoblade would feel pressured to kill an ally by someone he not only Can kill but Wanted To Kill. why a character as seemingly secure and in control as technoblade would lash out the way that he does to perceived betrayal, and yet consistently puts no weight onto having killed and permanently scarred an ally that trusted him.

what that'd need is tragedy. a storied history of being hurt and having to survive. building up To an untouchable god from a much much more vulnerable position. Long Lasting trauma that's lead to this deep insecurity and paranoia. and that's Possible and that's Compelling.

but it's just not in the text.

not only did we never learn basically Anything that c!technoblade was up to pre-series, we actually know Less by the end than when we started because of the sbi retconning.

it's a Theoretically Possible interpretation that's technically never Contradicted by canon, but would have to be created by scratch. it's a compelling idea for a fan fic (and one I'd like to read) and it's compelling for a theoretical recontextualization of the character, but it's just not In The Text.

meanwhile, we have the video above.

we have the Objective Fact that technoblade's decision making was often subject to the rule of cool (very Very effectively) to entertain his audience.

and most compellingly, these concepts Don't Need To Be Separate. in fact, in my opinion they're Stronger when you put them together.

because the thing is. it's Difficult to imagine techno as ever being in a vulnerable position. he is just Objectively more powerful than everyone else on the server, both in real life And within the lore. How could he have ever been afraid when he was stronger than anyone and everyone combined? when we saw with our own eyes that techno could face nearly the whole server at once and win.

but he Is a tragic character, at least he's meant to be. and that tragedy makes much Much more sense as something Inward.

technoblade as a character who Needs connection, who Needs stability, who Needs security, who Needs friendship and community and Love. but Lashes Out, Obliterates to the core of the earth, because of something that's not only out of his control but that other people Cannot Understand.

how do you explain to a child that you killed their best friend because a chorus of the undead called for his blood and you (in all the glory that he'd idolized) were unable to do anything but comply? how do you explain to that child that you beat him senseless in a pit as the restless dead jeered and laughed?

That's interesting. That's Compelling.

technoblade is idolized like a god, feared like a force of nature, and in an instant cut himself off from nearly everyone who'd considered him an ally. and that seems to be a pattern, over and over and over again. he's left isolated, and in return he faces retaliation, and in return he's always Waiting for retaliation.

and what do you say to someone who wants to kill you for being a monster? that it's Fine Actually because you only did what you did because you have a curse that compels you to? that the supernatural guided you to destroy their homes and kill their people? (rip jack manifold you will be missed)?

That Doesn't Quite Help Your Case.

technoblade as someone who is beholden to this literal cycle of violence and Loses those things that could ground him, community, stability, People, as a result. who Tries to overcome this very fact (to become a better person, in his own words as per the clip above), but is pulled back into it as a consequence of his own actions.

that's a tragedy !! that Makes Sense. that allows him to be Both this force of nature that other characters have to survive And A Person Who Is Hurt By The Same Conflict.

"I'm a person!" that fear of dehumanization makes So So Much More Sense when you see technoblade as someone who Already fears himself. who fears being a monster, who fears losing control, who has faced isolation again and again and again.

and, importantly, it doesn't have to be anyone else's Fault.

by making the source both Internal and Completely External (something that none of the other characters have any awareness or control over), you can Have techno as a tragic character without demonizing anyone else Or erasing the impact that c!techno had on them.

and in that sense, it Can be an allegory for mental illness, but not in that direct "oooooh how scary he hears voices" kind of way that people fear it looks. but in that sometimes people Will do things that can hurt others while not feeling in control. anger and mania and paranoia, things that you can't always Control and yet that impact that you have on other people still Matters.

and the answer to that is, often, vulnerability and accountability.

I think a lot about technoblade isolating himself so near entirely from the rest of the server, and slowly gathering a support system Back by the end. and I Really Do think that framing of it through this lens is a Very impactful way of breaking it down.

tubbo, tommy, wilbur, ranboo, niki, I think they'd All understand not feeling in control. lashing out, maybe even feeling justified in the moment, but hurting people they care about and furthering their own isolation.

There's Something There, and it's already In The Text. it just needs to be expanded on.

and why not do that ourselves now?

[jiejies-corner-store]

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

[arofutures]

I do sometimes feel a bit between worlds in aro spaces as someone who is both aro & ace, but views them as entirely distinct identities.

Over the years, there's been a shift from "aro ace" (with a space) to "aroace" (no space) in popular usage. And I get that for a lot of people, it is a single entity. And even absent that, that it's a bit silly to quibble over a space. But for me personally, it feels as nonsensical to combine into one as, say, my height and my religion. Both true, sure, but way out of left field.

And of the two, my aromanticism is vastly more important to me than my asexuality. My being ace is a footnote vs my being aro is a multi-volume saga. And given that, I get the frustration from alloaros or non-SAM aros about the conflation of the two. Aro and ace represent a single identity for some, but in the broad scheme, they are distinct.

But I feel like an intruder weighing into those conversations, because I am the guy that's both. I don't know what it's like to be alloaro or non-SAM aro and have that be erased or demonized. But on the other hand, I'm aro first and ace like....eighth, so I often feel myself relating more to the thoughts/experiences of non-ace aros than my fellow aro aces.

So I end up in this sort of counterintuitive venn diagram scenario, wherein I am in the middle, yet somehow feeling more alone for it. And I just never know how to talk about that without feeling like simultaneously I'm overstepping non-ace aros and accidentally snubbing aroaces.

[frameacloud]

A list of some alterhuman identities and groups (cut version)

About this article

This article is a five-minute read. It gives definitions and sources about (in alphabetical order) alterhumans, constelics, daemons, dragons, endels, furries, fictionfolk, nonhumans, otherkin, plural systems, therianthropes, tulpas, and vampires. These alterhuman community historians, archivists, and writers wrote this article together in August and September 2023: Orion Scribner, House of Chimeras, Page Shepard, Dinocanid, Ryuu Yumemoto, Draconic Wizard Workshop, and others. You have permission to repost this article, if you keep the list of authors, don't change what the article says, and don't use it for money. This is shared under this type of Creative Commons license: Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs (CC BY-NC-ND).

Alterhumans

In 2014, Lio of the Crossroads System created this word as an umbrella term and identity for anyone who feels they have an identity beyond the scope of how one might typically think of “being human.”^1 Later, the alterhuman advocacy group Alt+H popularized this word. According to the coiner and Alt+H, it includes but is not limited to nonhumans.^2 Some groups who can opt-in to considering themselves under the alterhuman umbrella are otherkin, therianthropes, fictionfolk, plural systems, daemians, vampires, voluntary identities, furries, and more.^3 This umbrella is very broad because its purpose is to give these communities something to unite under without erasing their distinctions.^4

Constelic

Coined by Extranth in 2021, a person who is constelic identifies with or as one or more entities, objects, concepts, species, items, or characters throughout their life.^5 A constelic may collect or hoard any number of these identities for any number of reasons, as their identities are non-inherent and are considered to be entirely extrinsic.^6 Constels may be voluntary or involuntary identities,^7 and can be intense or casual, but they are often non-permanent.^8 

Daemians and daemons

Daemians are people who have daemons, which are most often described as mental constructs or a part of an individual’s consciousness which has been assigned a unique gender, form, and personality.^9 Some daemians consider themselves plural.^10 Their community started in 2002, inspired by Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials fantasy novel trilogy.^11

Dragons

The dragon community started in the 1990s in an online group called alt.fan.dragons.^12 They identify as dragons for spiritual or psychological reasons. They are draconic, and they refer to this part of themselves as their draconity.^13 In the 2000s, the dragon community started to mingle with the other communities: with dragon otherkin (dragonkin)^14 and dragon therians.^15

Endels

Mental health experts say that being alterhuman isn’t the same as being mentally ill.^16 For alterhumans who do have mental illnesses, that can be an important part of their everyday life and their sense of self. Endel is a word for alterhuman identities that are rooted in or greatly influenced by delusion. Babydog coined this word in 2021, by and for delusional alterhumans.^17

Furries

The furry fandom is a large subculture that began at sci-fi conventions in the 1980s.^18 It’s for creating and enjoying art, stories, costumes, and roleplay about fictional human-like (anthropomorphic) animal characters, called furries. Many fandom participants choose to represent themselves as their furry persona (fursona), which can be just for fun, though it can be meaningful about who they are.

Fictionfolk

Fictionfolk is an umbrella term for many sorts of identities that come partly or wholly from fiction.^19 Fictionkin identify as characters or species from fiction,^20 and their community started in the early 2000s.^21 A plural system member with origins from fiction is a fictive, which psychologists call a fictional introject.^22 When someone has the brief experience of becoming someone or something from fiction, that’s a fictionflicker, which psychologists call experience-taking.^23 

Nonhumans

An umbrella term for those of us who identify as partly or wholly not human: therianthropes, otherkin, and more. Many nonhumans opt to include themselves under the alterhuman umbrella.

