#how do i accept that a memory is a memory and that ill never get that one precious moment in time back?

[acearohippo]

I love fandoms, especially witnessing what fans take away from source material and how fans interpret it based on their experiences. Not to mention the stark difference of interaction between new fans, casual fans, experienced fans, and long-term fans.

I say this because the SVSSS fandom has continuously fascinated me in insisting in discussions that there are parallels between Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe (tell don't show), but in their fanworks, I just see parallels between Luo Binghe and Yue Qingyuan (show don't tell).

And it's not even (fully) a case where they're blending character personalities because they want what the other dynamic has, it's just how the characters are based on canon in two different timelines.

All of this to say, perhaps original draft PIDW (NOT original!PIDW nor pre!SY PIDW which are completely different) was supposed to revolve around the dynamic between SJ and YQY vs SJ and LBH. Perhaps YQY was to be the last hour mastermind, the true foil to LBH.

And fandom is just circling this idea without realising it because, once again, the unreliable narrator that is SY has already convinced this fandom that any version of SJ has to be a/the villain, regardless if it's through his own actions or baseless rumours.

Warning, run-on sentence ahead.

I don't know, mans, but it's gotta mean something that LBH and YQY have such similar life beats of being orphaned and having a tough life but remaining kind/compassionate because they had someone to live for until they didn't which left them empty until they found (or refound in YQY's case) one (1) man to obsess over in an uncomfortably intrusive way with no regards for his feelings and rejections, eventually reaching a position as the most powerful being in existence with a huge caveat that their sword is 83% of that power and is slowly killing them which did nothing to soften said man of their obsession's into showing them kindness leading to the ultimate confrontation between the two in which only one could survive and keep their obsession, not that it mattered because neither of them got to experience his feelings reciprocated, except in another timeline where the same things are happening until their obsession suddenly stops rejecting their (still intrusive) advances even if he is acting a bit silly, but hey take advantage while you can and take advantage they did because now they have that reciprocated feeling (except one still "won" as he gets to keep him for himself) and be thankful that all it took was, in their perspective, a near death fever that drastically changed his personality and most likely left him crippled in some other way, preventing their obsession from not NOT needing them anymore, all-in-all fulfilling their desire to be relied upon again, hooray! 😋😁✌🏽

In all seriousness, at the end of the day people are going to draw connections between characters that fit whatever narrative they understood from the story. SVSSS fandom just seems to be trying to convince others of one narrative while believing on a deeper level of another narrative. It's amusing and makes following the fandom fun.

[kkoct-ik]

the lesser known did symptom of not knowing anything about your life because not only do you not remember anything (and the memories you Do have are heavily fragmented so you have no idea when they occured), but you also consistently destroy all traces of yourself during dissociative episodes. rip every diary ive tried to keep and almost every social media account. i will never know what i got up to or who i was during those years

i have a spreadsheet i use for documenting memories that turn up before i can forget them again. where i also do my best to estimate what year or season or month they came from. but its all just such a mess. even 2021 onwards which are supposed to be my therapy years are very very patchy. i wish i could just know my life

[dukeofthomas]

I will forever maintain that Jason would've been fine and Not a vigilante without Bruce making him Robin

[coridallasmultipass]

If it's okay for me to add something related because I first saw this on Tumblr: In the mid-2010s, I heard about there being a gay Filipino deity romance (from one culture in the Philippines - there are many different cultures and beliefs) here on Tumblr. It wasn't until years later when researching Philippine deities for fun while trying to broadly connect with my culture that I found a deep dive where someone found that the Bulan and Sidapa love story originated from the same fictional blog source, and had been circulating from new sources and fan art claiming it was historical for years before the author tried to find a non-modern historical source for the rumour, creating a kind of Berenstain/Berenstein effect on the people he asked, claiming they'd heard about the love story from a forgotten source much earlier than the 2010s, but unable to give a specific name, or the source cited claimed they didn't actually know about the romance.

While I think in this instance, a shift in narrative is obviously okay when you consider it is still a living Filipino culture, and people from that clearly find identity with this modern take (which should be asked of people from the cultures directly affected by misinfo), it should also be important not to rewrite it as 'historical fact' particularly when it has a fictional modern source that someone can directly point to as the origin when they question and search down the telephone line (like the game).

(I use the word 'fictional' only in reference to the originating blog, because the blog was unable or unwilling to provide any sources that mentioned that relationship to the deep dive author. I'm not implying said gods can't be/aren't gay. I'm not from that specific Philippine culture, and I don't have enough background knowledge to make any claims of my own. There's also no like, singular religious text/'bible' that pre-Hispanic Philippine beliefs followed as a rule/that can be consulted about this - it's not like a translation debate. There's just no textual source pre-dating the blog making the claim of the romance, and historians/oral historians aren't making the claim either.)

I get variations on this comment on my post about history misinformation all the time: "why does it matter?" Why does it matter that people believe falsehoods about history? Why does it matter if people spread history misinformation? Why does it matter if people on tumblr believe that those bronze dodecahedra were used for knitting, or that Persephone had a daughter named Mespyrian? It's not the kind of misinformation that actually hurts people, like anti-vaxx propaganda or climate change denial. It doesn't hurt anyone to believe something false about the past.

Which, one, thanks for letting me know on my post that you think my job doesn't matter and what I do is pointless, if it doesn't really matter if we know the truth or make up lies about history because lies don't hurt anyone. But two, there are lots of reasons that it matters.

It encourages us to distrust historians when they talk about other aspects of history. You might think it's harmless to believe that Pharaoh Hatshepsut was trans. It's less harmless when you're espousing that the Holocaust wasn't really about Jews because the Nazis "came for trans people first." You might think it's harmless to believe that the French royalty of Versailles pooped and urinated on the floor of the palace all the time, because they were asshole rich people anyway, who cares, we hate the rich here; it's rather less harmless when you decide that the USSR was the communist ideal and Good, Actually, and that reports of its genocidal oppression are actually lies.

It encourages anti-intellectualism in other areas of scholarship. Deciding based on your own gut that the experts don't know what they're talking about and are either too stupid to realize the truth, or maliciously hiding the truth, is how you get to anti-vaxxers and climate change denial. It is also how you come to discount housing-first solutions for homelessness or the idea that long-term sustained weight loss is both biologically unlikely and health-wise unnecessary for the majority of fat people - because they conflict with what you feel should be true. Believing what you want to be true about history, because you want to believe it, and discounting fact-based corrections because you don't want them to be true, can then bleed over into how you approach other sociological and scientific topics.

How we think about history informs how we think about the present. A lot of people want certain things to be true - this famous person from history was gay or trans, this sexist story was actually feminist in its origin - because we want proof that gay people, trans people, and women deserve to be respected, and this gives evidence to prove we once were and deserve to be. But let me tell you a different story: on Thanksgiving of 2016, I was at a family friend's house and listening to their drunk conservative relative rant, and he told me, confidently, that the Roman Empire fell because they instituted universal healthcare, which was proof that Obama was destroying America. Of course that's nonsense. But projecting what we think is true about the world back onto history, and then using that as recursive proof that that is how the world is... is shoddy scholarship, and gets used for topics you don't agree with just as much as the ones you do. We should not be encouraging this, because our politics should be informed by the truth and material reality, not how we wish the past proved us right.

It frequently reinforces "Good vs. Bad" dichotomies that are at best unhelpful and at worst victim-blaming. A very common thread of historical misinformation on tumblr is about the innocence or benevolence of oppressed groups, slandered by oppressors who were far worse. This very frequently has truth to it - but makes the lies hard to separate out. It often simplifies the narrative, and implies that the reason that colonialism and oppression were bad was because the victims were Good and didn't deserve it... not because colonialism and oppression are bad. You see this sometimes with radical feminist mother goddess Neolithic feminist utopia stuff, but you also see it a lot regarding Native American and African history. I have seen people earnestly argue that Aztecs did not practice human sacrifice, that that was a lie made up by the Spanish to slander them. That is not true. Human sacrifice was part of Aztec, Maya, and many Central American war/religious practices. They are significantly more complex than often presented, and came from a captive-based system of warfare that significantly reduced the number of people who got killed in war compared to European styles of war that primarily killed people on the battlefield rather than taking them captive for sacrifice... but the human sacrifice was real and did happen. This can often come off with the implications of a 'noble savage' or an 'innocent victim' that implies that the bad things the Spanish conquistadors did were bad because the victims were innocent or good. This is a very easy trap to fall into; if the victims were good, they didn't deserve it. Right? This logic is dangerous when you are presented with a person or group who did something bad... you're caught in a bind. Did they deserve their injustice or oppression because they did something bad? This kind of logic drives a lot of transphobia, homophobia, racism, and defenses of Kyle Rittenhouse today. The answer to a colonialist logic of "The Aztecs deserved to be conquered because they did human sacrifice and that's bad" is not "The Aztecs didn't do human sacrifice actually, that's just Spanish propaganda" (which is a lie) it should be "We Americans do human sacrifice all the god damn time with our forever wars in the Middle East, we just don't call it that. We use bullets and bombs rather than obsidian knives but we kill way, way more people in the name of our country. What does that make us? Maybe genocide is not okay regardless of if you think the people are weird and scary." It becomes hard to square your ethics of the Innocent Victim and Lying Perpetrator when you see real, complicated, individual-level and group-level interactions, where no group is made up of members who are all completely pure and good, and they don't deserve to be oppressed anyway.

