#do not fucking start any arguments on this post i am not here to argue my opinion

[rafesangelita]

so anyway I was thinking about something about bitchy!Kook!reader (since she's my ultimate favorite)

maybe rafe has gifted her a promise ring at some point in their relationship, and despite all their highs and lows, even in their worst nights, she has NEVER taken it off

and maybe they are in a heated argument and they're mad at each other (but not broken up, just mad) and they are attending a party and he notices that she isn't wearing it, so he loses his absolute shit and drags her somewhere, making a scene and telling her how much he cares about her (in his own way, ofc) and how hurt he is until she simply smirks and tells him that she's taken it off because she's getting it cleaned up

-🦉

warnings: arguing, slight angst, light fluff

a/n: join my private community for girly talks! ♡ you can comment under this post, send me a message, or leave something in my ask box for an invitation!

“can you fix your face? ‘at least try to act like you want to be here with me right now?” rafe whispered in your ear, a slight pinch of irritation lacing his tone. you swallowed thickly, flashing him a glare as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders so he wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention towards you two. “i told you i wanted to leave a long time ago and instead of wrapping things up, you disappeared for another drink. i’ve been sitting here on this couch with you for over two hours now, listening to your idiot friends talk about their latest escapades. how about you fix your fucking face?”

rafe looked around to make sure no one caught any of the words that just left your mouth, his jaw clenching as he gripped you by the back of your neck. “is that how you’re gonna act right now? that’s what we’re doing?” at this, you trailed a hand down rafe’s stomach, your nails digging into his flesh hard enough to make him hiss and let go of you. “grab me like that again and i’ll leave your ass in front of everybody.” rafe knew that wasn’t an empty threat, considering you’ve already done it before and topper still hasn’t let him live the embarrassment down.

rafe gave you a curt nod, his eyes raking down your form before they rested on your bare fingers. “what the fuck?” he spoke out loud, the group conversation coming to a halt. without another word, rafe got up, dragging you along with him as he guided you two outside to his truck. “oh, now you wanna go home?” you scoffed, managing to pull away from him before he hoisted you into the passenger’s seat, his body wedged between the door as he took ahold of your hands. “i know we’ve been fighting a lot recently, and i’m sure we get on each other’s nerves all the time, but taking off your ring? are you fucking serious?”

your eyebrows knitted in confusion, your mouth barely opening before rafe started going on a rampage. “i bought you that ring to uphold a promise to you, y/n, and i’ve kept it. through all of our bullshit, through all of our problems, through damn near everything; you’ve never taken that ring off. even when we were close to leaving each other once and for all, you were still wearing it. that ring saved us, and now? you’re just giving up like that?” rafe sounded pained, his voice dropping slightly as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. “rafe—” you tried to interject again, but still he continued.

“i love you, and i know i fucking suck at showing it, but you know i do. you’re the only person who puts up with my shit and still loves me as i am. you work with me even though i make it really hard, and you don’t throw my mistakes in my face every chance you get. you’re patient with me when i least deserve it.. i could go on and on about everything you do for me.. please just put your ring back on.” you weren’t expecting rafe to pour his heart out to you, your anger from earlier dissipating into nothing as your gaze softened. “i can’t—” rafe groaned, kneeling down onto the step bar of the truck as he held your hands to his chest.

“why?!” you couldn’t help but laugh, your resolve crumbling as rafe looked up at you desperately. “what’s so funny? i’m literally about to have a panic attack right now.” you laughed harder, shaking your head. “rafe, i’m getting my ring cleaned! i’ve been trying to tell you since you dragged me out here but you kept interrupting me.” your boyfriend let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulders falling in relief. “when did you take it?” you helped him off his knees, rolling your eyes as he pulled you into his embrace. “remember, i told you i was going to the mall with chanel? i dropped it off there and i’m supposed to go back for it tomorrow..”

rafe nodded, his hands running up and down your back. “well, we better get you another ring for when you’re getting the other one cleaned. i can’t have you giving me heart attacks like that.”

[delilahsturniolo]

⋆˙⟡ ۶ৎ 📞 BABY, CAN YOU CALL ME BACK? I MISS YOU . . .

in which . . . you and matt get into an argument over the phone while he’s away for tour. matt calls you again hours later, apologizing and letting you know how much he misses you.

warnings . . . phone sex, mutual masturbation, degradation, dirty talk, arguing, angst, sexual descriptions, cursing, matt talking you through it.

written by @delilahsturniolo, do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

the call starts out fine. he’s in some city you can’t remember the name of. maybe denver. or dallas. it doesn’t matter. he’s not here. he hasn’t been for weeks. you’re curled up on your bed, wearing his hoodie, one of the only things that still smells like him. it’s past midnight and the video call glitches when he answers. he looks tired. his hair’s messy. he’s got a water bottle in one hand and his phone in the other, held up under his chin like he can’t be bothered to try. “hey,” he says, voice scratchy from the show “hey,” you reply, quiet.

he talks about the crowd, about his travels, all that stuff. you nod. smile where it feels appropriate. but something’s off, he doesn’t ask about your day. doesn’t notice the dark circles under your eyes or the way your voice shakes a little when you talk. and you’re already too close to the edge to let it slide. you miss him, so damn much. “do you even care how i am?” you blurt. matt pauses. “what?”

“you didn’t ask. not once.” your voice cracks. “i’ve been trying so hard to be cool about this, matt, but i feel like i’m dating a fucking ghost.” his jaw tightens. “that’s not fair.”

“neither is the fact that i haven’t seen you in a month and the best i get is a ten-minute facetime where you talk more about the food you ate than me.”

“i’m working,” he says, sharper now. “this isn’t a vacation. i’m exhausted.”

“and i’m lonely!” you snap, tears brimming. “but that doesn’t matter, right? because as long as you’re doing your thing, i’m just supposed to shut up and deal with it.”

he goes quiet. his face darkens. “i can’t do this right now,” he mutters. “of course not,” you say bitterly. “you never can.” then he hangs up. your phone screen goes black and the room suddenly feels colder. you don’t cry. not at first. you just sit there, staring at the screen, fists clenched, chest burning with anger and heartbreak. you toss your phone on the bed, crawl under the covers, and try to pretend you’re not falling apart.

two hours pass.

then, your phone buzzes, you don’t look right away. but then the screen lights up again. matt calling, your heart stutters. you answer. neither of you says anything for a few seconds. then his voice…low, rough, soft in the dark.

“i’m sorry.”

you breathe out slowly. “me too.”

“i shouldn’t have hung up. that was a dick move.”

“i shouldn’t have picked a fight,” you whisper. “i just… miss you so bad it hurts.” he exhales. “i know, baby. i miss you too. like fucking crazy.” silence. then, more quietly…

“can i tell you something?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“i—i just…i needed to hear your voice again.”

your breath catches.

“been laying in this hotel bed thinking about you. thinking about how mad you looked. even that turned me on.” his voice dips, husky now. “you know what that does to me, don’t you?”you squirm under your blankets. “what?”

“the way your voice sounds when you’re mad. the way your lips pout when you’re frustrated. i kept picturing you walking away from the phone, pacing in my hoodie, no pants on, just those little shorts that ride up when you sit…fuck.” your body heats instantly.

“matt…”

“i know, baby. i know. you’re probably in bed right now, aren’t you? wearing that hoodie. nothing else.” you can’t speak. your breath’s gone, you clench your thighs together, trying to contain the heat pooling between your legs.

“i’d be touching you if i was there. slow. careful. i’d make it up to you, make you forget why you were ever mad in the first place. i’d kiss your thighs, your stomach, every inch of you.”

“matt,” you whisper, needy now.

“say it again,” he murmurs. “please.”

“matt,” you moan out into the speaker, softer, more desperate.

“good girl,” he groans. “you don’t even know what you do to me.” you close your eyes, biting your lip. “touch yourself for me,” he says, voice ragged. “just a little. i wanna hear how bad you need me.” your fingers trail down slowly, as he whispers your name again and again like a prayer, voice thick with lust and love and everything you’ve both been holding in for too long. the argument fades like smoke, what’s left is the ache. the love. the promise of his hands on you again soon.

you breathe, your hand sliding down your body. "i miss you so much, i need you." matt groans. "i know, baby, i need you too," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "i wish i could touch you, taste you, feel your body against mine. i'd run my hands all over your soft skin, teasing you until you were begging for more."

"tell me what you'd do to me," you beg, your fingers toying with the hem of your panties. "tell me how you'd make me feel."

"first, i'd kiss you, long and deep," he starts, his voice low and seductive. "i'd taste every inch of your mouth, claim you with my tongue. then i'd trail kisses down your neck, sucking and biting until i left marks on your skin…” you moan softly, your eyes fluttering closed as you imagine his lips on your body. your fingers slip beneath your panties, finding your clit and circling it slowly.