Otherkin

Otherkin are elves, dragons, or other beings, usually from mythology. It’s always an important part of who they are throughout their lives, not role-play for fun.^24 The community started in the Elfinkind Digest mailing list in 1990, when they started calling themselves otherkind or otherkin.^25 Their reasons for being otherkin are often spiritual, for example, from reincarnation.^26 However, otherkin is not a religion.^27

Plural systems

Plurality (or multiplicity) is an umbrella term for all experiences and identities in which more than one entity, consciousness, or pseudo-consciousness exists within one physical body,^28 for systems who are or can be diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder (DID), formerly called multiple personality disorder (MPD), as well as systems who do not meet those diagnostic criteria. Plurality and multiplicity as terms have always been inclusive of systems regardless of their origin or diagnoses.^29 Some plural systems have members who aren’t human or who are fictional characters or species.^30 Multiplicity can be an interchangeable synonym for plurality, or multiplicity can mean a form of plurality in which more than one person, self, or identity is within a single body.^31

Therianthropes

Therianthropes are people who have a lifelong identification as a certain species of animal on an integral, personal level.^32 Some are other species than animals from Earth.^33 The therian community started in 1993 in an online group, alt.horror.werewolves.^34 They developed jargon about shapeshifting to describe feeling more animal-like at some times. These changes are mental or spiritual, not physical.^35 Some have sensations of phantom limbs.^36 Some feel consistently animal-like at all times.^37 In the late 1990s and early 2000s, therians started mingling with the otherkin community.^38

Tulpas and tulpamancers

A tulpamancer is someone who practices tulpamancy, which is the act of creating tulpas.^39 A tulpa is an autonomous conscious entity who shares the body and brain of their creator.^40 Tulpamancy is often considered to be a part of the plurality umbrella.^41 

Vampire Community

The vampyre or vampire community (VC) is for people who identify as vampires and require sustenance.^42 Those who drain energy are energy vampires or psi-vampires.^43 Sanguinarians drink blood.^44 Hybrid vampires need both.^45 Vampire lifestylers and donors are in the VC, too.^46 

None of the above

Some participants of our communities are not themselves alterhumans. However, they’re here because they’re curious, or they’re our friends, family, and partners.

-

Endnotes

Please click to open this so you can read all of the sources that we cited. They are all here below.

1. Lio of the Crossroads System (September 26 2014). "This will probably be my last post on semantics..." Phasmovore. https://phasmovore.tumblr.com/post/98482696958/

2. Lio of the Crossroads System (May 27, 2023). https://x-rds.tumblr.com/post/712949341799727104/ Alt+H (September 17 2021) “What does alterhuman mean?” Alt+H. https://blog.alt-h.net/post/165592493965/what-does-alterhuman-mean

3. Kiera Ember. “Alterhuman Dictionary.” Beyond Humanity. https://www.beyondhumanity.net/alterhuman-dictionary/dictionary-a Ana Valens (September 25 2020). “Otherkin are the internet’s punchline. They’re also our future.” Daily Dot. https://www.dailydot.com/irl/otherkin/  Alt+H, “FAQ” https://alt-h.net/educate/faq.php

4. Lio of the Crossroads System (February 19, 2023). https://x-rds.tumblr.com/post/709694807213211648/

5. Extranth. “An Introduction to Constelic” https://web.archive.org/web/20230519124625/https://constelic.carrd.co/

6. Extranth (May 19, 2021). “Constelic!” https://extranth.tumblr.com/post/651652168396472320/constelic-1-whats-constelic-constelic-or

7. Constelic (May 27, 2022). “How are Constelic and Otherlink different?” https://constelic.tumblr.com/post/685380822139813888/how-are-constelic-and-otherlink-different

8. Constelic (April 12, 2022). “The wild thing with stels for me is how sometimes…” https://constelic.tumblr.com/post/681308197084135424/the-wild-thing-with-stels-for-me-is-how-sometimes

9. The Daemon Page, “Introduction” https://daemonpage.com/introduction.php

10. Daemians & Daemons (March 18 2023). “Hey there! This is a bit of a discussion question…” https://www.tumblr.com/daemians-n-daemons/712142103972560896/hey-there-this-is-a-bit-of-a-discussion-question Rani (June 21 2022). “Okay so I was right dæmonism is turning into my…” A Dragon’s Journal. https://a-dragons-journal.tumblr.com/post/687725978250870784/okay-so-i-was-right-d%C3%A6monism-is-turning-into-my

11. House of Chimeras (October 8 2022). “A Timeline of the Daemon Community” pg. 3 https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GVSBMvwKIyTvDIqyqXy2C_7Q4Qx4UK3A/view 

12. ExistingPhantom (October 3 2001). “Alt.Fan.Dragons Frequently Asked Questions.” Dragons Must Be Here. https://web.archive.org/web/20050219002348/http://www.dmbh.org/dragonfire/IndexFAQ.html 

13. Baxil (December 1999). “Draconity FAQ.” Tomorrowlands. http://www.tomorrowlands.org/draconity/faq/index.html  Orion Scribner (September 8, 2012), Otherkin Timeline, version 2.0 http://frameacloud.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Scribner_Timeline2p0.pdf p. 36

14. Orion Scribner, Otherkin Timeline, p. 53.

15. Daski (August 17, 2022). “Therian: Dispelling the Earthen Animal Myth.” The River System. https://theriversystem.neocities.org/essays/EarthenMyth.html  

16. Gavia Baker-Whitelaw (February 22, 2015). “Understanding the otherkin.” The Kernel. Archived March 18, 2015. https://web.archive.org/web/20150318110839/http://kernelmag.dailydot.com/issue-sections/features-issue-sections/11866/otherkin-tumblr-definition-pronouns/ 

17. Babydog, “Endel” https://endel.carrd.co/ 

18. Fred Patten (July 15 2012). "Retrospective: An Illustrated Chronology of Furry Fandom, 1966–1996". Flayrah. https://www.flayrah.com/4117/retrospective-illustrated-chronology-furry-fandom-1966%E2%80%931996 

19. Poppy (January 24, 2023). “Quick guide to fictionfolk terminology.” Aestherians. https://aestherians.tumblr.com/post/707370073217695744/ 

20. Mordax. “What is Fictionkin? An exploratory definition”. From Fiction. https://web.archive.org/web/20220728060858/https://fromfiction.net/index.php/what-is-fictionkin-an-exploratory-definition/ 

21. House of Chimeras (June 21, 2021). A Timeline of the Fictionkin Community, Version 1.0. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1w4vGsWkiGPjYtXvTe4PyCcZsPba1kb_p/view?usp=sharing Page 4.

22. Ryn (Aristocrats) (October 18, 2021). “Fictives: A short introduction” https://pluralsoapbox.wordpress.com/2021/10/18/fictives-a-short-introduction/  Sark (The Interstellar System) (August 9, 2021). “Fictive and Factive FAQ”  https://interstellarsystem.weebly.com/fictive-and-factive-faq.html 

23. Geoff F. Kaufman, Lisa K. Libby (2012). “Changing Beliefs and Behavior Through Experience-Taking.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 2012; DOI: 10.1037/a0027525 https://psycnet.apa.org/doiLanding?doi=10.1037%2Fa0027525

24. Lupa (2007), A Field Guide to Otherkin, Stafford, England: Immanion Press, pp. 27, 108-109.

25. Arethinn (September 6, 2021). “A brief(ish) history of the word ‘otherkind’.” Mythsong. https://www.mythsong.net/history/wordhist.html 

26. Lupa, pp. 57-66, 287.

27. Lupa, p. 30; and Devin Proctor (May 2019), On Being Non-Human: Otherkin Identification and Virtual Space. The George Washington University. https://search.proquest.com/openview/e156c24bf65c4efb0918a8db37433cce/ pp. 94-95.

28. FreyasSpirit (Lucia Batman) and Irenes (Irene Knapp), “Plurality Playbook” https://freyasspirit.com/plurality-playbook/ 

29. LB Lee (May 28, 2020). “Quick'n'Dirty Plural History... Part 1 (1811-1980ish)” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1111069.html  LB Lee (June 30, 2020).”Plural History part 2: The Memory Wars” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1116190.html  LB Lee (July 30, 2020). “Plural History, part 3: Usenet and its spin-offs and Soulbonders” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1120824.html  LB Lee (August 31, 2020). “Quick'n'Dirty Plural History, part 4 (LJ, the Genic Slapfight, and THE END!)” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1129216.html 

30. House of Chimeras (May 1, 2021). “A Collection of Mentions of Nonhuman and Fictional-Based Members of Plural Systems” https://drive.google.com/file/d/17TKE_8Lx2ljuTpHNclvaXqvA5AAlkG90/view 

31. Manchester Metropolitan University, “Understanding Multiplicity” https://www.mmu.ac.uk/mmud8/media/10605/download 

32. Sonne (2008). “Terms and definitions.” Project Shift. https://projectshift.therianthropy.info/terms-definitions-by-sonne/ 

33. Daski (August 17, 2022). “Therian: Dispelling the Earthen Animal Myth.” The River System. https://theriversystem.neocities.org/essays/EarthenMyth.html  

34. House of Chimeras (19 November 2021). A Timeline of the Therianthrope Community, Version 1.1. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jDmjl78hQ2BiQtzQMTV3yRQkrIgB9eUZ/view?usp=sharing P 9.

