#i certainly think about those weirdos AND HOW

[ghostwise]

while we're on the subject this is the meager durgetash playlist for Aya, if you wanna think abt those weirdos

We're in This Together - Nine Inch Nails

OK! OK? OK! OK? - Mannequin Pussy

Sex on Wheelz - My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult

Stinkfist - TOOL

Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drums - A Perfect Circle

[norrisainz33]

bubble || LN4

☆ summary: internet sleuths find out that lando norris has been flirting with and potentially dating a relatively unknown singer

☆ pairing: lando norris x singer!reader

☆ fc & warnings: zinadelphia & slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: nope!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 18,345 others

f1gossip: it’s been brought to our attention by an anonymous user that our lando norris has been caught seemingly flirting in the comment sections (for at least the past 24 weeks based off the time stamps) with a small american artist, y/n y/l/n. he’s the only driver that follows her and has been consistently in her comment section hyping her up and calling her things like “gorgeous”, “talented” and “pretty.” what do you all make of this?

view all 653 comments

user1: oh my god lando????

user14: i’ve never once heard of this girl?

user2: how did we not know about this for the past 24 weeks guys wtf

user4: no like seriously…. seems like something we should have known already

user3: wait her music is really good tho 🥹

user7: her song mirrorball??? the girl has some vocals wow

user4: just looked her up and she’s beautiful… i see what he’s seeing

yourbff: screaming my head off at this

user1: and who are you??? do you know y/n??

f1gossip: check your dms yourbff

user5: she’s using him for fame!

user4: considering we all just found out about her…. imma go ahead and say no she’s not

user6: now how do i make this about me 🙂‍↔️

ynuser has added to their story

view all story the replies

user1: ooooo orange or papaya ???

yourbff: girl you fueling the flames with this post 😂💀

ynuser: HAHA i know… i got 24k new followers in the past 2 days since you sent me that post by f1gossip and figured id have some fun with it since there’s no hiding now

yourbff: who knew meeting that guy randomly in europe 6 months ago was going to turn out like this

ynuser: certainly not me girl. remember when i thought he was some weirdo who was just trying to hit on me in the bar??

yourbff: bc he had no rizz but max and p really swooped in and saved him and now look at you 🥹

ynuser: my perfect little no rizz baby boy 🥹 love of my life 🤭

landonorris: it’s papaya baby

ynuser: i couldn’t be too obvious now could i?

landonorris: nah go on then be obvious

ynuser: oh you want me to post you?

landonorris: yeah specifically that one pic you took of us in the mirror last night

ynuser: LANDO that is for OUR eyes only

landonorris: right yes

landonorris: i still think you should post me

ynuser: i don’t know if i want to burst our little bubble yet

landonorris: fair enough baby. you just tell me when! i’ve got paddock passes, pictures, plane tickets — everything lined up for when you’re ready

ynuser: 🥹😭 vegas? we go on our little vacation after im done my tour and you’re done in brazil and then pop the bubble?

landonorris: sounds great to me gorgeous but seriously no pressure

user2: my delusions are working over time

maxfewtrell: i’m trying so hard to defend your privacy and this is what you post

ynuser: what’s wrong with the color orange?

maxfewtrell: y/n

user3: ain’t ever seen you and lando in the same room but i somehow know yall doing it

user4: you’re so pretty and your outfits eat so hard wtf 😭

user9: praying this is a new song lyric idk who these new fans are talking about lando this lando that …. i need a new song

ynuser has made a post

liked by youbff, yourfriend2, yoursibling, landonorris, maxfewtrell, ynupdates, and 54,235 others

ynuser: baby’s first headlining tour was a success! thank you to everyone who came out and sang along with me every night. i love you all dearly 🤍 and for all the newbies here, welcome 🫶🏻

view all 324 comments

user1: oh she’s so cute

user2: starting a y/n fan club rn yall

yourbff: you are making those dreams come true bb girl

ynuser: trying to 🥹

yoursibling: cutie patootie i love you

ynuser: i love you more

user23: the peoples most beautiful princess 🤍

user9: who are all you new people here

user2: lando norris fans. who are you?

user9: a y/n y/l/n fan. who is lando norris?

user2: a formula 1 driver!

user9: race cars?? i did not expect that…

user8: taking note of lando and max in the likes

user4: also taking note of their lack of a comment…. lando has commented on every single one of her posts before the f1gossip post dropped

user16: i was there last night!!! best show ever!!! love you y/n

user19: i’m obsessed with those cherry earrings

landonorris has made a post

liked by maxfewtrell, quadrant, mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, ynuser, alex_albon23, and 823,104 others

landonorris: a much needed break. vegas here we come baby

view all 743 comments

user1: i don’t know where to look ,, at the wh*re in the first pic or the soft launch in the second my god 😮‍💨😍😭😔💀

user9: ok user2… i get it now. also i’ve seen those white shoes in y/n’s posts before it’s def her

user2: omg you’re an icon for this

ynuser: dmn y’all really can identify me by my shoes?

user9: YN WHAT ARE YOU SOING HERE IM SORRY

user2: y/nlando confirmed

maxfewtrell: interesting choice of photos mate

landonorris: thanks! picked them myself

maxfewtrell: yeah clearly

pietra.pilao: 🤍

landonorris: 🧡

user2: i’m speechless

user55: hey lando idk if u heard but there’s a lookalike contest happening in my room tonight. $59 cash prize

oscarpiastri: those aren’t max’s legs 👀

landonorris: you’d be correct

user12: this is monumental

user18: my favorite sinister, evil and orange little gremlin

user14: you’re gonna cook in vegas king

ynuser had posted to her story

view all story replies

yourbff: this dress is eating in a way i didn’t think it would. i’m sorry for doubting you

ynuser: never doubt me 😤

lilyzneimer: had so much fun meeting you at dinner this evening!!! looking forward to spending the weekend with you at mclaren 🫶🏻

ynuser: omg it was so fun getting dinner with you and oscar!! i’m so so so glad to have you as a buddy in the paddock. i was super nervous about it all

lilyzneimer: it can be very overwhelming at times but we’ve got you y/n!!

