#complaining about there being nothing for. men. is absurd

[beastwars-transformers]

“Why aren’t there as many x m!reader fics as there are f!reader fics” it’s like fandom is comprised of mostly women making content for other women. Or something.

[nilboxes]

Outlining thoughts about a media reference in Penacony that is heavily Aventio implied.

More philosophy of Aventurine and Dr Ratio.

At the very bottom of Dreamflux Reef is a little event where you wait by a train platform, it never comes and you get an achievement afterwards called “Waiting for Godot '' which is a play about two men doing what the title says, along the way one of them consistently insists to perform self-exit. Sound familiar? 

I was curious about the title of the achievement because that seemed like a reference and upon some quick research, “Waiting for Godot” is an allegorical work demonstrating the “Theater of the Absurd” which presents absurdist themes and situations in a play.

A bit of refresher on the philosophy of absurdism– it is the belief and acceptance that the universe is inherently meaningless, but one can find ways to accept it and live with it. This is just a very simplified sentence of the idea, of course, but continuing on…

The play opens with two men, Estragon (Gogo) and Vladimir (Didi) who are waiting for Godot by a tree. Vladimir is the more philosophical, level headed of the two who is always pulling Gogo away from his bursts of worry, while Gogo seems more out of it and neurotic, freaks out, also expresses the desire to sleep or is trying to find a means to get out of waiting for Godot by hanging himself.

They basically do nothing except talk the entire play. The way they talk they are demonstrated to have a close relationship and dependent relationship with each other, able to blather endlessly in circles in order to pass the time, and speak of things like ‘our honeymoon’, how long they have been together and at one point Gogo demands Didi to embrace him, which the other obliges. 

The play continues with the arrival of someone who they mistake for Godot but isn’t. The play ends with them both being told by a boy sent by Godot himself that he will not be arriving that day. Didi asks for descriptions of Godot, as neither Gogo nor Didi have a clue what Godot looks like, but the boy doesn’t provide much, and merely assure the pair Godot will arrive tomorrow. Both Gogo and Didi say they will leave, but stay on the stage. A shorter act two basically has the same ending, with Godot sending the same boy to tell the two men the same news, but the boy denies being the same boy from yesterday and he does not remember either of the men. Didi gets angry and tells the boy to remember so they can avoid repeating this encounter. The boy exits, the two men consider suicide, but they don’t have rope to hang themselves on the tree, so they decide to leave and come back tomorrow but the actors on stage only remain. End of play. 

Some of the more standout scenes to me as I can’t help but feel Gogo asleep alludes to sleep as a rehearsal of death, and the one “left behind” experiences the weight and anxiety of being conscious while bereft of their companion as they wait.

Notable conversations they have I find interesting was how Gogo brings up hanging himself and they both argue about who should be first. Gogo insists Didi go first as Didi is heavy and if the bough breaks as Didi hangs himself, Gogo is afraid to be left alone. 

Another conversation, at one point Gogo falls asleep, Didi lets him, but soon finds the silence unbearable and wakes Gogo up. Gogo complains, and wishes to share his nightmares but Didi vehemently refuses and doesn’t want to hear it. 

The play is effectively a metaphor of the state of living in the absurd. Gogo and Didi spend all the time waiting for Godot, who is ‘meaning’ personified. Gogo and Didi find ways to pass the time (live through life) discussing, reminiscing, needing comfort from each other only to be acutely aware they are still trying to find “meaning”, despair a little and ultimately rinse and repeat to do it again. Godot will never come, the two men make it seem like a big deal, but it is a small part of their day compared to what they do, how much they enjoy each other’s company and what they come to experience while waiting for Godot, and that’s the entire point. 

A lot of the play again, is basically talking, some sense within the nonsense. As HYV references this play at the very “bottom” of the dream we can reach so far, it’s obvious this play was one of the inspirations for the Penacony story and that we as the TB were also living in our own theater of the absurd. 

I also see a bit of Aventurine and Ratio’s relationship in Gogo and Didi. Gogo who is anxious, unsettled and not keen to wait on Godot, very eager to end it all like Aventurine. Didi who is not too better off but trying his best to stay rational and philosophical and to wait. The two also act like a married couple, bicker endlessly but enjoy it and arguably are in distress whenever the other might leave. 

It’s not 1:1 but I do believe this is another supporting tidbit that Aven and Ratio really were written as a pair and meant to complement each other. 

It’s tiny but Aventurine sleeping when we first start the 2.1 quests with him proper to be woken up by Ratio couuuld be a callback to this.

Anyway another fun tidbit that the devs left at the train station, there’s two balloons situated by a bench. One is horizontal on the bench, implied to be sleeping. The other is looking at the sleeping one. That’s Gogo and Didi! 

So, that’s it for that! It’s been on my mind for over a few weeks now why they put that in there. The play was fun to read, there’s a bit about the third person who joins them that isn’t very relevant to the read here. I also was heavily reminded of Spirited Away during the little sequence to get the achievement. There’s a lot packed into this! 

Tl;dr the themes visited in the story of Penacony, and the character dynamics of Aven and Ratio were inspired a little by this play. They are made for each other. They are married. Aventio real. 

I wrote more on the philosophy of Aventurine and Dr Ratio here in another post.

The play is available to read online. The wikipedia entry of this play helped in this research So did this video: Why should you read "Waiting For Godot"? - Iseult Gillespie - YouTube

[a-spes]

| PRETTY FACES, DARK SOULS - part two (4.070 words).

| Summary - you rob the wrong person, and she makes sure that you pay your debts, willingly or not.

| Tags & warnings - Men & minors DNI, Dark CEO!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, nothing else for the moment (I think?)

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

When Natasha realised that you left nothing to her, taking even her cheque book, she had to call her sister, asking her to come and pay for her. Even if she tried to be as nice as she could in such a situation, she couldn’t keep her words from being harsh.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt so humiliated. Natasha Romanoff, known as one of the most successful entrepreneurs of her generation, having to explain to the waiter that she can’t pay, having to ask her sister for money. It is something that shouldn’t have happened, something that needed to be repaired. 

If one thing was sure, it’s that Yelena has not been happy to be woken up by her sister’s bad mood, but she complied with her request without questioning it, knowing better than to argue with her eldest. 

“Don’t you dare to say a word", she warned when she eventually saw the blonde approaching the table.

She had been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for her sister who decided to take her time. It was a childish way of avenging the brutal awakening she underwent, and the redhead would certainly have laughed if she wasn’t already irritated, and the youngest’s attitude only made it worse.

On the contrary, when Yelena saw her sister sitting at the table, she forgot about her bitterness, realizing how funny the situation was. She never could’ve imagined her sister calling her because she needed money. She is one of the richest people that exist on earth, and one of the most far-sighted at the same time. She always has her phone, at least two cards, her cheque book, and an absurd amount of cash, just in case.

The smile that grows on her face as she realizes how improbable the situation is earns her a slap on the back of the head, and Natasha never holds back her strength.

“Ouch!" She said, rubbing where she was hit, “it hurts!” She complained, but her sister doesn’t seem to care. In a second, the smile disappeared, giving way to a dark look.

“Shut up", the redhead said, rolling her eyes. She knows her sister as the back of her hand, and she also knows that the strength she put in that slap wasn’t enough to hurt her. She probably barely felt it, and is just too much of a cry baby sometimes. Something that’s pissing off the redhead that is in no mood for that kind of game. “Shut up, or you’ll learn what real pain is", she added, not even trying to hide the threat behind her words.

“You’ve no right to snap at me when I came all the way just to help you", she protested, and if they both knew she was right, her words were greeted by a simple sigh from the redhead who ran her hand over her face. No apologies, just silence. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she witnessed her sister in such a state of distress, but she knows that nothing good came out of it. If she enjoys it when the oldest terrifies her men, she fears the incensed decisions she will inevitably make.

She could burn the whole city if she wanted to.

And Natasha has to admit that the thought crossed her mind a few times while she was waiting for the blonde to show up. She was barely able to control her anger, and couldn’t help but bounce her right leg under the table while her fingers were tapping on the table. But none of these actions helped to calm her nerves.

“I abandoned really important things, you know”, she added, as she took her wallet out of her pocket to put it in her sister’s hand. She had outstretched it toward her, and Yelena didn’t need words to understand what the redhead wanted. “All of that because you forgot your wallet …", she mumbled under her breath, but obviously the other heard it.

“I didn’t forget my wallet, it has been stolen”, she muttered, as if it could make the situation less embarrassing, as if she hoped her sister wouldn’t hear, but none of these statements turned out to be true. 

“You’re joking, right?” she asked back, not believing the oldest. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone if that’s the case”, she added, sure that her sister was lying to her in an attempt to hide what she probably considered as a weakness.

That’s what her sister always does. Most of the time, she is perfect, but when she inevitably makes mistakes, she always finds excuses. She blames her men, runs away, or pretends it has never happened, and Yelena feels like it’s exactly what’s happening right now. She is thinking that her sister has forgotten her wallet, but doesn't want to admit it. 

Maybe because the idea of Natasha being robbed sounds unbelievable.

“I am not lying, someone stole me”, she said again, and her sister better not make her repeat it a third time because she will really lose her temper this time. Everytime she said it out loud, it only made it a bit more real, as if she couldn’t quite believe it before. But the realization is now sinking in, and she feels like she is becoming crazy with all the thoughts that are crossing her mind at the moment. “They took everything", she angrily added, throwing the empty wallet on the table, only for the youngest to check.

And her sister was right. They took everything, not leaving a single penny. The blonde was so shocked that she didn’t even know how to react.

“But … who’s stupid enough to steal things from The Natasha Romanoff?” She managed to ask, once the initial surprise had worn off, “and how did that even happen?” she added, looking at her sister who was now pacing up and down the terrace.

But she knew she wouldn’t get an answer, at least no today. Her sister was ignoring her voice, too busy mumbling things to herself, and she would probably be thrown over the edge if she interrupts, so she waited for them to be in the car to talk again.

She didn’t even complain when the oldest stole her keys, deciding that she will be the one to drive without even asking first. The blonde slipped in the passenger seat, muttering a few insults that Natasha pretends not to hear.

“So, what do you want us to do?” she eventually asked after they’ve been sitting in silence for a few minutes. She was looking at the redhead, the one who was staring at the road, lost in her thoughts. 

“Nothing,” she replied, and brought back to reality by the question, she started the car, trying to ignore the look of surprise on her sister’s face. 

“Nothing?” she repeated, “so you’re just going to let them go away when they robbed you?” she continued, and the lack of reaction from her sister made her want to shake her sister to get her thinking straight.

“Nothing yet” she corrected her, putting an end to Yelena’s protests. Despite what the other may think, she doesn’t intend to let the culprit be forgiven. It has never been her intention, and she knows exactly what to do to get every penny back.

When she notices the determination in the eyes of the oldest, she knew the next months were going to be interesting. She smirks at the thought.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

This time was the last. 

That’s what you said to yourself after every theft, and it has never been true, because you never earned enough to get out of this situation. What you were stealing was usually just enough for you to survive a few weeks, and even if you kept telling that to yourself, you stopped believing that it could become a reality. 

It was nothing more than a dream, you head knew it, even if your heart never stopped dreaming about a future brighter than your present. Every night, the day you would eventually be out of misery was the last thing you were thinking about, and you spent hours imagining how it would look like. 

You wanted an apartment that would be big enough to welcome the friends you would have made, and a job that you appreciate, but about which you would still complain. 

At first, it was only about stealing the essentials, a jumper or an apple for which you would feel guilty for days. It’s when you stopped fearing that someone would catch you that you’ve started to think bigger. The few people who witnessed your theft generally decided that they weren’t paid enough to come after you, a little girl isn't worth their energy.

The years have gone by, and if the number of your victims increased, your wealth hasn’t. That’s when you realized that stealing money from the tourists in the street was not what would give you a better life, and decided to go after the richest people on the earth, the ones that probably wouldn’t even notice if you’d taken a few hundred dollars from their wallet.