35. Clegg, H., Collings, R., & Roxburgh, E. C. (2019). “Therianthropy: Wellbeing, Schizotypy, and Autism in Individuals Who Self-Identify as Non-Human.” Society & Animals, 27(4), pp. 403-426. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/15685306-12341540

36. Jakkal (October 6, 2001). “Therianthropy- an overview." Shifters.org. Archived 2002-11-10. https://web.archive.org/web/20021101165313/http://www.shifters.org/overview/therianthropy.asp

37. Akhila (April 2005). “The Contherian FAQ.” https://akhila.feralscribes.org/2005/the-contherian-faq/ 

38. House of Chimeras (November 19, 2021). A Timeline of the Therianthrope Community, Version 1.1. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jDmjl78hQ2BiQtzQMTV3yRQkrIgB9eUZ/view?usp=sharing Pp. 27, 56.

39. Tulpa.io, “Terminologies” https://web.archive.org/web/20160405214050/http://tulpa.io/terminologies 

40. Luigi.exe/The Dragonheart Collective (January 12, 2020). “Tulpamancy FAQ” https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-Yb6dfm4JxR5u_oNpHrttJyJHc0NvMhkKUP4Btc4jPc/edit#heading=h.h3onkkn

41. Tulpa.io, “What Is A Tulpa?” https://web.archive.org/web/20160318054103/http://tulpa.io/what-is-a-tulpa 

42. Jayden Night, “What is Vampirism?” https://web.archive.org/web/20080511200648/http://sphynxcatvp.nocturna.org/articles/jn-vamprism.html 

43. Fvorboda, “Psy Vampirism” https://web.archive.org/web/20080513030621/http://sphynxcatvp.nocturna.org/articles/dyscracia-psivamps.html 

44. #Sanguinarius IRC (May 26, 2007). “A Discussion of Sang and Psi Vampires” https://web.archive.org/web/20080108215555/http://www.sanguinarius.org/articles/sang-and-psi-disc.shtml 

45. Enygma, “Real Vampires” https://web.archive.org/web/20080511201408/http://sphynxcatvp.nocturna.org/faq/most-enygma.html 

46. Sanguinarius: The Vampire Support Page, (July 4, 2006). “Sainguinarus Terminology & Lingo” https://web.archive.org/web/20080521005735/http://www.sanguinarius.org/terminology.shtml

[greenandsorrow]

IF THE MONSTER UNDER YOUR BED NEVER HURT YOU, MAYBE IT WAS THERE TO PROTECT YOU. 🎈

Pennywise bonding with a teen!reader/ platonic

-> I decided to write this more like a casual narration, for the storytelling vibes. Also, I might have tried to pull a "going back and forth in time like I'm S.King", so not everything will be crystal clear from the get-go. Hope you enjoy and feel free to interact!!!

-> I tried to keep the reader gender neutral, but the fem pov came more naturally to me, so I apologise if it takes away from the story for some of you.

-> Pennywise the Dancing Clown: A trans-dimensional entity that shapeshifts and feeds on the fear -and sometimes the flesh- of kids and animals. IT hibernates for 25 to 27 years, then wakes up for 12 to 16 months, manipulating reality and slipping past the notice of adults.

Listen to: Five Years by David Bowie

~ 1 ~

1979 Derry, Maine

A family of three moved to Derry, for the father's work. Maine has its fair share of factories and the average person here doesn't mind getting their hands dirty, if it means paying the bills.

You were twelve when your family settled in an amiable house in Witchham St.

You may be seventeen now and you may have embraced the Losers' Club almost like a parental figure... But that wasn't the case five years ago.

When you first moved to Derry, you were twelve.

It was that same year you attended the annual Derry Funfair -Pennywise's favorite time to wake up. How could it not be, with so many kids out after dark... The Derry Funfair. The perfect hunting ground for the entity. That fateful night, you saw him for the first time. You call IT a 'he' because in the form of a clown, IT feels like a 'he'.

The air at the funfair was thick with the smell of popcorn, sugar... and something faintly metallic. As you walked through the crowd, laughter rang out around you, along with the loud music coming from the speakers far above your head.

You spotted the Ferris Wheel turning slowly against the darkening sky, each of its blinking lights reflecting in the deepening puddles scattered along the path. The Carousel line was snaking on that very path. You always loved how the painted horses glistened under the soft glow of the carnival lights...

Fed up with a group of cocky twenty-somethings, you slipped away from the fair, eventually finding yourself by the bridge for a moment of peace. You liked the breeze and the faint smell of night-blooming flowers. You still do.

It was quiet, until you suddenly heard a distinct sort of giggling. You also spotted a single, shiny red balloon floating toward you, bobbing against the wind. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled. Chills ran down your arms. Instinct warned you that something was very wrong.

That night, in your rush to escape and flee back to the fair, you left your hairbow at the bridge.

Later, as you looked out the window of your father's car on the ride home, you looked back and saw him -an enormous figure in a dusty, faded clown suit, watching you, waving slowly at you. His face was ghostly pale, almost like porcelain, with eyes that gleamed a strange and unsettling shade of amber. Those eyes seemed knowing, as if they could peel back every thought and fear inside you. A painted smile stretched across his mouth, far too wide and framed by rows of teeth that looked far too many, like something out of a nightmare. Wisps of reddish-orange hair framed his face, stiff and wild. The ruffles around his neck were yellowed with age, their edges fraying.

The suit itself was old, streaked with grime. Large, oversized pom-poms lined the front in an even row. And yet, despite his faded, worn appearance, there was something disturbingly vibrant about him. It was as if he wasn't really standing but rather waiting -waiting for you to wave back at him.

Even from the safety of the car, a chill had crept through you, and somehow you knew that he was still watching long after the car had turned, his gaze following you all the way home.

That night, when you woke up thirsty from all the popcorn you'd had at the fair, you wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. There, neatly placed beside the sink, was your lost hairbow -the same one you'd bitterly cried over after realizing it was missing.

Two days later, you returned to the fair with your parents. You felt happy. You were carefree. You were stupid. You couldn't resist looking for the clown who had waved at you... You had a strange feeling that the balloon belonged to him... It was the shame shade as his painted lips. You also had another, even odder feeling that he had somehow been the one who returned your hair ribbon.

Eventually you found him. The clown waved again and this time, you waved back, even managing a smile. But when he extended an unnaturally long arm, gesturing you to come closer, you were smart enough to keep your distance. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his voice, soft and coaxing, whispered your name.

Strangely, your parents didn't seem to notice him, neither that day nor the first time you'd seen him...

It was July. You didn't see the clown again until early autumn, right around the time you started feeling nervous about your new school.

That summer, he haunted your dreams night after night. They'd start innocently enough, not like full blown nightmares -you'd find yourself back at the fair, wandering through empty stalls. The colors were brighter -somehow too bright- and the air too thick. Then, he would appear. A clown in the distance, his wide smile aimed straight at you. You'd try to move, to turn away, but somehow, your feet kept inching closer.

In those dreams, he told you his name -Pennywise-, his favorite color -red- and his favorite food -cotton candy-. You remember telling him that you knew he was lying, that he wasn't just any clown. After that, the dreams stopped.

1984 Derry, Maine

You think back to all that as you blankly stare at the pages of your math book, you think back to what belongs in the past, but your mind drifting off to five years ago is more than justified.

People in town are noticing things these days, though no one says it out loud. There are hushed conversations about kids going missing -George Denbrough included-, strange sightings near the sewers, and that eerie feeling you get walking through Derry alone.

The old-timers say things aren't right this time, that it feels different somehow. You overhear a few whispers that maybe this time, it's sticking around longer. And the worst part is that you know why. You know why even better than your younger friends do...

Since last autumn, you've gotten close to Bev Marsh. She sees you as the older sister she never had. Bill lives right across the street. You babysat him and his little brother, Georgie, over the summer. But since Georgie's death in the Fall, you and Bill have drifted apart. Stanley… well, he may or may not have a crush on you. You know him through Bill -he's a good kid. Eddie Kaspbrak, same way, also through Bill. Thank God he gets some fresh air with his friends -you've heard his mom isn't the easiest. Then there's Ben, your reading buddy from the library. Richie Tozier? You two got into a fight once, over which Led Zeppelin song is the best. And Hanlon, he nearly knocked you over with his bike the first time you met.