ynuser: that means so much to me 🥹

user9: mother is mothering … in vegas?????

user12: are you in vegas per chance?! for the formula 1 grand prix?! for lando norris?!

user2: i fr need style tips and grwm’s from you y/n. every time you post an outfit it moves me

landonorris: in my hotel room 😈

ynuser: you got it ☝🏻 now hurry up and get back here

landonorris: trust me im hurrying

user8: i need someone to get you on a magazine cover stat

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, yourbff and 19,231 others

f1gossip: confirmed! y/n y/l/n, singer songwriter, is in las vegas with lando norris for the las vegas gp. this seems to be their first official weekend out together

view all 327 comments

user2: as someone who has been deeply invested since the beginning (3 weeks ago).. this is everything

user9: my girl 🥹

user10: i truly wonder how in the world they even met… they’re such an interesting pair

user18: mclaren admin please ask him this weekend

user13: that should be me 😭

user24: ok wait guys im at the gp and y/n was walking through the paddock with lily and we waved her down because we had made some lando merch and she was honestly so sweet and stopped and took photos with us and chatted for way longer than she needed to. i truly hope she never changes she’s an angel

user21: this is so wholesome

user23: i fear she’s on track to become the people’s paddock princess in record time

user18: i have no one to send this to who will get it

mclaren has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynuser, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourbff, and 432,444 others

mclaren: this weekends most requested interview just dropped! make sure to check out the full thing over on the mclaren app 🟠

view all 329 comments

user18: mclaren admin is a y/nlando girly confirmed

maxfewtrell: he’s leaving out the bit where i had to save him from completely bombing

landonorris: 😔 you’re not gonna let me live that down huh

ynuser: idk what would have happened if max didn’t come over and stop you from explaining why you hate fish so passionately

landonorris: babe please not on the public instagram

user2: lando norizz strikes again

landonorris: love when i get asked good questions like this!

user4: king said if one more person asks me abt wdc im gonna lose it. ask me abt y/n instead

user9: this is making it incredibly hard to gatekeep y/n

ynuser: that’s my man 🙂‍↔️

landonorris: damn right it is

user13: the mutual do you know who i am is lowkey so funny

landonorris has made a post

liked by mclaren, ynuser, yourbff, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, pierregasly, and 843,238

landonorris: thanks for being nice to me this time vegas!! oh and thanks for coming y/n 😈🏆

view all 854 comments

user12: i’m so proud of you lando

user9: wahooooo first race i watched and you won. i think me and y/n are good luck for you

mclaren: incredible drive lando! that’s our winner!!

ynuser: something about seeing you on that podium 😮‍💨

landonorris: oh you like that?

ynuser: yes 🤭

landonorris: alright podium finishes only from now on 😏

user19: oh you two are freaks i just know it

ln4: LFGGGGG

user13: congrats on the win and the hot gf 😭

carlossainz55: congrats lando!! and hi y/n!

ynuser: hi carlos 🤍

maxfewtrell: much better post mate

landonorris: why thank you. i worked hard on this one

user2: a win and a hard launch = double win for me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[robotlyra]

So I heard good things about the movie Conclave, so as a dutiful little post-Catholic weirdo with lingering baggage, I gave it a watch and was thoroughly entertained. I highly recommend it.

But one of the reasons why it's been getting so much discussion is that people keep comparing it to Drag Race and making it out to be this campy drama full of gossip and machinations. And while those elements are there, and I certainly endorse taking that approach to analysis, I also can't help but wonder. I wonder if the reason why people are clocking it as a glam gossip drama is because they don't have enough lived experience with Catholicism, and its most vociferous adherents that they can't clock the sincerity when they witness it.

There is a mundane hierarchical jockeying aspect to it, and that cannot be denied, but the true fascination in the experience, the creeping horror of it, is to see dudes who have completely convinced themselves of their own self righteousness that they believe Performative Humility is Genuine Submission to God's Will. There's a bit that carries through the film that says "nobody who acts like they WANT to be pope SHOULD be pope", but that unto itself is a form of performance. It's the most insidious kind of grandstanding because it's the kind that can convince the performer themself that it's genuine. It can make them think: "I've eaten enough humble pie to prove I'm a good person, so I don't have to continue the work of self examination."

In my opinion, that sort of performance has less in common with high glam ego-driven drag competition, and more in common, say, with online political posturing, the contest to appear most sociopolitically aware and self-flagellatory. To prove how good one is by being loudest about confessing how bad one is. And maybe some people aren't ready to make that connection because they don't want to believe that old dudes in church are capable of the same kinds of mental gymnastics to pursue their own self-interests as the most liberated, educated, and media savvy online commentator.