It makes you an unwitting tool of the oppressor. The favorite, favorite allegation transphobes level at trans people, and conservatives at queer people, is that we're lying to push the Gay Agenda. We're liars or deluded fools. If you say something about queer or trans history that's easy to debunk as false, you have permanently hurt your credibility - and the cause of queer history. It makes you easy to write off as a liar or a deluded fool who needs misinformation to make your case. If you say Louisa May Alcott was trans, that's easy to counter with "there is literally no evidence of that, and lots of evidence that she was fine being a woman," and instantly tanks your credibility going forward, so when you then say James Barry was trans and push back against a novel or biopic that treats James Barry as a woman, you get "you don't know what you're talking about, didn't you say Louisa May Alcott was trans too?" TERFs love to call trans people liars - do not hand them ammunition, not even a single bullet. Make sure you can back up what you say with facts and evidence. This is true of homophobes, of racists, of sexists. Be confident of your facts, and have facts to give to the hopeful and questioning learners who you are relating this story to, or the bigots who you are telling off, because misinformation can only hurt you and your cause.

It makes the queer, female, POC, or other marginalized listeners hurt, sad, and betrayed when something they thought was a reflection of their own experiences turns out not to be real. This is a good response to a performance art piece purporting to tell a real story of gay WWI soldiers, until the author revealed it as fiction. Why would you want to set yourself up for disappointment like that? Why would you want to risk inflicting that disappointment and betrayal on anyone else?

It makes it harder to learn the actual truth.

Historical misinformation has consequences, and those consequences are best avoided - by checking your facts, citing your sources, and taking the time and effort to make sure you are actually telling the truth.

[koushirouizumi]

{YU-GI-OH!} Duel Monsters Type: AMV ~ Yuugi & {Ace-implied!}Yami {Atem*} (*This AMV mainly contains 'Yami''s form) [Reading in Aro-Ace or Aro-Acespec!Yami is also Fine] {Just please respect my own headcanons too!} Title: "Taking Over Me"

Summary: "You saw me M o u r n i n g my {xxxx} for YOU, and T O U C H E D MY H A N D..."

"...Just to F I N D Y O U--"

Music © E.v.a.n.e.s.e.n.c.e/Amy Lee

Spoiler Info: -Leads up to End of Anime-only “DOMA” Arc's Yuugi & Yami Duel {Anime-Only sequences; not included in original manga} -{Mainly} D.M. Only Eps -A single clip from the original 1st series by Toei opens it, but nothing else from it is included.

*Any Lip-sync'ng was unintentional {+Any similar Might be removed in any future Remake}

Yu-Gi-Oh! © Kazuki Takahashi Yu-Gi-Oh! 1st Series {Anime} © Toei Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters {Anime} © Studio Gallop This is a FAN-WORK. NO $$$ is being made off this work.

{AMV by (Young) Me} {DO NOT REPOST} {DO NOT COPY} {DO NOT REPRODUCE MY WORKS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION}

(Note: This is an OLD work {10+ yrs old}. and one of my last YGO D. M. ones of the timeframe; however, it was still very early on in my making of these type of works {AMVs} when I finished this. The footage used will reflect this, as it was made before widespread transition into H.D. Footages. Please be understanding.) [There may be intent for me to remake it someday!] Overall, it is Complete, and other than removing accidental lipsyncs; Most of it I do not plan to change.

Note: -This video’s embed may randomly not display at times, Showing like it’s “down”, but it’s not at this time! {It usually happens late at night[s] or seemingly when Tumblr and/or Vimeo is experiencing very high traffic} If that happens, please consider watching the Direct link here!

{I am NOT taking new Requests [or making changes to this one] (+for this series) at this time. Please DO NOT Ask!}

[gor3sigil]

I’m Trans and Insane and I’m doing fine.

[TW Psychosis, transphobia, psychophobia, medication, psych ward]

“Are you sure ?” she asked.

I remember looking back at her in disbelief, because that was certainly a question I never asked her when she came out.

“Why do you ask ?” I say.

“Dude, I’ve seen you go into depersonalization so hard you even thought you were a human soul in a robot vessel and now, you want me to trust you when you say that you, too, are trans ?”

That’s the memory that comes back to me as I fold and put in my bag my psychiatrist’s note attesting that I suffer from gender dysphoria, NOT LINKED to any psychotic symptoms. Here it goes in my folder with my prescription note, an increase - again - of my anti depressants and Xan, and my endocrinologist’s HRT prescription, increased too - finally.

I go to two separate pharmacies to pick up each prescription for two reasons:

There is only one in this godforsaken town that always had testosterone in stock.

I can’t explain to you with words the look you can get when you give back to back, to someone who, despite not being a doctor, works in healthcare, a note for trans HRT and then a note for psychiatric meds.

And I’m lucky, because I’m not taking antipsychotics anymore. Contrarily to what you could think, it doesn’t magically makes the voices and the shadowy people disappear, but it can make a mess of your head pretty bad and my doctor and I both agreed that I didn’t need more damage up here than what I already had. And no, it doesn’t make your delusions vanish magically too: in fact, I was still pretty certain that I was talking to my soul family out here in Argentine telepathically about my mission on Earth, the meds just made it more difficult to understand their voices, but the belief was still solid.

Anyways, I’m back home with the Hoy Grail I fought tooth and nails to get: a letter from the Sacred Council of Mental Sanity also known as Psychiatry that I was, indeed, a bit delulu, but also trans, and that both things didn’t play into each other. My transness wasn’t a delusion, my delusions didn’t have anything to do with being trans.

Or did it ?

Chicken or egg, you know the drill. Did I have my selves fractured before and one of the piece that shattered my brain happened to make me trans or was I just trans with a shitload of traumas in the back that made me insane ?

But don’t worry, at least, trans people when we’re together, we have each other’s back ! Right ?

“Transidentity ISN’T a mental illness !! We don’t DESERVE to be FORCIBLY LOCKED UP and MEDICATED and MADE TO CONFORM FOR OTHER’S SENSE OF SECURITY !!”

Neither do I, RIGHT ?

Oh

Or do I ?

Remember what she said, my girlfriend, right at the beginning ?

How I can’t be trusted about myself when sometimes I don’t even have a sense of self anymore or I have too much selves who fight against each other ?

And what do we say to that ?

Get treatment. Get in-patient. Take medication. And for the love of God, shut the fuck up about it, you’re giving us a bad name.

Because being trans and crazy can’t exist. It’s absurd. You have to fix one of these two things. Choose which jacket I’ll wear, and they call it a straitjacket for a reason it seems, so am I queer or am I insane ?

All I know today is there isn’t a universe in which I’m a trans without any mental illnesses, or mentally ill without being trans. And yet, I can’t tell you how many time I got asked “do you think you’d be trans if you never got through [x trauma] ?”. I. Don’t. Know. I’ll never know. And I deserve just as much agency as you get despite being mentally ill. If you don’t believe in that, don’t come yapping about “liberation for all of us”, but “if one of us is crazy they’ll all think I am too and that can’t happen”.

No LGBTQIAA+ person deserves to be told they need to be put away, to be cured, to be allowed out in the open only if they’re deemed “acceptable” by society’s standards. And no mentally ill people deserve to either.

No trans person should be going through years of counseling to have the access to HRT.

And I shouldn’t have had to threaten my own mother’s life to avoid being locked in an adult psych ward at 14.

If you ever think, for one second, that these two things have nothing to do with one another, you are far removed from history.

To hear queer people say “yeah but some mentally ill people are dangerous !” feels like you don’t even know where you come from.

And if I want to say, that me being trans is linked to me being mentally ill, or at least, that both are connected in a way, all hell breaks fucking loose.

So I’ll explain very carefully.

See, when I was young, my mind got shattered into a thousand of pieces I had to try to glue back on. All these pieces of myself broke further more down the line because I couldn’t catch a fucking break. And now, it happens that the final puzzle does not have the same face it had before. It happens that its shape changed over time, for reasons over the control of all of us who tried to build ourselves back. Now there’s a bigger picture, less pieces, a few other shadows, and me. Built from the shatters. With my own needs and afflictions.

And whoever you are, whatever your agenda might be, I will not let anyone take any agency away from me under the false pretext that I can’t know anything for myself. They say that about children, they say that about minorities, about physically disabled people, about the people they want OUT. And my trans siblings, you know that.

I came out for the first time 7 years ago, to my then girlfriend, who was the one asking the question that is the first sentence of this text. I came out a second time 3 years ago. Been on HRT, had top surgery, had psychotic breaks, got my meds changed, switch therapist.

Because I am trans and crazy. And yet, all these choices I made, I made myself. It didn’t have to be that hard to get the basic care I needed. It didn’t need to be. But it WAS. And I’m part of the lucky crowd of people who had access to out-patient treatment, who never have been locked up in ward, who managed to stay alive through meds withdrawals without medical assistance when I had no therapist.

Be very careful of when you start to put conditions on the rights you think you deserve. Be very, very careful about your definition of sanity and of how it warps the way you see people. When you start to say “I have access to that, but there’s people like X or Y who shouldn’t BECAUSE”, pause and ask yourself what led you to think this way. More often than not, you’ll find yourself playing the same mind games as the ones you swore to fight against, and when it gives them the upper hand, they won’t hesitate to come for you after that.

