#clearly I must be so awful if all I get in life is abuse

[liesmultixxx]

.

[blimpintime]

warmth azriel x reader

Based on this ask!

this is my first time writing for Azriel!

warnings: past abuse

word count: 840 words

is unedited

Tumbling down the side of the rocky hill, you manage to hit and scrape every part of your small, frail body on the freezing rough ground. Small wings bleeding and bent at odd angles twitch on your back as you finally stop moving. 

You hear laughter above you and making its way towards you. Groaning and spitting out blood and saliva out of your mouth as they reach you. Being ten is one thing in Illyria, being a ten year old bastard daughter in Illyria is another thing.

The boys that shoved you down the hill in the first place are trying to get you to the river to drown you, you have figured that out pretty quickly, but because of having a rough life from the get go you won't be going down without a fight.

It’s a struggle getting back on your feet, your wings being clipped a week prior and now broken and mangled making it hard for you to balance. 

��Look at her, she is pathetic.” One of them snickers, you look at the two standing before you, the tall figures looking hazy under the moonlight. 

“It’s a wonder she’s lasted this long in the first place. Look at how small she is. We are doing her a favor putting her out of her misery.”  

“One day, I will kill you both.” You say with a bloody grin, “It might not be today, or tomorrow but I will do it. With a smile on my face.” You spit blood out at their feet. 

It must have been the look of determination or maybe desperation on your face, but the two boys took a step back, and then laughed. 

“Sure, but you’re dead tonight bastard bitch.” And they start making their way towards you. 

“What did you call her?” A voice appears.

And three figures emerge from the tree line.

You cough a laugh out, and fall to your knees. A comforting warmth appears beside you helping you stand.

“You okay?” And it’s Azriel standing tall and brave before you, even at just twelve years old. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You say with a grin.

Dinner was always loud and fun with the family all together, Cassian and Nesta seeing who could out drink one another. Feyre and Rhysand egging them on and placing bets, and then you and Azriel silently watching them with warmth and humor.

“Oh to the mother you know damn well if any one here can out drink you it's her.” Rhysand says and gestures to you, to which you balk and choke on your drink you were sipping on. 

Azriel’s hand gently rubs your back with a knowing smile on his face. You feel love and mirth through the bond. Everyone has their eyes on you expecting to join in on the bets. 

“Ah, that’s not something I need to prove Cassy.” You say with a wink and he pouts. “Plus, I cannot drink right now.” 

Feyre drops her glass and it breaks. “Shut the fuck up.” She says while launching toward you with a smile, clearly being more tipsy than anyone was expecting. “Nyx is going to have a cousin.” She says with a sob.

“Feyre darling careful-” Rhys winces and tries to get out before she tackles you. Everyone has huge grins on their faces. 

“So? How long have you known?” Nesta asks softly. 

“About three months.” Azriel responds with a warm smile. 

“Well, that brings up one question I have.” Cassian says with a burp, you wince and call him gross. 

“Who is going to be the scary parent?” Cassian asks with a drunkenly serious face. 

“Obviously, y/n.” Nesta and Feyre say. Rhysand rubs his chin in thought and nods. “Yes, that's true.” 

Azriel looks shocked and you hide a grin in his shoulder. 

“Awe, Azzy don’t look so shocked.” Nesta says with a drunken snort. “Your mate is literally a reaper.” And she’s not wrong, you got the nickname centuries ago when you picked up a scythe as the weapon you preferred to fight with. You and Azriel often got the title of the Shadow and Reaper when put on missions together. 

The dinner soon comes to an end when Nesta and Cassian pass out on the couches, Feyre asleep on the table and Rhys coaxing her to get to an actual bed. 

“I love our family.” You whisper to Azriel as he puts your beanie on your head for you. He drags his hands down to your face, squishes your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“I love you sweets.” He responds to you and then helps you put your shaw on for the cold walk home. You giggle and help him put his gloves on for him. 

You both head home down the path, leaning into one another with the snow lightly falling. But for some reason because of him you only feel warmth. And even though you live together you wish the walk was a little longer, just to enjoy that peaceful quiet love with Azriel.

a/n: YAYYYYY! okay so this is it! please lemme know how y'all feel!

my asks are still open right now!

[yoru-no-seiiki]

VILLAIN! READER WITH A YAN! MASOCHISTIC! PROTAGONIST

tw/cw: DDNE, mentions of abuse, actual abuse (by reader), implied parental neglect. protagonist’s gender is whatever you want it to be. gn pronouns.

[ second part ]

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU.

You wholeheartedly believed that you’d rule the world one day. The oracles deemed it so, and the rest followed. The only problem being is that you’d rule with an iron fist, causing the death of millions under your tyrannical reign. Many opposed your position as heir to the throne.

In comes the protagonist, your adopted sibling who is also destined for great things. The difference being is that they’ll gain it through defeating you.

Everyday is a murderfest with you trying to kill the kid but because of plot armor they’re resistant to any and all sorts of spells, weapons and even people you’ve hired.

Yan! Protagonist who had been abused their entire life saw this as just an act of love. Even moreso since you were so determined to hurt them everyday. It must mean you adored them does it not? They don’t understand why they’re not able to die or properly get hurt by you though, so at times they’ll even try to get in your way to make it easier.

But this just ends up with you hating them further and further.

As the two of you grow up, tactics start to become even more underhanded and deadly. You had lost all sense of empathy and kindness at this point. You had also halted trying to hide your attempts as your sibling clearly knew of it anyways.

But with your duties increasing as well, you are unable to execute much of your assassination attempts much less see your sibling directly. It came to the point of dull poisoning plots of which Yan! Protagonist had literally gained an immunity to with how frequent it was.

Yan! Protagonist never wanted to become ruler. A kingdom was far too much to manage and think about. All they wanted was to relax and be with you.

But with you being all busy and ignoring them. . . they simply can not stand idle and let this be!

And so they throw themselves into their studies. Those that doubted the Protagonist are now in awe of the way they picked up things in addition to their overflowing determination. They must really want to take you down.

Unbeknownst to them, they were simply doing this so you’d go back to giving them your attention.

Years after you’d officially taken the throne, they barged into castle. Thousands of troops behind them as they declared,

—

“Exalted sibling, I’ve come to take the burden of the throne from your hands!” The protagonist stood before you in all their glory. Magnificent as the scriptures had foretold. Absolutely befitting for the next in line for the throne. Blessed with a face sculpted by the gods.

You wanted nothing more rip it from their skull and watch the blood rain down on their regal clothing.

“You’ll have to take it from my cold, dead body.”

The protagonist froze in their tracks. Your words and pure confusion taking a while to settle in.

Wait, what?

. . . to be continued

Anyways that’s just a smol part from one of my webtoon ideas i’ve been writing haha. It probably won’t be expanded on until I officially published that one and it’s like further down the list of webtoon order so oop-

©️ yoru.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[yutaholic]

the show must go on (M)

PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Your best friend, your ride or die, Haechan has never once left your side, but all good things must come to an end.

WARNINGS: strong language; brief mentions of alcohol and drug abuse; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 7.9k words; this is part three of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Seattle, 1991

We met in detention. Eighth grade. Not to be cliché, but I knew Lee Haechan was trouble when he walked in.

Takes one to know one.

What I didn’t know was the role he would come to play in my life. I doubt many people meet their soulmate in middle school. I was pretty lucky in that.

The two of us practically lived in detention that entire year. Ninth grade was a little better; we just hung out behind the school instead of inside it. A silly pair of dumb kids wearing matching leather jackets and passing a cigarette back and forth, coughing up smoke and thinking it made us cool.

We thought we had it all figured out. But only Haechan turned out to be right.

He was the one that started the band. Haechan threw us all together and made music out of our chaos and trauma. He was the glue and without him, we would fall apart.

You clambered quietly into the passenger seat and whispered, “They’re asleep.”

Haechan was behind the wheel, but the van was parked on a grassy knoll just off the main highway. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he mumbled, sitting in a cloud of smoke that poured from his lips. The thick scent of marijuana filled the van from stem to stern.

You followed your best friend’s gaze. His eyes were firmly planted out the window at the black curtain of nightfall painted with billions of little lights. “The sky looks so pretty,” you said in awe.

“I know. It’s crazy seeing stars this bright.”

There was a tiny lull of silence. You were thinking. It wasn’t often you got to be alone with Haechan lately and it was making you crazy - not getting to confide in your best friend.

“I let Mark raw me,” you blurted out.

Haechan snorted. “I heard, but clearly your birth control did its job.”

“I snorted cocaine with Jeno… and fucked him in a dressing room.”

Your best friend looked at you, arching a brow. “So?” Doing crazy shit with Jeno wasn’t new, to be fair.

“What the hell am I doing?”

“What you do best - loving everyone except yourself.”

You frowned. Nail hitting the head every time, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t do that,” you said in a small voice.

Haechan smirked and put the joint to his lips, taking another long drag. “You know me better than to think I’m going to be your conscience and scold you,” he said a moment later. “It makes sense you’re trying to get in as many rounds of fun before the summer ends.”

The summer was winding down. August was half over.

I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t. Because I knew in my heart when we went home, we would go our separate ways. Forever.

There would be nothing holding us together anymore.

“Haechan?”

“Yes, my love?”

You fought back tears as you asked, “What are we going to do when it’s all over?”

Haechan slapped on a playful grin for your sake and said, “We’re going to get scouted at a concert and get a huge record deal and I’ll eat you out over a bed of hundred dollar bills.”

You snorted. “God, that would be a dream.” You quickly sobered. “What’s the reality?”

Your best friend’s grin melted away and his voice turned to frost. “Go home. Find a minimum wage job. And try not to turn into raging alcoholics like our parents.”

“I thought so,” you sighed, hanging your head.

Haechan reached over and rubbed your arm. “Save the major depressive episode for back home. Let’s just enjoy these last few days.”

“I don’t want to give up,” you said, meeting his eyes again. The fire inside you lit itself with resolve. No matter how small it was. “I want something more for us in life.”

“I know you do, baby,” Haechan crooned, touching your cheek affectionately. “But some things are just out of our control.”

You blinked with the urge to cry. You couldn’t fight it anymore. Regardless of his gentle tone, Haechan’s words sounded final. You slipped out of the seat and to the floor to lay your head on Haechan’s thigh, closing your eyes as he stroked your hair.

After a moment, Haechan whispered, “I’ll never forget you for as long as I live. No matter what happens. I hope you know that.”

The tears slipped down your face as you smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Haechan’s lips twitched. He wanted so badly to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t. He knew damn well when the summer ended and the band came up empty, there would be a permanent wedge of broken hearts and crushed dreams between you.