[systlin]

I've got a question about beekeeping that I think is probably dumb, but I couldn't really find a definite answer anywhere online. And you keep bees, so I figured you might know. Some background:

A friend of mine recently told me she doesn't eat honey because she was told beekeepers kill their bees at the start of winter because it's more lucrative to start the new year with a fresh hive, apparently because the one they used that year is supposedly to exhausted from being overworked or something.

now from what I know about bees, that is probably bullshit. I think someone somewhere might have confused the thing about all the drones getting chased out at the start of winter maybe? But the point was made that maybe hobby beekeepers don't, but industrial beekeepers do. I can't find anything anywhere about how industrial beekeeping works and if it's any different from hobby beekeeping apart from in scale. And I do always think it's weird how cheap honey in stores can be if I look at the work that goes in honey and the fact that I think you can harvest honey from a hive 2 times a year or so?

basically, I think she's very wrong about this and want to be able to convince her otherwise. (or be very very surprised and learn she was right but I doubt it) I don't want to be a bitch about it to her because you can't really fact check everything you hear all the time. but this is just. such a weird idea to me.

(this may have turned into more than one question and I'm now interested in bees a lot, so if you wanted to infodump about a ton of bee related info I didn't ask for too I certainly wouldn't mind)

It is 100% prime bullshit

Bees are fuckin expensive. A package of 3 pounds of bees is $160+. A nuc is $200+. New hives usually don't even produce honey the first year. The first year is letting them settle in and build up. Hives that have wintered over at least once are the ones you can actually harvest honey and wax from.

No beekeeper is going to kill their bees. Even if they're utterly amoral profit driven weirdos, that's simply not how it works. It would be absolutely absurdly expensive.

Most beekeepers who do it professionally don't make money from honey. They make their REAL money from pollination services and from selling bees. AKA, swarms. AKA, those things you only get from overwintered hives. See prices of a new colony above.

The older a colony is, the more valuable it is!

[child-of-the-danube]

I'm still in my Lilia brain rot era and I keep thinking about her and Agatha, and their dynamic and parallels.

Like, Agatha is a dick to everyone from the start, even Teen, but she's extremely chill and even, for her being who she is, weirdly respectful towards Lilia. Maybe it's because of the age, maybe it's because Lilia was the only one to show she still had true power when they first met, maybe it's because they share experience and persecution the younger ones don't truly understand, maybe Agatha just has a soft spot for those who are very clearly outcasts and weirdos.

The only sting at Lilia I can recall is calling her "Dory" in the last trial lmao

She never once questions or mocks her gaps. Hell, she said "we came to the right place" AFTER she saw Lilia scream her head off in ep2 over, to them, nothing. "Hmm, this bitch a lil bonkers, but that's exactly what I like and need :)"

She told Lilia that she couldn't take her power unless she's blasted with it - something she was certainly aiming for if the door didn't open and that ended up saving them in ep2 when she was using her ye old technique of being a menace. She may have told it to her only to get her in, but that's a big minus to her plan B.

When everyone had their hallucinations, Agatha didn't mock Lilia when she was, once again, "being weird". She believed her and reassured her in a soft tone that it was ok.

One interaction I found really funny is in ep3 when Teen asks about a sous vide machine and Agatha turns to Lilia with that "What the fuck is that? That wasn't around in our time" look

Usually when one of them starts spewing wisdom, someone will give a snarky remark, usually Agatha, but when they were talking about summoning a new green witch, Agatha let Lilia speak and was the only one who, at least somewhat, listened to her advice (50/50 but still haha). It was Lilia after all who was the first one to, tho reluctantly, agree to Agatha's idea of summoning a back up green witch.

Also the way Agatha looks at Lilia when she calls Jen out for giving Sharon only one dose of antidote when she had two glasses of wine. It's just so "mmm 😈 I like this one"

Agatha's first choice for "who could possibly play piano" wasn't Alice. Ya know the daughter of a rock goddess who would be the most logical choice. It was Lilia and I find that sweet and a lil funny too.

Lilia didn't tell Agatha's Salem story with judgement, even if she said "when Agatha killed her original coven". It was delivered as mere fact to explain the story.

Then when Evanora showed up and Lilia looks angry and almost disgusted at what she's hearing her say to Agatha. Even after Alice's death, she didn't jump on Agatha's back and accuse her. She let her be cause she was clearly distraught.

Agatha "I'm not drinking the poison. You can suffer but I won't!" Harkness jumped on Lilia and covered her with her own body in the latest episode when the sword was about to impale her. And then she let her do her magic even if it didn't seem to work as the ceiling was still falling and even if she thought tarot was bullshit. She trusted she knew what she was doing.

And the look they give eachother when Lilia reveals Rio is Death. Lilia's face reads as terrified, but more than terrified, she seems to have a moment of compassion. It's the look of "How deeply fucked must your life have been that the only one that ever showed you love and kindness is the one who everyone else sees as the bringer of pain?". Death broke Lilia's heart many a time, but in that moment she understood, she broke Agatha's heart too in even worse ways.

AGATHA LIKED HER! SHE LIKED HER FROM THE START AND RESPECTED HER! AND LILIA LIKED HER TOO, DESPITE THE INITIAL SUSPICIONS!!!

I need to know what her reaction to finding out Lilia sacrificed herself to kill the threat that was specifically after her will be. Will she brush it off and pretend she doesn't care to keep appearing stern and emotionless or will this be the thing that finally makes her realise people care for her? Cause Agatha has never had anyone, except literal Death, show her kindness, much less sacrifice themselves so she could keep living. And I find it beautifully poetic that the one other person Death has known well for centuries, who Death has acknowledged by name in that coven, was the one to do that.

Again, I'm aware that this is just my brain rot speaking, but Lilia was truly the MVP. She's the one with wisdom, the biggest experience, the one with seemingly most patience, the hype man ("Jennifer, look what you did", "It was all for you", "Don't worry, baby. We're cool"). Her trial is the only one where the rest was in fact not needed and was of no help. Actually, all they did was make it worse. The first three trials depended on teamwork. Lilia's was truly solvable ONLY by Lilia.