[cl-0v3r]

Mel is alive, but at what cost

Mel was nearly killed TWICE, her mother began being a struggle, she'd been thrown aside and trying her best to stop her, her boyfriend is not doing well, neither is anyone else (can't blame them) and the fact that she hadn't cried or spoke much about this situation to anyone a single time?? She IS upset about every single thing, yet she stays strong and enduring every bit of torture. The most she did was tell Jayce that Ambessa put her palm on the table, and let him know that she is going to push for hextech. That's it, nothing remotely related to her feelings.

The fact that she was constantly looking at Caitlyn, being able to understand her grief and knew she was in pain?? Mel knows this feeling. She'd went through it.

And in the end SHE has to pay the price of her mothers incompetence.

The intro is very much foreshadowing, we know the hands represent black rose/LeBlanc.

This is what happens in act one, she gets kidnapped by them. The lyrics do correspond to the characters as well (not just Mel, everyone.)

"Tell you you're the greatest" plays as a petal of the black rose floats down the screen, I think it adds significance to the power this organization holds, possibly the Medardas greatest foe.

"But once you turn, they hate us" both Ambessa and Mel were present in this line, I think its foreshadowing for when Ambessa switches up for whatever reason and goes against both Piltover AND Zaun. And Mel WILL go through change as well, a change that could hurt her relationship with others, and receive interest from others too.

"They hate us" could be read individually too, I feel like its a sort of "realization" ?? Perhaps Ambessa WASN'T the one that switched up, maybe Piltover switched up on them, and maybe Mel JUST got out of wherever she's taken to, and saw the mess Ambessa had done to her city??

I think this represents ACT TWO.

The hands pull away and it sort of looks like Mel is fighting back, a "get away from me" type of scream. you know what this reminds me of??

Don't mind me just pushing my Jinx/powder-Mel parallel agenda

Here is when i think Mel truly learns about LeBlanc/BR, she curiously and slowly goes to grab the rose, she learns about the history between her Mother and them, Kinos death, and most of all, learns about HERSELF. The lyrics speak otherwise.

"Pray away, I swear

I'll never be a saint, no way"

This feels like a parallel to caitlyn of sorts if that makes sense. Caitlyn had done everything to try and stop the council from attacking the Undercity, she kept her mouth shut when Jayce asked about Jinxs grenade, she was willing to protect Vi and the undercity, but how many times has she been tossed around? She'd been burned, exploded, kidnapped (god knows what happened during that time) and hit in the face by the same person, her MOTHER died because of the same person. She has every right to go insane. And she is hunting ONE person, which is Jinx. Although she is harming the people around her along the way.

What if Mel goes through a similar situation? Her mother pushed for war in her city, she dragged the enemy along with her even if she didn't mean to, she manipulated everyone around her INCLUDING Jayce, she LITERALLY got Mel hurt from the chembarons attack and killed so many people during a MEMORIAL to get her hextech weapons, Elora is most likely DEAD, not to mention whatever happened in the past between them. And the thing is, this will NEVER end throughout the entire season.

And what if she learns what she is? That she's 'blessed' by Kindred? The fact that the wolf is quite literally in her blood?

I feel like the "ill never be a saint, no way" also sort of indicates Mel will realize she'll never be able to push for peace and mercy like she always hoped for no matter what, and she comes to accept that as much as it hurts. But not like how ambessa accepted the wolf, but she sort of realizes she needs to push a little violence, towards nobody but the one and only, Ambessa "fine, if you want me to be like you, I guess I'll be like you towards YOU." Type of acceptance.

I think its also related to Mels new outfit too, she's dressed like her mother, in red and all of that. I will still stand by the idea that she has plans to decieve, but she will do something she doesn't want to do.

Mel was left with no choice, that lyric sounds like realization, acceptance, but also like a plea at the same time, an "I'll never be who I wanted to be" because in the end, she's still a Medarda, she's still her mothers daughter, she still has violence in her veins, she will never not suffer from the weight her name holds, and she will never escape it either, its like a shadow.

The Characters won't be themselves at their core this season. And those vital parts of their characters that represent them are no longer there in the intro, they all have given up what makes them, THEM design wise. (e.g.) Vi without her tattoo, Viktor hiding his identity with the mask. And the thing is, they did that to themselves because they do self-harm, they're changing themselves because THEY want to, they're forcing themselves to do that, they think they're undeserving and they're erasing their past selves.

But Mel? Mel doesn't have her gold accessories, Jewelry, or her Armor, she'd been stripped bare and hidden away because of the brutality of her name. She pays the price her mother brought to HER city. She's forced to change herself against her will, because nobody is giving her a chance to push for her ideals.

This entire theory never ends, and with all of this? I kinda do see Mel actually committing Matricide, it lifts the "Ambessa will die" theory further.

[sage-nebula]

This has been spinning around in my head since I watched season 2 arc 1, and I can't refrain from putting it down to post anymore.

In season 1, Jayce and Viktor get into a fight when Viktor evades the blockade to go speak to Singed in Zaun. During their fight, Jayce snaps at Viktor that he didn't know that Viktor's friend was from the undercity, and when Viktor asks why that matters, Jayce says the above: [people from the undercity] are dangerous (earlier he had also said, "there are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us!"). That's when Viktor grows cold, reminding Jayce that he is from the undercity, and even after Jayce apologizes, Viktor knocks his hand away, choosing to stand up on his own.

In season 2, chembarons hired by Ambessa (though no one knows that at the time) attack the memorial for the dead council members. In the aftermath, Caitlyn calls them animals. Notably, Vi shows no reaction at all to this; she doesn't so much as flinch at Caitlyn's word choice. Instead, while she does downplay what happened to an extent ("they wanted the spectacle, they're trying to scare you"), what's notable is that she separates herself from the people of Zaun. This is especially notable when she tells Caitlyn to call off the invasion, because of the risk it poses for those not from Zaun:

"Down there, you'll be on their terms."

Viktor seems to have pride in the fact that he is from Zaun. He has love for his home. As difficult as life was there, as much as the pollution led to his illness and disability, he has no shame that he's from Zaun and he still sees value and has love for the people there. This is why, when Jayce writes the Zaunites off as "dangerous", Viktor grows cold. He is no different from them, in his mind; if they're dangerous, then so is he.

Vi is . . . different.

In season 1 arc 1, Vi expresses to Vander that she has bought into and believes that those in Piltover are more than those in Zaun:

Now, here, Vi is still grouping herself in with the rest of Zaun. But there is a level of self-hatred (and hatred for one's home) that we don't see in Viktor. Viktor doesn't see himself as lesser than those in Piltover. He doesn't see the Zaunites as lesser than those in Piltover. Vi, however, does. She states this as if it is a fact. And while she loved her family, and has parts of Zaun that she likes (e.g. Jericho's food), it's worth noting that at the end of season 1 episode 1, she isn't telling Powder that they'll liberate Zaun, or fight for Zaun, or anything like that. Instead?

"This city's gonna respect us." This city. Not our city. Here is the first moment we see in which Vi puts some separation between herself and the rest of Zaun. She wants to make them respect her (and Powder). Even if she's less than those in Piltover, she still sees an opportunity for herself to be above those in Zaun.

All of this is to say that, when she has no reaction to Caitlyn calling Zaunites "animals", when she refers to them as "they," when she refers to Zaun as "their terms" . . . ultimately, it isn't too surprising. Vi represents a type of person who does exist in marginalized groups: the self-hating type, who hate others in their group for "drawing aggression" or "negative attention."

Think about queer people, for instance, who hate those who are flamboyant or open about who they are and who they love. The ones who think, "If we just assimilate more, be less of a bother, be less obnoxious, then the queerphobes will accept us." Obviously, other queer people find this type of person extremely frustrating, sometimes even infuriating, because we know that it doesn't matter what we do or how we act; bigots will never accept us.

But what we should understand, and extend compassion for, is that self-hating marginalized people are that way because it's a defense mechanism -- a survival mechanism, really. They can't square why bigots hate them, so they reach for any kind of explanation they can find, even if that explanation ultimately blames others in their own group and does more harm than good. Not to mention that hating yourself for who you are is often a result of long-term, systemic abuse -- the exact same kind of abuse that comes from living under an oppressive regime that murdered your parents and will assault you at any given opportunity, even for something as petty as your little sister miming shooting them with finger guns.

Vi says that she, "grew up knowing [she] was less than them." This is extraordinarily damaging to the psyche, and Vi's self-hatred -- and the extension of that hatred toward Zaun, not wanting to save them but wanting to make them respect her -- is a trauma response to that. One that Viktor, obviously, doesn't share (and neither does Ekko, or Jinx) -- but everyone reacts to trauma differently.