So, so lonely. That was Haechan’s biggest fear. Losing his best friends would destroy him beyond repair. He would go through life jaded and bitter, like his parents.

Maybe it really was unavoidable. Fighting fate sounded great in songs, but reality wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.

The next morning, you woke in the bed with Jeno’s arm tucked around your waist, his body molded to yours keeping you warm. There was no telling which boy scooped you off the floor and put you in bed, but your money was on Mark. He was having a hard time looking at you and Haechan was mysteriously quiet.

But you knew why.

Tension had settled over the van, the worst of the worst. After the show in Seattle, there were no more gigs to be played. Now, the long drive home would begin, shadowed by defeat and failure.

You resorted to doing what you always did; trying to alleviate the pressure and raise everyone’s spirits. Once the boys were up and actually keeping their eyes open, you had Jeno drive to the nearby state park.

As he did, you drifted between them. They were like strangers, devoid of energy and hope. Mark hadn’t touched his guitar since the final gig. The gentle strumming of his acoustic and the beauty of his softly whispered singing didn’t fill the van anymore, to your dismay.

Haechan curled up in the bed and didn’t say a word. Jeno drove silently, smoking one cigarette after another and blowing the smoke out the window. You started with him, running your hand over his shoulder as he held the wheel. Jeno glanced at you briefly, offering a weak smile that even he couldn’t keep. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

You went to Mark next and curled up next to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly. Mark was a little surprised, seeing as how the two of you had been working hard to keep your hands off each other, but was over the moon to have you in his arms again. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands up and down your back.

“Won’t you play a little something?” you asked gently.

Mark shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, closing your eyes to fight the tears.

Finally, you went to Haechan and sat on the mattress next to him. He just looked at you, his stare vacant and blank. You brushed his long hair from his face and leaned in to trace a few kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, just to see if you could spark a reaction.

Haechan pushed you ever so slightly and said, “That’s not going to work this time.”

You frowned. And gave up. The three were inconsolable and it broke your heart.

Sidling over to the cabinet, you found your notebook and began flipping pages, going to where you’d left off. Your brows stitched when you didn’t find it and that was when you noticed the torn remains of paper in the metal spiral.

“Okay. Which one of you ripped the page out?”

Mark met your eyes and said, “Don’t look at me.”

You called, “Jeno?”

“You know I wouldn’t touch your shit,” he replied calmly.

Leaving you to turn to Haechan, his eyes closed. “Haechan?”

“I don’t give a fuck about your memoir,” he said, hissing your name.

That made you flinch. You understood his anger, but not the vitriol toward your story. Your eyes fell to the notebook and the missing page, and your hands began to shake.

You threw the notebook at the cabinet and it landed in a pitiful heap. Tensing with frustration, you bent your legs, wrapped your arms around your knees, and hid your face, crying as quietly as you could.

Mark moved slowly, grazing against you to pick up the notebook and tuck it back into its place neatly, but he didn’t have the courage to comfort you. Too scared he would make it worse.

It was Haechan that slipped to the floor and enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest and dabbing at your cheeks with his sleeve.

When Jeno pulled into the park, you breathed in relief. The van was too stifling, suffocating you in all its misery. You hopped out of the van without a word and started marching for the scenic overlook advertised on a giant sign like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

One-by-one, your bandmates whined and huffed, but inevitably followed. They could wallow in their own disappointment, but they couldn’t stand seeing it hit you.

That’s how the four of you came to sit at a lone picnic table, silently staring at the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves ebb and flow in all its unwavering glory.

The tears had dried on your face. Breathing in the sweet, salty air grounded you again, clearing your lungs and your head.

You were the one to finally break the silence. “I need to come clean about something.”

“Go ahead,” Jeno replied, yawning as he still struggled to shake off sleep.

Wringing your hands in your lap, you began, “I’ve been mailing pieces of the memoir to Cassie.”

“That explains the trips to the post office,” Mark said offhandedly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be glib or not.

“And?” Jeno pressed.

You took a breath. “She submitted it to a publisher for their… consideration, I guess it’s called.”

Well, that woke everyone up.

“Are you serious?” Haechan asked, his eyes wide.

“Yeah?” You were befuddled by the reaction, glancing around at them. All three of your boys were sporting similar looks of shock. “You knew I was writing a memoir.”

“We knew you were scribbling in a notebook to toss in a bin and find it again twenty years later and laugh at all the dumb shit we did…” Haechan’s tone of disdain was not lost on you.

Jeno’s gawking increased. “Babe, are you insane?”

You felt small on that picnic table between them, utterly confused, and snapped, “No. I’m trying to get us out of this hell!”

Grimacing, Mark asked pointedly, “You wrote about all the very illegal shit you’ve been doing?”

Oh. That’s why they were freaked out. Underage drinking. Marijuana. Cocaine. All very punishable offenses. You shrugged and plastered on your cutest, most innocent smile. “A little?”

“Fuck,” Jeno swore, sliding off the bench to his feet and running a hand through his hair.

Haechan shook his head and chuckled. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You rubbed your arms awkwardly.

I was so determined to make it work. It was tunnel vision, so intense I could see nothing else.

“What did the publisher say?” Mark asked, touching your shoulder in comfort. The awkwardness was killing him too.

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I call Cassie at every stop to check on the dogs and she promised to update me on any replies from the publisher.”

Jeno looked to Haechan. “Can they report us to the cops?”

Haechan waved him away, looking more amused the longer he thought about it. “No. She can just say it’s all fiction. Very embellished fiction.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Good thinking.”

You almost laughed. Haechan could lie his way out of almost anything. In this case, it would be in your favor. You glanced around at your boys again. “So…, is everyone mad at me or are we good?”

“We’re good,” Haechan said, patting your head. “For now.”

“Fuck.” Mark sounded exhausted. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I could handle losing our music career, but being notorious in a fucking book.”

It was your turn to comfort him, running your hand across his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers.

Jeno kicked at a pinecone, watching it skitter across the rocks. “We’d be the fucking losers just known for banging bitches at every stop,” he sneered. Then, the drummer had a thought and raised his brows. “Actually, whatever gets us paid, I don’t really care.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” Mark asked curiously. “You technically wrote the book, but it’s about all of us.”

You made a face. “It’s our story. Of course I’d split everything fairly with you guys.”

Haechan smiled at you ever so faintly.

“I can’t believe our story’s almost over,” Jeno mumbled bitterly.

You perked up. This was as good a time as any. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

You got up and spun on your heels, so you could face them all at once. “I was thinking…,” you said, shifting your weight. “We could get a place together and we’d work odd jobs to pay the bills, but we would play gigs here and there. Whatever we could get.”

Jeno simpered. You weren’t clinging to the band. You just didn’t want to let go of them.

“We’d be scraping by a living forever,” Mark pointed out.

“But we’d be doing what we love,” you argued.

“Try loving something that never loves you back,” Haechan said harshly. “You become bitter and miserable. Just like my parents. And yours.”

You scanned their faces. Each had the tiniest bit of hope in their eyes, but their expressions were firmly rooted in defeat. “You guys just want to go home after everything we did this summer and…,” you trailed, a tremble creeping into your voice. “Pretend like it never happened?”

Jeno softened. “Of course it happened. We’ll always look back and remember this as the best days of our lives.” He talked to you like he was soothing a fussy baby. “But best days don’t last. That’s why you look back on them.”

Your eyes burned. More tears would come any moment now and you weren’t ashamed of them. “I just don’t understand why you’re all giving up. Why am I the only one trying to keep us together?”

“Because you’re the dreamer,” Mark sighed.

Haechan snapped, “Stop being so gentle with her,” and Jeno was quick to warn, “Don’t be a dick.”

Your best friend jumped down from the picnic table and approached you. You knew by his tone and his gait that he was about to dress you down and you readied yourself for the blow.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Haechan started, pointing at the guitarist. “Mark’s parents will blow their entire retirement savings to send him to a good college to recover their reputation. And they will never let him date someone like you.”

You flinched.

“Fuck you,” Mark hissed, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.

Haechan continued, “Jeno won’t be able to hold down a job. He’ll be a regular customer in rehab, then jail.”

Jeno held up his middle finger. “Go to hell.”

Haechan set his eyes on you and a chill ran down your spine. “And you,” Haechan said through clenched jaws. “You’ll meet some guy you can barely stand, but he’ll keep a nice roof over your head. He’ll put a couple babies in you after some miserable missionary and your entire personality will center around the screaming kids you never wanted. Just like your mom.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Planting both hands on Haechan’s chest, you shoved him back and screamed, “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”

Jeno was suddenly caught in a very precarious position. As you stomped off, his first instinct was to go after you, but in the next second, Mark was off the table and charging toward Haechan. So, Jeno had to decide whose life was in the most imminent danger.

And he correctly chose Haechan.

Mark grabbed Haechan by the collar with both hands and crowded into his face. “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he roared, but Haechan didn’t fight back.

He was numb. His face was blank, his eyes cold.

Jeno did his best to wedge himself between them, but he was too defeated. All the thunder was gone from him. “Why did you do that to her?” he asked sadly.

“She has to let go of us,” Haechan replied, looking from Jeno to Mark. “Make her hate you. It’s the only way.”

Mark shook his head in dissent, clenching his fists even tighter in Haechan’s shirt.

You put plenty of distance between yourself and the boys, and the moment you found a solitary bench between trees, you collapsed onto it, buried your face in your hands, and wept.

We have no secrets, Haechan and I. He knows the darkest depths of my soul, and I know his.

I never thought he’d use that as a weapon, but I should have known.

He was the only one that dreamed bigger and harder than me. With it all ending, his heart was dying and pain makes us do horrible things. Especially to the ones we love most.

Because he knew I would still love him anyway. No matter how much he broke me.

Time lost all meaning as you cried on that bench. It wasn’t just Haechan’s words that crushed you, it was the cruel reality of life. You didn’t want to live without your boys. The four of you were too interwoven and connected. Being parted from them would be like tearing at the fabric of who you were.

You were expected to walk around with a gaping hole in your chest forever?

Sure. Most people did. It would account for all the hate and anger in the world.

“My love?”

You lifted your head at the sound of his voice, roughly wiped your wet cheeks, and growled, “Go away, Haechan. I swear to god, I will slap the shit out of you.”

Haechan dragged his feet over to you and said, “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

You refused to look at him as he sat beside you. Your eyes focused on the ocean.

We had the same biggest fear. Becoming our parents. As time went on, the more it seemed inevitable. A cycle that couldn’t be broken. We were fools to think we could be different.

That’s what I was hanging onto. I had to avoid that fate at all costs. Part of me thought that as long as I had my boys, they could save me from it.