Anyways, Lilia mentally adopted Agatha and realised she truly was part of her coven and therefore worth dying for and I will never fucking recover 💔💔😭😭

[lych33dragoncookie]

Continuing on from my last post;

Right, so about that certain someone. After we see Burning Spice FUCKING MURDER SOMEONE, we get on to their rematch. And-

... Hm. Not normal. You're enjoying this a bit too much

During the fight, we get to see something interesting; Spice's own followers ditching him and Nutmeg Tiger, despite orders to go after Smoked Cheese. Not out of some sudden rush of conscience, no; but the realization that, no matter how hard they try, how closely they follow him, how much they embody everything he stands for, in the end, following him can only result in their own destruction. That they're better off escaping than dying for the sake of someone who couldn't care less what their fate is.

On top of that, we get to see one of my favorite tropes! A protagonist refuting the ideals of a "hero", admitting that they fight for reasons that on the surface could be seen as selfish and short-sighted, but that are born from a massive amount of care and emotion, loyalty, and a desire to protect what matters to them, rather than stopping a great evil, sticking to a rigid moral compass, or any sort of other pretentious ideals.

And we get to see, visibly, undeniably, just how far she's willing to go to protect that which she cares for. We get to see her closer to death than absolutely anyone else we've ever seen before, with visible damage, about to crumble into pieces. And, despite that, despite her state, she never stops fighting. Not for a second. No matter how close she is to death's door.

Alongside this, Smoked Cheese, at the end of an exhausting fight, has some words about his queen.

At the end of it all, her love is what makes her powerful. It's what will lead her to greatness, no matter what. Her bountiful nature is the gift she has to give to those around her, and what keeps her going. It's not logical, it's not rational, something which drives Smoked Cheese off the fucking wall, but even he has to admit that it doesn't have to be. That it's what got here where she is in the first place.

You'd think that this would be setup for something that happens later on, specially with the line "Sycophants, charlatans... even willful traitors... All of them have a place among her treasures. She embraced them all... with open arms.", instead of just being there so that Smoked Cheese can tell Nutmeg Tiger that her ruler sucks complete ass and his' doesn't, but... Well, we'll get to that later.

Anyways, back to the freak.

Again with this? I don't say this in an exasperated tone, I just think there's something severely wrong with him. He's just trying to get her to go feral like him for fun. Weirdo. Also, as I mentioned before, holy hell this is the most visceral it's ever gotten. We've never seen any other character this physically damaged, so close to actually crumbling. This entire arc continues to be unexpectedly brutal in every way it possibly could be, and honestly for what it's going for, it just works.

Also, I'm stuffing the below line into my pocket for later. You'll see why.

After this, Golden Cheese refutes every bit of Burning Spice's own mentality in much the same way I did the last post, and it gets under his skin. Really, really badly. To the point where he basically just ends the fight outright, more or less. ... Until Golden Cheese gets her obligatory powerup. It's cool as hell, and it works with the very same base that I mentioned earlier, of her care & love for everything she holds dear and her strong undying urge to protect it all until her last breath, an urge to protect her treasures, everyone who's filled her life with joy up to this point, and it's all strong enough to draw forth her soul jam and awaken her true power and all that other power of friendship stuff. Not anything too mind-blowing considering we've seen it before with Dark Cacao, but it certainly hits a bit harder because Golden Cheese is just a deeply lovable character who does not hesitate to wear her heart on her sleeve, a really warm presence who you want to see succeed simply because of how much her love and desire to give to others shape her every action.

As is to be expected; there is no third act breakdown from Burning Spice here. In fact, he's having the time of his life!

... And then. He. Just.

Gets hit once. And it's over.

...

Y. You. You j. HUH? HUH???

HUH??????????

WHAT. WHAT. WHAT. THE FUCK. ARE. YOU. DOING. THAT'S THE ENDING? THAT'S FUCKING IT? HE JUST GETS HIT ONCE AFTER GOLDEN CHEESE TRANSFORMS, GETS BURIED UNDER SOME RUBBLE, AND THEN YOU NOT ONLY HAVE GOLDEN CHEESE OUTRIGHT SAY THAT HE PROBABLY LIVED THAT BUT ALSO TEASE HIM BEING ALIVE AT THE END???

THAT'S IT? THAT'S THE FUCKING ENDING? THAT'S THE ENDING YOU GIVE TO WHAT WOULD HAVE OTHERWISE BEEN ONE OF OUR BEST STORIES YET?!?!??

WHAT. THE. FUCK. ARE. YOU. DOING. ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME POP A BLOOD VESSEL

THIS SUCKS! THIS ACTUALLY FUCKING SUCKS! THIS IS NOTHING! THIS MEANS NOTHING! YEAH YEAH YEAH GOOD CONQUERED EVIL WHATEVER IT'S NOT ONLY A GENERIC VILLAIN DEFEAT BUT A COMPLETELY UNCEREMONIOUS ONE FOR A CHARACTER WHO IS RIDICULOUSLY WELL WRITTEN AND WHO DESERVED MORE THAN JUST GETTING ONE-SHOT AFTER A SERIES OF REALLY WELL PACED CUTSCENES.