The point is, we saw shades of this already in Vi's childhood; her statement that she's less than topsiders, but that she wants those in the undercity to respect her. So when Caitlyn calls the Zaunites animals, Vi doesn't flinch. She agrees. And she speaks of them as separate from her, because Caitlyn has already designated her as one of the good ones (reinforced to her by what Maddie told her Caitlyn said right before the memorial), and because, well, those who attacked the memorial did do something horrible. And maybe if they wouldn't do that, and maybe if Jinx hadn't blown up the council building -- maybe if they were better behaved -- then the enforcers wouldn't have to invade and do what they were about to do, now would they? Those in Zaun -- or at least those in Zaun who decided to strike against Piltover -- brought it on themselves, so Vi isn't with them. She's with Caitlyn, and is okay with referring to them as animals.

It's interesting to think about.

[banj0possum]

I immediately apologize for the bad English!

How does Caspian plan to keep the fem!reader underwater? Or does he have another plan? thank you, your work is very nice🛐

ill be making this gn since its a part 2 but if you want a one-off thing with a fem!reader, just request it! :3

Also sorry for the long hiatus again but here's the long awaited part 2 ! yaay you're not dead !! :D

Yandere!Siren x GN Reader Pt. 2

CW: Kidnapping, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Non-con licking (reader is asleep), idk Caspian being a delulu icon

🌊 You wake up with a throbbing headache and a vague memory of what transpired before you blacked out.

🌊 The feeling of overwhelming pressure and deepness comes back to you, memories start to come back as you see a red mark on your arm.

🌊 You remember now, the screams and cries of your classmates ring in your ears before the memory of being dragged down to the depths hit you like a wave.

🌊 a splash of water pulled you out of your thoughts, it was then you looked around at the place you were in.

🌊 It looked like you were in a cave illuminated by algae and glowing sea creatures. the cavernous area was sandy and a bit wet with a deep pool which led to an underwater tunnel, it was the only entrance and exit to the cave from what you can see.

🌊 Behind you was a house built out of a shipwreck, the broken boards of the deck repaired with random planks and cloths.

🌊 "Honey~ I know you're a bit out of sorts right now but uhm..could you help me out a bit~?" a familiar voice echoed throughout the cave.

🌊 You gasp and instinctively stand up and back away from where the voice came from. Caspian was lying on the shore, a net full of what seems to be canned food and fish tied around his waist like a satchel.

🌊 "My treasure~! I know you're excited to explore your new home, but can you help me get to shore first~" Caspian coos as he smiles at you awkwardly, his large tail flopping on the sand.

🌊 You grab a piece of driftwood and hold it like a weapon. "D-Don't come any closer!" you yell at him nervously, afraid of what he might do after you saw his capabilities, and his sharp teeth..

🌊 "My sweet, you have nothing to worry about~! Why would I ever hurt you~? Those mean humans tried to hurt us! You'd never do that to me now would you~?" He tries to calm you down.

🌊 It takes a while for you to calm down considering how confused and scared you were, but with no way out and Caspians lack of intention to hurt you, the only thing left to do was to just sit and try to think logically about the situation.

🌊 Caspian tries to help you make sense of your little predicament, it was mostly him making an excuse to hold you close because "Am I not able to help you relax my treasure~?"

🌊 So you're in a cave after getting kidnapped brought to safety by a mermaid, how fun...

🌊 You has no choice but to accept your new lifestyle, after all, the only out was an underwater cavern, and you had no idea how deep or long it was. Caspian might not be the best at moving on land, but without him, you'd drown if you attempt to leave.

🌊 Once you told the siren that you weren't going anywhere soon unfortunately, He lit up and gave you a big, soaking wet hug. "Oh my treasure! You'll be happy here, I promise~!" He peppers your face with kisses, some making you shiver at the thought of his sharp teeth being so close to your flesh.

🌊 He'd go out every day to get food for you and him, sometimes surprising you with gifts!

🌊 He knows you like reading, so any book or parchment that he finds is immediately brought to you so you won't be so bored <3

🌊 More often than not they're too wet to actually read, but you appreciate the effort you suppose.

🌊 You also had to explain what cooking is to Caspian and that humans can't eat fish raw...and alive..

🌊 Get ready to be showered with pearls and pretty shells and treasure! Caspian is a bit picky when it comes to his own horde so anything that he considers nice but not on par with his tastes goes to you~!

🌊 He would always ask to sleep with you in your bed, and he doesn't take no for an answer.

🌊 "It's cold my treasure~! Could you warm me up~?"

🌊 "It gets so lonely in the water~ May I stay in bed with you my love~?"

🌊 "But I got all those nice things for you~!"

🌊 He would keep whining and fussing until you agree. He doesn't care at all that your sheets are all now soaked.

🌊 If you tell him to dry off first, he will! But you'll have to pay him with a kiss~

🌊 He may or may not sniff your hair while you sleep...and maybe lick your neck..

🌊 He can't get himself to sleep sometimes, he'd just watch you sleep the whole time. What can he say? You're too irresistible~!

🌊 Sometimes he'd even whisper sweet things into your ear, promising you the world if you'd let him.

🌊 More often than not, he sings you to sleep. The anxieties of never seeing your family again and living off of just fish and other sea creatures was getting to you, not to mention the many hours of being alone in a cave.

🌊 His siren song lulled you to bed every night. No matter how much you distanced yourself away from him, he was always able to calm you down with his voice.

🌊 "Hush now my dear~...You'll learn to like it here~ And one day, we'll be married and live happily ever after~ Just like in your stories~ Just you wait~..."

[sausage-rolll]

I don't think a game has ever made me feel as physically ill as elden ring did when I found out about how Miquella was using Mohg. 

I always had a sneaking suspicion that Mohg's obsession with Miquella had something to do with his charming ability, but never really had much more than a hunch to go off of.

Finding out that that hunch was not only correct, but also how much deeper the rabbit hole went made me feel genuinely sick. He didn’t just charm Mohg, he somehow used him to gain access to the land of shadow, abandoned him and then stole his still warm corpse to desecrate into an entirely different form to house the soul of the consort he actually wanted.

Mohg doesn’t even get a footnote in his little “thank you” speech at the gate of divinity. To him, we were more impactful in his plans coming to fruition for inadvertently delivering Radahn’s soul to him than the person who got him into the land of shadow in the first place. The person who died to become the vessel of his king consort.

I don't know why this part of the game specifically had me feeling so disgusted, it's not really something I can explain. There's just something about this character that was put on such a high pedestal by the world around him, and who has received unconditional love throughout his entire life, weaponizing that very same love against someone that probably struggled with it for most of his life and used it to manipulate, take advantage of and isolate him.

And then when one of his knights comes looking for justice, for the freedom of his master, Miquella just charms him too, burying his memories of his devotion to his lord and stealing him for his own followers.

He stripped Mohg of absolutely everything and used him for his own gain until the very end and beyond. For me, Miquella’s age of compassion died the moment he decided doing that was acceptable.

[wordslikesilver]

I swear I’m almost done being mentally ill about Elden Ring I promise but I never see anyone talk about Morgott’s heart wrenching death scene. It’s never overtly pointed out but please imagine the progression of events from his perspective. Lying on his back, staring up at the sky, defeated. He’s one of the ONLY bosses that leaves behind a corpse and it’s heart wrenching okay, it’s OBLITERATING. Because he’s lying there withered and broken, staring up at the golden boughs of the one thing in the world he loved, not the golden order, not the greater will, he loved the Erdtree and dedicated his ENTIRE life to it even though it never loved him back because not even a man as scorned as Morgott could live without love and the love was to keep his heart still beating in his chest when he felt most like a monster. He has spent his entire life keeping this crumbling kingdom together. For his mother, who hid him away so the world wouldn’t hurt him, for his father, the man who taught him how to bear the weight of a crown and stand taller than the ignoble origins you come from. And he was so alone. The only constant in his life being that golden tree that shone down into the sewers. He is the last of all kings. The horns about his brow weighed heavier than his crown.

And then the tree was burning. Lying broken on the ground, unable to truly die, his curse expelled from his body, he could only look up and watch the only thing he loved with all his heart burn down around him. The ashes falling like snow on his face. Can you imagine the heat? The resignation? The misery and the promise that if there’s ever a next time, he’ll do better, and if there isn’t then this shall be his final legacy and he’ll just have to accept that final truth before he dies. The self hatred washing over him and passing into quiet peace as he chooses to pass away together with it. Omens do not get reincarnated by the Erdtree. Loved and blessed by the crucible of life, they are not loved the same as all the rest of us. But that’s okay. For Morgott, that was okay. He would live nobly and die with honour in its service and that would be enough. He’d spend the last moments of his life bathed in the warm ashes of orange and grey, content that even if he never felt loved by anyone at all after being cursed and shunned all his life, he did his duty as best he could and finally repaid the debt he felt towards the tree that showed him the light for so many long, lonely years.

And then, then it makes me so fucking miserable because then a pair of gentle, scarred and terribly rough hands lift him up from the ground and cradle him with all the tenderness in the world. The roar of a lion salutes his passing, honouring him, mourning him. “It’s been a long time, Morgott.” No anger, no disappointment. Simply, sadness, that he could not see you sooner. Godfrey, his father, returned at last to hold him one final time as he passes away, the rune of death now unbound and finding its way to Morgott after all this time. His last memory would be of being held by his father, loved for all that he is in the ashes of all that he dedicated his life to. His body fades, his entire world upheaved one final time, and an easily missed detail in the cutscene is that Morgott’s body becomes a Grace that points towards you, the player, to guide his father to his next step along the path of Lordship. One final time, Godfrey is guided by the unyielding love he feels for one of his children. Fuck it makes me so miserable. How do write something so tragic and not spend more time with it? How do you leave that beauty hidden in the details like it’s not one of the greatest moments of the entire game? It’s so quiet it’s private, almost. Like we’re not supposed to see that side of either of them, being such an outsider. It’s sundering to think about. Annihilating. I love it with all my heart and I hope more people love Morgott too after reading this.