“How could you say my worst nightmare so casually like that?” You were still shaking.

Haechan hung his head. “I was trying to hurt you.”

You scoffed, deadpanning, “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like all the air was sapped from his lungs. When you didn’t respond, Haechan said, “Look at me. Please.”

“No.”

Your best friend sighed loudly and slouched into the bench, resting his head on the back. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, watching the world pass you by.

“You’ll prove me wrong,” Haechan said tenderly. “You will be the one that breaks the cycle. The rest of us will just watch.”

Still, you said nothing. You hated him.

Because Haechan always ended up being right. It was a gift and a curse.

Mark and Jeno came looking. The latter was the only one brave enough to approach you, holding out his hand without a word. You peered up at him and let your hand slip into his, and Jeno led you away.

Haechan blinked and the tears escaped. He held them back until you left, refusing to cry in front of you. Keeping his hands in his lap, Haechan didn’t bother to dry his cheeks.

Mark blew out a pained breath. “What do we do?”

“You know what you have to do,” Haechan said, cutting his eyes at Mark. “If you don’t stand up to your parents, they’ll make you give her up.”

“I won’t,” Mark started.

“They will wear you down. You know they will. She’s not who they have in mind for their perfect boy. They hate her.”

Mark nodded.

“If you grow a spine, the two of you can at least live happily ever after,” Haechan joked, but there was a bitter edge to his voice.

“What about you and Jeno?”

Haechan stood. “It is what it is.”

The cloud in the van darkened. Jeno and Mark were miserable, and predictably stoic about it. Neither knew what to do with you. As it turned out, you were the rock, not Jeno.

Curled up in the bed with your back to them, you closed your eyes, but had no intention of sleeping. You would just lay there and wait for something to break or change. You’d done the heavy lifting so far. Now it was their turn.

Haechan couldn’t take the silence anymore. He trudged out of the van and slammed the door behind him.

You didn’t bat an eye. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to ask or care.

That wasn’t true. I always cared. Nothing could ever make me stop caring. We are all cursed and that was mine.

When the doors wheeled open, Haechan was sweaty and disheveled. You wondered how much time had passed as he sat on the mattress beside you. “Come with me,” your best friend said, holding out his hand.

You smarted, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll drag you.”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him an obstinate glare, but your curiosity was piqued. The hell had he been doing that got him so shiny with sweat? It didn’t take him that long to jerk off.

A defeated sigh left your lips. He was still your best friend, even if you hated his guts at the moment.

After batting his hand away, you got up and followed Haechan outside, rolling your eyes at the looks Mark and Jeno were sporting.

Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as Haechan led you into the trees, not too far from the van. When you saw what he was bringing you to, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

A camping tent was set up; the one Haechan had insisted on strapping on top of the van in case he found a nice spot. And it seemed he found one.

This was a habit of ours. When the yelling at my house got to be too much, when I couldn’t block it with my locked door or the blankets over my head, I would sneak out the window.

My parents didn’t notice. Hard to notice if you don’t care. Haechan would always be waiting to run off with me to the park. There were safe, secluded areas to set the tent up without fear of being interrupted.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten laid in that pathetic little tent. I’d probably mourn the damn thing when it finally fell apart.

Just as I mourned my relationships.

“How about a night not sleeping in the van?” Haechan asked, unzipping the front flap and holding it open for you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you barked, narrowing your eyes at him and crawling inside.

Haechan bit his tongue. Any witty remarks would not be appreciated at the moment.

But given Haechan was allergic to quiet, he wasn’t going to keep enabling your cold shoulder for much longer. Watching you lay on your back and make yourself comfortable over the sleeping bags, Haechan sidled up next to you as close as humanly possible.

“I’m still mad,” you huffed.

“I know.”

Well, with that out of the way, you relaxed. He knew you were upset. Now the groveling could begin.

Haechan rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, staring at you and how intensely you were ignoring him. He reached over and stroked your cheek tenderly, and said, “I love you. It’s gonna hurt so much when you leave me.”

You closed your eyes, your heart clenching in your chest. “Then why are you trying to make me leave?”

“To give myself some control over the pain. Maybe.”

You turned your head and looked at him. His hair had grown longer over the summer, its natural jet black. It was cute; falling into his eyes, hiding them behind fluffy strands. You brushed some back with your fingertips so he couldn’t hide. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Haechan smiled softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “You’re my best friend. I’ll be next to you in a nursing home.”

“Will you still kiss me if I have no teeth?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Heck yes. That would be hilarious.”

Both of you laughed at the sudden mental image of you and Haechan as two little old people sucking each other’s faces.

The rest of the world melted away. Your summer wasn’t coming to an end. It was just another night spent from home inside Haechan’s tent. If you didn’t think too hard, you could convince yourself nothing had changed.

Nothing was over.

You talked for ages, about everything. Like always. The light beyond the tent died and everything went dark, prompting Haechan to light a familiar lantern beside the sleeping bags. Soon, the ambience shifted from birds chirping to crickets singing.

When the atmosphere changed, so did the gravity inside the tent.

He was good at talking you away from the edge. Haechan made you laugh hard enough you forgot your anger and sadness, and he started stealing kisses between words. His hand occasionally traced patterns on the bit of your exposed stomach until it slipped under your shirt and got comfortable palming your breast. That’s when you began initiating kisses and running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing overtook conversation. You were immune to all the pain when his lips were on yours and you wanted more, wanted to overdose on the feeling until your heart was made of stone.

Haechan was my family. He was the only home I’d ever known, the only person who loved me unconditionally like my parents were supposed to. Soul mates aren’t always romantic. Maybe they’re just the person that loves you despite everything.

There was a little hitch in his breath as Haechan deepened the kiss, his arms heavy around you. He needed it too, needed to feel loved again before it was all over.

Your lashes fluttered as Haechan settled on top of you, abandoning your lips to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, having been pulling him to you impatiently. His leg wedged between your thighs, pressing against your sex.

Haechan tugged at your clothes, undressing you while he bruised the base of your neck with his lips and teeth. When you yanked off his clothes and finally felt his naked body against yours, you moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his long hair.

It was so familiar and comforting. With Haechan, everything was okay. Nothing could hurt me here.

He seemed in no rush to touch you where you really wanted him to. Typical. Haechan always dragged things out and made it last. He knew you had all the time in the world and was in no hurry to plow through it. Pun intended.

Haechan sucked your nipple into his mouth and pinched the other with his fingers. You bit your lip and squirmed under him, feeling his hard cock against your thigh. You hooked your legs on his hips and flexed, bringing him flush against you for good measure.

You flipped your positions and Haechan let you, holding your waist as you rolled onto him, straddling his lap. He kissed you even deeper, running his hands up and down your back while you cradled his face and tried to snatch all the air from his lungs.

Haechan broke from the kiss to ask playfully, “Have you been writing about sex in the book?”

You were breathing heavily, flushed and dazed from his kisses. “Yeah,” you rasped, running your hand through your hair to get it out of your face.

Haechan tugged you back down and trailed kisses over your jaw before whispering in your ear, “I need to give you some new material.”

“As if you haven’t given me plenty already.”

“I have competition,” he retorted, brushing his hands to your breasts. “Jeno is a slut with a dragon dick. You have a fat crush on Mark and he railed the shit out of you.”

You snickered. “Who are you then?”

Haechan steered you up and shuffled down until his arms were around your thighs and his mouth was inches from your sex, and purred, “I’ll always be the one that gave you your first nut.”

Though you were about to laugh at that, the next sound out of your mouth was a whimper as Haechan tongued at your folds. You were mindful not to put too much of your weight on him, but his hands on your hips said otherwise, bringing you down to meet his lips.

The sight of his face buried in your pussy, between your thighs, was so arousing you felt your walls clench on nothing.

“Fuck.” You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. Reaching for his hands on your hips, you held on tight and joked breathlessly, “The book will give us more groupies than the band ever did.”

Haechan stopped sucking on your clit long enough to retort, “God, I hope so.”

An involuntary shudder shot through you when he latched back onto your bundle of nerves. You squeezed his hands even tighter, eyes winching closed. Another moan tumbled off your tongue. Haechan didn’t play when he was sucking you dry.

It was probably one of the few things in life he took seriously.

“Mm,” you hummed, trembling when his tongue swirled around your entrance before returning to your clit. “So good, baby.”

Haechan made a noise against your cunt. “You know, you only call me baby when I’m getting you off.”

“Do I?”

“I like it.”

“I like when you touch me,” you said in barely a whisper, biting your lip lest you go into juicy detail.

Haechan would have loved that.

You were so far gone already. Your hands found his hair, your hips bucking against his face. Little nothings mingled with your moans. Haechan kneaded your hips, but as you got closer, he reached up to grab and squeeze your breasts instead.

It felt so good you felt guilty that you weren’t touching him. Releasing his hair, you lilted back and wrapped your hand around his hard cock, feeling it twitch the moment your fingers made contact.

Haechan broke away from your pussy and scolded, “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“Only think about yourself right now. Be selfish. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed and let Haechan guide your hands back into his hair, and he bit the inside of your thigh as a warning to do as he said. Your body tensed when he lapped at your clit again and you decided to obey. You would be selfish.

Haechan smirked when you arched away from him, propping yourself over him on your arms and riding his face. He reeled a hand back and slapped your ass, the best way he knew how to convey to you that you were giving him exactly what he wanted.

He lapped at the arousal between your folds, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves again. Haechan knew that was your weak spot, where you were most sensitive. If he played his cards right, he could have you screaming for mercy from the overstimulation.

“Right there,” you panted, voice pitching higher. "I'm close."

For once in his life, Haechan said nothing. He ate you out like a man starved, suddenly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. He sucked on you until your legs shook and you whimpered his name.

And when orgasm hit, you went higher than where the cocaine took you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body shuddered, and you chanted, “Fuck,” like a mantra.

Haechan kept going until you pushed frantically at his head.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you begged, fisting his hair and finally earning yourself a reprieve.

Haechan chuckled, slipping his arms under your legs and tossing you to the side. You gladly rolled to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, waiting to come back to your senses.

You felt his hand smoothing its way up your thigh before cupping your sex, feeling all the slick he’d gotten out of you and muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. His fingers prodded into your pulsing pussy, hooking at your sweet spot, and you writhed, sensitive.

“Put a condom on,” you told him hurriedly, still trying to catch your breath.

As you came down from the high, Haechan crawled over to the other side of the tent and returned with a packet, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched him fit the condom on his hard cock and you spread your legs invitingly when he moved between your legs, grasping your knees and pushing them toward your chest, bending you in half.

You rested your hands on his hips and drew him toward you when he slipped his cock into your entrance and stroked in slow. “Mm, baby, you’re so good,” you mewled dramatically. “The biggest ever.”