"then i'd move down to your breasts, sucking and licking your nipples until they were hard and aching," he continues, his voice rough with desire. "i'd worship your body with my mouth, kissing and tasting every inch of your skin." you whimper, your fingers moving faster against your clit. "more," you beg, your voice breathy and needy.

"then i'd spread your legs, baring your pretty pussy to me," he growls, and you can hear the hunger in his voice. "i'd lick you from top to bottom, tasting your sweetness. i'd fuck you with my tongue, thrusting it deep inside you until you were writhing and moaning beneath me." you cry out, your hips bucking against your hand. "matt, please," you whimper, your body trembling with need.

"fuck yourself on your fingers," he commands, his voice low and rough. "imagine it's my cock inside you, stretching you open, filling you up. i want you to feel me, even though i'm not there." you obey, sliding two fingers inside yourself, your walls clenching around them. you moan loudly, your hips rocking against your hand.

"that's it, baby," he encourages, his voice strained. "fuck yourself just like that, take what you need. imagine my hands on your body, my cock deep inside you." you hear him moan softly, and you realize he's stroking himself, his hand moving up and down his thick shaft. the thought of him jerking off to the sound of your moans sends a thrill through your body.

"you like that, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dirty. "you like knowing i'm stroking my cock, thinking about your tight little pussy. you're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?" you moan loudly, your fingers moving faster inside yourself. "yes," you whimper, your voice breathy and needy. "i'm—oh my gosh..”

"fuck, you're so hot," he groans, his breathing ragged. "i wish i could see you, see your fingers fucking your pussy, see your face as you cum. i’d give anything to be inside you right now, pounding into you until you screamed."

"matt," you gasp, your fingers curling inside yourself. "i'm so close, i need to cum!”

"cum for me," he growls, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "cum all over your fingers, let me hear you scream. i want to hear how good i make you feel, even from miles away." with a cry, you come undone, your body convulsing around your fingers. you moan his name over and over again, your hips bucking wildly. "that's it, baby," he purrs, his voice low and satisfied. "just like that. i wish i could be there to hold you, to taste your cum on my tongue, to feel your body against mine."

you hear his breathing quicken, his moans growing louder. "fuck, i'm gonna cum," he groans, his voice rough with pleasure. "i'm gonna cum thinking about you, about your tight pussy, your gorgeous body." with a loud moan, he comes undone, his cum spilling over his hand as he strokes himself through his orgasm. you listen to his moans, your body trembling with pleasure. "soon," you promise, your voice rough with emotion. "soon we'll be together again."

"i can't wait," he whispers. "until then, know that i love you, that i'm always thinking of you. i'll be dreaming of you tonight, of touching you and tasting you and fucking you until you scream." you laugh. "i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling with love and desire. as you lay in bed, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure, you know that no matter the distance between you, your love will always keep you connected.

© delilahsturniolo

taglist

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 8: The One About the Adjacent of Convenience

Are you guys ready to return to our regularly scheduled programme?

Actually, I must applaud the majority of the people who read my blog for how well they handled Sunday. It seemed many of you got a good laugh out of it and were then gifted Monday morning with an updated post from that dear restauranteur tossing out Lady Whistledown’s name for – honestly, I don’t know why he threw it out there. Do you?

Moving on…

Yesterday, I discussed Antonia. Today, I am going to venture over to the other side of the fandom and discuss – you guessed it – Jake Dunn.

And, no, I’m not summoning the Balrog today. In fact, I don’t equate Jake to a creature from the depths of Moria because, generally speaking, he doesn’t bother me.

Do I find him a tad annoying? Of course I do. But, only because the perception of his relationship with Nicola has been warped into something ass backwards (no pun intended) to anyone with two bits of common sense, and because he’s always inconveniently there.

At the right time.

For those pap pictures.

However, the rational side of my brain reminds me that if I don’t see anything romantic in Nicola’s relationships with, say, JVN, Mark, Golda, Jack, or either of the Dylans, I shouldn’t be bothered by her relationship with Jake. Would we be paying any attention to Jake if he wasn’t being shoved down our throats by anti-Lukolas? No, probably not.

But, here we are.

I will preface this entry with my belief that Jake did not ask to be linked romantically to Nicola. That was Deux Moi's doing. Keep that in mind as you read through this. Deux Moi created that bullshit plotline and then rabid dogs ran with it.

By the way, those are the people you should be worried about. The ones pushing their “Jakola” narratives with blind aggression. I’m talking about those “in your face” assholes whose real motive behind shipping Nicola with anyone-but-Luke is solely based on their rapid-fire hatred towards Luke. These people are not Jakolas; these people are the Jakholes.

*Oh, now is the time to slip this in… My disclaimer (or, my “ask”) for today is, let’s not pick on the Sincerely Ignorant Jakola shippers. They are just as volatile as the Sincerely Ignorant Lukola shippers. They spiral fast and hard, too. Seriously, don’t fuck with these people, please. I believe most of them to be nice people.

Thank you, next.

I know that some of you will argue that Jake is a manipulative little shit and intentionally tried to make connections between Nicola and himself by way of pictures in her personal spaces and a fucking bucket hat, and that may be true. In fact, I’ve heard this argument from Lukolas that I highly respect. It’s very possible Jake has taken advantage of his friendship with Nicola. I understand the argument behind this theory and, I’ll be honest, it has made me question Jake’s character.

But, that’s not the point I’m trying to make today.

Today, I want to focus on how Jake became an “adjacent of convenience.”

What is that exactly? Well, actually, I just now made that shit up. But, it means he’s an adjacent, not because he’s romantically involved with Nicola, but rather he was in the wrong place at the right time.

It’s funny to me, when you spend some time mapping out all the little nuances that make up the Lukola timeline, that you start seeing a bigger picture.

I do not know who was behind Papsmear. Word on the street is that it was Deux Moi. I don’t know if anyone has ever actually confirmed that so, for now, I can only speculate – and speculate I will!

If you look at events in chronological order, it is interesting that, in July, the day before a video of Luke and Antonia at the GQ dinner hit social media, Deux Moi posted old pictures of Luke and Antonia from, I believe, January. Why? It’s also interesting that the day before People Magazine published the Italy Pap pictures of Luke and Antonia, Deux Moi rehashed Papsmear. Again, why?

Do you see the patterns patterning?

I thought you would.

Then what happened?

Well, “Hot Boy Summer” suddenly came to an abrupt halt with Luke returning to London.

Alone.

Is it odd to you that Luke has not been papped with Antonia since the end of July? Because it’s pretty damn odd to me. Is it possible that Luke and Antonia ceased to be “together” at the end of July? If you have read my previous entry, you already know my opinion on this.

But, dammit, that’s a shame! No more scraps for the paps. How unfortunate for Deux Moi.

Okay, then what?

Well, “Chaos Week” began. We had Nicola posting a shit storm of content starting August 4 with French toast and ending August 16 with “Juna.” We had Wordle. We had Scrabble. We had the “Drink Your Milk” shirt. We had “Bless the Telephone.” We had “very demure, very mindful” (which, in my opinion, was confirming the intent behind “Chaos Week”). Oddly, all these things seemed to weigh heavily in Lukolas’ favor. We could even take it a bit further by including the August 22 “BTS Polin” picture and the August 23 “modern day carriage” story (you know, the picture of Nicola looking oh-so-come-hither-sexy in the back of a car), which was followed up two days later by JVN’s “finger” demo. I mean, the Lukola train was rolling, right?! Fuck, yeah, it was!

But, then it came to a very abrupt stop on August 25 when Deux Moi posted pictures of Nicola hanging out with Jake at a music festival. The narrative being given? Oh, so cozy vibes.

And, that’s the moment Jake became an adjacent of convenience.

Just from being at a concert.

Taking a picture with Nicola.

Before this point, did I know who Jake Dunn was? Yeah, I did. I’d seen – in fact DEUX MOI – post pictures of Nicola and Jake hanging out in a pub together in July. I’ll be honest, I looked Jake up at the time and everything I read about him seemed to point in the exact same direction it points to today – that he’s not romantically involved with Nicola.

In fact, I polled at least two dozen of my fellow Lukolas (with the majority of them being fellow Fact Finders, with a select few being “long haulers”) about whether they’d heard of “Jakolas” before August 25. Their answer was a collective and figuratively loud NO.

What does that say to you? It makes me believe that the Jakolas were born from those festival pictures.

How convenient.

Just a few short weeks after the Antonia/Luke ship (do they even have a name?) hit an iceberg (pun intended), we suddenly have the christening of a new ship. The USS Jakola.

How convenient.

Now, think about every good thing that has come about in the Lukola fandom since the Jakholes were released into the wild.

Every positive has been collectively counteracted with a negative.

Think about the timing of all those pap pictures with Jake.

Think about who is releasing those pap pictures.

Are the patterns starting to pattern in your head?

Think about how much effort Nicola has put into erasing the Jakola narrative.