One day, you’ll be making so much money that you will be able to pay for your debts.

Slowly, this need to survive has turned into a need for a life where you would have something to call yours. You didn’t want something to eat, you wanted an apartment. You didn’t want stolen clothes, you wanted something bought with your own money. Even a cup or a pen would be enough, as long as you could claim it as yours. 

One day, you’ll deserve everything you have.

You stopped stealing almost two years ago, when you eventually raised enough money to start a new life, and the dream became a reality. It took you a lot of time and effort, but you eventually got exactly where you’ve been dreaming of being since your teenage years.

It was thanks to the inattention of this woman who hadn’t blocked her card when it was stolen, neither she declared her cheque book stolen, allowing you to use it as you wished for months. Usually, your victims are quick to solve the problem, leaving you only with the few notes you stole from their wallets.

But this time, you were left with more money than you ever had, more than enough to buy a ticket to another city, and still being able to buy essential supplies after. You could leave, rent a room for a few weeks, just until you find a job and get your first pay, you could even buy some new clothes, and you would still have enough money.

At first, you thought there was a catch, but the days have gone by, they became weeks, months, then years, and if the card and the cheque book never stopped working, nothing bad happened. No one ever knocked at your door, no letter got sent, and the feeling of dread you felt every time you paid has finally disappeared.

Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn’t even notice. Maybe there was a problem that never got fixed. Maybe it’s just taking a lot of time. You have no idea, but you can’t help but wonder why, thinking about all the reasons that must have led to that situation.

It is fate. 

That’s what a part of your mind is whispering to you, and you ask nothing more than being able to believe it, the other part trying to understand the situation without being able to make sense of it. Even after two years, the question was still in the back of your mind, and you’re almost sure that you could still use the card if you wanted to.

But you don’t, because you made a promise to yourself. You swore that, the moment you would earn enough money to support yourself, you would stop using hers. It has been a bit more than a year since you found your job, and this part of your life feels so foreign now. The only reminder of your past is that box, where you’re keeping all the cards, cheque books, and wallets you once stole. The one that’s hidden in your closet, where no one could see it, not even yourself. The one that contains a past you want to forget about. 

You now have a job, an apartment, and you even made some friends on the way. They’re good people, hanging out with them makes you feel like you are too. They never asked questions about where you’re coming from, because they don’t need to know, they’re just appreciating you as you are. The grown-up version of who you were once.

When late at night guilt gnaws at your mind, you’re thinking about their compliments. When the sadness at the thought of your younger self never being loved that way, your memories with them remind you that you succeed to become someone that can be loved.

Someone that deserves everything she has.

There is only one person that had glimpses of who you were, and it’s Kate Bishop. Even if you’ve tried to keep your secrets away from her, it’s hard to do so when you’re spending all your days and nights with someone so curious.

Kate is a coworker, a roommate, but mostly your closest friend. It’s not because she understands you more than anyone else. It’s because she never makes a big deal of anything, and you know nothing you could tell her about you would change the way she acts around you. This girl is everything you want to be: free and happy.

Someone that doesn’t care about social norms. 

She would sneak into your room in the middle of the night just because she heard you cry. She wouldn’t even ask questions about the reasons behind the tears, only complaining about how thin the walls are, and how she can’t sleep because of that. 

She would go through your belongings when she needs something but she can’t ask you because you’re not home, only telling you when she gives the objects back.

She would answer your phone when it’s ringing while you’re in another room or your hands busy, holding the conversation as if the calls were intended for her. 

That’s how she discovered you were looking for a new place to stay. You’ve only been coworkers for a few months when she answered your phone. It was the social worker who called to tell you that you’ll have to move out of your flat within the next weeks because you no longer meet the criterias.

Your first reaction was to yell at Kate. It has been the first and only time you’ve done it, usually not minding when she does it. 

But this time it was different: you were scared. You didn’t know her a lot at that time, and you were fearing that this call would destroy the relationship you had started to build. You put so much effort into pretending that everything was fine, and had always been that way, that you thought the truth coming out would ruin everything.

She was the first relationship that you didn’t build on lies, at least not on the big ones. She also has been the first to be able to hold a conversation with you for a while. Not Lydia, or any name you might have borrowed by the past, but just y/n.

When you’ve spent your whole life lying, it’s not easy to know who you are.

It was a bad habit that you had a hard time quitting, still having the urge to lie about some details. Maybe to appear as a more interesting person, maybe because you are afraid to disappoint them. 

No, it’s because it’s comforting.

It’s what gave you a bit of hope, what gave you the impression that you had a normal life. You’ve never been interested in living the marvelous lives of your alias, you just wanted a normal one for you. Maybe if you tell these stories a lot of time, your mind will accept them as reality. 

Over the years, lying became more than a habit: it was an addiction. You felt bad every time you lied to the black-haired, even if it was only about small and insignificant things, like your favourite colour, but you couldn’t just stop. It’s only that day that you realised that it might ruin everything between the two of you.

Everything has been so easy since you met Kate. You never felt like you were too much, or in the wrong place, because she always made sure to integrate you into the team, and you’re still regretting the words that fell from your lips that day. 

She was the first genuine friend you’ve made, and that’s how you thanked her kindness, with snide remarks that she didn’t deserve.

For a minute, you saw yourself back there. In that lonely and miserable place.

But she didn’t get angry. Nor for the lies, nor for the horrible things you said. She didn’t look at you with pity, but with something that was closer to surprise, as if she couldn’t quite understand your reaction, but knew enough to not judge. That’s when she asked you to be her flatmate.

Kate was the first one to learn about your favourite colour, the real one, and all your daily habits. From your favourite thing to eat for breakfast to the time you get up, she knows things you never thought you would share with someone one day. Kate has been the first one to see y/n. The one that doesn’t wear any mask, the one that does not need to pretend she is someone else.

Then, it was your turn.

Tonight, when you’re looking in the mirror, the only thing you can see is your smile. A bright, and big one. Even with makeup on, you are not looking or feeling as anyone else than yourself. Every choice has been made by you to suit your taste. 

“Are you done yet?” She asked, and you could hear Kate’s muffled voice through the bathroom’s door, “we’re going to be late!” She complained for what’s probably the tenth time in the last quarter, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she was stamping her foot on the other side of the door, throwing a tantrum like a child.

“Isn’t it what celebrities are supposed to do?” you replied, a smug smile on your face as you eventually opened the door after spending more than an hour in the room. 

Everything needs to be perfect, and perfection demands time, something your impatient roommate doesn’t seem to agree with. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, she grabbed your arm.

“That’s not funny!” she exclaimed as she started dragging you toward the entrance. You couldn’t help, but roll your eyes at her attitude.

You know that the real reason behind her actions isn’t a concern for punctuality, Kate always being late, but just a result of her excitement for the evening that’s coming: some friends of hers are going to play music in a bar, and she doesn’t want to miss even a second of the show. A simple glance at the clock confirms what you were thinking: you’re not late. 

But you also know it’s useless to argue with the black haired woman when she is in that state of mind, so you just go along with it, letting your friend drag you toward the entrance. You have just enough time to grab your bag before you leave the apartment.

You are too focused on your footsteps to be listening to her rambling about the coming party, trying to not trip on your own feet. But she isn’t listening to you either, deaf to your pleas for her to slow down, or to let go of your arm, and it’s only when you arrive at the said bar that you get your freedom back. 

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

She never forgot.

She has been thinking about what happened that night every day since. The years have gone by, but it never left her mind, and picturing all the ways in which she could get back what you owe her was soothing her to sleep every night.

Despite her impatience, she took her time, waiting for the moment you would’ve forgotten about her, when you would let your guard down, thinking that your past mistakes had been forgotten, and forgiven. Maybe your previous victims did, but she has nothing in common with these guys, and chasing you wasn’t about the money. It was about dignity.

She needed to make you feel the same shame that she had that morning. 

Some of her associates don’t understand her obsession, even her sister sometimes suggested that she let it go, fearing that it would jeopardize the company. But she stayed firm; you started a game that night, and she is not the kind that appreciates losing.

She is determined to show you that two can play that game.

It wasn’t difficult to track you down. The only obstacle had been the false identity you built for yourself, but it had only been a matter of months before she found you, there was no way she couldn’t recognize your face on the security tape. It was in the middle of the night, one of those where she couldn’t sleep, and eventually decided that she would rather look for you instead of tossing and turning in her bed, consumed by her thoughts.

That’s when she found it, a footage from a shop’s security camera where your face appeared. You were nothing like the woman she met at the party, from your hair to the way you were moving, you definitely had none of Lydia’s elegance, and she couldn’t even understand how you’ve been able to pretend to be her, and how you’ve possibly been good enough to fool her, The Natasha Romanoff.

But despite the numerous differences, she was sure it was you on that video. There were details you couldn’t change, and the shape of your jaw was one of them. She could still see your face as she had you pinned beneath her that night, her fingers running along your cheeks, wishing that moment would last forever. 

Since then, she kept collecting these videos as a kid would collect cards, watching them regularly. The footage made everything make sense, and you seemed closer than ever as she kept hitting the replay button.

She had to admit that you are smart, but not smart enough, and everytime you used the card was one more clue guiding her in the right direction. At first, she was able to track your movements, it only took her a few more weeks before she discovered your identity, and more importantly, learned about your past.

A few weeks, that’s all it took, yet she had waited several years before going after you, deciding it was the right time only when you started building a new life for yourself. You moved to a city where no one knew your name, you got a normal job, and haven’t stolen since. You even made some friends. You got the life you have probably dreamed about since your teenage years, and she knew that perfectly. 

She also knew that the moment she would break your illusion of peace, and steal your hope of a better life, you’ll be heartbroken. Hopeless.

She saw how, as the years went by, you started to be less cautious, thinking that your past mistakes were nothing more than faded memories in your mind. She saw how you eventually stopped looking around every time you were going out, how you started opening up to your friends, seeming to forget about what you have done. 

But she didn’t forget, and she promised herself that you wouldn’t either. It’s only fair that you pay for your mistakes, isn’t it? 

She started the car when she saw you, and Kate, disappear round the corner. You were obviously out for the night, and it was the perfect opportunity. No one would pay attention to the disappearance of a girl, not in a crowded, dark place that reeked of alcohol and illegal substances.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

| tag list - @thalia-is-not-ok / @tobiaslut

[liliewrites]

Let's see then 🤔🤔 Ngl lately I've been having such a hyper fixation on Arlecchino's hands, like not even in a sexual way (although.. 😏), I just think her hands are absolutely beautiful and the prettiest thing I've seen sooo...

Could I request sitting next to Arle while she's working or literally doing whatever and just absentmindedly playing with her hand cause they're just so pretty and how she might react to her s/o liking that part of her so much 🙏 Would NOT complain if it somehow lead to nsfw but I'm perfectly fine with maximum fluff 😌

Honestly, wdym "enough yapping", there is never enough yapping about Arlecchino.. I just think she's neat fr, I wanted to hug her so bad while catching up on the Fontaine story quests as well as her companion quest lol. And I am absolutely here to hype you tf up 😤😤😤💪💪 Keep up the great work as always ! Have a wonderful day

-🔥

HELLLOOOOOOO 🔥 ANONN!!:)) AHAHAHAHAH thank u for the ask, oh yes , FINALLY i have the opportunity to write about arlecchino's hands.. hoyoverse did her justice like oh THEY KNEW what they were doing to the sapphics.

- warning/s ; no smut, but a bit of suggestive content at the end:)

(men please dni utc!)

"hello, darling!"

you cheerfully greeted your wife, whom was working in the study room. she looks at you, nods at you, then looks back at the papers.

"hello my beloved, are the kids asleep?" she asks as you sit down beside her. you nod at her question, scooting over to peek at her papers, but not too close to invade her personal space and interrupt her. "yes, my love. the kids are taking their afternoon nap but.. what are you working on, hm?" you ask, staring down at her hands that held the papers. you could make out numbers and lengthy paragraphs of formal and fancy words, all of which arlecchino was reading and signing.