Haechan, whose eyes had been on his cock sinking into your tight cunt, tossed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “Fuck you,” with a tiny snort.

You grinned and sank your fingers deeper into the flesh of his hips, tugging him toward you in tandem with his movements. He loved when you left scratches and bruises in his skin. A reminder of you he got to carry around with him for days after.

“Kiss me,” Haechan whispered, rocking into you harder.

Without missing a beat, you lifted your head to meet his lips, but his hands wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the ground. A noise of frustration left you, because you couldn’t close the rest of the distance with him holding you down.

Nipping at your lips, he taunted, “What’s the matter?”

Rather than answer, you moaned as his cock bottomed out in you again. Your face tensed with pleasure, every thrust making your toes curl. You were still raw from orgasm and his cock hitting you right made a shudder race through you.

Haechan went still. When you peered up at him in confusion, he smirked and said, “Fuck me.”

You hooked your thighs higher up his hips and started grinding into him. Haechan looked down to watch you bouncing on his dick, sucking in a breath when your pace grew more hurried and desperate.

“Please move,” you whined, eyes closed. Sweat formed at your back with the effort, your body burning.

“You’re doing fine without me.”

“I’m never okay without you,” you said breathlessly, out of your mind with lust and emotions. The two were colliding.

Haechan draped over you, slipping his fingers into your hair, and fucked into you at a ruthless pace for that, making you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

The last thing you wanted was his name echoing through the woods. You would never live it down.

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” You clawed at his back, trying to find purchase.

Haechan gathered you in his arms and you sat up face-to-face, straddling his lap. Haechan kissed at your neck, crushing you in his arms. You rode him, his hips matching your rhythm.

“Come for me,” Haechan purred in your ear, saying your name silkily. “Again.”

It wasn’t fair that he could snap his fingers and your body would answer. You were so close and had been together for so long, your skin knew his touch. Your heart gave in to his every desire and whim.

Ecstasy spilled over and a moan caught in your throat.

Haechan held you even tighter as you came, biting his lip as he felt you clamp down on his cock, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm until you sighed his name and slumped against him.

You buried your face in his shoulder and whimpered as his thrusts turned ragged, his groans pitching higher until he released into the condom. You rubbed his back and kissed his neck while he came down, lowering you to the floor gently and landing at your side.

The two of you breathed heavily. Sex broke something in you both that you needed. It felt final.

Like it was the last time.

Haechan discarded the condom and crawled back to you, getting a blanket out from one of the sleeping bags to drape over your bodies. You nestled closer to him, ready to doze off in his arms. Haechan settled a hand on your thigh, the other behind his head. Your eyes fluttered closed as his chest rose and fell with his breaths.

“I’ll never stop fighting,” you whispered with resolve. “And you shouldn’t either.”

He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to your temple.

The next day, the van was on its way home. You sat in the passenger seat as Jeno drove, just as you had when summer - and the trip - started.

When Jeno parked at a rest area, you ventured inside to look for a payphone.

Haechan leaned back against the van, arms folded.

Mark wandered over to him, asking in a soft voice, “How is she?”

“Ask her yourself,” Haechan retorted.

Mark frowned. “You know her better than anyone.”

Haechan’s eyes darkened as he said, “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jeno, who had been hovering close by, smirked at the exchange and murmured, “Says the one person actually capable of hurting her.”

Haechan shot him a glare. “She loves Mark more than she ever loved us,” he started.

Jeno was quick to cut him off, “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“Maybe she’s right about us,” Mark spoke up, glancing between them. “Maybe we should stay together and try to make it work.”

Haechan let his head fall back and groaned. “Pussy power strikes again.”

“Are you done?” Mark snapped. “You are the biggest hypocrite, you know. You’re hoping and praying she’s right. That she makes something happen. You’re trying so hard to look like you don’t care, but you don’t want to lose us.”

Tears filled Haechan’s eyes. His lips pursed.

Jeno cocked his head. “We know that, Mark,” he crooned cutely. “Our Donghyuck cares the most. That’s why he tries so hard to hide it.”

Haechan quickly wiped his cheeks. The tears had escaped too fast. After a pause, getting himself together, Haechan said, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean it.”

“We know that too.” Jeno reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

The two looked at Mark expectantly. His anger faded and he huffed a sigh.

Your voice broke the moment. “Guys!”

“What?” Jeno barked, turning to see you racing across the parking lot toward them.

You could hardly breathe, panting like you’d run a marathon. “They want to publish the book!”

All three of them gaped in perfect sync.

“Are you fucking serious?” Haechan wheezed.

“Yeah,” you said in disbelief, chuckling to yourself. “They want me to keep sending in chapters and they’ll assign me an editor to help organize everything. And then I’ll have to fill in the gaps, but… it’s gonna be a book. An actual book!”

In the next second, you were the meat in a boy sandwich and you couldn't have been happier about it.

Once everything calmed down, Mark shook his head and exclaimed, “This is insane!”

Haechan took your face in his hands and planted a big kiss on your lips with a loud, “Mwah!” Which made Jeno whine, “I was gonna kiss her and I can’t now!”

“I’ll kiss you too,” Haechan taunted, wagging his tongue and reaching for Jeno, making the drummer turn on his heels and run for his life.

You giggled as Haechan chased after him and Mark took the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your neck, enveloping you in a hug. You held him tightly and closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“You did it,” Mark whispered, saying your name in reverence. “You made this summer count for something.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

Haechan and Jeno traipsed back over, pushing and shoving each other with big grins on their faces.

With the celebration winding down, you looked at your boys one-by-one and said, “There’s a couple of conditions.”

Jeno grumbled. Haechan arched a brow.

“I won’t write the last chapters and send them in until you get clean,” you said, pointing at Jeno.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” You planted your feet and stared him down. “You think I’m going to risk this book being a hit and us getting a huge payday just for you to blow it all on blow?”

Jeno sulked.

“It’s a fair condition,” Haechan said lightly.

“I know it is!”

You waited patiently.

“I’m not an addict,” Jeno insisted. “I am a casual user.”

“Then you can casually stop,” you smarted.

He made a face. After a tiny lull, Jeno handed you the bag from his back pocket and you didn’t hesitate to cram it into your own. Its next destination was the nearest toilet.

You turned to Mark. “There’s a condition for you too.”

Mark grimaced nervously. “I’m listening.”

“You have to do what you want with your own life. Not what your parents want.”

Mark visibly relaxed. His eyes went soft. Something happy and content washed over him. “But I don’t know what I want.”

You shrugged. “You have time to figure it out. Change your mind as many times as it takes until you find what makes you happy.”

“Okay,” said Mark, smiling.

Finally, you turned to Haechan. “And you.”

He tilted his head and puckered up his lips.

“You’re not your father, Haechan.”

“You sure? I was pretty quick to cut you down.”

You scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m still standing. Bitch.”

Haechan chuckled.

“She’s right,” Jeno said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to press a kiss to your cheek. “We shouldn’t give up on the band already.”

“The book could make some people check us out,” Mark added, optimistic again.

All eyes were on Haechan. He smiled bashfully and said, “And if it doesn’t - if it all fails - at least we’ll know we tried.”

“No regrets,” you finished with a nod.

Haechan suddenly reached into his pocket and handed you a balled-up page.

The missing chapter of your memoir.

You gaped when you realized what it was. “I should have known you took it.”

“I couldn’t handle someone talking so highly about me,” he said under his breath.

“Oh. Only you’re allowed to speak highly of yourself?”

Mark and Jeno laughed.

Haechan did too. Then he sobered and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for believing in me.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Haechan, you started the band. Don’t you remember?”

“No?”

“We met in detention in eighth grade,” you reminded him, to which Haechan bobbed his head. “You noticed Jeno drumming his hands. You said you saw Mark playing acoustic by himself during lunch. And you heard me singing under the bleachers when I skipped gym.”

“I forgot all that,” Haechan mumbled, his eyes twinkling like they shone with stars. “Damn, I really gotta quit drinking.”

Mark moved to your free side and said, “Yeah, dude. We’re all here because of you.”

Haechan looked at his three best friends, his family, smiling at him, and it almost broke him on the spot. He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

Jeno laughed loudly. “I’ll be damned. All you’ve ever wanted is to be the center of attention and now that you’ve got it, you don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Yep,” Haechan said with a sheepish grin.

You closed the distance and hugged him, patting the back of his head. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” you whispered for his ears alone and Haechan let go the breath he’d been holding, releasing all the tension and pain in his chest.

Once you parted, Mark reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. You melted into his familiar arms and flushed when he said, “You are, by far, the greatest person I have ever met.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.”

“Wait.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted to your toes. “Maybe a little more.”

Mark smiled as his lips met yours in a chaste kiss that he poured his all into.

A kiss that was dramatically interrupted by Jeno, knocking into Mark enough to jostle you both. “It’s not your job to save us, you know,” he chided sweetly.

Yes, it was and it always would be. Because they saved me first.

“Hey, I’m just an instrument of the power of rock and roll,” you said, putting a hand on Jeno’s chest and giving him a playful shove.

“I take back every compliment I’ve ever said to you,” he joked, tickling your sides.

You laughed.

The four of you gabbed and teased each other for what felt like an eternity. The air was lighter. The sun a was a little brighter. Your boys were smiling again and you felt the pieces of your heart snapping back into place.

Hope is a powerful thing. A gentle promise that maybe - just maybe - we could all be happy and whole.

“We’re burning daylight,” Jeno eventually said.

You exclaimed, “Let’s hit the road,” and it was the first time you said it without dread.

Hopping into the van after you, Mark stuck his head out and called, “Don’t forget the trash.”

Jeno proceeded to scoop Haechan up in his burly arms and carried him to the van.

“Very funny,” Haechan deadpanned, but he couldn’t help but grin.

Smiling till your cheeks hurt, you got in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, pulling out of the rest area and onto the highway, toward the new life awaiting you and your boys.

Everything would change for us. The drive home wasn’t some miserable journey we’d been fearing. It was the final chapter of our summer, but only the beginning of our story.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[sitp-recs]

Hello again! Thank you for your recommendations, I really liked several of them.

I wanted to tell you that I recently read Away Childish Things by Lettered and I loved it. This left me wondering, do you know of other drarrys who talk about the mistreatment Harry suffered under the Dursleys? I think it's very interesting to see the consequences of childhood abuse growing up and how someone (Draco in this case) can help heal that.