IT WAS ALL. SO. FUCKING. GOOD. ALL THE WAY THROUGH TO THE PART WHERE HE'S LAUGHING MANIACALLY AT HIS INCOMING DEMISE. IT WAS ALL SO GOOD. WE WERE SO CLOSE. AND THEN WHAT DO YOU DO? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING DO? NOT ONLY IS HE JUST OUT LIKE THAT, WITH EVERYONE WELL AWARE HE'S NOT DEAD, YOU HAVE NUTMEG TIGER COME BACK TO HIM, MEANING NEITHER OF THEM HAVE PROGRESSED IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER, SMOKED CHEESE'S CONVERSATION WITH NUTMEG TIGER WAS ALMOST ENTIRELY POINTLESS, AND THIS WHOLE THING WAS RENDERED UTTERLY MEANINGLESS FUCKIGIIGNFRJGH GHRHRARAHGHRHGHEEJGHJSDG

Okay. Okay. Tantrum aside.

There are so many better ways of doing this. Like. So, so much better. Ways that not only hold more narrative weight, but don't set up a half-assed villain return later on that won't hit anywhere near as hard. Because, seriously, giving Spice another arc as a villain is a horrendous idea. Both from a gameplay and story perspective. The framing here was perfect, everything had gone off really well from start to finish all the way up until that last tiny bit of the story, and you're not going to get this sort of opportunity again. They fumbled. Really. Really hard.

For one...

Hey. Golden Cheese. Remember when you said this?

JUST TAKE HIS FUCKING SOUL JAM

ALL THE BEASTS CAN DO IT WITHOUT ANY EXPLANATION, WHY CAN'T SHE?? WHY ISN'T SHE, SOMEONE WHO IS FULLY OK WITH STEALING FROM SOMEONE SO LONG AS THEY DESERVE IT, SOMEONE WHO EARLIER SAID BURNING SPICE ISN'T DESERVING OF HIS POSITION AS A GOD, SOMEONE WHO WOULD BE MORE THAN WILLING TO THROW IT INTO HER TREASURE PILE, COMPLETELY UNABLE TO TAKE IT, EVEN AFTER BEATING HIM?!?!??!

It would genuinely be that! Fucking! Easy! And guess what? Guess fucking what? IT OPENS UP SO MANY WRITING OPPORTUNITIES! SO, SO MANY! Nutmeg Tiger no longer has a god to worship, the power that gave Spice a hold over his army is now gone, he has to live out as a commoner, not a god, because he never deserved to be a god, not in the slightest. Have GC say something like "you are not a god, you're an impulsive, reckless fool. you do not deserve the power of a god. you're a commoner. nothing less, nothing more." and then take away his soul jam and you're good!!

HELL, IT COULD SET UP A GOOD, BELIEVABLE REDEMPTION ARC, "Sycophants, charlatans... even willful traitors... All of them have a place among her treasures. She embraced them all... with open arms.", IT'S SO EASY, IT HAS ACTUAL SETUP, YOU COULD HAVE SPICE BE A COMMON MORTAL COOKIE THAT HAS TO FEND FOR HIMSELF, EVENTUALLY BEING FORCED INTO A POSITION WHERE HE HAS TO FIND A ROOF TO PUT OVER HIS HEAD IF HE WANTS TO SURVIVE, AND HAVING GOLDEN CHEESE BE THE FIRST PERSON TO OFFER THAT, WHETHER OR NOT SPICE IS WILLING TO IMMEDIATELY ACCEPT IT. YOU'D HAVE A PROPER THIRD ACT BREAKDOWN WHEN HIS SOUL JAM IS TAKEN AWAY WITH SPICE BEING ACTIVELY REFUSED A WARRIOR'S DEATH, BEING GIVEN AN ANTI-CLIMAX, NOT A GLORIOUS DEFEAT BUT A LOSS OF POWER AND A REFUSAL TO END THE FIGHT ON HIS TERMS, COMPLETELY REFUSING TO STOOP TO HIS LEVEL AND FORCING HIM OUT OF A POSITION OF POWER WHILE YOU'RE AT IT

ALL THIS. ALL THESE WRITING OPPORTUNITIES. AND MORE THAT THE COMMUNITY HAS LIKELY ALREADY COME UP WITH. WASTED. COMPLETELY. NOTHING. ALL FOR A QUICK, GENERIC, BLAND, FLACCID, DEVOID-OF-IMPACT VILLAIN DEFEAT.

Ooooohhh my god I am so worked up about this. We were this close. we were this fucking close to peak fiction. We could have had it all. But they fumbled right at the end.

I... I think I'm just going to completely ignore this ending's existence. If they do anything else with Spice from this point onwards? It doesn't exist to me. I'm not looking. Because whatever they do, it won't wash away the bitter taste of the complete fumble they just pulled. In my heart, he got his soul jam taken away, had to find a way to survive on his own, and ended up living in the Golden Cheese Kingdom (out of a lack of any other options and ideas of a potential soul jam recovery from the inside that would eventually be all forgotten about) where he was given a chance to return to normalcy and heal and be free of the burden of immortality.

I'm gonna go tear a hole in a wall with my bare teeth now. See you all.

[centrally-unplanned]

Very much enjoyed Tracing Woodgrain's foray into the internet life of jilted ex-rationalist and Wikipedia editor David Gerard. It is of course "on brand" for me - the social history of the internet, as a place of communities and individual lives lived, is one of my own passion projects, and this slots neatly into that domain in more ways than one. At the object-level it is of course about one such specific community & person; but more broadly it is an entry into the "death of the internet-as-alternate-reality" genre; the 1990's & 2000's internet as a place separate from and perhaps superior to the analog world, that died away in the face of the internet's normalization and the cruel hand of the real.