Another remarkable mention? Henry Bowers. He is a year younger than you. Sure, the guy's a bully, but oddly enough he and his friends never caused you any trouble. And I say 'oddly enough', in the same way Derry's misfortunes oddly enough never seem to touch you. The bad luck that hangs over this town, the accidents, the disappearances, even the craziness... it's as if you've been given an unspoken pass, a quiet immunity no one else seems to have. Even when trouble looms close, you remain untouched, like some silent pact with the shadows in this place.

However, it's not just the gossiping ladies at the grocery store, or the old wise granddads who enjoy sitting on their porches, that made your mind wander to the past with their words.

As of late, your dad started locking the doors at night without explanation and your mom seems anxious, checking the windows like she expects something -or someone- to be watching. They'd never talk about it, but you can tell they sense it too... The whole town feels off, like there's something lurking beneath the surface. Sometimes, you catch a flash of red in the distance or hear a faint giggle that seems to echo from nowhere. It happens often enough that it feels like more than coincidence.

You've started wondering if he's ever really gone at all.

Even your dreams are different now.

More vivid.

In them, you're back at that same funfair... but it feels hollow, like something out of a faded photo. Every creak of the Ferris Wheel, every rustle of the trees ...sounds wrong. Sometimes, you see him waiting by the bridge, his head tilted in that unnatural way. His smile is sharper and more dangerous, as if he's been waiting all this time, keeping a part of you trapped there. You always wake up shaking, heart pounding in your ears.

The worst part is that the closer you get to waking, the darker the dreams grow.

In last night's one, Pennywise had held his gloved hand out to you, as if inviting you closer. You had felt the weight of his gaze, pulling you in despite everything inside you screaming to run. You started to remember that he's taken kids before, that he leaves things behind as markers -ribbons, scraps, things no one else notices... And then had woken up gasping for air.

No matter how much you try to shake it off, the feeling lingers, leaving you wondering if he's still out there, watching you, just as he was five years ago.

For you, fear twisted into something almost exhilarating five years ago... thanks to all those fleeting moments of intimacy when he would whisper secrets, just for you. It was wrong and you know that, but there was a thrill in the danger he represented. You think about the stories the others tell, how they shudder at the thought of him -of IT- while your heart races at the memories of the laughter, of the games. It's a longing that gnaws at you, even as you wrestle with the dread of his return.

It was easier to just forget before, but now the thought of him returns like a shadow. As you flip the pages of your stupid math book, you wonder if he's standing outside your house right now, waiting for you to come back to him, just as you've secretly wished for him to do all these years. Because, it's true, there's a twisted part of you that misses him.

When the Losers share with you Bill's and Ben's theories about IT and how IT came to be, you can't help but recall how Penny would laugh, a sound that echoed like a melody in the chaos of your childhood, dancing on the edge of terror. His voice, with its playful cadence, would weave stories that made the mundane feel magical. You remember how you'd lean in, drawn by an irresistible urge, despite the way your heart raced and your instincts screamed to flee.

Even the memories of those long, shadowy nights away from the comfort of your bed, punctuated by the pulse of adrenaline, stir something within you -an inexplicable yearning for the connection you shared, however dark it was.

You close the book since there's no way you can concentrate on your homework now and instead, you settle on washing the dishes.

Despite everything, beneath that longing lies the heavy weight of guilt and sorrow. 'Penny' killed Georgie and that truth looms over every fond memory you have with him. This is the part you feel compelled to remind yourself: he's a killer, a predator.

To any onlooker, all they would see is a broken girl, haunted by a lost childhood and a shadowy figure that once made her feel alive and seen. You know better than anyone that the line between fear and fascination is a thin one, and that's a truth you'll have to grapple with...

...in the chapters to come.

masterpost☁️

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[squash1]

something i’ve been thinking about a lot lately is the way that language in the dreamer trilogy & the raven cycle is a barrier to forming connection/community.

in the raven cycle we see a distinct lack of specific terms used between ronan and kavinsky. the word “dreamer” is not even used directly — instead the two of them talk conceptually about the dreaming process, about their respective “special places” (ronan’s being cabeswater), and how the dreaming “juice” runs out (but again, the terms “ley line” or “energy” are not used). there is a clear recognition of “sameness” or shared experiences between the boys, with kavinsky specifically saying he “knows what ronan is” (tho whether he’s referring to dreaming or ronan’s sexuality is up for debate i suppose).

this is really the first time ronan is connecting with a dreamer outside of his family. and his family, of course, has their own terms and language for dreaming. there is a barrier in the discussions ronan and kavinsky are having because of a lack of shared language. so much of what they experience as dreamers is isolated in the individual, so they are forced to talk around concepts because they don’t have universal terminology to fall back on.

i’ve talked extensively about how dreaming is a representation of chronic illness in the dreamer trilogy so i won’t go too far down that rabbit hole. But. something that is talked about within the disability/chronic illness community (and beyond) is the way that individuals can struggle to connect with people that have the same condition/similar experiences as them because of a lack of shared terminology to discuss abstract or hyper-specific concepts/feelings.

we see this in the raven cycle with kavinsky and ronan, and then we start to see it even more in the dreamer trilogy as ronan continues to find belonging and community with other dreamers. ronan and hennessy’s friendship requires them to bridge the language gap. though they both live as dreamers, because of their different experiences throughout their lives, they use different terminology to make meaning of their situation.

in knowing to one another, ronan and hennessy are exposing each other to new, shareable language. ronan shares his term for “nightwash,” and hennessy shares her term for “the lace.” both of them adapt to using this new language for a shared conceptual experience and in doing so are able to connect more fully with one another. in the raven king, i believe it is quite possible that ronan and adam had encountered the lace — a dark entity that whispered their worst fears to them — but did not have the term yet to describe it. obviously, terminology does not outweigh experience, but it is an important element of forming community through shared experience.

there’s also the way that the moderators use the term “zed” instead of “dreamer” — at first it is unclear what zeds even are because as the reader we have only ever had the language provided by ronan. in this experience of coming to realize that “zeds” are equivalent to “dreamers,” we as the reader experience the same sort of dissonance that dreamers themselves experience when trying to connect with one another without universal/shared language.

for ronan specifically, in both trc and tdt, there’s always an element of translation. in the dreaming world, his dreams speak in either latin or a dream language that doesn’t exist in the waking world. in his dreams ronan understands the dream language, but outside of them he can’t. ronan working so hard to learn latin is intentional — by understanding it in and outside of his dreams, he can bridge a language gap for himself; can understand his waking world AND his dreaming world at once. he studies it like his life depends on it because. it. does. the puzzle box is also helpful to ronan because it makes something that is unreal in the waking world, real — it is confirmation of the validity of that language. whether you’re thinking of dreaming as a metaphor for chronic illness, mental illness, or some other identity, the point is about the feeling of otherness, of inability. ronan only feels strange & lost & like he doesn’t know what the hell he is outside of his dreams where no one else understands his language. where he is confronted by being unable to speak to what he lives in his head.

in conclusion:

ronan lynch i love you.

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch. 31

Sukuna x Reader

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

BEWARE THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT!!!

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

-----------------------------------------

CHAPTER 31 - A Foolish Human Gesture

Before you knew it, Sukuna had your lips caught in another punishing kiss, his fingers trailing slowly from your nape down to your collarbone, nails scraping across your skin and leaving red stripes that pulsed with heat long after he’d moved on to mark the next unclaimed part of you.

Whenever he finally broke away—for a rare, fleeting breath—he didn’t stray far. He dipped his head beside yours, his forehead pressing against the jagged wall behind you. He was close enough that you could feel his hot breaths fanning over your ear.

And every time he paused like that, he whispered the same thing to you—crafty variations of the same cutting sentiment.

“I loathe you, woman.”

“You’re a plague,”

“A stain on my existence,”

They were insults he ensured you couldn’t return during the brief moments you struggled to catch your breath because— just as you replenished enough oxygen to speak—he stole it away again.

He reveled in that small torment; it was undeniably amusing to him to keep you from getting a single word in.

His lips brushed past your jaw, and you could feel them curl into a smirk against your skin before he made you swallow down every cocky retort you dared to think of saying in return.

Though with this particular kiss, it seemed he had exhausted every bare patch of skin he could mark on you with his nails.

And that simply wouldn't do...

Right now, Sukuna was a conqueror possessively surveying his newly claimed lands, but forever unsatisfied and wanting more. So, with his tongue still tangled with yours, he gripped the collar of your plain black shirt. You flinched as he ripped the fabric down the middle, exposing your bra adorned with delicate lace that perfectly cupped your breasts.

In the heated friction of the kiss, the shirt’s short sleeves gradually sĺlipped down your arms until the whole thing fell to the ground. And Sukuna eagerly seized that chance to claim the newfound flesh, working his claws down the supple skin above the trim of your bra, before sinking them into your flanks.