Hello friend! Happy to hear you’ve enjoyed the recs. Ahh yes, ACT is so uniquely cathartic - I still remember the awe I felt reading it for the first time, the emotional depth and character development are top notch. I can think of a few fics touching on Harry’s abusive childhood:

Timeshare by astolat (M, 14k)

“It’s not for long,” Hermione said. “By the time we get back to Hogwarts, the Unfettering Brew will be ready.”“Listen to you!” Ron said. “He’s got to get through a month with the Dursleys and a month at Malfoy Manor. With Draco Malfoy.”

Conquering the Dark by noeon (E, 24k)

Harry's a Healer specialising in the care of children, Draco Malfoy's an expert in neuromagic at St Mungo's. A difficult case forces them to work together and, in the process, unearths some of the trauma of the past, as well as the chance for healing in the present.

The Elusive Mate by 0idontknow0 (E, 26k)

Harry had done it (a) to save lives and (b) because the idea of him being Malfoy’s mate was clearly ridiculous, but now he had to tell Malfoy.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

A Piercing Comfort by talithan (T, 44k)

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy's patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he's no longer sure he wants to.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (M, 146k)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions.

[pouroverpaloma]

paloma I have revivified my tumblr from its decade-long sleep to beseech you: please talk about Rolan with me because I have Thoughts® and Feelings™ such as: As the eldest sibling do you think he has an oversized and detrimental sense of responsibility that continues to impact him negatively? like during his apprenticeship, do you think he actively avoided Cal and Lia to stop them from either storming the tower themselves or worrying over him when they were supposed to be enjoying being safe in the city, etc. do you think that sense of responsibility extends to Tav or is Tav the person that makes him feel like he doesn't HAVE to be in charge and on top of everything.

also this is hazelrah on ao3!!! I cannot stop commenting on your fics to save my life

Omg hi Hazel!!! ♥️ both Thoughts® AND Feelings™, what a treat you’ve brought for me

As a preface, I’m of the opinion that Lorroakan intentionally isolated Rolan. That’s one of the reasons Lorroakan didn’t let Cal and Lia stay in his fuck-off massive tower. Narcissism and disdain for others also drove that decision, because he’s an asshole, but I really think Rolan can’t be the first apprentice he’s abused. He knew he could never break Rolan’s will if his siblings were there to support him, and, let’s be real, Lia would clearly kill him with hammers the moment he raised a hand to Rolan. He had to get him completely alone.

As for Rolan—I think his gut knew right away that something was very, very wrong with his apprenticeship, even if intellectually he’d talked himself into staying. I think he did the time-old dance of hiding abuse from your loved ones because you don’t know how to explain it, you think you can’t leave, and you’re frankly embarrassed it’s happening to you at all. Imagine him talking about his apprenticeship back in the grove, right? Now imagine him behind the counter in act 3. The whiplash between his aspirations of greatness and the awful reality of life in the tower must have been extraordinarily soul-crushing, on top of everything else. And he just couldn’t let them see that he’d dragged them all to Baldur’s Gate on a false promise.

All that to say: I imagine Rolan told himself that hiding the truth from Cal and Lia was for their own good, but really, he was ashamed and afraid of failing to make them proud.

Because yeah, he feels way more responsible for them than they could ever know or understand. He’s convinced that he has to earn his place in their family by demonstrating his utility. Rolan is caught in that awful trap of trying to deserve what he already has. It’s a self-defeating cycle because there’s no end state: he already has Cal and Lia’s unconditional love from the very start, so nothing he does can ever make him feel like he “achieved” it. He can run himself into the ground trying to earn their love, but he already has it and he’s too caught up in his own self-loathing to see it.

The thing that finally gets his head out of his ass, of course, is Tav. We see him starting to make the turn at the end of the game, when he’s master of the tower and stepping into his confidence, but from there, I think falling in love really shakes his foundations. It forces him to begin to self-reflect in a way he’s never been emotionally safe to do before.

As for how all of this plays out once they’re together! I think their dynamic is a case of unstoppable force versus immovable object. I think he’s going to devote himself to taking care of absolutely everything for them (because nothing could ever be Good Enough for Tav but goddamn it he’s going to try anyway) and Tav is going to devote themselves to taking care of absolutely everything for him (because Rolan deserves rest and gentleness and adoration maybe more than anyone ever has). This kind of all-consuming care manifests in different ways for each of them, some complementary, some adversarial. They get nauseatingly competitive about it but the sex is phenomenal.

And finally—after a while—he begins to understand that he doesn’t have to handle everything by himself in order to be lovable. He can let go of the reins and let Tav be capable sometimes, and it actually makes Tav happy when he does. Somehow, the sex gets even better.

[royalcommunistthor]

I'm relatively newer to the fandom but as someone whose favorite character is Loki, I do not understand how other Loki fans think he's some innocent little guy who can do no wrong and is relentlessly bullied like??? I thought it was quite obvious that he's the one in the wrong (I'm really only familiar with the mcu at the moment) it's actually bonkers to me to see anyone seriously say that Thor is an abuser to him, don't see where people are getting that at all. Thor adores him so much even despite all the terrible shit he's done and Loki is honestly so lucky that Thor has the patience of a saint with him. Dare I say Loki should have actually been bullied more for murdering a bunch of people and trying to kill Thor on multiple occasions uh??

But anyways I digress, Loki isn't my favorite because he's a small sweet bean uwu but because he's really messy and flawed and had a lot of growing to do. Also my hot take is that if you hate Thor and love Loki, you do not actually love Loki because he would (and did!) die for Thor 🤷‍♂️

being a late comer to this fandom really must feel like turning up with pizza to a room that's on fire. it's such a shame because these characters are so much fun. i love spoiled asshole brat royals when they're fictional. the fact they're essentially immortal makes if even better because if you have forever certain things that are very serious are just going to have less weight and that opens up a lot of very fun doors, storytelling wise.

i love characters that are unreliable narrators (which goes both for thor & loki) and i just really love characters that are....well... twats. it's a fun thing for a character to be. i actually love thor the most when he's objectively at his worst, i love all the overcomensation, all the fronting, all the performance (he tries to perform the "right gender" for daddy sooo sooo badly), love that he knows he's a hot head and that his anger is a destructive ugly thing that harms those around him even pre character arc, love that he's kept in the dark by the ones he loves most and still tries to please them only to find out the finish line has been moved a few extra inches (or miles). and i love that his growth doesn't really change the fact that he's still a bit of a loose cannon at times (which is actually the core of why he and loki like each other so much), that his moral compass is still a bit of roulette wheel and well...that he's just a little bit of a cunt.

but i digress.

loki's great because he's largely the engineer of his own misery - now, obviously he's not the sole engineer of it but you know what i mean- love that his life and everything he's believed about himself starts unravelling like bogroll once a cat's been at it because a prank went awry. it's so....JUICY!!! he's in a hamster wheel of disaster and he's built the wheel and got into it himself. WITHOUT KNOWING!!! i love that he does awful things when his back is against the wall because idk what i would have done in that situation either, i love that he gets nerfed constantly because he underestimates thor and other people around him or interprets things in the worst faith possible, love that he refuses to look inwards for the longest time and that odin has to die for him to see clearly. thor & loki are two sides of the same idiot coin and this is why their dynamic is such a banger (to me).

[rotten-pomegranate]

Day four : pet play with yandere shalnark

Tags: @shalscumbunny @aliceattheart @my-eyelash-flew-off

Warnings: but plug tail, pet play, yandere, threats, abuse, mentions of animal abuse, butt plug

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You suppose this wasn’t that far off from how he treated you anyway, like a pet, and who are you kidding you where a pet

He fed you, made you sleep on the floor next to him, had you fallow him around all day the only difference is that only deeply disturbed people use there pets like sex toys

He’s always ordering blowjobs while he’s at his desk working or playing games, making you ride him while he just lays back to watch, now however your all dressed up like a pet too, cute little ears on the top of your head and the dreadful tail butt plug stuck in your ass

“Your so cute, I don’t know what your being so pouty about” he gives the tail a yank to emphasize his point

“Ow, this is embarrassing, I don’t wanna do this” you can’t make eye contact with him

You had trouble with it normally but now? Oh now you might just die if you looked him in the eye

“Well that’s to bad isn’t in, why don’t you come over here” when you start to walk over he stops you “cats don’t walk on two legs do they?”

Humiliate must be one of his favourite things to do to you because he sure did it often

You sink to your knees to start crawling over to where he sat on the couch

“That’s good!, see your learning” when you get there he pulls you up into his lap with ease

“Your so cute, I could just squish you” he would to, his hands go down to fondle you breasts and pussy faster then ever

He lightly squeezes your clit between to finger at the same time pinching your nipple, god that feels awful

He wraps both hands around your waist to push you further into him and grinds his dick agains you

You felt so vulnerable with him fully clothed and you in nothing but ears and a tail but when he took off his shirt you felt even more vulnerable

“Open up” you open your mouth and he shoves his fingers down you throat

“This’ll make it hurt less when I put them in you, so suck them good” the first time he took you he told you this and you didn’t listen, you don’t wanna feel that again, his dry finger scrapping against your insides forcing moisture out

So, you suck on his fingers like your life depends on it, and you can feel his dick twitch under you every time you roll your tongue around them

“That’s enough” he roughly yanks them out and and lifts you up by the waist for easy access to you pussy

When he sticks his fingers in it hurts but not as much as you know it will in a minute

He pumps his fingers in and out of you for a few minutes before he gets bored

“ I think you ready now” your definitely not but putting up an argument will only hurt you more

He pulls his fingers out and tosses you on the couch so he get undressed

“Just lay back and let me have my fun” his pants drop, you can see his dick poking out more clearly now

“Ok” shit, that not what you where supposed to say, maybe he won’t notice “what was that?” He noticed

“Yes master” no matter how humiliating it was his punishments where always more humiliating them anything

When he gets on top of you he doesn’t wait to push his cock in you

“Ahh, your still so tight” well of course, he didn’t prep you right, he starts moving slowing, that’s how he always started, slow and steady to preserve the warmth your pussy offered

“Roll your hips with me” so much for just laying back, when you start you feel him speeding up

“Yes just like that, your so good” his hand went to hold the back of your neck, a place he loved to have his hand, a place that gave him power over you

His pace kept getting faster as he got closer to release, it started hurting less but not so little that you would be able to cum

“Ahh I’m almost there, your being so good” you close you to eye when the one hand he has on you hip gets tight to a point he’s just squeezing loose skin

“Ah-ahh, shal, your hurting m-me” his grip only got tighter “I’m not gonna respond to that name y/n”

“I’m sorry master, ow, your squeezing me to tight” he doesn’t stop, of course he doesn’t

“Just a bit longer, ahh”

His pace is sloppy now, hitting harder and harder against your insides until he burst and pulls out quickly to let all his cum go on your stomach

“Ahh that was so good, we‘l have to try it again don’t you think” all you can do is lay back and the coach

“Yes master” if saying that would let you avoid more pain then he’s already inflicted them you would say that

Every. Single. Time.