"just some financial reports, darling. nothing special, i was thinking of expanding our home to better.."

oh, you tried to listen, but as soon as your eyes focused on her hand, it made it hard for you to listen. "... and then we could improve our training facilities.." you heard, absentmindedly nodding at her words. ".. so we could make the children have more.." again, you nodded.

damn it, your wife wouldn't mind it if you held her hand just so you could focus better on her words, right?

so you grabbed her right hand in yours, the one that held the pen. she wasn't using it anyway since she was busy explaining to you her plans and ideals for the orphanage. "- and so i was thinking, beloved. in order to raise the children's competency, i wanted to have them isolated in the mountains, without any kind of support whatsoever. it will help improve their surviv-"

"WHAT? NO!"

you immediately cut her off, looking her with an absurd stare due to her suggestion. how could she even suggest that in the first place?

"of course, no, i wasn't serious with that suggestion, darling. i was testing whether you were listening or not, and you probably were not."

oh, you let out a sheepish chuckle, feeling a teensy bit embarrassed for being caught. regardless, arlecchino did not look upset and squeezed your hand that held hers. "is there something the matter, beloved? usually, you always diligently listen to my reports." she asks, genuinely concerned about you and it makes your heart flutter. it made you feel guilty, having to be distracted by a silly little reason, so you decided to listen to her better this time. "nothing, beloved. my mind was.. just preoccupied. let's talk about it later after you tell me your report." you told her, and arlecchino protested no further, explaining to you all over again her plans for the house.

you definitely did listen better this time, with your hands unconsciously fiddling with her hand. you were pressing on her palm, intertwining your fingers with hers, your thumb tracing small shapes and doodles on her palm. your mind taking little side notes like.. the texture of her hand wasn't that rough, but it was definitely a bit different from normal skin. at first, you were worried if this was causing her pain or any physical harm, but she assured you that it wasn't. still, you wanted to know the cause of her blackened skin and the pattern on her arms.

on the other hand (haha get it), arlecchino told you about expanding the facilities of the orphanage, adding another bedroom to make room for more children, etc etc, much to your relief as none of her plans included isolating them in the mountain.

after she talked, now it was your turn to provide your insights and opinions,adding some suggestions of your own. arlecchino listened to you intently as she greatly appreciated you and your passion for the children, she could tell that you genuinely were concerned about their well being and that you loved them greatly. she couldn't help but spare loving glances at you.. and knowing glances down at her hand. now she thinks she knows why you were so distracted.

after finally putting down your suggestions, you decided it was time for a little break. "well, my beloved. i assume we can wrap this up? i think all that should be fine for now." you told her, placing the pen down. for the whole time you had been talking, you never let go of arlecchino's hand. it was either two hands holding hers, but if you had to write, then only one. this didn't go unnoticed by your wife, but you did forget about it halfway into the discussion.

"i agree, i say we talk about some other thing, my dear."

"hm, like what?" you curiously ask. oh, there's more to talk about?

".. like how you've been distracted the first time i talked, but when you held my hand, your focus seems to have returned. perhaps you'd like to confess, darling?"

you only blink for a minute, then looking down at your hands holding hers. "o-oh! oh, right.." you stuttered, obviously flustered that you've been caught. you looked away, slowly letting go of her hand. "i didn't say to let go now, did i?" she told you, before pulling you on to her lap. she held her hands out in front of you, leaning her chin on your shoulder. "now, beloved, what is it about my hands that interest you so much?" she asked, and you thought for a little while, gather your little notes from earlier.

you intertwined your hands with her, and arlecchino saw the cute smile on your face as you started to talk. "your hands.. they're rough and calloused, they've probably done things humankind would deem twisted and cruel but.." you brought both hands to your lips, pressing a kiss on her skin. the small gesture made arlecchino feel her heart flutter, you looked so adorable on her lap, while speaking words of affection. ".. but these are the very same hands that work hard to provide for me and the children, the same hand that gives me warmth and security even on the coldest of nights and.." your thumb brushed against that one significant ring on her left hand, a ring that matched yours. "- these hands belong to the woman i dearly love."

that was it for arlecchino, she couldn't help but burst in joy- and she showed it in the form of spreading soft, ticklish kisses on your bare neck in front of her. you couldn't help but giggle at your wife's attempts at being playful again. she wrapped her arms tightly around your waist, making you unable to lean away from her. "my, you say such sweet words that directly hit my heart- and you expect the knave not to retaliate with an attack of her own?" she joked, continuing to tickle you, wanting to hear more of you sweet giggles. "i-i get it! i get it, i surrender, my love!" you exclaimed, feigning defeat. as the playful little moment between the both of you died down, arlecchino had her arms wrapped around you, a loving smile on her face as her forehead leaned on your back. "hm, can i have a kiss? as compensation for winning?" she asked, making you laugh at her words. oh, it was funny- more so that it came from the woman whom the public claims as dull and emotionless, as in front of you, said woman was currently looking like a fool in love as she held you in her lap.

you got up and shifted your position on her lap, now facing her. at the sight of your pretty, gorgeous face that she's come to love coupled with your weight pressing down on you-know-where, she couldn't help but feeling a certain type of yearning for you. her hand cupped your chin, pulling you in for a kiss that was not sweet nor innocent in any way. her tongue tied with yours, running along your bottom lip, and continued kissing you with intense fervor that you were unable to keep up. when she pulled away, however, a grin on her face that made shivers run down your spine was plastered on her face. her hand on your chin, the other rested on your hip.

"hm.. beloved, do you want to see what else these hands can do for you?"

[summerlinenss]

Continuing the discussion from Twitter about Taika possibly not being straight, I do hesitate to diagnose strangers with 'queer' because it's usually done by utalising stereotypes (like just him being flamboyant or the latest 'evidence' of him being at a Paris Hilton concert, he seems to go to pretty much everything.)

Without getting too parasocial, the everyone's a bit queer quote from before Thor 4 seemed different though, almost like a soft launch? The dumb backlash was unfortunately familiar to me, as someone who poked her head out of the closet, only to be met with a resounding 'we don't want you'. If he was trying to do that, I dont blame him for not trying since, I certainly havent.

Like i don't think he's a closeted gay, theres no indication that his romantic relationships with women havent been real, but he is from a generation that flat out didnt think bisexuality was a real thing. And the fact he's older and has talked about growing up in a toxic masculinity culture probably has more to with it.

I dunno, i know i shouldnt be think about strangers like this, but some things he's said feel familiar to me

(context for those not on the bird app)

i totally agree with not labelling anyone, and (regardless of how he does identify) taika seems very comfortable in his sexuality, which is all that matters. however, there’s also nothing he’s ever done to make me assume he is straight, if that makes sense?

i definitely took his out magazine interview as a sort of soft launch, as you said. especially since he followed it up with a “coming out” joke tweet. but the amount of vitriol he faced for it was absurd, and it’s still so strange to me how people instantly took his comments in bad faith instead of making the fairly obvious assumption that he was just saying “i consider myself to be part of this community.”

a quote i actually think about a lot is from when taika was on the vanity fair little gold men podcast (around 00:59:45) and got into talking about the stereotypical hyper-masculine culture of growing up in aotearoa, and i feel like it gives some insight into his feelings on this subject:

“I will tell ya, I grew up in a — a pretty macho culture and a very macho country. Where it’s like, you know, you play rugby and, you know, you drink beer, and it’s, like… kind of, life is just set out for you, and… how boring? You know? It’s just, like, you know, it’s like — people are like, ‘Well, I don’t want any immigrants here,’ and then complain that there’s only one type of food to eat. And so, it’s like… you know, that you… want to have an interesting life and you want to be able to — you want to expose yourself to art, and to — you know, to various cultures and various types of people. So for me, growing up, I… I was exposed to that from an early age through, like, on my mother’s side, especially. So it was, like… there were a lot of eccentric and interesting and weird artists and stuff in my life. Um, so it wasn’t, like, a later in life, big shock for me. It was always there. But I think I’ve realized that there are so many ways of being a man, and… and to be… just macho and to just want to be, like… just straight. Just to be, like, so determined to be straight, is… so… sad. And, like — and also is — it just feels so tiring. Wouldn’t it be so tiring just to, like, have to hold on to something that no one cares about? So — so tightly? And it’s, like, look, if you just let go and accept who — then we don’t have to have the conversation. We can talk about more important things. But the idea that we still have to talk about all of this is mad. (…) So, you know, it’s like… I would much rather have the discussions around, you know, more intense, more upsetting things that are happening to humanity than, like, who someone’s in love with.”

[mjstral]

Meet Michiko!

Name: Michiko Ishihara

Age: 20 in the canon universe, 24 in my fanfiction

Affiliation: Black Oak, Amazzoni

Occupation: • flowerist (before)

• whatever the Amazzoni are lol (after)

Ability: the setting sun; it allows her to absorb the life energy of other living beings. If she absorbs too much energy all at once, she runs the risk of losing control. In this case her body can suffer serious consequences that often manifests as maniacal phases. To avoid this risk she always wears an obsidian stone around her neck which absorbs excess energy. If she absorb energy little by little she can heal herself and extend her life as much as she wants (to do so she must first remove the stone).

Love interest: Dazai ihih

Hobby: doesn't really have one and always complains about being bored

Likes: coffee, dogs, the sea

Dislikes: boredom, lemons, wasps

Personality: lively, confident, curious, sensitive, shrewd, spontaneous, witty, compassionate, honest, rebellious, naïve

Personal motto: life is painful and hilarious

More undercut

Trivia

• inspired by the real Michiko Ishihara, Dazai Osamu's second wife

• I decided to give her the biological surname of her real counterpart and not the surname "Tsushima" to make her character more independent from Dazai;

• irl Michiko was a teacher but BSD Michiko doesn't want to become one, plus she's not very good with children because she doesn't have any patience;

• her ability is inspired by one of the book of Dazai Osamu, The setting sun in which her best friend Kazuko is the main character

• awful sense of humour. Just awful.

• Clumsy, not in the adorable sense, in the sense that she falls, taking down with her the name of every saint she knows and whoever is walking with her to hold on to her

• Happy that life has no meaning because she believes that in this way the human being can be the architect of their own destiny, but at the same time she's suffocated by the absurdity of life

• Too sincere

• "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return"

• Mary Oliver poetry incarnated

• Sexy dumb bitch

• "the very reason to live is whatever you do that prevent you to kill yourself" (A. Camus)

• Crave a deep emotional connection with ppl

• Has a specific taste in men but can't recognise/explain it so if you aks her she'd be like:

"What's your type?"

"I like pathetic men."

• Parents issues

• Good and big heart but doesn't really know how to show affection (bc her father never did)

• Always down for throwing punches, but always tries to talk first

• Verbally attacks if she feels verbally attacked

• not to mention when she feels physically attacked

• Wants to understand people and why they do what they do, in fact it's hard for her to blame someone for their actions (unless they kill someone of course)

• Sees the good in everything, but it's far from being a soft character

• Sometimes she think she's God, sometimes she's a drama queen: "God's sense of humour is me", "but weren't you god?", "in fact I'm very self deprecating"

• Fear of abandonment but the one that makes you cry when you're alone bc you think about when shit will end so you self sabotage yourself and leave before you get left

• Michiko: I'm so wise.

Kazuko: You're a problem child.

Michiko: A wise one. I don't make the rules.

• naïve but doesn't seem to bother her

Dazai: why did you call me?

Michiko: I had nothing to do

Dazai: and I'm the one who came to your mind first?~

Michiko: yes, why? Oh, wait....... Eh, nevermind I guess you're right.

• she likes to give nicknames to people that think can represent their personality or traits.