With a particularly harsh pinch at your side, you flinched and accidentally bit down—on Sukuna's tongue.

Oh no.

He let out an angry growl and pressed down harder, causing you to yelp against his lips before he broke away. He wiped the lingering spit that dripped down the corner of his mouth and glared into your eyes for a tense heartbeat.

You knew that look all too well and expected him to throw another nasty insult at you, but instead,

he threw—you—literally, to the floor.

You hit the rough gravel with a thud, small stones digging uncomfortably into your bare back. Before you could push yourself up, he was on you again. His knees pinning you in place, caging you, and his mouth back on yours with the same hungry intensity.

Maybe it was the cold, damp ground, or the cool breeze ghosting over your stomach, or perhaps the way Sukuna’s fingers tangled in your hair with a satisfying tug...

But a chill rippled down your spine, sending goosebumps skittering across your skin.

And not just goosebumps.

Your nipples, too, perked up with the shiver, pressing insistently against the soft fabric of your bra. Yet that softness did little to muffle the jolts of tingly pleasure that shot through you each time Sukuna’s hard abs pushed into your chest, intensifying the treacherous friction.

It was so—so hot. But you had to keep a sliver of focus, at least enough to control the pull of cursed energy so it wouldn’t overwhelm you.

Fortunately, your training had been paying off; it didn’t take nearly as much effort as before. Or... perhaps ‘fortunately’ wasn’t quite the right word, as that ease allowed you to sink into the moment a little too deeply.

You pulled Sukuna’s hand from your hair and guided it down your neck all the way to the lace of your bra. You felt his jaw clench, but he eagerly accepted the invitation.

Though he didn’t particularly like being directed by a mere human—he’d overlook it... just this once.

His hand was so big it covered your entire breast, and he let no time go to waste as he squeezed down—anything but gently. It kind of hurt, actually, but you were so desperate to be touched that the pleasure drowned out all the pain.

He kneaded your breast through the fabric with such vigor that you could feel the movement of each individual finger, pressing and flexing before digging even deeper. Every squeeze rough enough to have you squirming beneath him, as soft gasps—silent pleas for more—escaped your lips, barely muffled against his mouth.

It was as if Sukuna couldn’t do gentle; everything he did was rough and overpowering. Like it was his nature to dominate, to scare away.

But on you, it seemed to have the opposite effect; It pulled you in, leaving you wanting more.

So when he pulled away from your lips out of nowhere, and his hand stopped moving, you felt incredibly deprived.

He hovered just above your mouth for a moment, crimson eyes locked onto yours, before he suddenly ducked down and tugged at the band of your bra.

When it didn’t come loose—what did he expect?—He flicked his finger and with a swift cut of his dismantle, the band snapped, and your bra fell open, leaving your boobs fully exposed, in the dim eerie light.

You barely had time to process the shock before he dipped his head, and his mouth latched onto your nipple. It was a level of intimacy you’d never expected from the King of Curses, and your cheeks flushed the most vibrant shade of pink.

At first, he just sucked, his warm mouth shielding your nipple from the chilly air with a delicious pull that made your back arch and your needy hips grind up against him. But then he stuck out the flat of his tongue, dragging it across your sensitive peak, flicking up and down...

You couldn't help but whimper.

The sound was embarrassing to say the least but it did make you realize that with his mouth finally elsewhere, you might actually get a word in before things spiraled beyond your of control.

“Sukuna, um, I’m not sure this is—ah!”

He bit down, right on target, his sharp corner teeth grazing the tender skin around your nipple. You winced, pushing a hand against his head to shove him away, but he only growled, the sound vibrating against your eager bud.

When he looked up at you, his hair a hot mess, he seemed wholly unimpressed.

“What now, brat?  Playing reluctant after you were writhing and begging for me to touch you here?” He emphasized 'here' with a sharp pinch to your nipple, forcing you to bite down on your tongue to muffle the dirty moan threatening to escape.

But when you dared to open your mouth again—you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

The truth was, when he’d pulled away, the sudden chill felt so profoundly lonely that you realized you didn’t want this to end here... not that you'd ever say that out loud.

So, a lousy excuse would have to do.

“Uh, it’s… these rocks on the ground,” you stammered. “They’re, um, digging into my skin. Kind of hurts, so—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna lifted himself up and, in one swift motion, hoisted you over his shoulder. He did it with so little effort... it was as if you weighed little more than a feather to him.

The view of his back—his flexed scapula and the smooth line between the thick bands of muscle disappearing into his waistband—was, admittedly, exquisite. But the position itself felt, well... a bit demeaning.

Suffice to say, you were not entirely pleased.

You squirmed and wriggled all the way to the door and up the stairs, protesting at every step. “Hey, put me down, Sukuna! I’m serious!”

Until—halfway up—Sukuna finally seemed to tire of your feeble protests. He let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Tsk. Fine, then.”

The arm holding you in place relaxed and dropped to his side, and your heart plummeted as you felt yourself slipping down his shoulder. The unforgiving edges of the stairs taunted you from below, and you scrambled at his back like a cat dangling from a ledge, nails digging into him as you held on for dear life.

But just as your hand slipped—and you were pretty sure you saw said life flash before your eyes—he caught you, hoisting you back into place.

You let out a sharp gasp of relief, followed by an indignant snap.

“What the hell? You nearly dropped me!”

Though you couldn’t see his face, you were absolutely sure there was a smug smirk on it when he purred over his shoulder.

“Oh? As I recall, you were the one begging me to let go. I wouldn’t have minded watching you tumble down—seems quite a fitting end for an insolent brat like you.”

But you felt that smug smirk vanish just as quickly the moment he reached the top of the stairs. His steps faltered, and a cold breeze swept over your bare back, hitting you with the chilling realization that—

Oh. Right.

The door was in splinters.

Sukuna’s grip tightened, his forearm pressing down until you could hear your ribs crackle under the pressure.

“That blue-eyed bastard did this?” His voice dropped to a lethal whisper, each word a reproachful reminder that he was far from done with Gojo... or you.

“I'll make sure you'll regret denying me the pleasure of snapping that twig in half.”

You gulped, but that was the least of your concern now; the higher priority was the fact that your boobs were on full display for everyone passing by this block to see.

“Aah, Sukuna, just move! I'm half-naked!”

Sukuna let out an irritated grunt but he did move—into his bedroom, to be exact.

He slammed the door behind him, and with a less-than-gentle motion, he threw you onto the silk sheets...

At least the soft mattress was a better place to land than the cold, rocky floor of his domain.

Straight away, Sukuna planted himself back on top of you, yanking your boots and shorts off and tossing them aside like they were a pesky nuisance.

You wanted to protest, to remind him of the unwritten rules for handling a woman gently, but when you felt his hard bulge press against the thin, damp fabric of your panties, those thoughts quickly left the room.

All that remained was the heat of the moment...

And the two of you picked up right where you left off.

His head was back between your tits, his wet tongue trailing down the curve of your skin before it swirled around your nipple. There was no discernible rhythm, no practiced technique—but that only heightened your senses, leaving you in neverending suspense.

You couldn't suppress the excited twitches nor the way your hips pressed up against him with every flick and drag of his tongue.

And Sukuna clearly enjoyed every little reaction out of you, because the corners of his mouth curled up with every moan and quiver.

He reveled in the sight of you squirming; he always had. But now, as you writhed under his eager touch and the warmth of his tongue, rather than the force of his fists and his cruel taunts—

That was a new kind of ectasy to him.

His hand slid up to grope your other breast, fingers sinking into the soft flesh before he moved over to you nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers.

Who would have known he could do stuff like that with those nasty claws and that foul mouth? It was quite unexpected, and you couldn’t help yourself from prodding, realizing you had one thing in common with Sukuna: you liked getting a reaction out of him too.

“Ah—it’s surprising that you’re so—hng!—busy with your mouth...” you managed through heavy breaths, daringly locking eyes with him.

“After you told me that kissing is a stupid gesture that only brain—nngh—less pigs bother with.”

Safe to say, Sukuna did not like that tone.

He sat up, and your gaze zeroed in on the twitch of his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. Then, he locked eyes with you and smirked in the most wicked and perilously filthy way.

“How foolish of you to remind me, you idiot woman... Shall we get to the real fun then?”

Oh god. That was not your intention.

Sukuna grabbed your hips, yanking you close against him. His fingers slid down the edge of your panties, and with a merciless tug, he ripped them away.

You clenched your thighs together in embarrassment, but it was futile; His eager hands, veins popping with anticipation, had you spread open again within seconds.

He looked at your soaking pussy—really looked—as if he were drinking in the sight, and you couldn’t recall ever feeling this self-conscious about anything. But you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on that feeling long before the next disaster struck.