[papaya-twinks]

Ello! Feel free to ignore this request, but possibly Landoscar x chronically ill fem!reader? Just some fluff about how reader isn’t a burden or a bad person to be with because of their illnesses or something maybe?

No pressure whatsoever, and have a great day/night <3

Warnings: chronic illness (not a warning in my opinion, but y’all hated me for not doing it last time), diabetes, needles

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - you didn’t specify which chronic condition, so I’m doing Type 1 diabetes, coz my brother has it ❤️

Lando hated watching you have to prick your finger every day just to find out and make sure your blood sugar stayed in check. He hated having to watch you slowly ease a damn needle into your stomach so you could live off of the insulin your body couldn’t make yourself.

But what he hated, something he hated the most, a memory permanently engraved in the most worst, saddest memory he’d ever seen, and that was coming home from h the gym, seeing you sitting on the bed, your cheeks flooded with tears, staring at your body in sadness.

“Baby, oh baby,” Lando gasped, his eyes wide as he rushed to you, dropping his bags down as he knelt down in front of you, your hands jumping to cover your face. “Don’t,” he mumbled, kissing the backs of your hands as your body shook. You accepted his warm hug without hesitation, shaking a little bit.

“Baby, what happened?” he asked softly, his eyes wide worth worry as you hiccuped. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden,” you glanced over his shoulder at your insulin pen on the side. “A burden? Baby, don’t be ridiculous,” Lando shook his head, eyes wide you’d even think that.

“I hate how sad you get when you have to watch me,” you paused to regain your breath, “when you watch me put my insulin in,”. Lando shook his head, kissing along your jaw as he wiped your face clean of your tears.

“Baby, it’s sad to watch you do that, yes,” Lando sighed softly, “but it’s not a burden. It’s so amazing that my gorgeous girl can handle that and be so strong. I’d never be able to do that,” he explained gently as he held you close, peppering your face and neck with gentle kisses.

“Promise I’m not a burden,” you mumbled, voice muffled into his neck. “I swear on my life, and every damn thing,” he said seriously, his eyes on your gorgeous face, “that I don’t ever think you’re a burden. You’re the love of my life, not a burden. Never a burden. I love you,”.

“Love you too,”.

[charliehoennam]

hero's homestead

A/N: just a lil blurb I've had stuck on my mind and had to frigging get out since watching Road House

Pairing: Elwood Dalton x f!reader

Warnings: physical injuries, jealousy, kissing, mentions of grief and death

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Growing up in Glass Key made your face quite familiar around these parts. Everyone knew you, not because you were popular or from a rich family. Lord knows you wish you were.

But because the island was just so small, like a little fishbowl with too many sharks circling around their prey, everyone knew each other around here. However, the small island was full of a strong sense of community.

Your friendship with Charlie started while you were in high school. You were just a freshman and Charlie was six when Stephen and his wife would very often ask you to baby-sit.

Saying no to them was nearly impossible. Not only did they pay you well, but they always offered you a ride home and made you sure you had dinner before leaving. They really treated you like you were part of the family and helping one another in the community was just so normal.

They always treated you with welcoming kindness and respect so, if there was anything you could do to help them, you did it. Aside from baby-sitting Charlie, this included working at their book store.

You were around there most of the time. If you weren't at home or at school, you were at Glass Books.

As you got older, you started to spend less and less time there in order to focus on your own personal and professional life.

That didn't mean you were never around anymore. You still made your frequent stop to buy the new read of the week.

"Why don't you just get all the books you want for the month, so you don't have to keep coming back?" Charlie questioned genuinely curious.

"Nah, I like coming here. I like the service. And besides, you'd miss me too much, kid" you chuckled watching the young teenage ring your book up at the register.

When Stephen told you about his wife's illness, it really took you by surprise. She could've easily been voted the happiest woman of Glass Key. The aura she possessed could make the dullest room become the brightest. Her sense of humor would have even the most no-nonsense person cracking a smile. She was an amazing woman and a motherly figure to most.

The entire community mourned her loss. The blue sky and the tropical environment wasn't enough to brighten the day for your neighborhood's residents. The heavy rains that followed that entire week led you to believe that even the island was weeping for her absence.

Between medical expenses, funeral costs and a growing teenager, Stephen had to learn to be a single father quite fast. And that meant working a full-time job to make end's meet.

He asked you to help out with the store and you happily agreed. Glass Books was his wife's dream. She loved spending her days there, in the cozy little bookstore she'd built with the love of her life.

Although you know Stephen has a lot on his plate, you can't help but wonder if he wants to avoid the store and her memory altogether.

You refused to accept money for it, knowing the shop didn't make so much money. Even so, Stephen would still transfer you a small amount whenever he could and would often bring you breakfast, lunch or dinner because he felt it was the least he could do.

All you wanted to do was help.

He was more than grateful, especially when he saw how you could make Charlie laugh by putting on music and dancing in the middle of the store with her.

He could see her slipping into a dark place after the death of her mother. Dealing with his own pain, he did his best. But, you were the best friend she needed. A feminine figure she could go to talk about more embarrassing situations or just to get her mind off of the loss.

Gradually, it seemed like their small family was beginning to heal. Although the loss was a still a fresh wound, and Stephen would often find Charlie clutching a small portrait of her mother asleep in bed, they were managing to keep the pain at bay.

You understand how important this store to them. It represents so much more than being just a simple local book store. It represents her.

The store was just as special to you as it was to Charlie and Stephen.

It had always been your refuge, but now, it was always the place where you met him.

Charlie, with her overly friendly nature that she inherited from her mother, struck up a conversation with the then stranger just outside the bookstore.

Her overprotective father was soon outside within seconds. Although the friendly streak ran deep within him too, he knew these parts were full of men with bad intentions.

Once he realized the stranger wasn't from around, he felt a little more at ease.

Although you remained inside the shop, you could overhear their conversation as you inched towards the door and opened it to stand in the doorway, eyeing the stranger with caution.

Stephen was surprised to know he'd come out of town to work at the Road House. To be honest, neither of you expected him to last very long. At that place, security never does.

The bouncer turnover never ceased with the riots that broke out there almost every night. So, you didn't bother getting your hopes up.

However, Dalton kept coming back. Every other day, he came in with the excuse of using the computer or buying a book just to strike up a conversation with you and lay down his flirtatious charm.

Charlie was the first to notice he would always come around when you were there and, if you weren't, he'd always make sure to ask when you were.

She had quite a bit of fun poking fun at you, telling you he had a crush on you or mocking the unconscious change in your voice you had when talking to him.

It didn't long take for feelings to develop between you and him. There was no doubt in either of you. Although unspoken, the magnetic attraction was undeniably present.

Some of those talks were deep and you felt you could confide in him to share things you hadn't shared with anyone at all. He, in turn, told you about the night on the train tracks and how the last fight he had in the ring haunted him every night.

There was no denying the bond you were forming. However, the rumors that were spreading around the island about the closeness between Ellie and him made you hesitant to make the first move.

When you casually brought it up into conversation, he shook his head and told you it wasn't anything serious and that she'd took him on a date once. You wanted to ask him if he had feelings for her, but that would be too much.

"So what's the deal with you and Dalton?" Charlie curiously asked, having picked up on the constant courtship that you two refused to act on.

"There is no deal. We're just friends. Hardly that."

"I may be young, but I'm no fool. I know there's something going on between you two."

"Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but there isn't. Besides, I hear he's got a sort of a girlfriend" you replied without looking up at her from the book in your hand.

You were both sat in fold-out beach chairs placed in front of the store, enjoying a couple of white cherry slushies, hoping the ice cold drink could soothe the hot, humid weather.

"How do you have a 'sort of girlfriend'? Either she is or isn't."

"Those things are complicated. I guess they're getting to know each other," you shrugged wishing you could avoid the topic.

"Like you guys are?"

"There is nothing going on. Sure, he's cute and funny and all, but he's seeing someone else. He's not interested in me, Charlie."

"So, you are interested in him?"

"It doesn't matter if I am. She's a doctor, she's smart and she's really pretty and drives a nice car. I know I don't stand a chance, so I'd rather not get my hopes up," you rambled, failing to read anything on the page you were stuck on. "Can we please drop this now?"

"Oh my god," she smirked staring at you. "You're jealous."

You scoffed at her ridiculous accusation and shook your head as you closed the book and set it in your lap.

"I am not jealous. I do not get jealous."

"Yes, you are! You totally are!"

"I am not! I just don't want to talk about this anymore, alright? So can we drop it?"

"Alright, alright. Sorry I brought it up."

She couldn't stop smiling as you opened your book to continue reading. Although you weren't her parents, her mind couldn't stop thinking of a way to parent-trap you into getting together.

However, her plans were brought to a halt when Brandt's lackeys invaded the shop just a few days later.

You tried your best to stand your ground and defend the shop along with Stephen. He told you to leave, but you refused.