Here that broad story is made specific; early Wikipedia very much was "better than the real", the ethos of the early rationalist community did seem to a lot of people like "Yeah, this is a new way of thinking! We are gonna become better people this way!" - and it wasn't total bullshit, logical fallacies are real enough. And the decline is equally specific: the Rationalist project was never going to Escape Politics because it was composed of human beings, Wikipedia was low-hanging fruit that became a job of grubby maintenance, the suicide of hackivist Aaron Swartz was a wake-up call that the internet was not, in any way, exempt from the reach of the powers-that-be. TW's allusion to Gamergate was particularly amusing for me, as while it wasn't prominent in Gerard's life it was truly the death knell for the illusion of the internet as a unified culture.

But anyway, the meat of the essay is also just extremely amusing; someone spending over a decade on a hate crusade using rules-lawyering spoiling tactics for the most petty stakes (unflattering wikipedia articles & other press). The internet is built by weirdos, and that is going to be a mixed bag! It is beautiful to see someone's soul laid bare like this.

It can be tempting to get involved in the object-level topics - how important was Lesswrong in the growth of Neoreaction, one of the topics of Gerard's fixations? It was certainly, obviously not born there, never had any numbers on the site, and soon left it to grow elsewhere. But on the flip side, for a few crucial years Lesswrong was one of the biggest sites that hosted any level of discussion around it, and exposed other people to it as a concept. This is common for user-generated content platforms; they aggregate people who find commonalities and then splinter off. Lesswrong's vaunted "politics is the mindkiller" masked a strong aversion to a lot of what would become left social justice, and it was a place for those people to meet. I don't think neoreaction deserves any mention on Lesswrong's wikipedia page, beyond maybe a footnote. But Lesswrong deserves a place on Neoreaction's wikipedia page. There are very interesting arguments to explore here.

You must, however, ignore that temptation, because Gerard explored fucking none of that. No curiosity, no context, just endless appeals to "Reliable Source!" and other wikipedia rules to freeze the wikipedia entries into maximally unflattering shapes. Any individual edit is perhaps defensible; in their totality they are damning. My "favourite" is that on the Slate Star Codex wikipedia page, he inserted and fought a half-dozen times to include a link to an academic publication Scott Alexander wrote, that no one ever read and was never discussed on SSC beyond a passing mention, solely because it had his real name on it. He was just doxxing him because he knew it would piss Scott off, and anyone pointing that out was told "Springer Press is RS, read the rules please :)". It is levels of petty I can't imagine motivating me for a decade, it is honestly impressive!

He was eventually banned from editing the page as some other just-as-senior wikipedia editor finally noticed and realized, no, the guy who openly calls Scott a neo-nazi is not an "unbiased source" for editing this page wtf is wrong with you all. I think you could come away from this article thinking Wikipedia is ~broken~ or w/e, but you shouldn't - how hard Gerard had to work to do something as small as he did is a testament to the strength of the platform. No one thinks it is perfect of course, but nothing ever will be - and in particular getting motivated contributors now that the sex appeal has faded is a very hard problem. The best solution sometimes is just noticing the abusers over time.

Though wikipedia should loosen up its sourcing standards a bit. I get why it is the way it is, but still, come on.

[cloudcountry]

Yooooooo happy to see that field of mistria are making you happy ^-^ i'd like to request reader helping march dye his hair ( lots of bickering and threatening to turn him pink instead ) but since ik you don't really like him and might not feel inspired here's another idea ( choose whichever one you feel most comfortable writing for ) how about flower picking with Celine :)

SUMMARY: when the saturday market can't come to town, you offer to help march dye his hair instead

COMMENTS: no pls wifey im very much joking w you i like march :(( hes just a bitch and im going to stab him. with a plastic sword. gently.

i dont have dividers so i am recycling my header ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT

“Ow, would you quit pulling my hair like that?” March groans, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder, “For all that skill you claim to have you don’t act—”

“Oh will you hush?” you huff, gently tugging on a handful of March’s hair on purpose, “If you stopped squirming and whining, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad!”

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, but you’re far too busy sectioning off his surprisingly thick hair to prepare for the (tacky) bright red hair dye.

“Why the fuck is your hair so thick?” you comment, very much amused.

“Oh shut up.” March snaps, “If I could reach back there and grab a fistful of your hair to yank around I would, you little—”

You click your tongue, interrupting him once again. “Worry about yourself, March. Wouldn’t want my hand to slip and for you to end up with pink hair, now would we?”

He grumbles again, and you giggle.

It occurs to you that, if anyone were to overhear this conversation, they’d assume you and the blacksmith were a hair’s breath away from killing each other.

You pat yourself on the back for the winning pun you just made. Holt would be proud.

“Oi, I can feel your smugness from here. Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s making me sick.”

“I was just thinking about you.” you comment offhandedly, snatching up the bottle of dye flippantly, “You must be pretty awful if you make yourself sick.”

“Don’t say shit like that, it’s weird.” he crosses his arms in his chest and sinks into the chair, his back hunched as if trying to make himself smaller.

You wonder why he’s shriveling up now. Normally he'd return your scathing insult.

Instead of asking, you opt not to. You pop the cap off the dye bottle and start applying it to his scalp, massaging it into the roots. You try not to feel smug about the way March so obviously relaxes, shoulders dropping and head falling into your touch, his breathing shifting from frustrated to calm.

You also try not to feel warm about the way he looks right now, vulnerable and soft, you try not to think about how it’s just the two of you here, with his brother who knows where, and you try not to think about the very tempting open space of his forehead, which is finally not all wrinkly for once.

You don’t want to smooth over those wrinkles with your thumb at all. And you certainly do not want to kiss them after a hard day’s work.

Even when he’s sweaty.

Especially when he’s sweaty.

You cough loudly into your arm, trying your best not to squirm where you’re standing, lest you mess up March’s hair.