His thumb swiped away the line of drool pooling at the corner of his mouth, dripping down at the thought of ravaging your glistening cunt. Then that same thumb hooked around the band of his pants, tugging them down to finally free his aching cock from its confines.

And fuck. It was an absolute monster.

Bigger than any you’d ever seen before, and you audibly gulped. A nervous sweat broke out on your brow because there was no way that would fit—not without proper preparation.

But before you knew it, Sukuna had already lined himself up at your entrance. You could feel the throb of his tip against your folds, and suddenly, a wave of fear washed over you. Not just because of its sheer size, but because; what if history repeated itself?

What if Sukuna gave you a little more of him again, just to take it away and ignore you—abandon you?

You couldn't let that happen. There was no guarantee that this time would be any different.

Right when he bucked his hips and pushed the very head of his cock inside, you drew your legs up and kicked him off.

“Sukuna, stop!" you yelled at him. “I don’t want this if it means you’ll go back to ignoring me right after. If it means that the moment your mind catches up with your body, you’ll yank yourself away and pretend I don't exist for days on end.”

Sukuna dragged a hand over his face, fingers digging into his forehead, fuming that you dared bring this up right as he was about to ravage you. With a barely contained tremor, he released his grip on his cock, his nails moving to bite into the sheets beneath him like he was trying to anchor himself to sanity.

Not once had the King of Curses ever thought he’d pull back from fucking someone because of their feelings. Yet here he was, peering at you through the slits of his fingers, hearing you out instead of reducing you to a sobbing mess beneath him.

Your voice quivered as you shifted to sit up, finally asking the question that had been haunting you for days.

“Why... why did you do that last time? Why did you suddenly pull away and disappear?”

Sukuna let out a hiss as he let his hand drop from his face to tug his pants back into place. “I'm not apologizing for anything, brat. So abandon such ridiculous notions.”

You slammed your fists into the silk pillow, unable to hold back from raising your voice.

“I’m not asking you to apologize, am I?! I just want to know why... you hurt me, you know?” Your gaze drifted downward, not really expecting a real answer from him. If anything, you thought he’d up and leave, because he hated when you acted like this—weak and vulnerable, like a pitiful human.

So it surprised you when his shoulders tensed and his gaze... his gaze, it didn't drop—no, it burned into the sheets with an intensity that could have set them aflame.

“Tch. That kiss... I felt sick. My face burned, and my chest felt like a vice squeezing tighter with every second I was stuck at your lips.” A sound somewhere between a snarl and a laugh tore from his throat, as if his own words disgusted him more than anything.

“When I pulled back it was no better, every breath like swallowing shards of broken glass—” He cut himself off, teeth bared in a grimace that could have been mistaken for one of his cruel smiles if you hadn't spent so long studying the subtle differences.

“And then the most revolting irony struck me.”

You stole a glance at him, trying to gauge where this was going, but it was impossible—his palm was pressed against his face, as if he couldn't bear the thought of you seeing him like this. As if acknowledging your presence during this admission of weakness would be the greatest insult to his pride imaginable.

“I had become exactly like that spineless fool in the film,” His voice dropped to a low whisper.

“Just as horribly cursed. I was so disgusted, I could’ve burned a whole village to the ground right then and there—”

A film?

Wait... that romance movie you'd been watching?

Was the King of Curses actually admitting that he felt like some lovesick male lead? No. This had to be some kind of fever dream. You pinched yourself, but the sharp sting confirmed that this was all too real.

Your mouth opened and closed many times before you finally managed to find your voice.

“So... why did you ignore me then? After?” The question came out softer than intended, and you immediately cursed yourself for sounding so hurt.

Sukuna took that opportunity to finally lower his hand, and revert to his usual—scary—self. You made it so easy for him with your utterly stupid questions and your quivering voice.

“Use that pathetic excuse for a brain, woman,” he spat.

“I am the King of Curses. Did you really think I’d welcome such revolting feelings?”

With a low growl, he raked a hand through his hair, irritation flexing his shoulders as his gaze shifted to the side. “I'll admit, avoiding you proved… ineffective.”

“If anything, it only made you fester in my mind more persistently,” he hissed through the gaps of his clenched teeth.

You were speechless, staring blankly ahead. This was everything you'd wanted to hear, yet hearing it left you completely shook...

And in your daze, you missed the way his gaze drifted back to you, tracking slowly and intently over every curve of your body. It was only when his signature smirk returned to his lips that your eyes refocused, catching his hungry stare.

“Perhaps... if you're going to plague my existence either way—” he was back on top of you in an instant, his massive body casting a shadow that swallowed your tiny frame whole.

“—I might as well go back to doing what I do best: taking what I want, when I want,”

His weight sank you deeper into the bed, and a shiver ran over you as he caught your hands and pinned them against the pillow. The calloused pads of his fingers traced your wrist until he found your pulse point, pressing firmly against it to relish the frantic beat of your heart beneath him.

He let out a raspy chuckle, nudging your knee with his own as he whispered against your ear with a taunting breath.

“Now, spread your legs.”

God, this was dangerous.

Yes, he was Sukuna—the King of Curses, the embodiment of evil—and yes, every survival instinct screamed at you to get away. But there was something maddeningly irresistible about the way he wanted you, of all things.

Besides, weren’t you technically forced to obey his commands? Or was that just the dumb excuse you’d tell yourself to justify your desire?

Slowly, you nudged your knees apart, but with each inch, uncertainty crept in.

If you gave yourself to Sukuna completely, only for him to discard you afterward, could you recover from it? Or would you be left shattered, in undignified pieces for falling into his trap so easily?

Caution fought against the rising heat between your legs until it finally won over your rationale; You couldn't go through with this.

You squirmed beneath his body, trying to break free and get away. But he was so massive; it was like trying to move a mountain with your bare hands.

“Fuck, get off!”

Increasingly agitated at your feeble attempts, Sukuna's eyes burned with anger, but weirdly enough his smile only seemed to widen, revealing more and more of the white of his teeth.

Finally, when you managed to wrench one hand free, he slid his body up, pinning your arm down with his knee—and his entire weight above it.

He hovered just over your chest and his free hand tangled in your hair, yanking your face toward his crotch, inches away from the thick bulge in his pants.

“After riling me up like that, you'd better fix this, woman. I don't care how you do it. But you will do it.”

Ugh, he really wouldn’t let this go, would he? And to be fair, being so close to his cock—literally feeling the heat radiating off it—you had to admit you’d been aching to know what it felt like.

So... maybe there was a compromise here.

You looked away, half in disbelief that you were letting yourself get involved with the most dangerous being you’d ever met in such a way. But—

“Okay, I’ll… take care of it. So will you get off me?” You mumbled barely audible.

You glared up at him with a sharp warning in your eyes. “But no sex, Sukuna. I swear to god, if you put that monster anywhere near my thighs, I’ll kill you.”

He let out a grating cackle and finally released you, inching backward and lifting his weight off your arms.

“Kill me, hm? I’d like to see you try, little sorcerer.”

You pushed yourself up across from him, and rubbed your thumb over the bruises forming on your arms. “Im not kidding.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and casually leaned back, legs spread, his gaze urging you to fulfill your promise to take care of it—

of him.

But a wave of nerves hit when you realized that to 'take care of him,' you would actually have to touch him—there—on your own initiative.

It was terrifying, so nerve-wracking that your heart raced with enough force to make your hand bob with each beat as you slowly reached out.

At least Sukuna's attention was drawn to your nervous shakes instead of your eyes—if those judging slits had landed on your face, you probably would have died of embarrassment.

With a final push of courage, you leaned forward and grabbed his cock through the thick of his pants. He flinched ever so slightly as you began to slowly move your hand up and down, testing the waters.

Every swipe up emphasized just how impressive his size was; his length seemed to go on forever.

But with every stroke down, you couldn’t shake the overwhelming realization that you were jerking off the fucking King of Curses.

Sukuna’s gaze was locked on the movement of your hand, never straying, which allowed you the chance to sneak a quick peek at him. But the sight was thoroughly disappointing; his expression was as unbothered as always.

If anything, he looked bored.

And lo and behold, right at that moment, he let out a weary grunt and swatted your hand away—not harshly, but enough to leave you confused and a bit stung.

“What?” you asked, trying your best to hide behind your lashes. But he ignored you, too busy fumbling with his pants.

And before you knew it... his thick cock sprang free, slamming against his stomach with a loud thwack.

“Here,” he growled, grabbing your hand and wrapping it around his length, his palm completely enveloping yours. He squeezed tight, almost painfully so, muttering under his breath with an air of irritation.

“Don’t be so gentle; it’s grating on my nerves,” he said, retracting his hand and tilting your chin upward with a hooked finger.

“Have you looked at it properly? It won’t break, you coward.”

He casually leaned back on his hands, his cock twitching, urging you to continue.