Dazai: Bakazai

Atsushi: lil tiger

Murakami: mr. handsome asiatic (in Italian it's funnier)

Kunikida: kunikidazilla

•owns a motorbike. She bought it to piss her father off.

[popstart]

Ok, i Saw that post about you complaining about How Gw*ncan shippers are racist to Courtney.

Can you give one example of that?

I had to go through my blocked accounts list to get this shit and it made me wanna shoot myself 20 times in the head so its not gonna be 1000% comprehensive bc i think that would qualify as self harm. ANYWAYS.

the biggest one is the massive amount of double standards and hypocrisy these people have between duncan and courtney (+ gw*ncan and duncney. censoring makes me feel like a child but i dont want people finding this post when theyre looking for ship content)

when the white man is "hostile but theres more to him than that" and when people call the white boy a "horrible person but hes literally a child" but courtney (and sierra) should be beaten to death because theyre obviously unable to be complex characters or children. its a really classic example of expecting women (ESPECIALLY of color) to grow up faster than men and having higher expectations of them

another example of weird violence and double standards people have towards courtney while not caring about anything either white character has done. post not made by the same person but it is reblogged by them

and ive posted this before because it seriously baffles me but this is just such an extreme reaction to a character existing. also the constant comparison to animals and dehumanization these people push onto courtney doesnt get past me. like calling a character a cunt and comparing her/her fans to tapeworms. get real man

and sure. this could all be a gross exaggeration on my part because theres just no way all of this is meant to be taken 1000% seriously, its just such a weird pattern to see. people constantly praising two white characters for doing nothing wrong and for being perfect and happy and healthy (despite the show frequently showing the contrary) while completely ignoring and shitting on a 16 year old brown girl in entirely absurd ways. These people genuinely believe that gwen and duncan are innocent, with the biggest thing they takeaway is that theyre "flawed but still good and complex."

anyways do i find it accurate to call these people definitive racists/misogynists? not rly no. i just think its extremely telling how much they praise two white characters for being pure and innocent and doing nothing ever wrong when provided with textbook evidence that its not the case.

like you can love any character (or ship) you want but love them WITH their flaws and recognize that nothing is perfect. in 0 way am i saying that liking duncan or gw*ncan is terrible and awful and should be grounds for public execution and im also not saying that courtney is perfect and did nothing wrong and everyone should love her forever. im just asking for a mutual respect that doesnt seem to exist for these people. everything has flaws, but blowing out of proportion the flaws of things (or characters) you dont like gets very very icky and hypocritical when you turn around and praise something that had very similar fall outs

[zalrb]

Along the same lines as the other anon, but For a show that says "pick your favorite war criminal" they're certainly very afraid to let their characters make dark decisions *especially* if they're women.

Rhaenys who wanted to defend Rhaenyra's claim in the bookshas the opportunity to avoid war and washes her hands , Alicent who organizes the usurpation is not only losing power at a gigantic rate but never had it, Half of the murders occurred by accidents, Rhaenyra asking for the greens' head after her daughter's death is surprisingly calm. Everyone is trying to be good rulers for reasons.

Damn they promised me blood, mayhem and war crimes, so where is it? It's not even really about being explicit about it, just committing to the narrative!! Blood and cheese is not about wanting to see a child's head, it is about the horror of choice, of Helaena's helplessness, of watching the war escalate and escalate because of an eye for an eye. Is it too much to ask!! Why do series now alternate between dialogues that explain to me what I'm seeing because they don't allow the scenes to speak and breathe or force the viewer to do mental gymnastics because they didn't say or showed nothing?!

Half of the murders occurred by accidents [...] Damn they promised me blood, mayhem and war crimes, so where is it?

This. EXACTLY. I am so bored??

Everything is so incredibly passive and that doesn't make anything that's happening interesting to me because without the intention behind the actions, it's just a show where a bunch of shit happens all the while feeling like literally nothing happened because there is no urgency, no characterization, nothing.

And if the point is that one miscommunication, one mistake can cause a war and tear a dynasty apart then a) the war actually has to be interesting? If there is no bloodshed then there needs to be intrigue. I remember watching Littlefinger and Varys go back and forth and being at the edge of my seat. We don't HAVE that now b) lean into the absurdity. Lean into the fact that this war keeps escalating and escalating over nothing, make me feel like this is getting out of hand and no one has a grip on what's going on, give me pandemonium because so far, I've just seen an old man who takes ten minutes to get to a throne, his brother just ... around in a war that lasted years that he ended in five minutes, his daughter who does nothing but complain, his wife who does nothing but complain and also get sexually exploited by men, their children who squabble, sex scene, sex scene, dragons, death, another death, matt smith being matt smith, A BOAR, dialogue about war, dragons, bad wigs. dragons. And maybe sometimes there are Black people (yay virtue signalling!). I'm sorry, I need more.

[thesamoanqueen]

S.H.I.T [Sugar Honey Iced Tea]

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: SMUT; Semi-public sex; Riding, errors after errors after errors after errors after errors...

A/N: This week I took a break from my long fic to do my duties. Request from @nayys-world , dedicated to @mcreignsera for her birthday. Hope y’all like it!

The cafeteria of the gym where they had decided to train that day was not well stocked unlike the fitness rooms and in the grip of desire to get some fresh air, Y/N had crossed an entire block to find something to drink that was her liking and disconnect for a while. When she returned a half hour later, the music was still blaring through the wall speakers, but fortunately half the people who had come to peek at them had vanished from the gym by lunchtime and those who remained must have received some call because they didn't even mention crossing the threshold of the room where they had taken their places for the day. And so, free at last from sinuous looming presences and future car lifts in the garden, Y/N sat down on a bench, her own sugar honey iced tea in her hands, nibbled absently on the straw.

Shit.

Roman was still where she had left him, engaged in another endless series of exercises: it was the day of arms and shoulders. The tank top had stuck to his chest due to sweat, a few strands had escaped from the bun and the shorts he had been wearing were now creased due to the continuous movements.

She absorbedly sucked on some of her drink, swinging her crossed leg in the air, eyes on him and she began to feel it, the heat building and her abdomen liquid. He always had that effect on her.

When you did a job like theirs you got used to many things and if you were a woman, even to being surrounded by sweaty, half-naked men walking around as if nothing had happened. It hadn't been different for her, she had no shame in that area and she had gotten used to it for years, they didn't affect her, but Roman... he definitely had a certain effect on her. He succeeded dressed, with headset, a hood, messy hair and sometimes even those absurd glasses that he pulled out of the bottom of his suitcase, let alone in that state and after having been under the eyes of a wave of women who seemed to have landed there like an invasion of algae after a full moon. Not that Y/N was jealous or had any right to be, but one part of her was genuinely competing after almost getting a ponytail smack to her face and the other part was honestly too busy burning in her memory that missed sextape.

She watched him lean with one arm on the bench, the tattooed one lifting the dumbbell to tense the bicep, the deltoid swelling and rising. His forehead was sweaty, the veins in his neck bulged from the sustained effort, his jaw clenched. His movements reminded her too much of when they "were together" and Y/N felt her abdomen contract, while she saw him raise his gaze to look for her and stick his tongue out.

- Is it better this way? – she heard him ask as he settled into the bench for the last set of lifting exercises.

It was definitely better that way and it would have been even better if the leg of his shorts had been wide enough for her to peek where the sun wasn't shining, because he didn't like underwear and no, they weren't talking about that.

- Uh-uh… wait, what? - she asked absently, the straw pressing against her lip, trying to focus on what he was saying and not on seeing him lying there sweating.

- Though it was all those people around distracting you - he chuckled cockly, the weight bar already rising and falling above him with a heavy clang.

- Y'know… I wanted to ask where they bought all those beautiful, skintight outfits, but no one wanted to be my friends, so… I had to do something else – she complained with a mock sad expression and he shook his head slowly with an amused smile.

She watched him repeat the lift five more times to finish the missing set, broad chest widening, abs contracted under his shirt tensing with controlled breathing, and only then he set the bar down with one last muscle effort. He passed his hand over his face, sitting up, elbows resting on his knees and stretched out an arm, pointing his black bag in a corner.

- Baby girl could you…? – he asked, catching his breath and Y/N got up without asking anything else.

She rummaged through his things, pulling out a clean towel to dab at the sweat and the bottle of protein shake, stopping in front of him to pass it all. Roman appropriated the shake with one hand, the other arm pulling her by the hips towards him, until his forehead spitefully rested on Y/N's belly and she threw the towel over his head, making him disappear.

- So, what the problem was, hm? - he muttered after a few seconds from his hiding place, stroking her side as she dabbed the sweat on the back of his neck.

- Not even one. I was just enjoying the show and the tea was my break – she answered, feeling his nose rubbing from her navel down, his fingers running over the skin of her hip, his mouth placing a kiss on the protruding bone of her pelvis and making increase her heart rate.

He was inexplicably unable to hold back when they were so close and Y/N could only thank as always, her body already hot enlivening with every contact with his fingertips, his beard pricking her sensitive skin and his smell surrounding her. She heard him stop and looked down, seeing him emerge from under the towel with a raised eyebrow.

- The show?

- Your show. - she clarified, taking her hands away from his shoulders to bend an arm in a pose that wrested a hoarse laugh from him.

- I've been good. - he praised himself playfully and Y/N nodded more seriously than she’d have as Roman rocked her by the hips.

- I'd have paid to see it. Impressive.

- That's rude... I feel objectified. - he complained and Y/N put her hands on his shoulders again, to slowly sit on his lap.

- You can do it too with me. – she reassured him in a whisper, one of his big arms already around her hips to keep her closer and the other to touch her leg, abandoning the protein shake on the ground -… but if you 're too tired, I can take care of it for you.

Her proposition hovered between them for a while, suspended between the motivational music of the room and the sound of their breathing, until she stopped playing with the hem of his tank top and from the few inches that divided them, Roman looked up at her.

- Y'sure? - he inquired, swinging her gently on himself.

The ease with which he could maneuver her even in those insignificant gestures drove her crazy and she had already seen enough that day to just want to rip the clothes off him, to get some relief.

- Absolutely. - she spoke slowly, leaning down to tease him and then bite his lip lightly, prompting him to respond immediately.

She liked to let him have control. It was strange even for her to think, but Roman was the only man Y/N had ever let total control over her, breaking down any barrier. Things had never gone as she expected and even in her most pleasant moments, she had never happened to lose consciousness of herself and abandon completely, but with him it was different. It had always been different, she trusted him. She liked feeling vulnerable, knowing that he’d do anything to her, because she knew that he would never push harder than necessary, that he’d not take advantage of it. It was never the same between them, but they had found a balance and it seemed to work beautifully for both of them, that was new and Roman was trying to be good, Y/N could feel it.

His tongue had invaded her mouth without waiting, overwhelmingly savoring the taste of tea and honey even though he was going slowly and Y/N pulled back, biting his lip again, but with more force. She saw him jump for a second at that silent rebuke and she looked at him seriously, planting her hands on his chest to push him down onto the bench.

- I run the show, big boy. Stay down.

Though she wouldn't have called herself a romantic, she’d have gladly stayed and kissed him for the rest of her days, but she needed more right now. She wanted him inside her, completely and her body charged again, needy, as she ran a hand under his T, her fingers following the v of his abs, lower and lower.

- Babygirl… shit. - Roman let slip, stifling the scolding he must have been about to give her for that attitude, when Y/N grabbed his half-erect cock unceremoniously.

It throbbed between her fingers, hot and stiffer with every passing second. Just like Roman below her, who had dropped his head on the bench, eyes closed as he enjoyed her rough, hurried attention, his hands planted on her thighs to keep her above him altought it wasn’t necessary. With her free hand she traced a trail of sweat down his side, her nails slowly scratching his raised abs, she bit her mouth and a moan escaped her lips, rocking her anxiously on his thighs.

She couldn't mark him, he had a match scheduled and that thought made her mind run back to a few hours earlier, to all the crowd that had gathered inside that room to watch him lift that bar that was now forgotten above his head, thanks to her attentions.