After the beatdown you both received unwillingly, a fire had been set and the cruel men left. The adrenaline that surged through your bodies was enough to numb the pain in order to get you both quickly back on your feet to put out the fire.

Between the blood loss and the resurfacing pain, the billowing smoke got stronger and stronger. The flames became too strong too quickly and had engulfed the entire wall across the front counter.

Light-headed and dizzy, Stephen tried to save whatever he could from the store. As you rushed back and forth, you realized that the fire had grown too much and swallowed the front entrance.

The heat of it shattered the glass windows. The open air only fueled the fire more. Coughing from the heavy smoke, both you and Stephen got down on the floor to avoid the unbreathable air and attempted to crawl to the back exit.

Everything went dark after that and melded into one huge blur.

You don't remember when you actually blacked out, but you do remember feeling relieved once you heard the fire department's arrival.

The time you spent in the hospital was short - only a couple of days - but it was enough to make you reflect on your life.

An overwhelming sense of regret washed over you as you thought about Dalton.

You'd only known each other for a few weeks, but what if you could've had something special? What if Charlie's jokes were true and he actually ended up to be your soulmate?

She could be wrong too, but the fact that you could've died and never found out if you ever really did stand a chance ate at your mind.

You hadn't fully realized the extent of your attachment until a couple days later.

You show up at the store with a limp from the beatdown you'd received a couple days ago.

Stephan tries to assure you they're fine, that you need to rest and recover, but you argue that you'll go insane if you stay at home with nothing to do, high on pain meds.

Helping the owners clean and salvage whatever they can, Charlie casually mentions that Dalton and left her and her father a suitcase full of money to rebuild the store before he got on a greyhound bus destined to leave Glass Key.

The same regret you'd felt in the hospital strikes you again and secretly consumes you.

You try to play it off and instruct her to not to tell anyone about the money. You barely understand what she said after that. All you can think about for the rest of that morning is that he left and didn't even say goodbye.

When Charlie and her father invite you to get some lunch with them, you politely refuse, opting to stay back and keep yourself busy. You lie and tell them you had a big breakfast beforehand just so they won't worry.

You promised you wouldn't get your hopes up. You knew better than that. Bouncers never last at the Road House. You know this just as well as any of the other residents of Glass Key.

He's gone now.

You just want to be alone for a bit to process it.

The door opens and the bell above it rings as you sweep away at the shattered glass, forcing you to look back over your shoulder.

The sight you see has you frozen in surprise.

His face is impossible to forget. You could never forget those big blue doe eyes, even with the dark skin that circles his right eye.

You groan lightly at the shooting pain from your broken rib as you straighten and turn to face him, holding the broom by your side as you stand next to it.

Dalton closes the glassless door behind him as he greets you with a silent but friendly smile until the cut on your lip and the black eye remind him of the damage he caused.

He doesn't look too different from you. His eye is still a little swollen but mostly black now, his lip busted and the stitches on his eyebrow are all evidence that business has been handled at the Road House.

"So, the Glass Key hero returns" you smile at him, ignoring the sting on your bottom lip. "Charlie said you were riding off into the sunset. You forget something?"

"I'm not a hero and, no, I didn't" he starts, looking around the burned down shop trying to swallow his guilt.

"Changed your mind?"

"Someone kinda changed it for me, actually. A very wise person told me that heroes don't always have to ride off into the sunset. They can stay and make a homestead instead."

Joy bursts within you like fireworks on new years. You try to fight back the smile that creeps onto you lips.

"Thought you weren't a hero."

"I'm not."

You nod biting the inside of your cheek to mask your excitement. You take the second broom that Charlie had been using earlier and left leaning against the wall by the front door.

"This homestead could use a hand" you smile and offer him the broom.

He takes it with a happy grin, feeling finally accepted as if he finally found somewhere he belongs.

"There's, uh, one more thing" he says in a soft voice.

His hand raises to your chin, tilting your head up as he cranes his neck to kiss you in the most tender of ways.

Unable to forget about Ellie, you place a hand on his chest and gently push to stop the kiss.

Dalton's face contorts with confusion. He doesn't notice the breath he's holding, anxiety settling in as he fears that you'll ask him to stop. Maybe he got the wrong signals and you don't like him that way. He'd respect it, if that's the case, but it doesn't mean his heart won't be crushed.

"I thought you were seeing Ellie?"

He blinks slightly surprised. That's not what he had expected to hear, but it makes him kind of happy that you're not asking him to stop.

"She took me on a date and we kissed, but that was it."

"So, you are dating her?"

"What, are you jealous?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not jealous."

"You sound a little jealous" he smirks.

"I'm not. I just... I don't wanna get my hopes up."

"I'm not dating her," he says gently stroking your bruised cheek. "I told her there's someone else for me, someone that I really wanna date."

He gazes into your eyes as you smile up at him and let him continue his kiss. You let his lips linger on yours and smile when you feel them stretch into a grin.

The cuts on your mouths hurt, but neither of you bother to pull away.

His kiss gradually intensifies. His tongue flicks over your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance. His free hand reaches for your waist as the other sets against your cheek, leaving the broom tucked in his arm.

You let his tongue slip past your defenses. The gentle way his hand cradles your face has you holding onto his strong forearm and the other broom for balance as the room spins around you from his vertiginous kiss.

Your chest presses against his as you moan softly into his mouth. It takes him every ounce of his self-control to not pin you against the wall.

The bell rings again, alerting you both of another's presence so you quickly pull apart, trying to quickly compose yourselves. Your eyes shoot to the door along with Dalton's.

You realize who it is, so he shyly lets his eyes wander around what's left of the store and sweeps the ashy floor.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Charlie smirks sipping her juice from a straw as she stands in the doorway.

"No, no," you reply nervously as heat pools in your cheeks. "Dalton and I were just, uh, cleaning up."

"Cleaning what? The floor or each other's throats?"

Dalton snickers at her candor, glancing at you until she continues.

"Good to see you're back though. And if you ask me, it's about time."

[oozedninjas]

How do you think the 07 boys would react if the reader died? Like in an accident or killed by shredder or sm? just food for thoughts

They say there are five stages of grief...

Leonardo will blame himself for it no matter how you die. Did you get sick? He's a ninja. He should have noticed the symptoms as soon as they appeared! Did the Shredder kill you? God, that's his worst nightmare. Because it not only means he failed as a partner, but he also failed as the leader of the team you belonged to. He couldn't protect you, and he can never forgive himself for that.

Denial

There must be some way to rebound it. His mind flashes from here to there, and Leo considers possibilities that in a normal situation would seem delusional. Could Donatello build a time machine? There must be some way to reverse it. There must be. It can't be that you're just... gone.

2. Anger

It's a sheer tough situation because even though he would want to fight recklessly, with no regard for himself, Leo has to be strong for others and continue playing his role as leader and older brother. So he bottles up his feelings; buries them deep until they slowly rot inside him.

When he faces the Shredder again, he notices that there is something different, and for the first time in decades, Shredder fears he may not win. I think Leo would also become rougher with low-ranked criminals, hitting harder than necessary. The terrifying part? It's always perfectly calculated.

Also, his brothers resent his anger during training because he becomes tougher and more demanding. However, it's only because Leo can't afford to lose anyone else. He wouldn't be able to bear it.

3. Bargaining

He should at least be able to compensate your family. Friends. Anyone who loved you as much as he did. Thinking about doing things for people who were close to you brings him a kind of comfort that appeases his anger. It's a way of trying to regain a sense of control over the situation and find a way to cope with his pain.

4. Depression

He'll never again feel the tender caress of your fingertips over his shell, the warmth of your lips pressed against his own, or the sweet melody of your laughter echoing through the lair. The realization grips his heart with an ironclad vice, suffusing his spirit. It's a devastating blow that rends his very soul asunder.

5. Acceptance

But you wouldn't want him to be sad forever. No, in fact, Leo is sure you'd be insisting that he needs to move on. It was okay to feel, to be upset and cry along the way, but it was time to get up. Master Splinter plays a very important role in how Leo slowly recovers himself. One step at a time.

Donatello: It depends on how you die, but I believe what could drive him insane is if he loses you slowly due to an illness. That would be his personal hell because no matter how hard he tries to change things, researching new methods, creating medications, even biotechnology... nothing seems to yield results. Isn't he supposed to be a genius? What's the point of intellect if it can't use it to save you?!

Denial

"With this cryogenic capsule, I can keep her body intact a little longer," he tells your loved ones, who stare at him, paralyzed by the desperation in his eyes. "I can fix this. I can- I just need more time." But a person is not a machine, and your loved ones did not allow him to experiment.

A machine! That's it! Donatello made a copy of your memory and some parts of your consciousness before your departure; perhaps he could put that into a robot and somehow... maybe with enough effort and the right wires...

2. Anger

It worked, and yet it failed miserably. This thing in front of him looked like you, sounded like you, shared some memories, and yet, it felt utterly empty. How could he insult your memory out of his own desperation?

Donatello smashed his Bo staff into the control center, piercing it completely. He trembled a little as he continued to hold it, buried in the circuits. That night there was a blackout in the lair, and all that could be heard from the lab was the grinding of teeth.