[i-love-your-shades-of-wrong]

you want complex characters? here's Gale.

I am fully convinced that people only hate Gale bc it's Liam Hemsworth and because they think he's annoying - and yeah, it's true, he IS annoying, but to like president snow more than him? (its pretty privilege)

Most people know by now that the love triangle in thg is for metaphorical purposes - the choice between peace and war. And it's not even a choice as a reader - there is quite literally no chemistry between gale and katniss (in my opinion). But that doesn't merit hatred for the character himself.

He grows up in the seam, poor and being the breadwinner for his siblings. (how sad) We're supposed to disagree with his motives by the end of it - he shouldn't want to get revenge because that makes him as bad as the capitol (yada yada yada). And Peeta is in the right because he wants to show mercy. (peace vs war)

But Peeta grows up as the bakers son. Has he ever gone hungry? No. Are we meant to feel bad for him because of his mum? idk. His name was in the bowl far, far less times. Does that make it any better? No, because he's picked (and this is meant to be about how the system is awful... you get it). But Peeta doesn't grow up hating the capitol because they don't hurt him... until the games.

Is this an attack on Peeta? No, of course not, but circumstances are important as the actions taken within them (situation ethics). Peeta goes into the games and you'd think his outlook on life changes, but it doesn't. Some people have stronger cores - a lifetime of security within yourself does that.

Peeta goes into the games again, Gale saves the citizens of 12 in the bombing. Peeta's kidnapped. And Gale says this:

"He might have been tortured. Or persuaded. My guess is he made some kind of deal to protect you. He'd put forth the idea of the cease- fire if Snow let him present you as a confused pregnant girl who had no idea what was going on when she was taken prisoner by the rebels. This way, if the districts lose, there's still a chance of leniency for you. If you play it right." I must still look perplexed because Gale delivers the next line very slowly. "Katniss…he's still trying to keep you alive."

So, he's annoying, but is he a liar? No. He's ever the strategist, thinking of things from the logical point of view. (really grasping for straws but I need a pro and less cons😭)

People really hated Gale for bombs - killing innocent people that just want to help the fallen? (ohno how sad). But are capitol citizens ever really innocent? Bystanders that simply allow children to be murdered year after year? The idea that they simply have no idea of the harm being caused is ludicrous. Do they not have critical thinking skills? No matter what happens in life, you KNOW murder is wrong. No matter what propaganda media shows you.

(also Beetee helped make those bombs too like gale was annoying but stop giving him full credit like if I was beetee I'd be pissed)

So, that comes to the idea that killing people as a whole is unethical, and it doesn't matter that they're awful people. Is that untrue? No. Is it far to those that have been oppressed their entire lives, being told that using force against their oppressors is wrong? Maybe. It's not an easy issue to resolve (kinda explains the metaphor, doesn't it?)

Neoliberalism probably wants you to blame the individuals. Coin, Gale, Snow. Coin and Snow were two sides of the same coin (ooh pun) - politicians, adults, playing for their own power. Is it wrong to enjoy power? No, of course not, just don't abuse it. Gale enjoyed power. But he was fighting for the freedom of the country, not himself. And he's only 19/20. You're a lot angrier when you're younger, as many adults forget.

The system is the real problem, clearly. Why should the capitol have all the power? Why are the districts being used? We don't know. But that's unimportant.

And then there's Katniss. She's the one making the decision - peace or war. On paper, its peace anyday. Katniss has seen both Peeta and Gale's hardships - Gale is a metaphor for who she could have been. Bitter, angry and hateful. It's not unjustified hatred but under Kantian ethics, murder is always wrong. Katniss does not want to retaliate because it's a vicious cycle of violence.

As far as we know, the capitol don't really pay for all they do. I know if I was a district citizen who suffered, I'd want capitol citizens to feel the same way. That is not to say that it is ethical, but it is not unjustified.

It would be more of a fair argument if Peeta and Gale suffered equally, but can you really quantify suffering. Their experiences shape them. Its easier for Peeta to want mercy for the capitol because he wasn't starved his whole life. And Peeta's stance is the right one.

But see, that's why we say complex character and not good person. Because the decisions aren't malicious in intent, just with clashing personal values to the norm. Like, bffr, half the people online hating on this guy would NOT have stood for mercy for the capitol.

(anyway have a nice day this was my ethics essay plan and I'd better get a 9 on it or else <333)

[angrylittletrashpanda]

"Progressive" HOTD vs. sexual violence against men and boys

It’s crazy the “progressive” HOTD stresses how terrible it is that in this quasi-medieval universe, women, regardless of their social status, are victim of sexual abuse (Dyana the servant or Alicent and Helaena – the latter married when she was extremely young, even by Westerosi standards), but on the other hand, brushes off if not romanticizes/ fetishizes sexual violence against men and boys.

First off, Criston Cole. It’s pretty obvious despite his obvious attraction to Rhaenyra, he genuinely wanted to stay true to his values and used to take his vow of chastity seriously. He seemed to be a genuinely religious person and tried to put his “salvation” or “moral values” above his urges. Of course someone may find his ascetism, religiousness as well as his conscious choice of sexual repression unnatural and ridiculous, but imho we must remember Criston was not a modern man, familiar with ideas like agnosticism, deism or atheism. In addition, he was trained to be a good fighter and not a maester/ philosopher and likely wasn’t taught to question what he learnt in the Sept. Besides, it isn’t uncommon for people to crave some form of spiritual life, and Criston could have consider the faith of the seven the best (if not the only) option for him. I find it unsavory people are gushing over how “empowered” Rhaenyra is because she embraces her sexuality, challenges Westerosi social norms pursues her own pleasure and so on, but at the same time ignore the power imbalance between her and Criston. It’s not that difficult to notice she’s a royal princess while he’s just her guard. Imagine what could have possibly happened to him had he refused to sleep with her? Had Rhaenyra, offended with his rejection thrown a tantrum and accused Criston of sexually harassing her, who would have Viserys believed – his precious daughter or some random dude whose name he likely doesn’t even remember? Unfortunately, the moment of intimacy between Rhaenyra and Criston is showed as an utterly romantic one (even though Criston’s consent is dubious, to put it mildly). Yes, he might have had feelings for Rhaenyra and in fact, proposed to her – probably in his opinion,  it was the only thing he could have done to save his (and her) honor (if not their immortal souls). We also see him try to commit suicide (likely driven with guilt and remorse). Years after Rhaenyra took his virginity, Criston is still bitter and hates her and the audience makes fun of his “incel ass”. Why is it so easy to forget this dude was a victim of sexual violence and had no access to therapy or other (modern) tools that could have possibly helped him to get over his trauma? And even if he had worked through this awful experience, he would have had every right to hate his abuser anyway.

Secondly, Aemond’s case. I personally find it even more disturbing than Criston’s. I obviously keep in mind the “age of consent” in Westeros was very low, but from the Viserys’ exchange with young Laena, we learn Rhaenys doesn’t want her daughter to start performing her conjugal duties until she turns 15. Not 13. Anyway, had Aemond been dragged to a brothel in a drunken state (and no idea what was happening) when he was 31, not 13, he wouldn’t have been any less of a victim. In season 1, it’s heavily implied Aemond’s experience with sex workers wasn’t a pleasant one – he hasn’t been in the brothel since his ill-fated 13th b-day. The madam is literally like *Oh my, how you’ve grown*, and Aemond’s startled (according to the published scripts, “clearly shaken”).  In season 2, he returns to the madam in pursuit of some weird sense of comfort and the fans are yet again gushing over how sexy, sweet and wholesome those scenes are. Some are dead sure Aemond’s “attraction” to matronly women “foreshadows Alysmond”, but if  genuine romance between Alys and Aemond is to happen, why make it all about his (alleged) mommy kink and fetishize her age? Besides, even book Alys doesn’t look her age at all and her show version looks younger than Aemond! From some angles, Gayle’s Alys looks almost girlish (especially when she smiles). Perhaps it’s just wishful thinking, but when referring to the Aemond-Sylvi thing Ewan was stressing the “Aemond looking for a surrogate mother” aspect, as if denying sexual nature of the characters’ relationship.

The third case *may* be a reach, but Daemon’s hallucinations of having an intimate moment with Alyssa (they clearly shock and disgust him) are likely induced by Alys’ potions. I’m not sure if she was fully aware of what her brews could possibly make Daemon see, but if it’s the case… Her behaviour would have been predatory.

[t4tpumpkinduo]

if those text post about the sa stuff is about cq i am baffled with how blind someone has to be to be that bad at media literacy and racist hello

no like. lmao it's super abt cq and yeah. it's horrible.✌️ i like don't even know where to begin w what an awful take it is. can we be people.

it's just uhh. well. imo not good to take v v lighthearted joke/outta context bits that aren't given narrative weight and then spin them into something they Never Were for some like. idk. leeway? is that what it is? leveling the playing field? i see this talk abt cquackity frm a lot of ppl (v consistently in cdr*blr, just to paint a picture lmao.) but the one that makes me the saddest is frm ppl who rlly like cschlatt and wnna fight back at his unjust bigoted fanon treatment by being unjust and bigoted to. another character?  like. ok? 😭

the worst thing is, for the second group, (first group don't matter i'm not wasting my time arguing w ppl like that), is that it's coming from ppl who are like. all things considered completely right abt cschlatt! it's absolutely correct to get upset abt an addict being demonized, having all his actions taken in the worst faith imaginable. having joke bits that don't have narrative weight treated as hard canon when that's not the case at all, just to paint some stupid picture that woobifies and dilutes other characters at his textually supposed to be sympathetic expense. it's ridiculous! that's all true!! cschlatt sweep forever that's my special princess like i agree!!!

so if you can understand that taking bits where he's like slapping cqs ass, or making boy prostitute jokes at cfundy, or batting people around jokingly/w no narrative weight are clearly meant to be at most shitty jests w no added pressure to them, and painting it as smthing else is disingenuous and transparent. why the hell are you taking like this abt cquackity then 😭 why the hell are HIS actions suddenly being scrutinized w the same rightfully critiqued incorrect lense! it's just sowugrrugrbrfnjfk

and on top of that, you cannot divorce the way ppl look at things and the way they filter them. like uhh for example. there's a stream where ckarl just like drugs cquackity. he puts heroin in his shit and it causes him a psychotic break and q chases the guy like an animal abt it for quite a while until he sobers up. ckarl also called him like ugly and stupid and unlikable and at one point hunted him down with an axe across the map bcs he left him at a joke altar. and i have never once in my life seen ppl freak out at ckarl abt it and go ohhh he must be a secret abuser oooh. BECAUSE THAT'S NOT TRUE AND SHOULD NEVER BE A TALKING POINT IN THE FIRST PLACE 😭 OBVIOUSLY!!! it's not supposed to be taken that way in the narrative at all. ckarl is explicitly a good guy, who means well and likes playing pranks on his friends who he loves dearly enough to sacrifice himself for them over and over. there's no awful weight to these actions he's playing his damn touys. when shit is meant to be held to a standard it literally just is held to it the dsmp isn't subtle there's no way around it. and if smone tried to tell you anything different abt it the ridicule they'd deserve would be astronomical.