He wasn't hers, but he was hers at that moment, briefly, once again and so she slipped back with her legs, hasty and greedy without thinking of anything else, making room in her shorts to vent the heat that seemed to burn her alive.

- F-fuck Y/N! - Roman moaned as she slid him inside her.

The sense of fullness and comfort that filled her, prompted her to close her eyes, head wandering in emptiness. She placed her hands on him, anchoring herself as best she could and her soft hips began to move frantically, following a rhythm that had nothing to do with the music. It only took a few of her thrusts for Roman to become truly ready and Y/N felt his tip pressing into her, pulsing between her folds, encouraging her to pick up the pace.

- G-god… you feel amazing! Ah! - she gasped satisfy, rotating her hips in a circle.

His flesh was pounding in her core, choked by the spasms of her pleasure that gripped him with no intention of letting go. He was hard, tense and with each rotation she had the impression of feeling him fidget looking for a space that he didnt have. She had sat on him with all her weight and if only she could, she would have stayed there and never let him go. One of Roman's hands moved to her stomach, up her torso to creep under the oversize shirt and grab her breasts. The pinch that tortured her sensitive nipple made her moan louder than the others and she instinctively approached his grip, rising just enough to give him breath. Her juices dripped slimy down his shaft and Roman forced himself on his legs, bullying into her as much as he was allowed.

- Ahh!

- You look so fuckin good on m-me – he growled heavily and Y/N looked down at him, feeling of having her face on fire and her breath caught in her chest.

There was always a moment in their meetings when he looked at her like that, almost with admiration and she could no longer control herself. Men looked at her in many ways, many inappropriate, but with him it was different, it was something strangely familiar…

She leaned down quickly, without too many problems or thoughts, hurriedly kissing him. His tongue filled her mouth again, warm and dominant, exploring without restraint as his thumb continued to torture her nipple. With only the tip of him inside her, Y/N gripped her walls with a needy moan, feeling him growl in response at that hold of his on the most sensitive part of him. His free fingers squeezed her buttock, accompanying the movement of her body on his shaft, spreading her walls as he slid into her with ever greater ease. His mouth had moved to her breasts, sucking and biting, she felt like she was going up in flames and being able to clearly feel the same tension in Roman's muscles beneath her was making her dizzy. Her stomach was turning fast, more than it should have, stimulated by too many directions and so she pulled away from him, an husky growl of protest filling the room despite the music. He grabbed her wrist, trying to bring her closer again, but Y/N smashed his hand into his chest, kicking up her legs to fall back on his boner.

- B-babygirl! F-Fuck ah! - he growled in a rough voice, dropping his head back on the bench and Y/N repeated that motion, over and over, forcing him to gasp beneath her.

- It's s-so big – she whined excitedly, more to herself that to him.

She'd found the perfect angle to hammer her sweet spot and for a second she closed her eyes, enjoying the jerks of her body and the thick intrusion of Roman, who anchored her to his body despite the precarious position and the sweat. When she opened them again she found herself looking at her reflection in the mirror on the wall, among training machines, racks of weights and posters. It felt surreal, as if that wasn't really her and for a long moment, she stared as her body swayed over Roman, taking him inch by inch. She saw her hands planted on him, her breasts bouncing with her movements, her hair messy and his fingers digging into her hips. Her juices were dripping down her shorts, his shaft was shiny, veins swollen and red from the draining blood. Something inside her tightened in an almost painful grip at seeing herself there alone with him and she jerked her eyes away, her mind and body liquid. She looked below her, meeting Roman's expression that hadn't mentioned for a moment to take his eyes off her and Y/N opened her mouth, trying to say something, anything, but it sounded like out of her throat come out now only moans.

- K-Keep going… mmh, d-dont stop! - he growled and Y / N increased her pace as much as possible, rotating her hips frantically, insisting on letting him sink inside her.

She clearly felt it throbbing, tensing with each encounter with her sensitive spot, each time her wet folds threatened to choke him with spasms. She reached behind herself, holding on to his thigh and threw her head back, hair tickling her back and the heat building out of control, making her belly crumple. Her breath caught in her lungs, mouth opening now voiceless and she closed her eyes, seeing only the whitish reflection of the hall spotlights beyond her lids as her climax exploded. She continued to rock her hips, trying to keep it as long as possible, but she stopped doing it the instant Roman rose again, regaining control of her to achieve his own release. She felt him everywhere, pressing against her breasts, sinking his fingers into her buttocks, aggressively sucking her neck and wrapped her shaky arms around his muscular body, hiding her face into his shoulder until after a couple of thrusts, she felt his cum fill her core.

Exhausted, Y/N reopened her eyes, in front of her again her own reflection or what one sensed of it, Roman held her against him, legs dangling around his hips and her face sweaty. She closed and opened them again as she caught her breath, her heart slowing its frantic race and felt his lips plant a sweet kiss on her temple, urging her to straighten up a bit and compose herself as best she could.

- So... you ride the show, hun? - he teased her with a tired grin.

- Y'feel threatened?– she pinched him, instantly feeling herself bouncing on his legs like a kid.

- Chill little one, sip your tea – he put her back in her place, while Y/N couldn't hold back a laugh as he reversed their positions to take his revenge.

Sip her tea, sure…

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanross @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @mcreignsera @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @jeyreigns @civildawn @romanmydaddy @raidenandreigns @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @itjazzbicch @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @mariamheeeeee @vintage-pvssy @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @helensanders92 @niknakbucks92 @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reignsxroman @kianaleani @daguenoire @iyoskyslover @extra-11 @josphinna @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @nestorsgirlfriend @brattyfics @wanna-be-dominated @kitanasposts @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefreigns @daddyslittlevillain

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for running a kid out of a gaming community? (Tw mention of rape/self-harm/nazism)

I play the sims often, and am active in the simblr community. About four years back I (f, 19 at the time) saw a comment under a post about a DLC pack for the game, pointing out that there were an unequal amount of masculine vs feminine clothing in the pack, and stating that “girls were ruining the sims and making it a girls game.” I replied, saying I agreed with their assertion that in inequality isn’t fair (people, myself included, have been complaining about that very thing since the game first came out), but that it’s the developers faults, and it’s not right to blame the players or fanbase of a game for aspects of production that they have no control over. The commenter who I’ll call J (m, 17, though I didn’t know his age until later) responded saying again that girls were ruining the game for male players. Not wanting to clog the OPs notifs with back-and-forth comments, I messaged J privately, reiterating that I agreed with some of his points, just that it wasn’t fair to blame women for ‘ruining’ a game when they weren’t in control of mistakes the development team made. J went on a massive rant about how I was a ‘stupid white girl who loves Starbucks’ (I’m not white and I never said anything about Starbucks?) and that women were ruining the sims franchise by turning it into a “decorating and dress up game” and that players who were women “hated all men and children” because too many people made adult women sims and not enough men/child sims.

At that point I knew the discussion wasn’t going to go anywhere, so I joked and said he sounded like a Redditor. He responded by saying “me when women get raped” followed by a Fortnite dancing gif. I didn’t respond. An hour later he sent me a link to some website featuring a video of a man beating a woman in public. I screenshotted his messages, blocked him, and made a post with said screenshots urging others to not interact with him/to block him too.

A while later I get a message from a mutual linking a post he made about the situation on Reddit, explaining the discussion from his point of view. It was removed by the time I looked at it, but the comments were basically all agreeing with me or at least saying his last responses were wrong. He would go on to complain about how I was “the reason he hated modern women” and that I was “driving him back to being a Nazi because Nazis were so welcoming”. I made a post laughing at the situation, because it was just so absurd.

A few hours later I get an anon from J telling me that I had made him self harm and he posted the photos on his blog. When I finally got the courage to look on his blog several days later he seemed to be okay (it looked like he accidentally scratched himself on the arm too hard, nothing life threatening) but he had DOZENS of anons upset with him for the heinous shit he said. This is when I learned he was 17. He said that he “wasn’t a Nazi anymore, but was thinking about going back” (even though he was non-white, gay and trans?); that women were turning the sims into a girls game and because of that people irl would call him slurs because he was playing a girls game; that the reason he said those things to me was because “I’m autistic, and no one gets mad when they say it on family guy”, and that he want a misogynist he just wanted to make me upset, as well as back and forth arguments with anons where he essentially argued that female custom content creators are sexist if they don’t make masculine clothing/content for male sims. His last posts talked about how the sims was all he had in life and that since everyone in the community hated him now he’d just make everyone happy by killing himself. His blog hasn’t updated since.

Obviously I can’t confirm what happened to him, but I still think about this event frequently, and check up on his blog a few times a year. I have a sizable following on my simblr, and I knew I’d be exposing him to thousands of people with my posts—but I didn’t want him to hurt himself, I only wanted to warn people that he wasn’t safe to interact with.

Should I have blocked and moved on without warning people? Was I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

in which buggy only ever overthinks or refuses to think—no middle sliders—to galdino's great frustration.

part... three? five? six? part three of the post-marineford portion of this story, anyway. (1, 2) if you have no idea what i'm talking about but would like to read a shanks/buggy story about kissing in disguise and then having to deal with the emotional fallout of doing that, click on this link, that's the tag for the whole thing in chronological order. (plus some complaining about writing, and one inspirational improvised musical number) if you do know what i'm talking about: the not-date doesn't begin until next time, sorry! buggy needed a few shanks-less scenes first.

Later, Buggy wouldn’t be able to recall anything that happened the rest of the day with meaningful detail.  He’d escaped from the mess and found the men eager to ask him more about his days on Roger’s crew—and he probably answered their questions?  Watched the crew of the Red Force go through the motions of navigating to an island and coming into dock?  Found himself a spot up and out of the way when it came time for the officers to disembark and start arranging for the resupply?  However it happened, he ended up in the rigging sometime that afternoon and once again stayed there until dark, staring out to sea and doing his best to think about nothing in particular.

He didn’t see Shanks once.  Buggy would have remembered that.  His whole head felt filled with cotton, but he had a feeling one glimpse of his specific shade of red would have turned that cotton to so much ash (and possibly set the rest of him on fire while he was at it).

A whole day alone with Shanks.

No need to wonder when that had last happened—that was the day Roger died.  Unless you counted Roger’s presence from way up on the execution platform against the descriptor “alone,” which Buggy didn’t.  He hadn’t exactly been able to sit down and talk with them that day.  Buggy wasn’t even sure, thinking back, if Roger had seen them in the crowd.  At the time he’d been convinced Roger was speaking to Shanks directly, conveying his final wishes in his last words, but that was absurd.  The square had been absolutely packed with people, and neither of them had been quite tall enough at that age to stand out, even with Shanks wearing that straw-yellow hat of his.

Anyway.  A bad day, to say the least.  And there weren’t many good ones leading up to it.  Crocus, the two of them, and a few others had decided to go east from Water 7, and pooled their money to buy a small boat for the trip.  Along the way everyone found an island they liked enough to live on, or at least to visit for an extended time, except for the two of them.  It hadn’t seemed to matter much, until they left Crocus at the mountain where they’d first met him and Buggy and Shanks had suddenly been alone.  Two boys on a boat that could comfortably hold eight.

Buggy, terrified of what would happen if someone with a grudge against Roger recognized them, had demanded (well, begged, but with a lot of cursing and threats involved) Shanks get them out of the Grand Line and into one of seas big name pirates didn’t bother with.  Looking back, Shanks had not been very confident in his ability to get a Sea King to tow their ship across the Calm Belt, but he’d managed it, and they spent a little time sailing the East Blue without a destination in mind.  Those days hadn’t been so bad.  A little dull, maybe, after being on the Grand Line so long, but Buggy had been happy to be bored.

Then, all too soon, the news had broke, and they sold the boat and raced to Roguetown.