Think about how little effort Nicola has put into erasing the Lukola narrative.

Think about how much that must piss the fuck out of the Jakholes. And Deux Moi.

Anyone want to go with me to rescue Jake from the USS Jakola? I heard the Jakholes put him in the hull closet.

If you have some hesitation, I suppose I could agree to keep him hostage until we know where his allegiance lies. But I'm thinking he's dying to get off that ship.

[demonsslayersstuff]

Hair Washing (Levi Ackerman x Gender Neutral Reader)

Description: Just a little slice of life story about helping Levi wash his hair post war.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, nudity, suggestive content (nothing too graphic), and comfort.

A/N: Here’s the first of my end of the year fics that I am writing. I’ve always liked the idea of a soft Levi so I decided to go with that in this fic. Anyway Enjoy!

P.S: Working on chapter 7 of my Gojo fic so keep your eyes open for that!

You hear the all too familiar clatter of what you assume is the shampoo bottle followed by the not so quiet, “Fuck”, that spills out of Levi’s mouth. It had been a never ending battle for Levi in these past few weeks, trying and often failing to shower properly on his own. His injured leg made it near impossible to stand anymore and his lack of fingers on his one hand made gripping soapy slick things extremely difficult.

You sigh, before going to stand awkwardly at the door too afraid to knock. Levi and you had argued bitterly about this predicament, while he was grateful for your offer of help, he didn’t want to feel like an invalid. You respected his feelings and were supportive of him doing things on his own. In fact, you’d always let Levi do things on his own, only helping when he begrudgingly asked you for assistance (after failing to complete the task multiple times on his own).

But today you as you stand near the door you feel a difference in the air, hear a quiet cry of pain and you decide then and there you were done with this situation the two of you were in. You fling the bathroom open and catch the grimace of pain on Levi’s face that he was trying to mask. “I thought I told you that I can do it-”, Levi starts, anger clear in his tone, but for once you don’t care and soon two words that you never thought you’d say to your partner roll off your tongue. “Shut up”, you tell him before you lean down to grab the shampoo bottle you knew he had desperately been trying to pick up, before placing carefully back in its usual place as you flick the shower off for a moment.

Levi stares at you with a shocked expression, eyes blown wide open. In all the years of being in the Scout Regiment together he knew you to be a bit temperamental at times, but never once had you ever spoken back towards a higher ranking official. He watches as you run your palm over your face, fingers rubbing the sides of your temple and sigh, a clear indication of your frustration. “Levi, I know you can do it on your own, I do”, you begin after you remove your fingers from your head, your eyes locking with his.

“You are and will always be one of the strongest people I know. But remember sometimes even the strongest need help and there’s no shame in that”, you finish, tone a bit softer. You watch as Levi huffs before closing his eyes for a long time as he was trying to think of a counter argument. You use the opportunity to squat down near the stool he was sitting on before reaching out to gently cup his cheek, your movements forcing him to open his eyes. “I have an idea in mind, a sort of compromise if you’re willing to hear it?”, you ask him, your voice gone of any previous anger. You so desperately wanted to help him and fighting wasn’t going to solve this.

“Well seeing as you told me to shut up, I don’t really have a choice”, Levi gruffly responds. Your cheeks go red with embarrassment, guilty that you’d let your anger get the best of you. However you hear the lingering trace of cheekiness in his words and know that he’d forgiven you. “Listen, how about for the next few weeks I help you shower”, you start, but Levi doesn’t look too happy with your words. “Let me finish”, you tell him with steely eyes and watch as Levi swallows whatever words were in his mouth. You grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze before continuing. “As I was saying, I’ll help you shower the next few weeks. But during that time we’ll see what we need to change about the bathroom in order to make showering alone easier for you to do”, you finish with a small smile on your face.

You watch has Levi ponders your suggestion. It was a fair idea, he had to admit and if the two of you managed to change up the bathroom to be more accessible, then he’d be able to gain a sense of independence he’d been trying retain. “Ok, let’s do it”, Levi finally says and you jump up with an excited squeal as Levi sighs quietly, though there was a barely there smile that graced his features. “Now, may help you?”, you ask Levi sweetly. He nods his head in ascent and you get straight to work…by taking off your own clothes.

“What are you doing?”, Levi questions, the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of pink. “Oh please, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before, if I remember correctly last night you were the one practically begging me to lose my clothes”, you quip back, making his ears turn a darker shade of pink. “Besides I don’t want my clothes getting wet”, you continue before turning on the warm water. “You could have just started with that”, Levi mutters though his good eye clung to the curvature of your body, a sight that would never bore him. You were the most beautiful thing on the planet and as you lean down to kiss his forehead, Levi begins to question why the two of you have never showered together in the first place. My stubborn pride, he muses internally.

“Ok, what’s the most difficult thing for you?”, you question as you move to turn the water warmer, the temperate spray falling on both of your bodies. “Reaching for things”, Levi admits honestly, though his tone was thick with embarrassment, which you politely ignored. “Could you please reach for the shampoo so I can make a note of where we need to move the shelf?”, you ask him softly as the water continues trickle down your bodies, its heat creating a steam that swirled around the room. You watch carefully as Levi moves his arm and you make a mental note of where it hovers in the air. “Thanks, I’m gonna start washing your hair”, you murmur as you grab the shampoo, slathering the soap in your hands.

Once they are covered in suds you place your hands onto Levi’s head, fingers working with a meticulous pace as you work the soap into his dark locks and onto his scalp. Levi leans his head back slightly, lost in the touch of your fingers on his head, he moans quietly as your fingers scratch around his ears in a delicate manner. Levi cracks an eye open, to look up at you, your head blocking the water that falls from the shower head. His good eye focuses on your face, capturing the determined yet, soft expression of your face as you continue to wash his hair. Levi can only guess the look on your eyes was the overwhelming love you had for him, something that makes his heart beat a little faster.

You catch his eye watching you, causing you to give him light smile before you lean down and capture his lips with a soft chaste kiss. “Let’s rinse your hair now”, you tell him as you move your head out of the way, letting the water fall across Levi’s face and hair. Your fingers work quickly to rinse out the soap as they thread through his hair, though you are mindful of the potential knots your fingers catch from the earlier scrubbing. You move to stand in front of Levi, hands moving to cup his neck gingerly as you straighten his posture. “Ok, body washing time”, you begin, but Levi cuts you off. “Wait”, he mumbles quietly, voice nearly catching in his throat. You look at him, eyebrows raised, your question spoken through your eyes. “I want to wash your hair”, Levi tells you, voice firm, though his face holds a different emotion.

“Ok”, you murmur as Levi hands come to grip your waist, pulling you onto to his lap. Your thighs come to rest against his hips as your feet rest on the tile floor, brushing up against the stool’s legs. Your hands are splayed on Levi’s shoulders as you straddle his waist, your ass firmly planted on his strong thighs. The two of you get lost in the intimate embrace for a moment, his stormy blue eye holding your own eyes at attention. Levi uses this opportunity to then softly brush his lips against your own, a small gesture riddled with so many unspoken words. Soft Levi was his way of expressing his love without him having to explicitly state it. Your hands release their hold on his shoulders as they creep up back into his wet locks, your arms moving his neck forward gently forcing his face closer. You part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, moaning faintly as his tongue swipes against your own. Levi’s grip on your waist tightens, his internal battle of desire brooding on the surface. As much as he’d love to take you here and now, Levi knew that intimacy wasn’t just sex, it was other things, so he resolved to complete his stated task.

With a hushed sigh, Levi begrudgingly pulls away from your heady lips. “Let me wash your hair”, Levi reminds you as he pecks your nose for a brief second, letting you catch your breath. You let out a muffled “Mhmm”, as you grab the shampoo bottle, pouring out more soap, this time into Levi’s palm. You duck your head down as Levi’s fingers work the soap into your hair. You close your eyes as his fingers massage your temple silently, the only sound that could be heard was the water steadily rolling down into the drain. When he was finished, Levi’s fingers moved to help rise the suds from your hair as the still warm water continued to flow across your bodies, almost as if the two of you had been caught in a warm summer rain shower.

Once Levi had completed his task, you reach to grab the body soap, lathering your hands as you rubbed the bar between your fingers. You stand, sad as you removed yourself from your comfortable position on Levi’s lap, but as much as you wanted to remain there and kiss him senseless, the two had now been in the shower for quite some time, your pruned fingers a clear indication of just how long you’d be in the water. “Ready?”, you ask him as you lean down, hands freely roaming his body, layering his skin with a delicate line of soap. Levi wraps his arms on your shoulder as you carefully hoist him up for a moment, allowing himself to clean the parts of him that he couldn’t whilst he was sitting down.