God. He was such an arrogant dick. But lucky for him, you’d never shied away from a challenge... in fact, it lit a small fire within you.

With a firm grip, you began to move; your fingers gliding along his length as you familiarized yourself with every ridge and vein. Experimenting at the top, where you paused to rub your thumb in slow circles around the flushed pink head.

You didn’t dare pause for long, though; because the impatient throb of his cock and the even more impatient quirk of his mouth told you that you were moving far too slowly for his liking.

So, you picked up the pace, pumping up and down his shaft, finally managing to coax a few drops of precum from the tip, which made it easier to slide your hand along.

But with this speed and pressure came an impossible test of endurance.

After a few minutes, the muscles in your arm began to ache. You shifted the angle of your wrist, trying to find some comfort, but nothing felt right anymore, and you were panting from the effort.

Ugh, this was awful. Shouldn’t he be the one huffing and puffing?

You looked up at him, forcibly unfurrowing your brows to mask your frustration.

And there he was, staring at your efforts with barely any enthusiasm, that cold, agitated look in his eyes, the prominent vein on his forehead nearly threatening to burst.

When he let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh, you snapped.

You stopped your hand dead in its tracks, glaring at him with such intensity that he had no choice but to meet your gaze.

“Can you at least pretend it feels good?”

Sukuna arched a brow at your bratty tone and the sudden cessation of your efforts, but then let out another sigh—or maybe more of a grunt—as he broke away from your stare.

“I knew this was ridiculous. How's a measly hand supposed to satisfy me? How can you pigs be content with this?”

The nerve—you were about to snap at him again, but your words caught when he suddenly shifted, flipping you onto your side. The bed creaked as he let his weight drop into the mattress behind you, his rock-hard abs pressing into your back.

You felt his throbbing cock nestle between the cheeks of your ass while his fingers trailed up your leg until they landed on your hips and sank into the tender flesh.

“Hey! What are you—” You yelped at the sudden advance, but Sukuna wouldn’t hear you out, not this time.

“Ah, shut up, brat. I’m not putting it—” with a forceful thrust of his hips, he nudged his cock between your thighs, “in.”

It was hot and pulsing—and with that one buckle he'd miraculously managed to brush his thick head against your clit in a way that made your whole body jolt.

It didn’t stop there...

His hips began to rock at a restless pace—no 'easing into it', no. Just a domineering, impatient rhythm that picked up with each thrust as he fucked your thighs.

Not a shred of regard for the fact that you were still trying to catch your breath from jerking him off.

But you couldn't protest because—with each merciless slam of his hips against your ass, his cock slid over your soaked folds, grazing that same spot again and again, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Before you knew it, you were clenching your legs together. The juices that leaked from your cunt working as the perfect lubricant for his cock, coating your thighs as the room filled with wet, lewd squelches.

His hand slid up to your breast, fingers digging in with an eagerness that would no doubt leave a nasty bruise. And if that, somehow, wasn’t enough to leave a mark, then Sukuna made sure that the sharp edges of his nails left etchings in your flesh.

It stung so deliciously that a cry escaped your lips before you could stop it.

But one little cry wouldn't do it. Not for Sukuna.

He hooked his knee over your leg, pulling you closer, squashing your cheeks against his pelvis and ensuring your thighs squeezed him all the way to the base.

“Sukuna… ah… not so rough,” you managed to mewl through heavy breaths as your folds grew puffy and sore from the friction.

With a half-assed effort you even tried to push his knee away for a moment of reprieve. But his grip was unyielding, keeping you pinned against him as he continued his brutal pace.

“Hm, brat’s giving orders now?” His voice rasped against your ear, dark and husky.

“This is punishment—for promising to 'take care of it' and failing so miserably.”

You wanted to snap back, but any attempt at a retort dissolved into helpless whimpers and gasps, your mind dizzy from the overwhelming sensation of every ridge and vein of his cock sliding past the sensitive endings of your nerves. 

You couldn’t explain in words how grateful you were to yourself for standing your ground on the no-sex thing.

Sukuna was like a feral beast, driven purely by instinct—topped off with limitless endurance and that ridiculous strength he felt no guilt unleashing upon you as he pounded into your thighs again... and again... and again.

And let’s not even get started on the size of that weapon... If it had been your pussy instead of your legs, he would have utterly destroyed you.

Sukuna's voice pulled you from your haze, as you struggled to focus on anything other than the electrifying heat and pressure building low in your stomach.

“You’re trembling,” he hissed between thrusts.

“Control your cursed energy, fool. Was all that effort training you a waste of my time?” He nudged his head against your ear, whispering so close that the hairs stood up at the back of your neck and your pussy throbbed.

“Or will you show me some competence for once?”

For him you'd try to focus—to concentrate on the flow of energy. Even now, you wanted to prove yourself; maybe more than ever, you wanted his praise. But the two of you seemed intertwined into an indistinguishable mess of energy.

It was impossible to untangle, and so you could only pray he’d finish before you fainted from the intensity.

“I... I can’t,” you murmured, voice muffled into your own arm.“It’s too much,”

At that point you gave up—surrendering to the pleasure even if Sukuna groaned against your neck, clearly irritated by your human fragility.

But something kept him from dragging this out and pushing you over your limit—he wanted you conscious to witness how thoroughly he'd mark you. To make you understand the consequences of infiltrating his thoughts, of making the strongest being in existence dependant on a mere mortal.

He bared his teeth and flipped you over to your stomach, his movements growing more erratic as he rutted against your thighs and clawed at your ass.

This new angle brought a whole new bliss and you were damn near losing your mind now... The walls of your cunt clenching together, aching to be filled, the heat in your stomach spreading to your whole body until even the tips of your ears burned up.

Instinctively, you arched your back, pressing into Sukuna's hips.

And that was when his own groans broke loose, low and raspy, louder with each thrust—sounds that were more animal than human. His pace picked up, even when you hadn't thought it possible.

Your face pushing deeper into the pillow with each plunge between your legs, muffling the desperate, shameful sounds you couldn't possibly suppress.

It burned when the sensitive flesh of your thighs and ass began to glow a deep red from the repeated impact.

And you could feel his cock pulse, on the verge of bursting as he bent over you, pressing your body into the mattress and yanking your head back so he could see your face, a moaning, drooling mess.

“Now this,” he rasped, leaning down to capture your expression as he drove his dick so deep between your thighs that his balls slapped against them.

“Is a foolish human gesture, I can see the appeal of.”

With another harsh roll of his hips, he let your head fall back into the pillow, dragging his tongue along the curve of your neck, savoring the taste of your sweat-slicked skin.

It was those words, followed by the feel of his wet tongue lapping at your neck—the head of his cock, drenched in your juices, swiping past your clit once more—

that pushed you to your orgasm.

“Hng.. Fuck,”

Your whole body tightened up as the heat in your stomach rolled into shockwaves of pleasure, your world narrowing in to the muffled sounds of your own moans and the rhythmic spasms of your cunt, your fingernails digging into the sheets.

Sukuna could feel your legs lock around him even tighter as you came undone, your thighs twitching when he overstimulated your clit, showing no mercy as he kept his pace steady.

Your needy little cries into the pillow—the pillow that was no doubt as soaked as your pussy, just with tears and spit—were the most enticing sounds he’d ever heard.

His hot breath hovered at your ear, every rough exhale fanning over your skin when his groans grew louder, gradually shifting into uncontrolled grunts at shorter intervals.

Until his hips jerked a final time, slamming into your flesh as a deep, guttural sound tore from his throat. His cock twitched and hot ropes of cum spilled over the inside of your legs, reaching all the way to your stomach.

With a few extra thrusts Sukuna made sure to spread it all around, properly coating you in his mess before finally pulling away.

He traced a finger along your thigh and smirked at the sight he’d left behind.

“I keep discovering more things you’re good for, brat. Pestering, cooking, fucki—brat?”

He nudged your legs, which had already crumpled onto the mattress, but you were barely conscious, his words fading into scattered syllables after the overwhelming rush of his cursed energy and the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever had.

You were so out of it you might have heard your own snore set it—or maybe that was just Sukuna’s disappointed growl as he realized your body had gone limp.

Whatever it was, you were too drained to care.

Sorry, Sukuna. Just a little nap…

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THANKYOU for reading bby's <3 Hope I fed y'all well this chapter 🥺

Also wanted to clarify that the gaps between chapters are a lil longer because, well, the chapters are twice as long lol. So I hope I'm forgiven 🙏

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If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[foone]

sometimes I think we need better terms for merged minds in science fiction.

Because we've got "hivemind" but that ends up getting used for a lot of very different situations. Like, the classic hivemind is like one singular intelligence, no individual memories or identities.

But you could also have less complete forms. Like, maybe all entities in the hive-mind share memories but maintain distinct identities.