3. Bargaining

It happened to you, but perhaps with all the research and testing, Donatello could prevent someone else from going through the same thing. So, he decided to sell his investigation, using a pseudonym and a couple of computer skills made it no problem to do it all from the lair. For him, it's like gradually adapting to the reality of his loss through these small actions.

4. Depression

To think that a robot could replace you. What the hell was he thinking? Your scent, the softness of your skin, the beautiful way you looked at him when discussing a new discovery, that could never be replicated. The lab, like his heart, felt terribly empty. It was a feeling as suffocating as it was overwhelming: knowing that you would never be there again, that he couldn't see or hear you anymore. Suddenly, he can't breathe.

Burying himself in his work keeps his mind occupied. He doesn't need sleep; he needs to progress with the research. Donatello escapes from every little space that could allow you to somehow appear in his mind.

5. Acceptance

April helped a lot in this part, as she was the one who started bringing you into the conversation with positive things, and Don has small spaces to feel shared nostalgia. April feels the same loss; she understands, and that is extremely comforting.

Over time, the feeling of emptiness left by your memory transitions to a bittersweet sensation, and gradually he allows himself to move forward, remembering you with a smile, with a fondness that embraces him from the bottom of his heart. Donatello learned that every minute counts, and for that reason, he now makes space to spend more time with the people he loves, and who love him in return.

[lint-beetle4]

Netflix Monkey King? I want to try. Of course when u get done with other requests😃

I would like to request a Monkey King x female celestial reader headcanons that contains fluff, slight angst and romance. Reader can be shy or any personality u want. If u do shy, they comfort Monkey King saying he doesnt need to be powerful or a god to fit in(trying to remember the plot from memory).

But I hope u do stay safe😊

Celestial Chaos (Netflix!Wukong X Fem!Celestial!Reader)

You hated the monkey that disrupted the celestial realm

Since its birth, the stone monkey had gained a name for itself, challenging gods, defying the heavens and terrifying spirits

The thing was clearly a force of chaos, a force of evil that refused to relent its tyraid

Despite it all, you couldn't help but feel pity for the poor Monkey King, the Sage that tried to fit in with heaven

It was clear his pride was merely protecting him, sending him whispers that he was enough, because he made himself be enough

The demons that fell to him proved his worth, but you knew the celestial realm wouldn't allow anyone of his nature in

Heaven only allowed obedience and order, traits the foolish sage could never have in his state

You weren't too different from him, if you could rationalize it too much

Your shy nature made you invisible, overlooked, excluded

People thought you were either uninteresting or too pompous to converse to the other gods

You never believed their words, but they still stung

You could only imagine how the sage felt when he fought his way to heaven only to be met with scorn

You did your best to soften the blows, acting in solidarity of someone who knew how the generals and gods could be

The foolish monkey became smitten, looking up to you like heaven didn't matter

In the back of your brain, you could say the same

A foolish monkey in your eyes transformed into an honest, proud man who was in over his head

His quest for power was a call for help, a plea that someone would accept him

You were briefly aware of the little mortal that followed him, ill intentions in the way she held herself, yet guilt consuming her

You could only hope that she would help the monkey

In the end, she revealed her true color, bound by a deal meant to bring the king to his knees

the foolish dragon didn't know the price he would pay, and neither did Wukong

With Wukong's revolt, you watched in horror, pleading to him, begging him to stop and calm himself

Yet, he was overcome with power, and the heavens did the only thing they could do: summon Buddha

In the end, Wukong was sealed, but a hidden blessing had been given to you: you were tasked with feeding him and ensuring he survived--something no other celestial wanted to do

You gave him snacks, peaches and all sorts of food that you could find, knowing the celestials wouldn't watch you--a lucky trait of being a doormat is that no one knows your small acts of defiance

As centuries passed by, the king had been freed, tasked with a journey

You had a recent mission to grant blessings to nearby village plagued by drought, and on your way there, you were met with a pair of arms hugging your from behind

There you saw him, your Wukong, the Sage Greater Than Heaven, freed at last

[cu7ie]

hiiiiii ☺️ if u r still accepting thirsts, what kinks do u think toman have? u can pick whoever u like!

content: discussion of various kinks. consensual involvement of all parties implied. masochistic reader: nahoya, baji, mitsuya, draken. public sex: mitsuya. very (extremely) brief mention of cannibalism: baji , takemitchi x hana x reader in takemitchy's part. assplay - takemitchi. penis headcanon - takemitchi

MINORS DON'T INTERACT.

an: i got this fucking eons ago. it is finally answered this fine day. (with the help of @bimbohub - much love <3) some of these are unorthodox. argue in the comments or my inbox <3.

chifuyu likes —

bottoming. a firm hand and a strong direction to provide him that foundation - stability to do what needs to get done instead of trying to figure it all on his own.

roleplay. he favors pet/master play, but doesn't mind schoolkid/teacher, or boss/worker - just prefers being the one on the leash, the one being reprimanded, the one being punished ... doesn't mind a role reversal from time to time!

cucking. would let baji fuck his partner. hell, if the whole of toman wanted to fuck, his baby would just have to say the word, and he'd open the floodgates. for chifuyu it doesn't spawn shame within him, and he doesn't harbor ill will towards friends who choose to indulge in you - there's no shame in them liking you when he loves you so much. it's only natural.

bondage. not any more skilled in rope tying than your average delinquent, but there's something so gratifying about rubbed raw wrists - the imprint the binding leaves behind feels like an unspoken badge of honor. that n' the soreness in his hips, because he never lets you take it easy on him.

kazutora likes —

feet. would beat up a schmuck and steal his money just so he can pay for your pedicure. has to beg you to play a little 'footsie' (cute, right?) because you hate the sticky, gross feeling of his cum between your toes, but he's pleading, bargaining with you even. says he'll clean up his own mess and everything.

and gosh. how could you even turn down such a sight?

quickies. i feel like tora cums fast anyway, but there is certain energy contained within that bit of sex, the hurriedness of it all, the mess he leaves pooling in your panties for you to clean (or cope, if you two are in public.) and it's versatile. you could use your hand, mouth, thighs, hole. he's not at all picky.

voyuerism. tora has a little eye that likes to spy. it supersedes any love for exhibitionism or public sex - it's so much more intimate than that. getting to see you undress. touching yourself with such little shame, when you're so shy up close. he has endless moments and memories captured in his mind. some in your bed, some in your shower - his bed. in the living room that one time! enough jerk off material for a millenium.

nahoya likes —

oral. specifcally, your mouth. loves getting his dick sucked because he's impatient and it allows him a delicious amount of control. he can get you to bob up and down with a hand on the back on your head - choke you with the thickness of his cock, the head of it brushing up against your uvula. he's not even worried when you gag. hit his thighs all you like, but you're getting nowhere fast being bratty.

hair-pulling. pulling your hair. he's a little attack dog and will get a little too rough - but one hand in your hair gives him something to focus on- an anchor deeper into you. firm grip, subtle tension. just enough to make you neck curve and your moans just a little more work. likes his hair grabbed too, but gives you specific instructions, grab it a little tight at the root. tug gently. it's fun when you're riding him, such a determined look on your face trying to remember what he said when he's fucking the thoughts out of you.

spitting. sometimes in your mouth, sometimes just on you. it's a part of degradation he holds to a higher esteem than all the others. he does it with precision and intent - a firm slap on your ass and a bit of wetness on your back. sometimes he makes you lean your head back when he's fucking you so hard your hips are on lift-off, and he spits on your tongue; pulling you up to kiss him after.

"that's liquid gold. don't waste it."

baji likes —

biting. rabidness and feralness is all baji knows. even when he's not fucking, he says he bites the things he likes and the more he talks about how he wants to mark you everywhere, his oral fixation nearly ebbs into cannibalistic ideation. sometimes it's a little nibble, doesn't even leave a mark. other times it's a violent chomp, that makes you gasp and sometimes the pain makes you let out a confused moan, flinching upright and away.

but then he's settling atop you, pulling you into his lap, bending you over the counter.

expect lots of new marks before the end of the night.

rough sex. baji will bruise hips, leave crescent shaped marks in hips, bites all over your neck, fingers gripping your hair like a leash. he fucks with a foot on your head, pins you down as he pistons his hips in and out so hard his balls sting when they clap against your skin. spurred on by your whining and moaning, he'll switch positions.

full nelson? your legs are going past your head. sometimes he'll even just wrap a snug arm around your neck while he's rolling his hips into you like a demon, fucking you so hard your insides feel throbbing and bruised.

you cum the hardest when you're at least a little lightheaded, though, so not being able to walk afterwards is kinda worth it.

slapping. will put his hands on anything. baji's law? if it can be slapped, it absolutely will. he'll slap ass, tits, cock, balls. he wants to hear it, see it flop and jiggle as you cringe away from the sudden touch, but whine for more of him anyway. he likes to see you jerk, feel the heat created by his palm as he rubs his hand over the spot.

and if he does it hard enough, you flinch from the after-sting.

draken likes —

size difference. naturally, draken is a pretty big guy. when he was younger it was easier to notice among smaller peers, but the novelty doesn't wear off as he gets older. especially when he starts dating you. his hands are so big they can wrap around both wrists, and you squirm beneath him pathetically as his shadow covers you with ease, and he's cooing almost cruelly about how big his dick is in comparison to you, contemplating how you might stretch n' squeeze sooo deliciously around him. he'll flop it against your tummy, let you feel it's red hot warmth as it throbs intimidatingly. and he cums there's not enough space to fit it all! the sheer amount always ensures your sheets are sticky after.