As Levi rinses his body you work quickly to wash your own body before rinsing off yourself, letting the last of the warmth wrap you into a gentle embrace before you finally turned off the water. You step out of the shower to grab two towels from the cabinet across from the sink, handing Levi one before wrapping the fluffy fabric around your body. You watch Levi dry himself of, eyes continuously trained on his sculpted body. “What?”, he asks, bringing you back to attention. “Nothing…I just…you’re, striking”, you mumble, before turning away to dry your hair. Your words cling to Levi, he enjoyed making you flustered, but this time he felt something deeper within your words.

“Thank you”, Levi murmurs as the two of you finish getting dressed, you helping him sit down in his wheelchair. “You don’t need to thank me”, you tell him, picking up the dirty clothes and towels before placing them in the hamper. “No, I do, I’ve been stubborn about this for a while, but today was nice”, Levi continues, sincerity laced in his words. “You’re welcome”, you answer back. “Now, what do you want for dinner?”, you ask him, stepping out of the bathroom. You hear Levi sigh, “No way in hell am I letting you cook again”, he calls after you. You laughter rings through your home and as Levi follows you into the kitchen he can’t help be feel a sense of gratefulness that this is the life he gets to lead now.

[x--sinner--x]

"Sir, I have never been fucked. Like I am sort of scared of physical intimacy. I am not fat or anything and I actually have a good body. I want to have sex and when I read your posts I just want to have sex even more. I wish you could write something for a virgin inexperienced reader. Like being taught about stuff. And I know for a fact that I am very submissive. Reading your posts makes me want to be tied up and be underneath someone, where he is just exploring my body eating my pussy and nipples."

Training Session

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

I was hoping for a fresh start when I moved to this town and got my job as a professor at this prestigious university. Everything was normal, I was enjoying my life with my wife and 2 kids.

But then, like any normal household, arguments creeped in. I was constantly arguing with my wife and found myself in the university overtime, hoping to get some peace. I didn't think it would take a turn for the worse sooner or later.

I have to admit, the arguments with my wife wasn't new to me. It used to happen even before I got here, but those were minor misunderstandings, and I solved it using sex. I am a very sexual person and it kind of worked out in my favour. But since I moved here, the arguments weren't misunderstanding, but more serious (about money, kids, and other random things), and the sex didn't help. Slowly it had got to the point we were ignoring each other and sleeping in separate beds, acting like good parents to our kids who were dependent on us.

It all started when I was doing my routine term end paper grading (yes overtime at the university), and one paper caught my eye. This girl knew the answers to the questions, but had somehow given the wrong answers. Her wrong answers were not due to misremembering things or even being confused. It was an deliberate attempt to fail. I was the professor who doesn't want anyone to fail, so I usually give some grace marks to give them a passing grade. I did the same here, but I made a note of her name to have a word with her later.

The next morning, during my lecture I would catch her being inattentive and constantly fiddling with her stuff. My throat was giving out when the bell rang, and all students rushed out of the classroom. I caught her trying to sneak past me sandwiched between other students, and asked her to meet me at my cabin later.

Let's fast forward a little later in the day, when I heard a knock on the door. And it was her. I ushered her in and made her get comfortable before I broke out the harsh truth. I started with some small talk, asking her how she was feeling etc. and she was co-operating to my questions. I then brought out her paper and asked her why she would purposefully try to fail.

But that's when I noticed it. The glint in her eyes as he looked at me from the corner of her eye. A captivating gaze, which she would immediately hide, coming back to her reality as I continue to be professional. She tried to convince me that she was trying her best, but she turned up blanks, but I know that to be lies. So I had to be the big man here. She wasn't going to own up to her mistakes. I offered to tutor her personally after class. Help her find her footing. I thought it was the right thing to do. After all if my student's grade went up, it would make me happy.

Let's fast forward another month and she started showing up to my cabin (or even my house sometimes) for her training sessions. It was all going smoothly, but all hell broke loose when she had to witness me and my wife fighting one day. It was not good. I tried to keep a happy face, but she saw right through me. And it seems like she overheard the conversation too. Ever since then, her activities only worsened.

A girl who was always on time for her training sessions up until now, had now started to take her own sweet time. Her clothing sense had changed. It was now more brazen, showing off more skin and to add to the coincidence my wife was never around when she did show up to my house. I saw a slump in her motivation too, often taking breaks and would offer to make me something (like coffee) for my efforts, in my wife's absence. I think it was her attempt to say sorry after overhearing the fight earlier.

Day by day, I was feeling conflicted. My student's affection has made my wife a distant memory, and at the same time it is frustrating me that she isn't doing her best to learn anymore. It was as if it was all a ruse. I started noticing every action, every word, every touch and that would have an effect on me. I felt important again. I felt like I was seen and loved. It pushed me into a moment of weakness, and I snapped.

I bent her over my lap and told her, "I don't think you wanted to learn about getting betting grades," and proceeded to spank her ass hard. "I'm gonna teach you something different."

I asked her to stay put and went away, only to return a moment later with all the required essentials: some cotton rope, a blindfold and a paddle.

First I had her face the wall as I quickly discarded her off her clothes, which was easy considering she didn't have too much clothes on her anyway. I got her on her knees and blindfolded her tightly so that she couldn't see anything. Then, I used the cotton rope to bind her hands together and raised her hands up over her head, tying it to a hook a few metres above her head.

I knelt down in front of her, taking in her scent and the curves of her body, her lips needy and desperate. I cupped her chin in my hand and gave her a needy kiss to prepare her for what's to come. She was so beautiful underneath her clothes, and I just wanted to let myself loose. But I'm but a professor, hence my urge to teach overcame my feral senses.

I cupped one of her breasts in my hand, rubbing my thumb over her nipples, using it like a controller joystick. "Do you know why your nipples perk up like this, babygirl?" I whisper into her ears. "This is what happens when you are horny and desperate. Your blood flows... right here," I say motioning to her nipples, "making them erect." I bend down and suck on her nipples, alternating between both sides while she can only let out a slow moan.

Her moans continue to come out of her mouth as I trail kisses down her pristine body after teaching her about her nipple erection. The blindfold has her anticipating my next move while keeping her intoxicated, surrendering herself completely to my control, as I proceed with my next lesson.

I place my hand on her pussy, its wetness permeating on either side of her thighs. I use the paddle to hit her thighs to make her flinch. I go around her body, imprinting the shape of the paddle at random places of her body to satisfy my own sadistic urges. But she takes it with a smile, and I sense an eagerness from her to learn more. "Do you know what causes this wetness?" I take her own juices onto my fingers and bring it to her mouth for her to suck on. I took some spit on my fingers once she finished sucking my fingers, and rubbed it all over her opening. "You see your vagina, or 'pussy' naturally prepares yourself for a man's cock. It secretes this wetness that can lubricate this precious part, making it easier for me, your professor, to put my cock in."

I lie down on the cold floor, placing my head between her legs and looking up at her juicy parts. I lift my head up, holding on to your thighs as I lick your pussy, tasting your wetness as I go, getting more intoxicated from it. I even insert my fingers into your pussy, feeling how tight it is and how you flinch as a natural response. I slowly introduce a second finger and start moving it up and down, which in turn excites her core. My fingers find her most sensual part, the 'G-spot' located directly above her pelvic bone. The stimulation and the repetitive motion of my fingers drives her towards the edge, and I quickly move away as she squirts, making a mess of the floor below. "This is called squirting honey. You got so turned on from your professor hitting your most sensual spot, that you came undone for me. Look down at the mess you made. Too bad, because you are blindfolded, baby."

Once I made her squirt and she made a mess of the floor, I wanted to make a mess of her face. I ordered her to open her mouth wide, and I immediately unzipped my cock and thrust it inside her throat. Her mouth was so warm, and every thrust felt really good. I kept my hands on her chin and kept guiding her on how best to pleasure me. Whenever I gave pressure on her chin, she would close her mouth around my cock and I would whisper "No teeth. Hold your jaw, roll your tongue, and take my cock deep," into her ears. "Mmm that's it. You are doing so good, keep it up." I kept up with my thrusts as her throat felt so good, I could feel myself towards an orgasm, which I hadn't felt in forever. With one final thrust, all of the pent up cum shot down her throat, and she was stunned. "I hope you like how it tastes. This is my semen. This is what's gonna get you pregnant. Do you want me to show you how that's done? Well I'm sure you do."

(I'm so glad that you like my blog. I also hope you like the above story too. I hope that you do get to experience this one day.)