Now those were stressful days.  Being so very aware of how little money they had, and how fast it was disappearing into the hands of Roguetown’s restaurateurs and hostel managers… but it wasn’t like they could leave, not when Roger was going to be there in a matter of days, come home to die.

So Buggy had fallen back on old pickpocket habits, and Shanks had offered himself up as bit of a sideshow, doing sword tricks on the street and having people place bets on whether he could beat them in a fight.  He’d fight a man one-handed, blindfolded, whatever got passersby to bet more.  It made him a little miserable, especially when people got mad they’d lost to a kid and tried to refuse to pay up, but what else could they do?  They were fifteen, and they didn’t have a lot of legally marketable skills.

There must have been good days, though.  Days they’d spent together without any stress or fear hanging over their heads… days when they had enough money to get a room with real beds, and slept with the certainty that they could afford to keep the room beyond the one night.  Days like that must have happened, but Buggy couldn’t think of any now.

Which meant he had no frame of reference for what tomorrow would be like.  He was going in totally blind.  And that look on Shanks’ face, that undeniably affectionate look… what the hell did that mean?

You’re overthinking this, a part of Buggy that had begun to sound a bit like Galdino said.  He looks at you like he likes you because he likes you.

But that was stupid.  Who liked Buggy?  The former prisoners admired him, sure—because they thought he was powerful.  So had the Buggy Pirates, and in East Blue it had even been true.  Alvida allied herself with him because of their common interests, and when they turned out to work well together it was simply convenient to continue to do so.  People associated with Buggy because he was useful to them, not because he was nice, or likable, or anything like that.

Well.  There were some people in this world who would be friendly to you regardless of your utility—but that didn’t make Shanks’ behavior make any more sense!  Buggy wasn’t a stranger to him the way he’d been to Ace.  Shanks knew him, all his worst behaviors and selfish, greedy impulses.  He was nothing like the kind of pirate Shanks was, and even less like the kind of pirate Shanks admired.  So what was there about Buggy for Shanks to like?

…maybe it was just a physical thing.  Shanks had once kissed a red nose-less Buggy, so he felt safe assuming there was something about his body that attracted Shanks.  Enough that Shanks wanted him even with the nose?

Buggy floated his way back to the room he was sharing with Galdino.  The mirror was still there, sitting on the bedside table.  He used it to inspect himself, head to toe, trying to look at his body with an objective eye.

Galdino came in while he was trying to get a good angle on his back and backside without chop-chopping himself.  “There you are,” he said, with a scolding undertone Silvers Rayleigh had often taken with Buggy, as if he was a student falling short of expectations no one had bothered to tell him about.  “Dinner’s being served in ten, and I hear it’s either fish the crew caught on our way into port or Sea King loin.”

Buggy made a face.  He was so tired of eating Sea King.  Every meal in Impel Down had involved the stuff, since it was easy for the guards to get their hands on during the Blue Gorillas’ daily swim.  All the briny, fishy stink of the ocean, but with a tough and gamy flesh when left uncured, truly the worst of both worlds.  And of course Blue Gorillas were no chefs, so the meat had always been served unseasoned and overcooked.

“Yeah,” Galdino said, “so we’d better get there fast.”  He took in Buggy’s posture and frowned.  “What are you doing?”

“I—” Buggy thought about trying to explain himself, but as ever Shanks was beyond explanation.  But Galdino would be a more objective judge, and it wasn’t like he didn’t already know—he’d been the one to put the idea in Buggy’s head in the first place!  Having to ask was so embarrassing, though.  Grimacing, Buggy asked, “Am I attractive?”

Galdino stared silently at Buggy for a long moment.

Face hot, Buggy gritted out, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Oh, no, of course not!  I just—” Galdino ran a hand over his face, wiping away a thin layer of wax.  “Isn’t it kind of late in the honeypot process for you to be worrying about something like that?”

Buggy squinted.  “The honeywhat process?”

“The.”  Galdino paused.  He looked very closely at Buggy, who flushed a little under such scrutiny.  Galdino pressed his hands together like someone about to start praying, took a deep breath, and let it out very slowly.  “Okay.  Let me tell you what I thought was happening, and then you can tell me what you think.”

Hm.  Ominous.  Buggy nodded agreement.

“Okay.”  Galdino gestured between himself and Buggy with his folded hands.  “Yesterday, I told you Red-Haired Shanks was interested in you, and warned you to not be so obvious about rejecting him, for all our sakes.  This morning, you spent breakfast together, behaving in a way I’ve heard described as friendly, companionable, and ‘weirdly nice, for that guy.’  This culminated in you… asking to spend the day with him tomorrow?”  Galdino gave Buggy a wide-eyed, nervous look.  “Have I gotten anything wrong so far?”

“No…?”

“Great.  So.  I take it by your confusion that this was not an attempt to take my advice a little too far in the other direction and get Red-Haired Shanks to do us some kind of favor in exchange for your affections?”

Buggy blinked.  “What?!”

“Yes, clearly not,” Galdino muttered to himself.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, “But then what are you doing, encouraging him like this?”

“I’m not encouraging—it’s Shanks!”  When this did not seem to explain anything to Galdino, Buggy threw his hands out, searching for words.  “He’s not—I wouldn’t have to put myself on display like a carnival prize to get something from him, he’d just give it to me!  He’d give just about anything to just about anyone, that’s the kind of guy he is.”

“And you… don’t want anything from him,” Galdino concluded, eyes narrowed.

Buggy rolled his eyes.  “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to all the treasure hidden away on this ship, but even if Shanks was willing to give it to me I’m pretty sure he’d get outvoted by the rest of his crew.  He’s already given us safe passage.  He won’t rescind that offer.  What else is there?”

“…right.” Galdino stared at Buggy, expression calculating.  “Then why are you spending the day with him?”

“Do you have to say it like that?”  He made it sound so… suggestive, like two people couldn’t spend time together without it being inherently risqué. (Of course, Buggy had just been wondering whether Shanks was—he viciously shoved that thought down.  Not the time!) “Galdino, I asked Shanks to meet privately tomorrow because I want to talk to him about stuff that I don’t need other people overhearing.  He’s the one who turned it into a full day thing.”

“And you didn’t argue against it!”  Galdino sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose.  “This is what I meant when I said you were encouraging him.  You ask for an hour, he offers a day, and you agree to the day?  You should have held your ground.  If you had more than an hour of things to talk about, you would have asked for more time to begin with.  What else is he supposed to think you want to do with that additional time, but…?” Galdino raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Heat slowly rose in Buggy’s cheeks as this sunk in.  “We—we could just spend that time… catching up,” he said weakly.  “It’s been a long time since we’ve really seen each other.  More than twenty years, a lot’s happened.”  Including things that it seemed like Shanks might want to happen again.  Buggy’s hand went to his mouth unconsciously.

“A lot you want him knowing about?  The man—the Emperor—you yelled at right after he stopped a war dead in its tracks, and then saw no problem with bluntly asking him to take all of us on his ship five minutes later?  The man you seem to alternate between hissing at and laughing with whenever people see you together?”  Galdino rubbed at his temple.  “I just don’t understand what—” Galdino froze, staring at Buggy.  “Oh.”

Buggy blinked, dropping his hand.  “What?”

Galdino turned to stare into the middle distance.  “Okay,” he said faintly.  “I can work with this.”

“Work with what?” Buggy said, starting to get annoyed.

“Yeah,” Galdino said, nodding to himself with increasing enthusiasm.  “This will work.  I mean, if anyone else did it I’d call them insane, but in your case—well, how often can you be this certain going in?  You know he’s interested, and you’re going to be alone with him for a full day.  If you want him, you’ve basically got him.”

Huh. Buggy must have traded devil fruit powers with that Marco guy, because he'd just burst into flames but was somehow still alive.  “I—” he croaked out.  ”What?”

Galdino’s eyes narrowed. “…you do want him, right?”

Nothing but static between his ears, Buggy threw open the door to their room.  “Hey, didn’t you say dinner was happening soon?  We should go!  I am so sick of Sea King, you have no idea—”

“Buggy!”

Buggy jogged down the stairs, wondering aloud how Lucky Roux might have prepared the fish his crew had caught—braised? roasted?  So many delicious possibilities!

Sticking his head out the door after Buggy, Galdino called out, “Do you even know what you want?”  He let out an exasperated sound when Buggy picked up his pace and started waxing rhapsodic about fried fish still hot from the oil.

It would’ve been nice if Buggy could forget that conversation along with the rest of the day, but no luck.  Long after Galdino fell asleep, an anticipatory pair of wax plugs in his ears, Buggy laid awake with those words running through his head.  Lined up next to the other things he’d said about Shanks, it sounded pretty damning.

They all say the two of you got up close and personal, and Red-Hair’s been red-faced ever since.

Fact is he’s an Emperor.  One who’s taken an interest in you.

If you want him, you’ve basically got him.

…you do want him, right?

Buggy muffled a frustrated groan into his pillow.

At least dinner had been delicious: perfectly fried whitefish in a delicate batter that tore at the slightest hint of pressure, letting steaming-hot juices burst free and burn your tongue, served with fried potatoes and vinegar and a creamy sour pickle sauce.  Messy, but well worth getting to the kitchen early for.

That showing up early meant he didn’t run into any of the still-busy senior officers of the Red Force… well, that was just good luck.

“‘Getting ahead in life requires either good luck or good planning, and Buggy, you’re not much of a planner.’”  Buggy grumbled to himself.  “Shows what you know, Mr. Rayleigh… my luck’s not much to speak of either, yet here I am, getting ahead.”  And who knew?  Maybe tomorrow, he’d get—

Face burning, Buggy refused to complete the thought.

He also refused to consider the question that thought brought to mind: was that all he wanted from Shanks?

Or its corollary: was that all Shanks wanted from him?

[amphibious-thing]

Nothing puts the arbitrary nature of gender roles in perspective like historical gender roles. For example in the 18th century umbrellas were considered feminine and men who used them were characterised as effeminate and foppish. In the 1780s as umbrellas became more popular amongst men there was a cultural pushback to the perceived gender transgression. On the 16th of August 1780 the Morning Post complains of of the “canopy of umbrellas” bemoaning that “the effeminacy of the men, inclines them to adopt this necessary appendage of female convenience”. On the 4th of October 1784 a letter to the Morning Chronicle goes on a tirade against men using umbrellas:

Sir, Fashion, or custom, stamps an authoritative power on every absurdity, otherwise by what right do men establish the several inconveniences, which are daily felt by all who wish to pass unmolested in the public streets. If any one is so ridiculous as to make a dead stop in the common path, and gape about like a country lout, the frequent gibes and jolts, which are the common consequents of such misconduct, will in little time enliven the understating; but what shall we say to evils which are unavoidable to the most attentive and alert? Of this kind is that vile foppish practice of sheltering under a umbrella, and moving forward with such momentum, as might very quickly scoop out an eye, draw a tooth, or detach an ear, were those parts to be opposed to the severe stroke of one of those fantastic instruments. That the ladies should be allowed to secure their beauty and persons from the heat of the sun, or the inclemency of the weather, every one is too much interested to deny; it is natural, and has a striking effect. Besides the base of the hoop, and a decent respect, keeps us at an awful distance, and prevents any ill to those who are so happy as to meet them; not to mention the peculiar adroitness with which they manage both superior and inferior shades. But to see a great lubberly cit, bounce from his shop, with a coat, hat, and wig that are not together worth one groat, with a bloated ruddy countenance, which bespeaks him to have guttled like a hog, shelter his heavy [illegible] from the influence of the solar beam, is intolerable. Let him be stationary under cover of the shade of his shop window. The macaroni being of the doubtful gender, may in part claim a feminine right; his dress is too delicate to bear an heavy shower, perhaps his person is so too; but a coach, if a clean one is to be found would serve his purpose much better, as there would be less likelihood of his being washed away into the kennel, which he deserves to be kicked into for his d-----d affectation.