Fully expecting him to turn around and scold you for ruining the moment, you’re surprised when he doesn’t move.

“You’re such a weirdo.” he says, but his voice his soft and there’s no real bite to them.

The smile that threatens to burst out of you is barely held back by your desire to keep the solemn, dare you say affectionate atmosphere going.

“So are you.” you reply, and your voice is equally as soft.

March snorts, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say it was a genuine laugh.

[sanguineterrain]

Sanne on the topic of femjay... do u think she'd like giving gifts? I feel like she's the type to shower u in gifts and act like it's nbd she didn't even think about it when she got it for u (she is lying)

ok anon I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant buuut it's kinda related? anyway i was inspired so please enjoy awkward arkham knight femjay who doesn't know how to interact with her old best friend/girlfriend when she returns from the dead so she starts leaving gifts instead. i ❤️ my weirdo wife

ak!female!jason todd x fem!reader.

****

Someone has been leaving you presents.

Normally, you'd be freaked out. Probably, you should be freaked out anyway. How someone knows your exact dress size and what chocolate you like and your favorite flowers and your birthstone... well, it would scare anyone.

But. But the thing is. Every gift and every placement of the gift feels very familiar. It feels like the habit of an old love. Because she used to do the same. Pretty rocks or flowers found on patrol. A t-shirt for the band you liked. A kiss.

It feels like training, like muscle memory: here is how to break in without breaking anything. Here is how to leave a scene undisturbed. Lessons that a friend shared with you.

A friend you loved. A friend you mourned.

The dresses are beautiful and certainly not cheap. But they have a familiarity to their design. They're extravagant, fairytale dresses that you dreamt of wearing when you were young. Dresses you have no reason to wear now.

They aren't revealing or risqué either, and that comforts you too, even though it probably shouldn't. Bruce would be upset at your lack of self-preservation.

This is you living in the past. This is hoping for the impossible.

The jewelry is also beautiful and nothing you could wear to work or to a grocery trip. It's all necklaces and bracelets heavy with diamonds or emeralds or sapphires. But there's a single ruby ring you've received, and it's plainer than everything else. You wear that regularly, even though that definitely encourages your admiring stalker.

The gift-giving is random but they never go more than two weeks without a visit. And there's no note, no demand, nothing. It's like you have an invisible pet raven who likes bringing you trinkets that cost more than your rent.

After the seventh gift, you plan a trap. You want to face this admirer, show that you're not afraid. Well, you're a little afraid. Mostly, it's fear at the fact that you haven't called the police or Batman, even though you and Batman haven't been simpatico for a long time.

No, something stops you. The hand that leaves your gifts is a hand you know. You're certain of it.

You set up a camera behind your shuttered closet, then leave for the day.

You return to the camera gone and a beautiful gold carved statue of a dove. And a note.

Not yet.

Well, fine. You can wait. You're mad because that camera wasn't cheap, but you can wait.

Weeks pass. Gifts arrive. You make a batch of cookies as a thank you on one occasion. Three cookies are missing when you come home. You smile.

Then the night comes.

You don't know how you know it's the night you'll meet them. You just have a feeling. You've written them notes, certain they've been received. No notes have arrived for you besides the one from all those weeks ago.

You put on one of the dresses, a delicate, frilly blue creation that shows your shoulders and neck. You finish it with the sapphire necklace, one of the first gifts you received.

She slips in through your window and freezes when she sees you, even though you know she timed it so you'd be home when she came.

"Hi," you say.

She doesn't speak. She approaches you slowly, carefully. She's very tall, very muscular. Her face is covered with an intricate helmet and she wears similar armor on her body. A new hero in Gotham? Or a villain?

"Do I know you?" you ask.

She shakes her head. You study her for a moment. Glowing eyes stare back. You can't tell if she's lying. It seems like she means it: you don't know her.

"But you know me?"

Your admirer hesitates. Then she nods.

You close the distance until you're a foot apart. Her breathing remains steady but her fingers are restless.

"I like the gifts," you say. "Though I'm confused why you're giving them to me."

Her fingers still. She says nothing.

"A friend used to give me gifts too," you say quietly.

You're both startled. Why did you say that? You don't know.

"You don't want to hurt me," you say.

She shakes her head fiercely.

Suddenly, you want her to touch you. You lift your head and expose your neck. You can tell she's tracking the movement. It sends a thrill down your spine. Maybe something's wrong with both of you.

"Do you like your necklace on me?" you ask.

Touch it. Touch me. Prove you aren't a ghost.

You hear her swallow and inhale shakily. She reaches for you and lightly touches the gold chain around your neck with one gloved finger. You close your eyes. A name falls from your lips. God, you miss her.

The window creaks. You open your eyes. She is gone.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

I have an idea I would love to request but I wanted to check with you first! I couldn't help but think Astarion would be so infuriated & confused by me. Like when he held a knife at their throat, they're willing to give him a chance. Their reason is he has no real reason to trust them since he doesn't know them at all so they would show to him that they can be trusted. Then he's more confused when the first time he tries to drink blood from them, reader is shocked then immediately asks questions if it hurts, do they need to be healed, how should their position be so it's easier for him to drink, what would happen after that, etc. Even after he drank & they were feeling the effects, they asked if he still needed more. He answered them no confusedly before they were satisfied with his answer then passed out. He is both relieved and baffled at what just happened. What do you think of this? Please tell me if you're not interested! Thanks!

Local Vampire Spawn confused by care and offers of friendship, more at eleven.