[kissitbttr]

frat!Miguel and reader getting into an argument and them posting indirects on each others snap/insta stories and them reposting shady tiktoks knowing the other will see it until miguel just cracks and starts posting cute shit abt her😁😁😁

you are petty when it comes to arguing, never wanted to be the one to take defeat. you will crawl on broken glasses to hell and back before admitting that you’re wrong,

and sometimes it takes a toll on miguel, he’s frustrated over how you are so hard headed sometimes. because then it would lead to this. silent treatment and you stopping to go over the frat house,

but what drives him crazy the most is when he sees all the spam reposts on tiktok coming from your acc, somehow all of them made it to his for you page,

at first, miguel were doing the same too. to see how much you liked getting a little taste of your medicine,

“i’m annoying? you’re annoying, muñeca. let’s see how you like this one. bam” he snickers to himself as he reposts another tiktok of a guy complaining about his girlfriend’s petty behavior,

however the thing is? you don’t actually give a shit,

you’ve been training far too long to deal with this thanks to the shitty men in your previous relationship. so him being petty as you? doesn’t bother you a bit. if anything, it makes it more fun,

it irks him to know that you’re not responding to any of it. if he’s being honest, he wants you to spam him with texts of you being clingy and telling him to stop doing all that extra shit on tiktok. he misses that. he misses you

he swears he’s not letting himself go at that time. he wants you to be the one who apologizes or at least hit him back up. even glen had told him before to wait a couple more days and see if you would actually text him instead the other way around.

but five days without talking to his muñeca and sleeping by her side? yeah, he’s had it

miguel swipes through his contact list and hit your number before dialing it, pacing back and forth in his room.

“hello?” you answer after a few rings,

“i give up. I can’t. i don’t like this, i don’t like you being far from me” he blurts out without saying hello back, head shaking. “you need to come back, muñeca, please. i’m fucking losing it here”

“so you admit defeat, huh?” you smirk on the other line,

“yes. i am folding. i am on my knees.” he admits, running through a hand through his hair out of frustrations. “i’ll say anything you want to hear, whatever it is”

with a chuckle, you decide to tease him more. “post me more on your socials, maybe i think about it”

“i did!” he cries out, “three on my stories and three of your pics on the feed. and I’m rarely active on instagram, you know that!”

oh, he’s serious about this. “aw that’s so sweet, o’hara”

he wide eyed, not liking that name. “o’hara? who the fuck—no o’hara here! i am not o’hara to you, princesa!”

you laugh at how adorable he sounds when he gets upset over you call him by his last name,

you do miss him. miss him so much you can’t even think straight any more. and you hate having this little argument with him, it takes too much of you and his time. sleeping alone doesn’t sound so good anymore, it’s better with hin around.

“get over here, miggy”

he grins at your sudden invitation, grabbing his car keys off the table before rushing out of his room, nearly tripping over the carpet floor as he plucks his jacket from the couch. couple of the guys are all sat in the living room, eyes darting to his.

“woah, easy there pal. going somewhere?” beck raises an eyebrow at his best friend’s clumsy antics,

miguel slips on his shoes and put his signature snapback on

“heading over to my girl’s. won’t be back till tomorrow. bye.”with a cheeky grin, he fist bumps beck who looks at him funny before walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

carlos pops a beer can open, plopping onto the empty space of the sofa.

“you guys see that right? him being fucking whipped?”

[edelgarfield]

I am genuinely so sick of seeing the take that "man's hubris caused the calamity" and that being used as "take that!" against the people of Aeor, who largely were not even alive during the start of the Calamity, & who, regardless of the reason, have had to live in a world ravaged by the gods' conflict.

Avalir and Aeor were far from perfect & the ruling class certainly was full of hubris & elitism, but blaming mortals as a whole for the Calamity is so incredibly fucked up. Avalir as a whole did not collectively decide to invite the Betrayer Gods into the Material Plane. The largest instigators of the Calamity were:

1. Vespin Chloras, who was following in the footsteps laid by the Raven Queen, and

2. Zerxus, who was manipulated by Asmodeus, and

3. Asmodeus, who despises mortals because he blames them for the rift driven between the Prime Deities & Betrayer Gods.

Like I can't speak to Vespin Chloras but I genuinely cannot find it in myself to blame Zerxus, a mortal man, for being manipulated by the God of Manipulation, or for believing in redemption and forgiveness. You can think he was foolish to fall for it, but being gullible or having faith isn't a sin. There's a bunch of arguments that "it's arrogant for a mortal to believe himself deserving of forgiving a god" and I won't argue that Zerxus had some arrogance & self-righteousness. But I just. I do not and will never believe that divine beings are morally superior to mortals.

there's this idea that the pursuit of godhood/power is inherently corrupt, and to an extent I'm inclined to agree (I started a whole rant here abt this, but that's a different post). but hand in hand, there seems to be this idea that the gods themselves are shielded from that same corruption, which I simply don't think is true. whether mortals are capable of wielding the power of a god without being destroyed is a separate issue to its morality. something being inherently risky/unsafe does not automatically mean it's wrong. but I don't understand how people can say it's irresponsible/evil for mortals to pursue godlike power, or that they can't be trusted to wield that power, without applying the same logic to the gods themselves. It doesn't make sense to me that the pursuit of power is wrong, but the ones who actually wield that power, sometimes violently & unfairly, only ever wield it responsibly.

in fact, I think that without any sort of power to resist the violence & will of the gods, the gods are left completely unchecked to use Exandria in whatever capacity they choose to. that's an extremely dangerous thing for anyone living on it, and asking mortals to simply trust that the gods will never act against the people of Exandria is an extremely cruel thing. If people choose to have faith in the gods & their will, that's wonderful. But faith being a requirement just to live peacefully, & deeming anyone without faith sinful & arrogant is unfair.

it's not morally bankrupt to desire freedom from the will of the gods. it's not corrupt to want mortals to carve their own path. it's not evil to question what you've been told about the world.

The idea that "man's/Avalir's hubris caused the Calamity" feels like a fantasy version of "humanity is causing climate change" or "humans are inherently evil," which are extremely unpopular opinions on Tumblr. It's attributing actions taken by one or a small group of people to humanity as a whole. It's blaming humanity for being manipulated by a higher power. It's holding mortals responsible for their own murders.

[just-trust-me-bro]

Hmm 🧐

The Sincerely Ignorant, Conscientiously Stupid & Fact Finders?

A new breed...

I guess this is as good of a place as any to start dismantling addressing common theories circulating with the Lukola shipping fandom.

Yes, I know. Who the fuck am I to be shitting on what someone else has to say? I guess you could call me an actual "Fact Finder."

Unlike most within the sphere I won't be blowing smoke.

Now I don't want to be completely unfair to the OP above as I too once believed that Luke's "I won't let her ruin our night" post meant something much more.

Funny how time is a cruel mistress.

The argument presented by OP is this:

"Luke’s character is telling Nicola’s character he won’t let another woman ruin their evening.

Let me repeat that again for you:  Luke’s character is telling Nicola’s character he won’t let another woman ruin their evening."

So what? He just had this pic ready to go in case of an emergency? Ya know, just on the offhand that some gal, A or whoever, would "fuck things up" for him and Nic.

Seriously? Like can we be for real?

He posted said pic 2 days after the infamous pap pics dropped, so the damage was already done. What night is he referring to in this dream like scenario?

If we can truly be honest with ourselves here, Luke was already in Milan on June 15th for fashion week. We all know Antonia was with him. We also know she has continued to tag along with him everywhere this summer. So even if there was a deeper meaning to the pic (there isn't) it would mean fuck all.

Not once did he do anything to stave off the adverse reactions to the pap pics. In fact, he seemed to mostly bury his head. Only popping up for social/work events. He was working that day.

The pic was definitely planned as it followed director Billie Woodruff dropping several BTS pics, as well as Bessie Carter, and Sesley Hope.

Now the argument OP had against Luke posting the pic as PR was quite unimaginative, a hay house of sorts, but let's break it down.

"No one is going to convince me that Luke and Antonia were in a blissful relationship after that IG story was posted. Why? Because the deductive reasoning part of my brain tells me Luke chose Nicola straight outta Pap-gate.

The Conscientiously Stupid may [rather they WILL] argue that it was just for PR. Okay, but that would mean Antonia accepted the comparison between Cressida, the Evening-Ruiner, and herself. Take a moment and put yourself in Antonia’s shoes. Would you accept this from your partner? (P.S. If you said yes, you have bigger problems in life than following real people’s relationships.)  We know Antonia accepted this role to some extent because we have evidence she attended events with Luke over the summer. So, what the fuck?"

Stating the pic was posted as continued PR for Part 2 release does not equate to "Antonia accepting a Cressida Comparison." This is the laziest form of "arguing the other side" I have ever come across.

The pic has nothing to do with Antonia at all. Luke was probably given the pic to post and did so without another thought about it. In fact it was probably already queued up as he was busy enough in Milan, for fashion week, with Antonia.

But let me just indulge you and say, "OP you're right. Luke posted that message directly to Nic. An olive branch."

Shit fell on deaf ears because the very next day is when we get the SATC TT from Nic and well...