Upon the whole, let me tell you, this is a vain and dangerous custom- For the safety, therefore, of his Majesty’s liege subjects, who sensibly fence themselves with a good beaver and surtoot upon necessary occasions, let it be enacted, that the Levitical Law be put in full force in case of injury done to any party, viz. “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” &c. if the face should be scratched or torn, let the Coventry Act be in full force; but as prevention is preferable to penalty, be it also enacted, that all such male animals as use these unhandy instruments be drove off the foot path into the streetway, and that their umbrellas be left to the mercy of the hackney coachmen.

[babyrdie]

Is there an opinion about greek myth someone might have that would make you not follow them? I am not necessarily talking about a super serious opinion, it could simply be a disagreement of opinion… It doesn't have to be a case of blocking, simply not following is okay…

P.S: this is actually an ask I copied from another user but I was curious about your answer so here it is. Anon who wrote this ask on other profiles, credit to you!

Ah

1. Reducing characters I like to a very basic and uninteresting idea. To explain what I mean, let's think about Patroclus because I love him. I don't like it when people say that the MYTHOLOGICAL Patroclus didn't like war, he was a healer and he was a pacifist. Guys, he wasn't. The mythological one, at least, wasn't. He even had a sex slave, why are we acting like he was a man ahead of his time? I think maybe this comes from the necessity of the "opposites attract" dynamic in couples, but I honestly couldn't disagree more with the idea that Patroclus and Achilles are opposites. They aren't, Book 16 makes it obvious.

Others act as if Patroclus being kind is absurd because apparently it makes him effeminate and being effeminate is bad. But he literally has the epithet "gentle" in The Iliad, I really don't know why some people think Patroclus is only capable of being a fierce warrior if he's an edgy character who doesn't show any kindness and stays bathed in blood 24 hours a day. Reducing him to being a badass is extremely uninteresting because a lot of people are badass in the Trojan War, this makes him an obsolete and nothing special character.

In >my< opinion Patroclus is a character balanced between these two interpretations, and anyone who thinks he is either just a stereotypical pacifist healer or just a stereotypical badass warrior is making him uninteresting.

2. Denying a version of the myth simply because you don't like it. I'm not talking about not using this version or not liking it, but acting as if it were invalid. I'm sorry, guys, but Telegonus is a valid version of the myth whether we like it or not. Myths weren't monoliths, The Odyssey isn't the only valid version. Yes, Achilles and Patroclus were cousins ​​in more than one source. There's no point pretending it's a homophobic modern invention just because the idea of ​​you shipping cousins ​​bothers you. It's not like cousins ​​getting romantically/sexually involved in Ancient Greece was a big deal.

3. People who seem to think the character has to be an adorable, flawless cinnamon roll, and if someone has something against them, then they're poor little creatures. For example, Odysseus and Apollo. I used to see this with Achilles too, but it's not as common in my feed anymore (emphasis on "my feed"). I've also seen it done with Hector, Patroclus and Paris, but it definitely doesn't compare to Odysseus, Apollo and Achilles.

4. People who belittle Penthesilea's death. Don't give me that bullshit speech about how she was a poor defenseless woman and oh how cruel Achilles was for killing her. She wasn't some poor helpless woman, she was a warrior demigod and an Amazon queen. She is literally emphasized by her warlike feats. In more than one source, Achilles is the character chosen to kill her precisely because the other Greeks (men, mind you) were unable to defeat her. So don't get that shit on me. "Ah but a daughter of Ares who lost to a daughter of a nymph" please reread Book 20 of The Iliad. No one belittles Hector for losing to Achilles, there is no need to do that to Penthesilea.

5. People shipping master x slave dynamic shipps. I don't care if there were nuances, if the ancient Greeks didn't see it as bad, how concubinage worked, if the character says they loved the other, etc. I don't want to keep seeing fluffy fanarts and headcanons about Cassandra x Agamemnon, Achilles x Briseis, Ajax x Tecmessa in my feed and I'll continue not wanting to see them.

6. When the profile is very focused on complaining. Like, the profile is constantly complaining about a character or a work that they don't like. I follow people because I want to see their interests, not what they hate. It could even be a character that I don't care for or a work that I hate too, I don't want to see. For example, I thought Lore Olympus was bad, but I don't want to follow a profile that constantly posts hate about Lore Olympus. It's not in my interest. And I'm not saying wow, nobody can complain about anything! I complained about things on my profile myself! I'm talking about people OBSESSED with complaining about a specific character/work.

7. When the profile says that they love complex female characters, including the bad ones, but it's a lie. The person only mentions Circe, Medea, etc to complain about their popularity. They never mention them to comment on the complexity of the character, to provide an analysis, to praise the writing. Never. It's okay if you don't like female characters who aren't morally good, but at least admit it! This is even more obvious depending on how they treat Helen. Suppose I see the profile refuses to deal with the mere possibility that Helen actually cheated on Menelaus. In that case, I quickly realize this person is incapable of liking female characters who make mistakes even though they generally do everything they can to justify the male characters' mistakes. If you truly appreciate "female characters of questionable morality", then talk about them for something other than moral lessons.

8. When the person is a very vocal hater of a character I like (Patroclus, Thetis, Achilles, Medea, etc). I have no problem following if they just don't like the character, but when it's continuous hate there's no reason for me to follow. I don't want to, for example, have to get irritated every time someone posts about what a "bitch" Thetis is.

9. When a person keeps making a lot of headcanons about deities. I don't know, it seems weird to me. I'm not saying it's something reprehensible, I don't even worship the pantheon, it's just something that's not my vibe.

10. When a person acts as if the entire Roman mythology was absolutely invalid. I'm not talking about not liking mixing Roman and Greek mythology, I don't like it either! I'm saying when they act as if, separately, Roman mythology is invalid, uninteresting and bullshit. There's no need to debunk one mythology because you prefer another. And I say this without even being a Roman mythology enthusiast.

11. When a person complains a lot about Hades, TSOA, Patrochilles, Achilles and/or Patroclus fans. This is a separate topic because it's really common. Since I'm a fan of all these things, I simply assume the person doesn't want to interact with me and maybe they find me irritating/bothersome. I don't have a problem with someone complaining about these things (I complained about TSOA at least three times on this profile! For example, Deidamia in this book gives me physical pain), I just stay away because I think it's what the person would prefer.

12. The damned Astyanax as Odysseus' son headcanon. Like...what about Andromache???

[awesomerextyphoon]

Realm Discoveries While Hangry

Summary: Ife's not herself while hangry, especially on a mission. Luckily, this one worked out for the best.

Pairing: Slight Steve Rogers x Black!Alien Warrior Princess OFC Ifekerenma aka Ife

Characters: Natasha, Steve, Ifekerenma, Nick Fury, OFCs, mentions of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner

Rating: 18 + / Mature

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Dark Comedy Bordering on Absurdity, Ife being a Badass Glutton, Some Violence, Some Fluff

A/N: This is the start of something a little different. I want to make some short stories that will tie back into the main series whenever I'm between chapters. I'm still working on the main series and the next chapter will be published before the end of 2023. Thanks to @firefly-graphics for the dividers!

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

What was with these supposed 'geniuses' always wanting to rule the world?

The amount of hubris one needed to go through with it never ceased to amaze Natasha. This week's version wanted revenge on the science community for calling him 'stupid' and 'crazy' over his theories on creating titan fauna and megaflora.

Someone, please shoot me.

If Nat had a dollar each time she heard some version of the 'Why I must hold the world hostage' speech, she'd be able to bribe Tony to let her control the music for mission trips.

Steve wished they would drop the speeches already. He just hoped Ife was almost done with the power cells so they could drop the charade and go home.

"Now! Watch as I claim what's rightfully mine!" the mad scientist finally finished his speech by pressing the detonation button, but nothing happened.

" What's happening? Why isn't working?!"He pressed the button another three times to no effect, "Why aren't the missiles firing?!"

The mad scientist was about to radio his henchmen outside of the main chamber when he heard bullets pouring like rain outside the hangar followed by frantic shouts from his men.

"SOMEONE STOP HER!!"

"NOTHING'S WORKING!!"

"GET THE TANKS!!"

"FIRE AT WILL!!"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE?!!"

"SHE'S AN ABOMINATION!!"

"What on Earth is going on out there?" He wondered as he carefully made his way to the entrance, only for a downright beastly roar frightening nearly everyone into silence.

"What the" A soft knock at the hangar doors broke his concentration.

Ife was pissed.

She FINALLY had some decent food after not getting a chance to refuel after expending her energy reserves from her last mission, but it was barely a morsel. It took no time to devour all of the titan fauna the henchmen unleashed on her, unaware those were inferior albeit still tasty versions of food from her homeworld. She even found some yummy megaflora.

It was a bummer Ife was famished. She would've prepared them better to bring out their flavors.

Another tank shell bounced off of her.

When will these fools learn that this is pointless? Conventional Earth weapons are nothing to her. Well, at least the energy from their artillery aided with digestion. Also, the power cells were tasty; they had a refreshing tropical fruity taste with notes of mint.

Now the scientist refused to open up, even after she knocked, "Guess I'll have to let myself in."

The scientist tried his best to steel himself, only for the two-meter thick air hangar doors and part of the solid stone walls to rip off like cheap wrapping paper.

His eyes almost bugged out of their sockets at the intruder — a tall woman — casually lifting both doors in one hand and a 250-ton tank in the other. The woman turned to two tied-up Avengers, smiled, and threw both items 1500 meters away with a flick of her wrists.

"Hi, Captain, Black Widow. How's it going?"

"Can't complain," Steve answered.

"Why haven't you escaped yet? It would've taken you two seconds to get out," Ife queried rubbing her growling tummy. Her telltale sign of hunger.

"We were waiting for you," Nat retorted while raising an eyebrow.

This will be fun.

"What happened to your comms link?"

"Well…I was preoccupied."

"With what?"

The woman's eyes brightened, "I found some yummy food not unlike Avlenia, but they barely did anything for me. I ate everything the goons unleashed and then some, but I'm still hungry! Which sucks cuz I wasn't able to properly prepare them-"

That can't be right.

That chamber housed hundreds of exotic beasts and flora with a combined weight of 312.5 THOUSAND TONS!! There was no way a single person could eat one of those behemoths, let alone all of them.

"MONSTER!!"

"Huh?" Ife finally noticed the scientist and his remaining goons.

"Do you have any more? I'm STARVING!"

"No one should eat one of those beasts, let alone all of them!"

Ife raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Maybe not possible for humans, but, "she strolled towards the scientist and started unzipping her combat suit, "that was only a snack for me, and it left me hungry for more."

The scientist cried out in horror when a belly 3x the size of an exercise ball surged forth.

How is she moving?! His eyes darted over to her comrades but found them lightly chuckling with the spy sporting a smirk.

"So, do you have any more food? Don't leave me in suspense."

The monster rolled her eyes at the rude man's silence, "So you still don't believe me. Okay. Let's see. One of the beasts was this large six-legged alligator…"

She started listing the various beasts and megaflora that were now digesting in her rapidly shrinking belly.

Galala Gator: 90 tons each, Ox Chicken: 15 tons each, Giant Turkey: 75 tons each, Volcano Weathercock: 10 tons each, Five-Tailed Giant Eagle: 45 tons each, Demon Devil Serpent:100 tons each, Elephantsaurus: 125 tons each, and so on.

Every 'food item' this monster blithely listed horrified everyone besides her teammates who were trying not to laugh. Each of these specimens took elite teams to capture; several men died in the process.

Yet this Eldritch Being glutted all of their hard-won gains as a 'pitiful snack'!

"How? How is this possible?" The devastated scientist barely choked out a whisper as her enormous belly was nearly flat.

Unfortunately, the monster's sharp ears heard the whisper, "All of those delicious beasts, flora, and the energy from the power cells barely made a dent! Tell me where you got this bounty! I'm Starving!"

As if to make her point, the monster turned her head towards the hole she made and let out a near-deafening roar of a belch demolishing what was left of the wall and pushing back all of the remaining men and tanks outside.