he also loves being able to pick on somebody his own size. his cock will punch the air out of your lungs. he's rougher because he worries less about breaking you. doesn't have to drape you over his cock and use his hands to move you because you can do the work all on your own. loves watching you fuck yourself on his dick while he all he has to do is lay back and watch you. the sweat collects on your brow as you try to maintain your pace atop him, and he's laughing in a way that makes your face hot and cheeks sting. and the moment he gets antsy from not moving, you're getting fucked on your side while he reminds you of just how well you've been taking him.

brat taming. draken does not do any kind of disobedience in the slightest. it takes him a while to reach that point with you, but you can't deny your easing and egging him on.

you wanna cop an attitude because he ate the food you said you didn't want? you wanna give him the cold shoulder because he didn't run after you to comfort you after you stormed off? he can handle it. he can take it and compartmentalize it, forget about it - only because you're kissing up on him afterwards. but there's always the straw that breaks the camel's back.

his frustration reaches a boiling point when he's cooking dinner and you suck your teeth after he asks you to hand him a knife, and his head snaps so fast to look at you his braid tosses itself over his shoulder. he washes his hands in an instant, not paying mind to your complaint about him getting your shirt wet when he grabs you by your wrist and takes you back to the bedroom, making you lay across his lap. he will make you apologize. every defiance, every squirm or misspeak is rewarded with a SLAP! that's so loud it embarrasses you more than it hurts. that only lasts for a second, as the pain filters in and you mumble a little "ow..."

which he spanks you for again! you're supposed to be apologizing, remember?

spanking. draken has a special ritual for clapping his hands against your ass, believe it or not. one strike means a verbal apology. two strikes means you're on thin ice, and he expects you to bow your head and maintain silence for a moment or two. three strikes? you are getting bent over his knee, and no apology you stutter out between him taking you back to the room and spreading out over his lap can dissuade him from putting you back in your place.

he had big hands, and is used to leaving marks or bruises sometimes. if you're (un)lucky, he'll be wearing his rings as he does it. The sound of each smack like music to his ears as he gets off on you squirming and tearing up, the pain growing to be too much. then he stops. lets you catch a quick breath before the next smack forces it back out of you.

after the fact, when you're blubbering and seemingly can't run your mouth anymore, he has you take care of his hard-on. maybe if you stopped being such a brat, he'd help you out too. eats you out after if you do a good enough job.

mikey likes —

size difference. mikey has a vested interest in establishing hierarchy within his relationships. whatever your body is became his when you started dating him. and as his bitch, he expects you to, no matter how big you are, bend to his will when it's time to fuck. he likes being the dominant party.

loves being able to bend a big bitch over. appreciates how you gasp when he picks you up and fucks you into the wall. or the look of confusion on your face when he can bend you in half and make you stay that way. if you're smaller than him, why, he enjoys teeny cock sluts too. the ones that strangle his cock, hole so fucking tight he has to work them open with terrifyingly slow rolls of his hips.

he likes big cocks, small tits, fat pussy, skinny cock, tiny pussy. fat ass, flat ass, big muscle, chubby tummy, flabby arms! tall, short. if it's different he likes it. if it's familiar he also likes it.

breastfeeding. sucking on nipples, milk or no, legitimately calms him. he can fist his cock and just settle in your lap (or sometimes he can get you to stroke him off) while he latches onto you, sucking and licking over the fleshy bud until you're squirming from the pleasure. it becomes cold and is over far too soon as he moves to the other one. lightly nibbling and tugging with his teeth.

milk adds a new depth to the fun he can have. as he cups your chest in your hand and makes a daft comment about 'leaky udders' and reliving pressure. he can always take what you have to give. it's almost like he never gets full.

roughhousing. mikey likes something about being underestimated. by enemy gangs is one thing - but you can get so haughty sometimes! what's a better way than giving you a noogie to scramble your brains, or with tussling to the ground when you stick out your lip and say "Make me?" he's used to it, and it's so fun to get to flex his strength over you - especially because after he pins you down, the look of you, so helpless ...

sometimes he can't help it if it goes a little further! if it ends up with him pushing your thighs to your chest and biting at your mouth trying to kiss you- bruising the back of your ass as the force of his hips clatters into you and makes you squeal.

he's just a little easy to rile up is all.

mitsuya likes —

gang-banging. he thinks sex with you alone is just fine. however he wouldn't mind if you brought your friends... or maybe you wouldn't mind if he brought his? he's a little selfish. wants a little bit of this or a little bit of that - kiss from this person, nipple play with that person, fingers crooked inside another.

he's never not busy and that's the way he likes it, true facts. when it comes to sharing you with his friends though, he only has one rule. he needs to be inside you at all times. he prefers creaming in your ass/stuffing your pussy, but he'll very begrudgingly settle for your mouth - depending on who's asking. the most important criteria is that he starts and finishes inside. kind of like the last man standing.

flogging. mitsuya likes to punish brats with a small voice and a big stick. he lets you complain, lets you stomp your feet and have your tantrum after dinner, while you're a little tipsy and mad at him for not getting you that one extra glass of wine. he just smiles and takes you home, but as soon as you're inside, he's helping you strip. you're still mumbling your protest as you go and lay on the bed, ass up like he told you to.

maybe you act out like this because you like getting punished? it's not like he doesn't remind you with his patient smile that doesn't meet his pointed eyes. anyway, it all ends the same. with you curling your fingers into your blanket and squealing as the instrument snaps sharply against your ass, blood rushing to the site that gives a cool euphoric feeling, before fading out into a dull, painful throb.

you sniffle about how you're sorry, but moan every time the flog comes down on your ass, filtered in between your little whines and tears.

bimbo training. mitsuya just finds dumb sluts sooo cute. the ones that mindlessly lap at cock and suck on balls, eager to have a load shot deep down their throat, and smart enough tor remember to thank him afterwards. he maintains a strict wardrobe for them. no heels lower than one inch. tops are meant to be formfitting but not uncomfortable - he would end up procuring or creating your pieces on his own, giving you accessories to match every single outfit, but you're not allowed to wear them during the sex part of training.

mitsuya likes gentle reminding. encouragement to try the things you're afraid of, how it'll be okay if you just focus on the sound of his voice, forget about everyone else in the room, just ride his cock like he knows you want to...

it's fun not having to think when it comes to mitsuya. when you stutter or stumble or don't know what to say, he just smiles and speaks for you, thinks for you. it's a lot less stressful! a whole lot more efficient too. mitsuya still takes his time to explain things to you, (so kind!) breaking it down into many little parts so it's easier for you to digest!

oh... what would you do without him?

takemitchi likes —

cucking. he really doesn't deserve hana. it makes his stomach roll every time he thinks about how she settled for him - when she has all the makings to be her own woman - with a better guy (or girl) that could give her all she could ever want - and not have to settle with his short comings. but she kisses up on him the same, strokes his cock slow like she usually does, kisses him on the forehead when he cums...

so when you come along, with the measured kindness that makes his stomach flutter and his head hurt, he tells hina about you. then she meets you. and falls for you just as he did. it's always been his desire to see you two fuck. hear hina moan when you slurp on her clit just right, fingering her pussy till she's clenching around your fingers and make her lick her own wetness from your skin. you fuck her with toys first, then work her up to something bigger.

(penis'd) your cock is a lot fatter than his. he knows because when you fuck into hina for the first time the head squishes and you groan, hips stuttering as you get caught on the tightness of her pussy and releasing a shuddering breath, hina's eyes are closed and her mouth is stuck in an euphoric 'oh', takemitchi's hand like a blur as he angrily fists his cock and bites down on his hand. he's never seen hina make those faces before, make those squeaky breathless noises. he cums to the sound of her moaning your name, and from the sound of the bed shaking, you're no where near finished.

(strap'd) hina's not used to all the bumps and texture on this silicone cock. every angle you hit deeper inside her forces out a hoot or a little holler, her face beet red as you whisper filthy things into her ear. about how she's a little slut for letting her husband watch, how this pussy is now your property ... hina is bent over the bed over the bed at one point, calling out for takemitchi to do ...something. after a point all her noises blur together, but he does end up holding her hand through her orgasm, which you also faithfully fuck her through. she's creamed over your cock at least twice now - faster than takemitchi pulling a single orgasm out of her.

overstimulation. it's not hard to get takemitchi to cum his brains out. a bit of breathing near his cock, a single tug, is enough to get him hard. so imagine a mouth that won't let up? a hand that's so insistent on pumping load after load after load until he has no more to give. a vibrating toy on his nipples or strapped to his dick or up his ass? it's going to put him out of commission for five to six business days. he's always a sweaty sticky mess, pleading for less friction when he's the one who's been bucking into your hand this whole time.

obviously, he still wants it. and who are you to stop a thirsty man from drinking his water?

anal stimulation is another thing he can't handle. a butt plug stretching him out like a glove, a dildo, or a fat cock up his ass? strap or no, he's lost the ability to speak at that point. he's all flushed red and tries to be quiet, but you always wring those noises out of him, somehow.