[the-way-astray]

huh what was your rant’s main argument

this post is in no way a proper response to katie's response, so i just wanna make that clear from the start. i am actually going to make one of those. so this is not that.

the main argument of my rant is not "here is a list of keefe's worst qualities, doesn't he suck? now everyone point and laugh what a shitty/annoying/cringe/whatever-else-i-said guy" (well, except for the stuff that i said was subjective, like his humor). the main argument of my rant is that keefe's worst qualities never. impact. how. he. interacts. with. the. story. not a single flaw of his has any consequences, either plot-based or relationship-based. not a single bad moment redefines him in the audience's eyes (or is meant to, as written by shannon) or in sophie's. not a single shitty height he reaches has ever ever ever ever been portrayed as negative for longer than zero point four seconds. not one thing he does has any lasting, negative consequences, not for him, not for the people around him. not one thing. not one single thing.

the thing that confuses me about katie's response is that she is well aware that this is my main gripe with keefe. i am not silent about it in the slightest. i do not care that keefe uses his empathy dubiously. i do not care that he handed the cache over at the end of neverseen. i do not care that he breaches boundaries, or that he humiliates sophie constantly, or that he's infinitely stupid and reckless, or that he can't be serious during serious moments. serious. do not give one single shit about any of these things.

what i actually care about, my unending problem with keefe's character, my main gripe, the thing that will never stop annoying me about keefe, is that these things do not result in keefe facing any consequences for doing them, nor are they even villified by the narrative.

i understand that keefe's dubious use of empathy is because of his father. i know that he ran away to the neverseen because of his mom's manipulation. i get that he breaches sophie's boundaries because he genuinely might think he's helping, and that he humiliates sophie because he doesn't know when to stop, and that he's reckless and stupid because that's his character flaw and because he's trying so hard so fight his mom and make sure she doesn't hurt anyone else, and whatever else katie pulled out in her response to explain keefe's shitty behavior. i am aware. i know this. i am not trying to argue that keefe is a bad character because he has flaws and does bad things. that would be incredibly weird.

no, my main argument is that keefe's flaws do not function as flaws, but rather just as bad traits that, half the time, shannon herself does not seem to even be aware are bad.

here is a fantastic example. okay here goes: keefe has issues regarding not knowing where the boundaries are with empathy because he grew up with his fucked-up abusive father who likely extorted information out of him the same way he does with sophie and others (and also likely because he's brainwashed into thinking the law is moral, and there's no actual law against doing this).

now that i've passed katie's test, let's play my game: name one time keefe's using his empathy has, in the long-term, affected his relationships with people. name one time it's truly demonized and made out to be a bad thing by the narrative beyond "oh the person was angry and muttered something about empaths or glared at keefe". name one time it actually affects how keefe interacts with the story. name one time this flaw, something both katie and i agree on, actually affects keefe's relationships. name one time he's sorry, name one time he learns or grows out of it, name one time it's even just made out to be a shitty thing, and not in a "oh, that's just a thing keefe/empaths do, isn't it so annoying? oh well, guess we'll all just put up with it". name one time this flaw is actually recognized by shannon as a flaw. name one time. name one single time. name it. i want to hear it.

in theory, this is supposed to be a thing the reader keeps in mind as they read all my points. i think i actually did say after one of my points something to the effect of, "i'm not actually mad about [thing], it's just that keefe never faces consequences for [thing], which does make me mad. this is also something that applies to a lot of points i make, but it would get repetitive to say that after every single point i make, so just keep in mind that that's the angle i'm coming from". maybe it wasn't as clear as it was the way i just said it now (which i will keep in mind and change during the part two rant), but yeah. none of my points are meant to be "oh look at him isn't he so [flaw]" and stop right there with no further thought. they are meant to be proof that whatever keefe did is bad, so that when i get around to the back half of the rant, i can then say that [bad thing] is never developed or even made out to be bad. so, uh. yeah. here's a few times i say this in the rant itself:

also wanted to mention this quote (from katie's response):

the reason keefe reads as flat to me is that none of his flaws ever affect how he interacts with the story, not in any long-term negative-consequence sense. you can explain and over explain why keefe is the way he is all you want, but that will never change the fact that this is fully not at all my gripe with keefe. not even a little bit. explanation does not equal justification, and certainly it does not equal consequences. where are the consequences, shannon. where are they. where. where. i don't see them. i don't think they exist, actually.

YES!!!! EXACTLY!!!! IT DOESN'T JUSTIFY IT, IT EXPLAINS IT!!!! THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I'M SAYING. YES. YOU GET IT. so you agree that this is shitty behavior. okay, cool. now name the place where keefe gets what he deserves for this. if this is shitty, it follows that it is a flaw, right? and if it's a flaw, it should be penalized, right? it should be made out to be a bad thing, right? now. where does this happen.

katie also makes a lot of arguments like this:

well, i actually did acknowledge fitz's main flaw at one point (exile incident, there's a screenshot a few paragraphs up), and i actually did explain why i don't think other characters (in this case, fitz) tend to be as bad as keefe. it's because there's actual development there with fitz's anger, and even if there wasn't, it's definitely vilified by the narrative. (i'd also like to say that katie responded to the bullet containing that fitz-from-exile section, but for some reason decided to cut out that section when quoting me in her response. i felt that was an important part of my argument, and that therefore its absence diminishes my point. in theory, this should not matter, but in reality, there are clearly people that are reading katie's response without reading my original post, and making judgement calls based on that.)

in conclusion, katie has made an argument. a good argument, even. one i actually mostly agree with, which is why i'm having such trouble writing a response to her essay. it's just that what she wrote is not (broadly speaking) a counterargument to what i wrote. it disproves nothing of my main point. nothing katie has told me is new information. i've read her pro keefe essay, which she knows. i'm aware that for everything keefe does that is shitty, there is a reason. genuinely it almost feels like an insult to my intelligence to imply i'm not aware of these things, especially considering shannon has a tendency to beat us over the head with the keefe pity party. i know why keefe is or does [insert flaw here]. i know exactly why it happens. i am aware. that does not change the fact that explaining why it occurs does absolute jackshit to change the objective fact that keefe's flaws are usually brushed aside or made out to be way less offensive than they really are. and honestly, if a flaw doesn't affect how a character interacts with the story, can we even really call it a flaw anymore? at that point, it's just a bad trait.

[elumish]

dude...no need to be an asshole to that last anon, wtf? I can absolutely see how they read your post like that. just because you run a writing blog doesn't make up incapable of being unclear.

your shitty response was way out of line and uncalled for. maybe try chilling the fuck out and not attacking people because they read your post differently than you intended, jfc. shit like this makes me feel like I can never engage with your posts because you might fly off the handle and act like an asshole to me for not reading your post exactly they way you intended. which is pretty fucking shitty behavior on your part.

that anon made really good points, and I think they were a valid response to what you said. not their problem (or any reader's) that you don't like that that's how some of us read you post. good posts provoke conversations and discussions about nuanced topics - instead you decided to shut that down and be an asshole. grow up, and maybe take your own advice and chill the fuck out. nobody called you a racist or some shit, but you're acting like you got attacked when the only person attacking anyone here is you.

Here are my choices when people send me asks that misunderstand or misrepresent posts that I made:

I ignore them. I do this sometimes. I can and will keep doing it.

I entertain their argument and get sucked into a conversation I have no interest in having.

I tell them that they misrepresented my post and that I'm not going to engage with it.

In this case, I picked option three. Was I a bit harsh? Yeah, maybe. I'm sorry if my tone came across as more aggressive than I intended.

But I am sick of the standard reaction to me talking about things like being cognizant of what we write and trying to avoid doing harm being people telling me that it's censorship or that it's somehow infringing on their ability to write what they want, or that I'm implying that they can't ever bring up a bad or hurtful topic at all.

Because that is probably the most common type of ask that I get whenever I make posts like this. This are not even the only conflating glorifying with talking about at all and then arguing with me based on that misunderstanding reaction I have gotten in the last 48 hours.

But, and I mean this genuinely, I would like to know what I am saying that is implying that. I have read through the posts I made and tried to see where that implication might be coming across, and I can't find it. And so please, I would truly appreciate you or anyone else telling me what in my phrasing or word choice is leading to that conclusion.

Because I want to avoid saying that. That's not the argument I'm trying to make and it's never the argument I've been trying to make. And so if I am accidentally implying that somehow in what I'm saying, I want to know that and change it.

But it's not my job to engage every time someone starts arguing with a point I didn't even make.

[deconstructivesurgery]

I saw someone online recently discuss the reality of Wesker not killing Chris or Jill permanently in any of the RE games because

A) as per usual, long-running series hate to kill their darlings, even when it would occasionally be a believable or satisfying death (plot armor, because people would get mad and mald if their faves were killed by the Villain(tm) they're supposed to shoot dead)

and

B) "well REALISTICALLY it would be SO easy for wesker to kill them because of how strong/fast/etc. he is so point A is the only believable and acceptable answer because obviously they couldn't have killed Chris or Jill off"

and like no dude I get it totally you are right. I can't even argue that you're incorrect you 100% are. I could rightfully argue that realism doesn't matter when it's far more enjoyable to NOT have Chris or Jill dead, especially when their deaths would serve no real compelling narrative purpose except (:() HOWEVER

If you're willing to hear me out, there's an explanation for Wesker never entirely killing either of them for reasons that turn plot armor into something as simple as believable characterization.