What is this monstrosity?!

"Shit!" Not only did the wimp not answer Ife's question, but now he's slumped on the floor.

"He's out cold, Ife."

"I can see that, Nat. All I wanted was some more food!"

"Some?"

"Fine. But you know he didn't make them from scratch. He had to have gotten from somewhere."

Some of the stronger-nerved goons were able to recover from Ife's Roar, "Damn, that woman's scary!"

"Nah, man. She's a monster in human skin."

"Which is a shame, too. She's fucking hot!"

"I know, right?! Wouldn't mind going a few rounds with her."

Steve scowled as he marched up to six of the trash-talking goons inside one of the still intact tanks, ripped off the tank's hatch, and yanked four of them by their collars."I'm only gonna say this once. Never, and I mean never, say that crap about my team. Especially the 'abomination', got it?" his voice never rising above a calm, measured tone.

"Yes!"

Steve felt he needed to drive this home, "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good."

Nat rolled her eyes at Ife's bashful body posture at Steve defending her. They weren't fooling anyone.

Ife was able to pick up the scent of more delectable beasts and flew off to satisfy her voracious appetite. The scent came from a fortified bunker not far from the main base. She ripped off the building by the foundation in her haste to fill her hunger void.

It led her to a heavily fortified manmade cavern with a huge portal at the opposite end of the entrance and containment units housing even more of the delectable beasts lining the sides.

She licked her lips in excitement but stopped when she got a good look at the animals. That craven of a scientist is lucky she's too hungry to revisit him.

"I should probably tell Nat and Steve."

Nat peered into the last unlocked containment unit. She found a giant garden snake-like creature that seemed to take a liking to her. Its scales were the color of twilight at its height. She wondered if-

"You should name her."

Nat nearly swiveled her head, "What?"

"She likes you. You should name her."

"How can you tell?"

"I just know," Ife shrugged.

"Hmm. How about сумерки (Sumerki: twilight)?"

The snake affectionately rubbed her head against the reinforced glass containment wall.

"See? She loves it!"

Sumerki was the last beast on this side of the portal and was about to pass through but turned and playfully poked Ife's midsection.

"You want me to come with you?" The snake nodded.

Ife turned back to Steve and Nat, "Umm, can I-" her stomach roared asking the question for her.

"It's alright, Ife. You can go, but don't be long." Steve rubbed his hand behind his head. Neither of them wanted to deal with a hangry Ife.

Ife flew into his warm embrace, "Thank you so much!" She kissed both his cheeks, "I promise to document everything I see!"

When will those lovable dorks admit they love each other?

It wasn't long before Ife and Sumerki came back smiling and sporting enormous food bellies. Ife sped off before she could say anything. The next thing they heard was a five-minute sonic roar of a belch causing mini-tremors and cracks forming on the ground.

Sounds of her epic belch were heard 15km away.

They were glad that the scientist was stationed in the middle of nowhere.

Ife flew back into Steve's arms, "Thanks again!" Ife smiled as Steve returned the hug.

Both Natasha and Sumerki shook their heads wearing the same expression.

Ife pulled out her tablet and personal interface, "Okay, so my hunch was right and this place is incredibly vast. I was only able to explore .25% of the place."

Even Natasha was taken aback by the amount of information Ife had, "Just how big is this place?"

"So this new 'realm' is called Guloxity?"

Fury turned the last page of Ife's extensive report. He had a laugh at her devouring over 300K tons of food and was still famished.

The whole team had a laugh riot. Tony even joked about how much he'd save on grocery bills—even though she provides most of her food. It's the least he could do since he blackmailed her into joining the team.

Thanks to her, SHIELD has access to a new realm. Plus the snake she and Natasha befriended has been a delight. However, he did wonder how Ife and her friends were able to create a habitat and a size modulator so quickly.

"Do you find the terms agreeable?" Aliza looked back at Fury's desk. The deal stipulates that any findings and all findings SHIELD makes involving the new realm must be free and open to the public. This means that all patents and research can not be owned by any single nation or corporation including Stark Industries.

Banner had consoled Stark when he read out the terms.

No matter. Fury had his best people on this new venture. Even managed to rope in Banner and Dr. Cho. Ife was able to recreate the unique energy signature from the mad scientist's power cells as a source of renewable energy.

In the end, he was glad it worked out.

Now what's this about Ife showcasing new dishes based on what she found in Guloxity?

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @lookiamtrying @angrythingstarlight @gotnofucks @saiyanprincessswanie @navybrat817 @plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms @idorkish @sgt-seabass

[anubisisms]

(Different anon) I'm hearing every side of criticism about Alice Oseman, but what confuses me is how a lot of that criticism is based on a 2017 reply. While I do believe it is important to uphold people to their words of the past, is it just possible Alice and their art just changed in the past 6 or 7 years instead of them being a hypocrite? I just Heartstopper for the first time last month so I wasn't present at the time, but has Alice said more to show growth overtime? (But I also understand the frustration of East Asian fans and authors insulted by Alice's words and how time doesn't necessarily forgive that)

Btw, the art is confirmed to have been drawn by Alice as they posted it to their Tapas, Webtoon and Tumblr accounts themselves.

Ooh, thank you for the confirmation on Alice themself posting it! I've only seen the Twitter side so I appreciate it <3

Personally, I haven't seen any recent public statements from Oseman regarding if their opinions have changed; they might well have, and I'm very pleased for them if that's the case. As far as I know, they haven't offered a retraction on anything they've said previously. They don't have their archive enabled on tumblr, so I can't check for sure whether or not that original ask about sexual content is still up. I couldn't find it after a few tag searches, so they well could have deleted it because they changed their mind. I won't make a definitive statement either way. I don't know Alice personally, so I can't say.

All we really have to go on is that they've made no (public) effort to retract their words, and they certainly seemed to lean into the 'wholesome and healthy' image Heartstopper has when the Netflix series was premiering. But again, that in itself isn't a bad thing, and I don't blame Alice for that; it's fine to cater to a certain audience! Heartstopper is wholesome and healthy! Wanting a SFW community is totally okay!!!

But the issue is less hypocrisy on Alice's part and more that they did court the SFW audience enough that it's become an established part of their brand. They did enable this kind of community to grow. And it remains ridiculous that they're being treated this way. The 'fans' doing this need to learn the concept of don't like, don't read, or just how to disengage altogether. The problem is that the audience that's been curated doesn't see even the wholesome and sweet depictions of sex in Heartstopper as acceptable. The people complaining about this want their gay men sanitised and sexless.

It's an example of the old 'leopards eating your face' political joke: if you don't want to get your face eaten by a leopard, don't vote for the Leopards Eating Faces Party. Even if it was years ago, Alice set the culture of Heartstopper's community as 'pure, clean and fluffy'. They attracted people who hold disdain for NSFW content. Tossing some NSFW content in there after so long of 'clean wholesomeness', no matter how mild, is going to set those people off like a bomb.

I just feel bad for them, honestly. There's nothing wrong with that art they posted. Even if they did make some missteps years ago, this hysteria is absurd. Whether they have changed their views or not, it sucks that they're being called horrific things, accused of crimes, and misgendered online. The people doing it need to be deactivated ASAP.

It's not so much about hypocrisy as it is the cause and effect, unfortunately. Hopefully it all blows over soon! It's the dumbest discourse I've seen in a while.

[radfemie]

I’ve been desperate to talk to someone about this, but everyone in my life says I’m being crazy about it. I just discovered the radfem community on tumblr and I honestly thought I was alone in how much I hated men. You can totally just delete this if you want. I’m just desperate to talk to someone who might understand my feelings right now.

I got an office job 2 years ago. My office is mostly conservative boomers, but there are two “far-left, communist” men on my team. They are best friends. They started being friendly with me pretty quickly, and I welcomed it at first since there’s no one else my age to talk to.

They constantly talk about feminism, respecting women, hating “other men” and how they treat women, etc. It was a bit white-knighty, a bit incel, but I figured it was miles better than them sexually harassing me like my coworkers at other jobs have.

We started talking daily, and it became more and more obvious how disgusting they are. They talk down to me all the time, infantilizing me, acting like I’m not a real adult… I’m 25 and they are 27.

One of them is engaged, and I realized he has only ever told me negative stories about his fiance, stuff that annoyed him about her. He also told me a lot of stories about the other coworker’s relationship problems, telling me he had a lot of crazy exs and that he had commitment issues. This coworker got a girlfriend for a few weeks last spring, and the only thing they could tell me about her was that she wore a corset to the party he met her at and that she “wasn’t like other girls” because she listened to the same medieval music they like. Literally they could tell me nothing about her personality except that basically, he asked her out because he saw her tits.

then three weeks later he told me they broke up. why? the girl got too “clingy”… because she thought he wanted a romantic relationship because he asked her on more than one date, and brought up the topic to him. he broke up with her immediately because of his “commitment issues,” and because she didn’t wear the corset 24/7, i’m assuming. but guess what? she’s now on the crazy ex list too! they told me her name was banned in their group chat.

I also get treated like shit at the office because i’m a woman, and when i complain about how our bosses treat me on a daily basis, they just change the subject. but when they got treated like me ONCE, they threw temper tantrums in our group chat and wouldn’t shut up about it for days, talking about how they were going to burn the system down and guillotine the CEO. except they can’t even manage to use their privilege to speak up and defend me once at work. it’s well known at our office that white men do not get fired. they can do literally no work, and they still won’t get fired, but the women will get abused for not picking up their slack. i found out recently that I do the exact same work as them but get paid $20K less, too.

i’m not even at the really fun thing yet. one of them is super super vocal about being an anarchist and a communist. talking proudly about how he sits down for the national anthem and shit like he actually did something. always preaching about how you shouldn’t take shit from your boss. we had a company wide anniversary party this year where the CEO spent an hour on stage making women in the kitchen jokes and talking about the accomplishments of all the white men VPs, which pretty amounted to “the women did the work, but the men had to order them around, so who really did the hard work here? am i right fellas??” at one point, they had a 10 minute bit about how one VP is known widely for being physically abusive to employees, throwing garbage cans at people’s heads and punching through walls.

the CEO brought in photos of this. and we were all supposed to laugh, except i had an abusive childhood, and was in an abusive relationship, and it was genuinely triggering for me. but i was so in utter shock at the absurdity of it all, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how many women were in the crowd, and statistically how many of us had been raped and physically abused, and now were forced to attend a mandatory party to celebrate this disgusting violent male behavior. i couldn’t keep my mouth shut. i said something along the lines of “wow so funny, it’s so funny to terrorize your employees! fucking assholes” loud enough that my coworker could hear, thinking he would at least agree with that.

nope. he shot me a dirty look. like a “shut up, the bosses are here” kind of look. the same dude who said he wanted to guillotine the boss became they asked him to file a couple papers. turns out he had quietly been promoted to a manager! and the only way to be a manager here is to enforce their mad men culture to a T. you have to be totally on the side of the CEOs.

you know that post about “leftist woke sex-positive communist dudes” being one of the worst types of men? it’s this same guy. this man enjoys discussing big tiddy goth girlfriends in front of women a bit too much. is a little too supportive of women exploring their sexualities, and if they want to have a threesome with him to explore, that’s more than ok! :))) is a little TOO into lesbians.

i stopped talking to them completely. I couldn’t listen to it anymore, and then listen to them tell me how feminist they are and talk over me when I try to call them out on their bull shit.

now our bosses are talking about making manager boy my new manager. and it’s giving me so much stress, because I will have to quit on the spot. I’ll literally kill him. He’s so fucking annoying, and i already can’t take orders from men in general, but in men my age i can’t handle it at all.

anyway. sorry about this. thank you for listening.

Those men only care when it's affecting them, not you or other women.

I apologize for not getting to this sooner, but I have read it!! It just pisses me off how these men dgaf about anything but themselves & maybe their male buddies.