ctubbo tried to drown ctommy and spent the whole time giggling abt it. that doesn't mean ctubs is some kinda freak abt it because it's treated in the narrative as a bit. ctommy hits and lashes out at cjack a lot. it's never treated or supposed to be taken as ctommy fucking abusing him. 😭 cschlatt and cq make jokes at eachother and it just point blank is never coded in any other way than them doing bits and speaking in freak tongues and having gay ghost sex infront of cq's fucking dad and being light hearted assholes to eachother until we get to the scenes where weight IS being applied. and even then it's not abusive it's human conflict between equals. like fuck's sake.

and idk. like i said, it rlly is interesting that it's applied to those character specifically. and the hypocritical gross ass double standard of it all is suddenly like. so ignorable huh how weird. so you see specifically the addict character who's at most an asshole as some uniquely scary demon evil abuser despite him not being that at all. you see this mentally ill deeply psychotic dude who's at most an asshole and think he's a violent freak who beats his brother even though he clearly isn't. you see this brown character, one of the ONLY ones, and suddenly yr stumbling over yrself abt how he's a violent assaulter and also fantasy racist to white characters despite all the. wow yr rlly cool and normal and not transparent at all hahaha. wow. hah. what a world.

anyways yeah like. i'm not gnna engage w this fuckass topic no more gensrs. it's bad for my blood sugars it's bad for my liver i've said my piece i'm done i'm sick of it. 👍 i'm just gnna start blocking even more ppl and focusing on the good of the fanbase instead. sucks that it's so common and unchecked but whatttt can you do except keep sending ghouls and devils to their addresses. if you have this wack ass "interpretation" do us both a favor and fucking block me. sword slash through the chest and you're on fire.

[elainarcheronslawyer]

You absolving Elain and nesta of providing for themselves and taking advantage of their little sister for years, many of which they were adults, is wild. Elain and nesta took advantage of feyre, it’s repeatedly established, and we meet them when they’re adults and this has been happening for years. Their father obviously sucks but even he was shown doing more than Elain in the cabin even though she was able bodied and an adult when we meet her.

It was absolutely their crime. If you can’t fathom why it’s horrible that feyre was beyond exhausted just risked her life and comes home with food only for elain to be like “when will you finish getting it ready” and have it established she’s never offered to help and has never provided any help and this has been ongoing for years while she’s an adult then idk what to tell you. You lack empathy.

You’re lying to yourself if you don’t get how bad their treatment was. It’s their crime because they could’ve done something to show appreciation or provide for themselves like healthy adults should but they knew feyre would do it so they let her. Nesta even justifies taking Feyre’s money with “I knew you could always get more”. Elain and nesta are guilty in different ways and the same and it’s actually revolting that you’re excusing this abuse and neglect just because you like their characters.

Honestly just read the acofas interview where sjm talks about the fact that feyre was forced to be the caregiver of her sisters and father and had never been prioritized or taken care of is literally linked to how she ended up in a domestic abusive relationship with tamlin.

Elain admits they failed her and neglected her and didn’t help while she gave for years. Nesta admits she did nothing and wanted them all to starve and hated feyre for stepping up and failed Feyre repeatedly. Feyre has deep emotional scars over it that we see repeatedly. To deny this mistreatment was theirs and an established pattern for YEARS, most of which nesta and Elain were adults and most of which feyre was still a child, is unempathetic and ignoring what the books clearly show.

oh goodness let’s tackle this a bit at a time.

firstly, no one is diminishing feyre’s hunting. what she did was something no child should have to do.

it’s almost as if there is no one way to respond to a truly horrific situation. nesta was 22 in acotar and elain was 20. now sjm’s timeline is a mess but that would make them no older than 17 and 15 when they fell in too poverty ( feyre would have been about 13). nesta and elain were barely adults. elain was only an adult for 2 or 3 of those years (again this is unclear due to a slightly messy timeline). however regardless of how long they’d been adults it’s still not their responsibility to provide for the family ( it shouldn’t have been feyre’s either). why? because that responsibility rests solely on the shoulders of their father. my second (rhetorical) question is: who do you think was doing the domestic tasks? because it wasn’t nesta, it wasn’t their useless lump of a father (he was to busy carving wood and neglecting his children) and feyre canonically doesn’t know how to (nor would she have time to after spending her days hunting for food). so it must have been elain. feyre is repeatedly shown to have very little interest in domestic tasks so it is plausible that due to her being an unreliable narrator it just hasn’t occurred to her and therefore it doesn’t occur to the reader. if feyre is starving after a day of hunting why can’t elain be equally as hungry after a day of unrecognised domestic labour? (even if this isn’t the case they are three barley adults in a truly awful situation so i think it’s both acceptable and understandable for them to be hangry). i don’t know how much experience you have with not knowing where your next meal will come from and being constantly hungry but i can tell you it fucking sucks and it brings out the absolute worst in people.

i never said it wasn’t a horrible situation only that it wasn’t nesta or elain’s (or feyre’s for that matter) responsibility.

it’s quite clear that all occupant of that cottage were suffering from some kind of trauma and it’s understandable that they react that way but once again it was only ever their father’s responsibility to find food and money not the sisters. i hadn’t read that interview before this and i did find it very informative so thank you (i think) for the recommendation? however, i do think it is besides the point because once again it was not any of the sisters responsibility it was papa archerons. feyre’s abusive relationship is obviously awful and i recognise how much she craved someone to put her first. but nesta and elain are not the ones at fault. their father is. it was only ever his responsibility to care for his children (and to be quite honest it was his fault they were in that situation in the first place)

also, (i’m actually glad you brought it up) both nesta and elain recognise and apologise for the treatment of feyre and show remorse even after feyre completely destroyed their human lives (albeit accidentally and i don’t think she is solely to blame she only wanted a friend).

finally, obviously i’m not the one lacking in empathy if you’re failing to recognise the trauma carried by all three sisters. nesta was angry and bitter at their father for his failings and neglect, we haven’t had elain’s perspective yet but i’m of the belief that her desperation to bake and cook comes from years of worrying where her next meal is coming from and how whatever feyre brings back is going to feed four people. you seem very familiar with feyre’s trauma so i won’t reiterate it. the only person to blame for the neglect of all three sisters is their father. he had a duty of care and he abused them. (negligence is a form of abuse btw) he was responsible for all of his daughters. he should have done something to help. it shouldn’t have been feyre hunting because it shouldn’t have been any of them. their father neglected them all. elain had to take on the role of his care giver (neither of the others would’ve done it and they shouldn’t have had to). so yes ‘letting’ feyre hunt wasn’t nesta or elain’s crime. it was their father’s and because he’s dead it is highly unlikely he will face the consequences of this and/or apologise to his daughter’s for neglecting them. ( a half arsed confession before he died doesn’t count and pulling his act together just in time for the grand finale in acowar won’t absolve him of his crimes either)

[missmichellets]

Please share your secret to being so fucking confident! Like, I’m being criticized on MY blog for the shit I not make or post, just what I reblog- slurs hurt-

Things are gonna get real deep now my love. I could say: haters are losers - and as a winner, I'm busy in a capacity they couldn't even fathom. So I simply do not have enough time in a day to give losers a thought. I could also say: haters are unhappy people with a tragic lives. It sounds like a cliché. But think about it, if you are a well-balanced individual, happy, safe, calm, collected, with a decently put together life and a clearly constructed short-term and long-term purpose/meaning... you won't be going around doing any hating. You simply won't. It's not even in the frame of your consciousness; you won't even be able to access the mere idea of hating on others as a possible task/behaviour to engage yourself with. Which means that a hater must live at the very opposite realm of that. And that must be awful. I genuinly feel sorry for people in this amount of distress - but simultaneously, I have zero empathy for their destructive ways of coping with it. I could also say: diet discipline. The same way your body will evolve and take shape based on what you feed it and what activities you choose to engage it in - your mind will do the same. Feed it with mush and you're gonna turn your mind into mush. I could also say: priorities. 1 minute spent on a hater is 1 less minute spent on a lover. Time is finite. It's your most valuable asset and you get to spend it however you want! With 2 big caveats; you can't take it back and you can't make more of it. With that knowledge at the immediate forefront of your mind, it becomes very obvious why you shouldn't engage with hate. Also, if you'd actually make a list of things that are more important to deal with than your haters, you'd end up with an infinitely long list. Really, clearing the filter of your washing machine is probably 80.000x more important than replying to a mean comment. The few times I actively do choose to engage with a hateful comment, it is to educate people in the "surroundings" by pointing out why this is either; a problematic way to conduct yourself, a failure in logics/reasoning or a generally poor behaviour you should strive to avoid for yourself. Bc I feel it is of value and importance to do our best to mitigate "up and coming" abusers and help steer potential trainwrecks back on track. I could say all of these things. Or I could simply just say idgaf. And all of them would be true.

[broitsf-ckingfreezing]

You know what

I think it’s really sad the way we treat Dooku as a Jedi Master. Not as a Sith, fuck that guy; he fell to the dark side and he fell HARD. He is irredeemable in that respect.

I’m talking about Jedi Master Dooku, who only interacts with Qui-Gon Jinn in Legends and fanon (because in TOTJ he had already fallen and was actively taking steps towards the downfall of the Jedi/Republic and becoming the apprentice). *Even then, I don’t really respect TOTJ as canon because of the awful way it paints the Jedi, but I will concede it as canon from the perspective of Dooku as an unreliable narrator. I just hate THAT bit where he straight up THROWS Qui-Gon and force chokes a guy and GETS AWAY WITH IT because “uwu the Jedi awe bad and cowwupt and Dooku was a victim 👉👈”

I always hated that because Obi and Dooku meet for the first time in AOTC, then clearly Enlightened MaverickTM Qui-Gon (see my opinions on THIS in @antianakins beautifully worded post) must have been abused by his master and kept Obi-Wan away from him to “protect him from evil” yadda yadda yadda, whatever. That Qui-Gon specialised in Ataru instead of Makashi like his master because Dooku was EvilTM and Qui-Gon wanted to “get back at him” or “escape trauma” or some shit like that, never because it is perfectly normal for a Jedi to find their strength in a form that is different from their teacher’s (see Anakin, Obi-Wan, WINDU, Dooku himself).