Nostalgia. Literally. Just. Nostalgia.

He avoids killing them outright because once upon a time, these people meant something to him. He saw WORTH in them, valued them, possibly even to the extent of finding it difficult to try and sacrifice them initially (something I am going to go ON about in another long ass post soon enough). TLDR: He was attached.

Long ass post underneath if you want to hear me blather on about why I think this :)

After his initial failed attempt to have them all killed because Umbrella commanded it, I'm not surprised he simply settled for toying with them for the most part. He doesn't need to, and more importantly- doesn't want to. He can never have their allyship back, but he can still see them in action. He can best them, sure- but why would he kill them when he still savors those interactions, when they clash? Why would he destroy the last pieces of a past he's attached to to the point of bringing it up constantly up until his death?

I've always found it funny how many lines Wesker actually has referencing the past. You were my best man, your 'partner' (said snidely in reference to an era where they were in the same squad) is in danger, I should've killed you years ago, etc.

And just the line. The fucking line. From the Umbrella chronicles. I'm not even going to retype it I'm just putting it here.

I understand, by the way, that he's being sarcastic, but I do genuinely believe there's a grain of truth in this. I think he does in fact want to see them survive.

Side note: What with his appraisal of their skills and his direct use of Jill's own blood later to temper Uroboros to make it less fatal, I love to make the mental stretch here that somewhere in his little ape brain he was hoping if infected with uroboros both would be "quality" enough to become like him. I think his ideal future still has them kicking around in it, viable hosts for uroboros mutation so they could join him in his new Minecraft server for cool people.

ANYWAYS tangent aside back to the nostalgia argument, on an individual basis this time. We're starting with Jill, because even though Wesker isn't an obsessive freak over her like he is with Chris, I still firmly believe he's attached to her as well.

Why else would he do what he did to her, after her presumed death via falling-off-a-cliff? Sure, you could argue it was simply a calculated decision based on the fact that he knew her blood would be useful, but I like to think of it a bit differently.

You crash into the rocky water below a tall, tall bluff, battered beyond belief- but quickly repairing yourself- and the body of another (probably also fucked up by that impact, and not capable of immediately fixing that) next to you. I don't think even Wesker would be doing mental math in his head at that very moment, considering the precise reasons why Valentine might be valuable to him down the line. I think he just automatically assumes he needs to take her with him because it's her. She gets dragged out of the water and slapped into medical care as quickly as he can manage it simply because she's an important part of that past he refuses to move on from. A part of the team. Then, she's a useful source of antibodies to help with the transformation of uroboros- but she's also a brainwashed bodyguard, something of a sidekick. Why? He could hire someone. He could use anyone. If she was useful for samples alone, he could've kept her in a cell for years to intermittently steal a few ounces of blood. But of course he wouldn't, and he wouldn't kill her or dispose of her otherwise, either- because Jill Valentine was skilled and strong and a dedicated team member, and maybe- just maybe- it's nothing short of satisfying to have her fighting at his side again, even if it's a facsimile of their old team dynamic. Plus, you know: bonus points that it'd horrify Chris to see his best friend and beloved work partner of many years through thick and thin working for him, when they inevitably clash again.

And then, of course, there's Chris. He beats him senseless only to piss off over very mild retaliations, promising to meet him again. You've probably heard a lot about that before. I could go on about that. But what I'd rather go on about instead is the one time he clearly determines that killing Chris for good is necessary, and that's in RE5.

...And look at how he talks during that. He brings up the "should've killed you years ago" thing- and fails to explain why he didn't. It wasn't due to any failure on his part, truly. He's beat Chris in combat several times, he's had the chance before and refused to take it. He asks Chris why he can't *understand his plans*, as if somehow expecting that there'd be a chance that he WOULD understand- and then what? He wouldn't need to kill him? Could get him to be a part of this new world he has planned, even?

Going over the times he could've killed Chris and didn't is fun, but I don't think anything illustrates my point of unwilling attachment and nostalgia for the past more than his gambit of literally asking "why can't you understand this" to the man he's actively attempting to bludgeon upside the head with virus tentacles, because he'd much prefer it if he didn't feel compelled to do that.

...so yes. At the end of the day, it's plot armor that prevented Chris from getting snapped like a stick during one of their brawls, or from Jill being dead after her cliff stunt, probably. But it's always going to be more fun- to me at least- to see it as the product of Albert Wesker genuinely not knowing how to let go of those "lovely stars members" (a line I think about way more than I should).

[velvetvexations]

This is a protective ask. It encourages you to check whether you really want to answer the asks beneath yet. Be good to yourself, you do good work for all of us <3

Thank you, anon. <3

sick of feeling like queer spaces seem to expect masculine people to be protectors and supporters without ever expecting to have to give us protection and support too. it's always how trans mascs can be allies to trans femmes and never the other way around. it's what about the scary trans man in the women's bathroom and little discussion of the threat we are under in these scenarios. it's always use your masculinity to protect me, but nobody can give without receiving. support and protection are features of community and community needs to be at least somewhat mutual. I refuse to constantly put myself in danger to protect someone who sees my suffering simply as an inherent duty of my presentation. let me be butch and slow and gentle for a change. let me be scared and held please.

I'll hold you. It's okay. You don't have to put yourself in danger to be a man, I promise.

people love love love to be blatantly misogynistic towards trans men/mascs and be like "well actually its subversive because he's a man! teehee!" was it subversive when i got told to shut up because i was the only women present (post coming-out) was it subversive when i got told i had to wear a dress to show off my feminine figure (post coming-out) was it subversive when i got called shrill mid-argument (post-coming out) was it subversive when nobody except me would clean the communal areas in the flat because i "did it so well" (post coming-out) was it subversive when i had my music taste made fun of when i was a 13 year old girl? is it subversive now that im a 20 year old trans guy? am i not the same person? is it subversive when people talk about trans men the same way people talk about teenage girls. is talking about teenage girls like that subversive if they come out as trans men later. or is it maybe a little different?

I'm sorry anon, you deserve so much better.

This discourse is always so fucking bizarre because IRL I'll be hanging out with trans women, getting fun updates from my friend on how her E dosage is going and her first foray into wired bras, spending time with the only other transmasc I know IRL at a 'women + nonbinary people' event because that's literally the only queer space near us intended for transmascs, and it's just incredibly obvious people perpetuating this discourse don't go outside

touching grass is vital

The shortest line joke reminds me of the fact that when I was more femme presenting & the women's toilets were blocked off, I went into the men's bathroom and a man went 'Ah! You scared me' and I was like at last, I am the threat <3 I haven't tested to see what will happen if I go to the men's bathroom now that I've started getting weird looks from women from being in theirs. Probably more of the same. It's hard out here being a bathroom liberation free the nipple communist

so true

i spent an hour arguing with a TRF and i'm exhausted. there's a reason i have a boundary with myself about getting into discourse. i don't know how you do it, but thank you for doing it from those that can't <3

I do what I must because I can <3

oh and then the same person said she think its funny to call trans men ‘birthday boys’… i neeeeed to mock and infantilise all trans men because a couple of them disagreed with me!

context

if someone treats you that way call them a slur back until they stop

(do not do that)

Yo it hit me over the head just now- i think there's a large portion of transfems who never did any gender work beyond their own. Like the running joke of 'of course every guy secretly wants to be a girl'; I'm not sure they can conceptualize us wanting to be masculine for any reason so there has to be some sort of 'ulterior motive'

Correct, though stupid selfish assholes with the same lack of comprehension or desire to comprehend the experiences of others come in all kinds.

[zomb-rabbit]

habit x reader where they r arguing I need angst lol love ur work btw!!

thank you soso much, i appreciate that a whole lot :) this is my first time actually posting the angst i write lol, please let me know if anything should be changed !!

[ANGST] 🐇 HABIT x gn!reader in an argument [hurt no comfort]

· · ·

you had severely misjudged how out of touch Habit was with his emotions

you noticed that he had been sitting in his room the whole day, staring at the wall and doing nothing for hours

so you were obviously worried

you tried to convince him to go out with you, just on a walk, or even just around the house. anything but this.

and now the two of you were here, you standing in front of him sat on his bed

"why would you understand what's going on with me more than i do? are you forgetting who i am? are you forgetting what i am?"

the words set you back in disbelief; of course you knew what he was. you knew damn well what you had gotten yourself into, why the fuck would he think otherwise?

"how dumb do you think i am? i know you, i know what you are, and i know what makes fucking sense."

you threw the words back at him laced with a rasp, your voice deepening in anger enough that you could feel your throat thrum with it's vibrations

"i just wanted to help you."

you watched his head perk up and his eyebrows raise in surprise, before he laughed in your face. it wasn't genuine, you knew that, but it was so condescending.

you knew the power he felt when he used that laugh, not because of it but because when he used it he already felt like he won.