So like A and B have a mental link where neither can "control" the other and their thoughts and emotions don't affect each other, but they can remember each other's memories, but they're still clearly separated. A can remember stuff B did, but they distinctly remember it as something B did and not something they did.

You could also vary in how much they have a shared consciousness: Can they talk to each other in their head(s)? Or maybe just emotions? like, maybe A can feel that B is angry about something, but they can't tell what about exactly until they talk to B directly. And that could vary in how distinct it is. Maybe it's more like that feeling of "why do I feel like crap?" before you realize you haven't eaten all day, where you would subtly pick up on the emotions of the other members of the hive mind but can't distinctly tell where those emotions are coming from: you, or someone else.

Which makes me think of another thing about memories: Maybe you can remember each other's memories, but you may not be able to get the emotional context. Like, A can remember a memory from B's past, but any emotional context they put on it is from themselves, not B.

So like, you could have A remembering B dropping out of college, and assuming it's a sad memory, a moment of failure, when in fact B remember that moment as a time of great relief, because it wasn't working for them and it marked the point they changed their life path away from what their parents were pushing on them.

The whole subject of consensus is also something that can be different. Like, maybe the members have distinct identities, but their opinions and beliefs affect each other. So there's a sort of democratic consensus in opinions, without having their will completely overridden. It's just that the mental link is influencing them to all believe the same things.

ANYWAY this lack of a rich vocabulary of the differences in hiveminds is holding me back from something I was thinking about of a split-hivemind of humanity, where everyone could remember memories of each other... but only along gender lines. Men can all know the combined knowledge of men, and women can all know the combined knowledge of women. Trans people, of course, lose access to one hivemind and gain another. Non-binary people (like me!) and bigender people? that's more complicated.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Ripper

Debut: Metroid

Imagine if there was a guy who loved beetles a lot, thought they were the pinnacle of anatomy, loved almost everything about them, especially the fact that they fly! But this guy hates the WAY they fly. They wish they didn't have to open their beautiful elytra to fly, ruining the impeccable smoothness of the carapace. This guy would be pretty weird. I would disagree. But I have to say they would love Ripper! That is a really long-winded way of saying "Ripper is like a beetle that hovers without using any wings"!

Ripper is like a beetle that hovers without using any wings. That's a cool sort of alien thing to do! But then you see its legs and that's just goofy. It really is just a bug that inexplicably hovers and is nearly invincible. And it's iconic! I admittedly have not played that much Metroid, but I have played the first game (bad) and its remake (awesome), and I could not imagine it without Ripper! It floats lazily and horizontally back and forth, usually in vertical areas, and feels as integral to a Metroid bestiary as a critter that walks around ever surface of a platform.

If you want more proof that Ripper is already perfect, look at Metroid Fusion. In this game, the X Parasite infects many species, mimicking them and giving the copies altered abilities, but the Ripper copies stay the same as the original! Nothing to improve upon here!

Ripper was so great that they made a sequel! This is Ripper II! They were very (rightfully) confident in Ripper being a hit, so confident, in fact, that they made Ripper II in the very same game, before the general public could even give feedback on the original. I'm sure that after the game came out, though, people were sending in fan mail about our favorite horizontal hoverer! Ripper II is faster. Not a Ripper for everyone! Don't adopt it without making sure you can handle it first!

Is this a Ripper? Not quite! This one is a Tripper! It is not called that because it is mean and tries to trip you. It is actually passive, and you can stand on it, and go for a Trip as it flies! What a nice creature.

Last, but certainly not least, is the Winged Ripper! They gave wings to a flying creature! So droll! Very similar principle to the Para-Biddybud, putting wings on top of what may very well be elytra, but in this case it was ALREADY able to fly! Para-Ripper over here is a lot like if you add wings to an entity in Super Mario Maker, because the wings make it fly around a distinct path and even allow it to explore the y-axis. It only appears in one room, where it must be frozen to act as a step for Samus to stand on, so she can reach a giant larva that is ensnared by vines. Awesome! Winged Ripper is truly a one scene wonder, enhanced even further by its similarity to Para-Beetle, everyone's darling!

I don't know why these things are called Rippers. Maybe they would use their chewing beetle mouthparts to really rip into a good leaf if offered one, and have a rip-roaring good time!

[h4venpha]

Can we get some cuddling w/ uncanny vash? Like imagine he’s embarrassed you have to see him like this and reader just loving him a ton (cause it’s what he deserves)

𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𓂃 ⟡

uncanny vash x reader

headcanons to go along w it!!

cw: none

a/n: listened to a literal purring audio on youtube while writing this haha im losing it

“hey, can you uh– loosen up?” you ask, voice low as you nudge his shoulder softly. his long arms holding you tight against his chest, feather-like appendages wrapping and flickering against your waist. he has no body heat, and yet you feel overwhelmingly warm. vash barely registers your voice, yet his eyes open, a slight bluish glow emitting from his irises. but he doesn’t seem quite… awake yet.

“vash…?” you whisper, nudging his shoulder once more. the look in his eyes is faraway and unfocused, but as soon as you call his name, his eyes snap toward you. in the dark of the room, you have to remind yourself that it’s just him.

“mm?” vash hums, staring at you, eyes finally focusing on your face. it’s funny because you swore he was just asleep, yet his eyes and voice held no traces of sleep in them.

“loosen up a bit,” you blink sleepily at him, wiggling in his secure hold. of course you enjoy it when he holds you, but it can be overwhelming sometimes. his feathers constantly fluttering across your skin and his long limbs interlocking with yours.

vash continues to stare at you like he doesn’t understand your request. his abnormally long, forked tongue flickers out like a snake before he shakes his head, a distinct ‘no.’ to your surprise, he begins to squeeze you even tighter, pulling you in like he’s trying to absorb you into his body.

“v-vash, c’mon,” you squirm and try to at least wiggle your legs out, but he’s already wrapping his feathers around your calves, pulling you flush against him. he’s got you completely defenseless and weak, like a giant snake wrapping itself around its prey, ready to take a bite.

except just before you can scold him again, vash starts purring. a low, rumbling sound coming from within him. it’s coursing through your own body, his content purring vibrating throughout your chest. vash leans down and begins to rub his cheek on yours. he has no body heat, but you would bet if he did his face would be warm.

you sigh, body finally relaxing into his hold as you give up on trying to have your own personal space. and vash senses it immediately, chittering joyfully as you accept his love.

“happy, aren’t you?” you grumble out, nuzzling back against his face. and copying his unique ways of affection gets a high pitched chirp out of him, the purring increasing in volume.

vash’s feathers flicker rapidly against your arms and legs, content with your reaction. somehow, seeing this side of him was endearing: hearing him purr like this, practically feeling his heart– hearts? beating out of his chest for you. knowing he could switch from big, cuddly kitty to unsettling, creepy entity was more than enough for you to deal with close nights like these.

[velvetvexations]

Another thing I understand about AFAB trans women is that from my limited knowledge a common element seems to be an alienation from cis women. I've always had a very hard time with accepting I can exist in a female space, I often talk about how a lot of girl-centric media feels "cis coded" to me in a way that makes it feel off limits and for people other than myself. I totally get it if an AFAB person feels like a woman that's nonetheless an outsider to feminine "culture".

I even feel this way about trans women to an extent. Much more often than not, trans women come off as innocent little baby dolls. I was just telling someone recently that I've never vibed much with the trans flag colors because, while not exclusive to transfems, comes off as very cutesy I feel doesn't fit me and it often goes hand-in-hand with depictions of trans women as innocence in a world that hates and fears you personified.

The way things are, of course, emphasizing innocence makes a lot of sense, but it's not me. I'm otherworldly monster, and not just like, a lady with a big cock like in a lot of porn. I don't vibe with a lot of sexualized depictions either because despite being a sexualized person and psychosexuality playing a large role in being who I am, most trans women still have a different vibe than me. I'm borderline a work of body horror, something scary to behold - that is nonetheless a woman, much of it in ways that directly contrasts and plays with the idea of femininity as something soft. As I've said before, I feel like a woman who was made from what is in my case and my case only "the wrong parts". Like asking for a woman and someone brings you back a weird art sculpture made from twisted and burnt metal possessed by a malevolent alien entity from beyond the furthest stars.

So where do I fit in? TERFs always say "you can just be a man who wears dresses" or "you can just be a woman who wears suits", and those points are true. You CAN be a man who wears dresses or a woman who wears suits. Similarly, being a transfem who doesn't vibe with feminine stuff makes me no less a woman than it would a cis woman. Yet nonetheless, I feel like an outsider, someone who is like neither cis women nor even a great percentage of trans women. It's such a distinct feeling I can taste it.

So it makes all the sense in the world to me that an AFAB person would not be satisfied with merely identifying as GNC cis woman. That doesn't really capture the sense of separation they have with cis women. I can really relate that many are coming from that same angle where cis femininity is a bubble they're outside of with me and mine, who they might relate to more.