Or that because Master Dooku wore relatively regal looking robes (again, the only canonical proof of this we have is in TOTJ and COUNT Dooku, AKA ruler of Serenno) then he had a taste for “the finer things in life,” words used by EVERY fanfiction author, and was always either straight up a Sith the entire time or, at the very least, a bad Jedi who followed his own rules like Anakin. I disagree.

It has NEVER been canonically established that Dooku was an abusive man. In fact, remember that the Jedi consider Dooku a FRIEND? Even in AOTC when Padme rightly accuses Dooku of attempting to assassinate her, they extend to him the benefit of the doubt. Because he was a Jedi Master. A good one. So good, in fact, that when he outright aligns himself with a faction looking to actively separate from the Republic and the Jedi, they trust that his judgement is that he is doing right by his people. Not that he is plotting a galaxy-wide takeover.

(Don’t even get me started on Ki-Adi Mundi, the voice of reason, frequently being abused by the fans just because SOMEONE had to say this line. Clearly he’s evil! He’s an idiot! He’s corrupt! *rolls eyes*)

But why then did Dooku never meet Obi-Wan as a padawan, you ask?

It HAS been canonically established that Obi-Wan is a powerful Jedi and a powerful diplomat even before he became The Negotiator (they wouldn’t send any run-of-the-mill padawan and master duo to dispute the Naboo conflict, they sent DIPLOMATS). And he is Busy As Fuck. Remember, as a padawan he spent a YEAR on the run with Satine and Qui-Gon. And if you were to accept the Melida/Daan and Bandomeer arcs from Legends as canon, that probably adds up to another YEAR spent away from the temple, NOT including recovery time after those periods because we don’t have any real basis for how long it takes a Jedi, or even just Obi-Wan, to bounce back from the physical, mental, and Force trauma induced by these hefty skirmishes. Don’t forget, in two of these instances, Obi-Wan is only 13-14, and in the other he’s presumably about 18. And bacta tanks aren’t a magical fix-all. They don’t heal starvation, extremely long-term physical neglect/hurts, just like they don’t grow back limbs.

Dooku was also probably busy as hell. It is very likely that the two teams were never in the temple at the same time, or if they were, they were probably busy. Like teaching their respective padawans (remember a master can have more than one padawan, just not at the same time, and now that I think about it, it is pretty odd we never (hardly ever?) canonically see masters who have clearly had more than one padawan in their lifetime). Or healing from traumas. Or hanging out with friends. Or researching, or writing reports, or literally ANYTHING that could make someone busy enough to forgo introducing a child to their grandmaster. I mean, how many times did you visit your grandparents as a teenager? Probably not very often compared to the big picture that is your life.

Why didn’t they meet when Obi-Wan was knighted, then? Well, TOTJ shows us that Qui-Gon’s death was at least a little traumatic for his master, and that was his last straw. Dooku left. And after that, he probably didn’t want to see the child Qui-Gon raised. The boy who got to hear his pseudo-son’s final words and who died IN HIS ARMS. We also have NO IDEA in canon exactly how many missions Obi-Wan and Anakin went on, nor how long they lasted, but we can guess that they were an extremely busy pair knowing Obi-Wan’s prowess in diplomacy PLUS the recent reemergence of the literal thought-extinct Sith PLUS the frankly horrific ratio of Jedi to Force Null beings in the galaxy (meaning there just aren’t enough Jedi to get around to all these places) PLUS teaching a rescued slave child with childhood memories of the outer rim the ways of the Jedi and core worlds. We also know that by the time of AOTC, Anakin being probably about 17-18, possibly on the cusp of 19 which is his Knighting age, the pair have been on at least 9 missions where Anakin had to rescue Obi-Wan. Knowing Obi-WAN’s skill and power, and that these missions most likely occurred when Anakin was old enough to do things like save Obi-Wan from a whole NEST of gundarks, this is NOT a common occurrence. Even if consistently in 1 of every 5 missions Obi-Wan has to be rescued by Anakin, that adds to at least 40 missions where he didn’t. That’s a lot of missions in a ten year span on top of all the other things Jedi have to do that aren’t considered missions, again, like teaching, attending functions, researching and learning because Jedi must be a wellspring of knowledge to successfully mediate/placate/please whomever it is they’re interacting with.

[tallysgreatestfan-art]

Disabled4Disabled ships spotlight for Disability Pride Month: Princess Entrapta of Dryl and Lord Hordak (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

The first time I not just saw someone like me, a bisexual mentally ill autistic woman, but also a relationship like mine, was when I was 22 years old, in She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

Entrapta and Hordak are both side characters, but their stories touched me the most.

Entrapta starts of as a recluse, building robots and weapons and other technology in her castle. She gets recruited by the good guys, but she never quite fits in with them, and they treat her fairly bad, being constantly annoyed at her autistic traits, infantilizing and dehumanizing her, best shown by one of them actually leashing her, which the series treats as an hilarious joke.

Other than that however, she is portrayed amazingly accurate. She is chaotic and sometimes focuses on things others might find strange in the situation, mostly technology, but she also is very competent in her field of expertise, and she is very empathic and caring – just not in the way the good guys expect her to.

She has peculiar habits about how she eats her food – all in tiny pieces – and she is even seen stimming multiple times, the classical hand flapping, but also turning rapidly in a chair, or using her prehensile hair.

Later she ends up defecting to the bad guys, who treat her slightly better, though still mostly use her for her skills. That ends when her brazenness and disregard for rules make her end up in the lab of the reclusive bad guys leader, Hordak. He tries to enforce his usual intimidation and power dynamic, but Entrapta is not having it, and in the end, he is impressed by her and her technological prowess, and they start working together.

Hordak seems like your typical generic evil overlord villain type, however, he starts to become fascinating as it is shown to be a facade to hide his insecurities and trauma.

Hordak has some form of muscular atrophy along with cardiovascular problems that make him prone to fainting. This made the leader of the interstellar cult he was created for cast him out, stranding him on the planet the show takes place, and now he desperately tries to prove he is capable enough to be worth something.

He built his own mobility aids in the form of a sci-fi power armor, which does not reflect the experience of real life people with muscular atrophy, but works well as a metaphor for how many disabled people have to hide their disabilities in order to find work or be respected. I really saw myself in that, however I must add that I am, while autistic and bipolar, able-bodied.

It could come across as the disability makes you evil trope, but I think it works because the narrative is firm in saying that what happened to both Hordak and Entrapta was unjust, and they are right to rage against the system that abused them like that – just their methods are too extreme.

The most touching part of their arcs is their surprisingly tender romance. First they bond over being mad scientists, then they bond over being disabled and outcasts for that and hating themselves, and finally even help each other to overcome that hate. I never saw this thing I experienced so often with my disabled too lovers portrayed anywhere, and I felt so seen by their romance.

(Another nice touch is how Entrapta is clearly the more dominant of the two, which is a wonderful gender role subversion).

Fate divides them, and they have to fight to get back together, but in the end, both of them survive and have time to heal.

There are definitely downsides to them as rep, both of them being villains, Entraptas abuse at the hands of the good guys being treated as funny rather than awful and her being blamed for it in the end, and the last, fairly bad season making it ambivalent if Hordak is still disabled at all and refusing to engage with this aspect of him any further, and then there is the in scarily large parts extremely ableist fandom and even ableist members of the crew. But they still mean so much to me.

[weaselbeaselpants]

Lorch opened her big stupid mouth again and decided to lean into "addicts are all awful and deserve to die" territory. How adorable.

My father functionally drank himself to death after he finally drove us away for good with his constant rage sessions, bouts of anger, stalking, suicide baiting and threatening us with guns, and all of this after a period of hightened emotional and verbal abuse we were subjected to after the death of my grandmother which lead him to self-medicate even harder than he already did throughout my whole life. I get really pissed at the idea that drugs, ANY drug or substance, can "save" you. It can't. You have to save you and self-medication can kill and does kill. It ruined my life because it ruined my dad's life and it ruined his immune system to where he died of bronchitis. I know from watching my dad's brother, my uncle, who did do HARD drugs and had the same issues as my dad, that hard drugs are easy to get into after you keep clearing hurtles to escape pain/feel higher, and then DANGEROUSLY hard to escape from. No Lily I didn't need Requiem for a Dream and Trainspotting to tell me that though I've heard from people that both those movies are disturbingly accurate about heroine, which is horrifying. No one should go through what happens in those stories and they sure as hell shouldn't be blamed/shamed/treated like 'filth' for being in that position at all.

The thing is, people are responsible for themselves. Not taking prescriptions right is bad. ALWAYS talk with a psychiatrist they are literally there to hear how you're doing on your drugs; never drink/smoke/toke and drive or handle machinery. It is absolutely not worth it get your friend or family to do it PLEASE even if they're annoying (at best) and chast you for that. If there's any way in which weed can directly kill you -Lily- it's through this. Wait till you're home; I'm not telling you this crap because I'm your mom, stranger on the internet reading this. I'm telling you this as a person with my own vices who lives around other people with their own vices; take care of yourself as best you can. You can do better, but you can never be perfect and that's okay. Don't abstain from stuff you can't quit but please be responsible. And godspeed to people dealing with addictions to hard drugs. I wish you the best - you can do it and as impossible as it may seem you will find the things you need in life to escape your pain without your addiction. I wish...so much that vibes and prayers and good thoughts could do more for you; especially the people dealing with drugs and homelessness right now which is SO MANY in my county alone. My government is screwing you over. You deserve to live and you ought to have your story told no matter what.

Anyway fuck you six ways to sunday Lily Orchard in the name of HUMANITY. You miserable, awful woman- wishing death and eugenic talk onto addicts for the crime of being an addict. You're the kind of person who doesn't just get uncomfortable+scoot away at a clearly tripping person on the bus, you actively say vile things abt them under your breath and scream at them if they even come near you. You have no empathy. I pray to god you never come across a homeless person. You must think the same backward garbage about them too.

Also speaking of vices and lecturing people on them, I find all this rich coming from the woman who wrote incest-laden cp left and right in her heyday, blames other people for it and very likely has accounts full of visual cp under your sockpuppets. I don't drink, smoke or take heavy drugs myself, Lily. But, just looking at what your good old friend Tara (who is not Sai. We both know this I don't even like Sai and I know it's not Sai) has hidden on the web I kind of want to now just to get those images outta my mind. "Quit at anytime/just NOT do the dangerous this" clearly doesn't apply to you. Predator.