"Rabbit, why would I need help from you? I'm in control of everything i need to be, i can do whatever the fuck i want- why would i need you here to get my ass outside, huh?"

he was still sat, leaning his elbows to rest on his knees like he was talking to a kid. the words flowed out of his lips like they had been brewing in his mind since before any of this started.

your jaw was dropped in disbelief at what he was saying, and how effortlessly he was spitting it in your face. you wanted to yell, you wanted to cry, you wanted to interrogate him- and it all got caught in your throat

you were stuck in place as he finally got himself up off the bed with a dramatic sigh, striding over to you with a narcissistic grin on his face

he firmly put both hands on your shoulders and cocked his head to the side at you, mockingly pouting his lip

"cat got your tongue, Rabbit? ahh, don't worry about it. couldn't have been much to say anyways."

your face twisted at him, the hurt bubbling inside you threatening to spill out into sobs. you wanted so badly to crash into his hold and let him wrap his arms around your body and hum as he let you cry; but you couldn't bring yourself to let him any more than he was guaranteed to. a quiet tongue click from him brought you back to this Habit.

"aww, bunny, don't cry. i'm not that mean."

he laughed at his own cruel joke on you as he wiped a tear you didn't even know had tipped over, his other hand patting you on the shoulder as he walked out the door- his smile never breaking.

"make yourself feel better, Rabbit. clearly you know a whoole lot about it, huh?"

[clownshifting]

Here's the thing.

I didn't want to start discourse. I didn't say or do the things that discourse is now arguing over. One person misunderstood me, then that created a whole bunch of people who refused to read the context in any way other than negative and different than their opinion.

They saw one side of the argument and used it to make discourse. I tagged the original post as discourse in order to deter people, and my statement wasnt supposed to be argued over, because I said "personally" and "to me" so many times that I can't count.

Yet, all the time, someone speaks down to me as if I am not someone worth having conversation with - no they assume instead of asking questions and wondering why I believe this way. Now, I'm not willing to debate the physicality of transspecies identity.

THIS is why I'm trying to leave Tumblr and social medias like this. Because all of you never mind your own business and shut up. So I'm going to mind my own business and I'm going to shut up and I'm going to support transspecies people and I'm going to exist without all the infighting - fuck you and fuck your stupid, pointless arguing.

All I ever wanted was to talk about our deviatypal traits and our experiences as beasts. Don't like how I talk about my experiences and my personal feelings towards it, talk more about your own and don't tell me that what I experience is something that needs to be discourse over.

Genuinely, I encourage you to make your own posts and I'll repost them and I'll support and help you - but go on my posts, make a fuss about MY EXPERIENCE and get others to call me names and start discourse over it? Nah... fuck you.

[louisisalarrie]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisisalarrie/768442856463548416/i-think-a-lot-of-people-on-both-sides-of-the

Sorry but this theory does not support Freddie not being Louis’ child. Very unfair to compare parenting styles. Zayn lives in the US so can be closer to his daughter plus he doesn’t have to deal with damaging comments about his child not being his when he does post pics.

Louis has chosen not to live in the US so has to work that bit harder to spend time with his son. We see very little social media of Louis being a dad because he doesn’t want us to. In fact he chooses to share very little of his personal life. This isn’t just about Freddie. This extends to all aspects of his life outside of his work. This doesn’t mean he isn’t regularly with his son. Even if you did see tons of photos of him and Freddie, would this fandom believe it?? No! People would continue to come up with wild theories about the child not being his so it’s no wonder he doesn’t want to publicise it. His little boy will start to read this very soon - what a terrible thing to be part of.

I love quite a lot of your blog, and I love your responses to people. You are always kind even when opinions differ from yours. I can’t agree with you on the Freddie theory though and I think that opinions like this are damaging to Louis and make him feel very unsafe. I can’t understand why those of you that love Lou as much as you say you do, would continue to publicly push this theory. It is not ok to make someone feel unsafe - would you like to be made to feel that way? You’re entitled to your opinions but it’s not ok to continue to publicise them. You are not so aggressive in your responses to be fair but other blogs are and it’s pretty shocking.

hey anon, thank you for the kind words and happy to have you here! welcome to the (very respectful) show

I do think if you’ve been following me long enough, it is quite clear I do not believe for a second that F is Louis’ kid. this is incredibly important to note, because it’s hard for me to actually try and imagine the situation if this was real, simply because it’s so damn bogus. None of it adds up. but I digress

correct. Louis has not chosen to live in the US. which, I could argue, is a pretty shitty thing to do when he already has an LA house and chooses not to spend as much time there. You can argue that he’s a private guy, but it’s a pretty shallow argument when you look at the exposure of this kid over the past 9 years. so, if we do pretend he’s a dad for a second here, he’s not been private of that kid, including everything being papped from the get go, plastered him all over Instagram, continues to allow his sisters to have him all over Instagram, didn’t take legal action against TMZ and the other media outlets that posted F’s birth certificate, had the kid at one of his shows without security and pointed him out to the crowd (which, mind you, that kid should’ve been in a box because there is always gona be people who don’t believe that F is his son and that’s something louis knows and I doubt any fan would be aggressive but ya know… take some precautions here pal), had a whole segment of him in AOTV, and the list goes on and on.

so, apart from that, we also have the knowledge of this fandom. This fandom is fucking crazy and always has been. In both the best and worst ways. Don’t get me wrong, I love being here. It’s beautiful, and a sense of community, and supporting the boys and their music comes before anything. whether you’re a solo, ot5, anti, larrie, whatever. We love their music and music is so important and it’s why I’ve dedicated so much time to get where I am. anyway

this fandom knows a hell of a lot about the boys locations. Earlier days more so than now, but it’s clear louis spends a lot of time not in LA. He doesn’t even have custody of the kid. No paternity test, nothing. SO that’s also important. He can’t spend all his time with F in LA if he doesn’t have custody, even though he pays child support allegedly idk the legality of it all is a shit show

so, anyway, this kid is still constantly posted by the Tommo sisters, B’s family, and he was presented to the public like craaaaaazy when he was born. Louis gives a fuck about privacy, you’ve acknowledged that, but if he gave a single FUCK about privacy this kid wouldn’t have even been announced to the world, let alone publicised at every given chance.

[lionheartedmusings]

i saw a post earlier that q!tubbo is the only "moral" character even after purgatory and it's kinda kept me awake, not because i don't agree with the sentiment (i do) but because the idea of morality as intrinsically important in fandom / character analysis is fascinating to me, *especially* when we're talking about the morality of someone who's basically just spent two weeks in some eye guy's budget hunger games.

first off, while i fully agree that by the end of this q!tubbo *is* a character that tried at every turn to be kind and generous even to his own detriment, how does that make him more or less "moral" than q!phil or q!fit? he still killed, the same as them. he still strategized to beat his friends, has blood on his hands — why is he marked above x, y, or z in the moral scale?

well, one could argue that he did what he did for his team, for the eggs, and because he was forced to when he was put in the game in the first place, yeah? it's not his fault he's in this position, and he's doing his best to survive it. i personally think that's totally valid and justifiable, but it leaves a huge elephant in the room.

what about everyone else?

i'm going to use q!bad as an example because he's my main pov, and before i go into this analysis i want it known i'm very much playing the devil's advocate and illustrating a point — i am not saying his actions are "good". good? good.

okay. so, q!bad. here we have a non-human father who was told by his missing child to win regardless of the cost, or whomever he had to run over. he had to win. is it immoral then for him to take that to heart and play the game the way it was presented? is it immoral for him to kill for his child, or to be determined to win even in detriment of others? to want to use the same strategies in the battlefield that everyone else would, even if they're not kind or polite?

i don't fucking know, because morality isn't linear — this situation *isn't* linear bc if people will go on the record saying they would kill for their child and are praised for it, what makes q!bad's actions in the universe he's existing in any different?

you can even say that by some perspectives, q!tubbo extending so much kindness to his competitors over and over again was at times (or could've been) detrimental to his team ergo their childrens' lives and yet he still did it. is it more moral to save children or be nice to someone else?

my point being, i feel that the morality argument while very very interesting is kind of irrelevant bc when push comes to shove, characters aren't compelling bc they have more or less morals — i genuinely think a lot of media / character consumption has *actively* been harmed by everyone's need to have the thing they enjoy be "good" or "moral" or "right" bc if it isn't, what does that say about us?

the answer to that one is: absolutely nothing, but man do i think sometimes people in fandom feel guilty if they like or prefer an immoral or grey character vs a "stereotypical" moral one.

anyway, all this to say that i think by the end of purgatory, q!tubbo is the character that was most true to himself and his values from start to finish, and it's been a great watch. is he the most morally correct? eh. who the fuck knows.