~

Astarion, surprisingly, had gotten pretty lucky when it came to his newfound traveling companions. Two master swordsmen, a barbarian tiefling menace, and a Shar priestess were about the best one could ask for when it came to having protection. He could probably do without the do-gooder druid and walking time bomb of a wizard, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

And then there was you. The unofficial leader of the merry band of weirdos. Hyper competent, kind, and a powerful, and admittingly gorgeous, warrior. You would be perfection if you weren't so... frustrating.

Simply put, Astarion thought you were an idiot. A well-meaning, naive idiot, but a moron nonetheless.

What other explanation was there for your delusional trust in him? Your introduction had involved him pressing a damned blade to your throat, with every intent to kill you if you decided to struggle. Maybe even if you hadnt, if you had been alone. The correct response to a first meeting of that caliber would be to completely disregard him. Or kill him, for someone who had any conception of self-preservation.

But no, instead you gave him the offer to come with you, like that wasn't an absolutely insane thing to do. You had been so understanding, insisting that his penance for trickery and threats was justified. That you would be sure to earn his trust, like that was something worth obtaining.

At first, Astarion tried not to look too deeply into it. You were all going through hell, it made sense to travel in a pack, to find solidarity in others while trapped in a land full of endless horrors. It would explain why you kept the violate gith and the walking bomb around, despite their faults. There was also that foolish air of empathetic care about you at all times that helped explain things, one that extended far past Astarion himself. Though it did have limits. Astarion had borne witness to how unforgiving you could be when someone manipulated your trust. Though he completely agreed that the Hag known as Auntie Ethel fully deserved a slow, painful death, he hadn't been prepared for just how... literal you would take it.

So while you weren't completely without common sense, you still lacked a good deal of it. Like the fact that letting a vampire spawn drink your blood at night wasn't included in those same limits.

He hadn't even meant to open that particular door of feeding on you. It was just... so terribly hard to resist. You smelled divine, the scent of your blood always lingering beneath the surface of your skin. Cloying and decadent, the slightest whiff nearly enough to make his mouth water. He had been trying so damn hard to hide his true nature, feeding on whatever he could find in the dead of night. But none of it felt like enough. It should have been, he had more access to sustenance in the forest than he ever had under Cazedor's thumb. And wild boar were certainly better than sewer rats at the least.

But it wasn't enough to tame his growing desire for your taste. It had just happened. One moment he was simply on his own bedroll, staring up at the stars. And in the next the hunger was overtaking him. He was crawling over you before his mind could even catch up to his actions, his mouth already widening.

And then you woke-up, startled enough to knock Astarion out of his all-consuming thirst. You scrambled to your feet, staring at him with wide eyes as he struggled through an explanation. He had every expecation that this was it. This as the moment you would toss him to the side, realizing once and for all that he wasn't worth the danger.

But instead you just nodded along, the first question out of your mouth when he finished a simple, "Will it hurt?"

Astarion blinked at you, confused at you lack of reaction. He had admitted to being a literal monster for gods' sake. And that's what you were most curious about?

"Yes," Astarion said slowly, watching your face for every microexpression, "It will hurt, briefly. Then the pain fades into something a bit more... tolerable."

You nodded, asking another question, "Would I need healing after? Or would a bandage be enough? I would hate to wake Shawdowheart so late."

That was-he-were you actually considering this?

Astarion shook his head, hope and excitement starting to bubble to the surface, "No, a bandage should be fine. You might want her to top you off with something in the morning, but it won't be anything that can't wait."

"Okay," You said, nodding to yourself once before meeting his eyes with a determined gaze, "In that case, should I lay down? Or would standing be better?"

Astarion could scarcely believe your willingness. Part of him wanted to ask if you were sure that you wanted to do this, but his sheer lust for the taste of your blood shut that part down. Instead Astarion was reaching for your hand, gently tugging you down to lay back on your bedroll.

"This will be perfect," He murmured as he crawled back over you, his fangs protruding on their own accord, "Now stay still darling, we don't want to tear anything, do we?"

Astarion could just make out a lovely flush grace your cheeks at the pet name, barely visible by the campfire. It was a good look on you, that mixture of embarrassment and nerves, one that he wouldn't mind seeing again. But for now he had other appetites to attend to.

Astarion bit down, nearly moaning when the divine taste hit his tongue. Somehow it managed to taste even better than it smelled, warm ambrosia sliding down his throat, filling him with pure energy. It was an exhilarating experience, so much better than anything he'd ever tasted before. It was nearly too good, decadent enough for him to feel greedy.

He could feel you shaking under him, letting out the occasional whimper and whine. He was vaguely aware that this had been going on for too long, that he was taking too much. But it was so damn hard to resist.

It wasn't until you were gently pushing at him, whimpering, "I-I think that's enough."

There was the slightest touch of fear in your voice, the only thing that worked to pierce through his bloodthirsty haze. Astarion rolled off of you, licking his lips with a happy sigh. That was... better than he could ever have imagined.

He hopped up to his feet, sticking a hand out to help you do the same. You seemed woozy and unsteady as you stood, proving his suspicion that he had taken too much. It made the smallest lick of guilt creep up his spine. But it's not like you were ever going to let him do it again, he might as well indulge-

"Are you sure that was enough?" You asked, completely derailing his train of thought, "Will you be okay with just that? Or should we try again in a few hours?"

Were you actually insane?

"No my friend. I think I'll be fine," Astarion said carefully, "Another night perhaps. But, uh, are you okay?"

You shrugged, already sinking back down to your knees, snuggling back into your bedroll like nothing was out of the ordinary, "I'm sure I will be. Just a little tired now is all. Good night."

And then you were closing your eyes, out like a light while Astarion stood above you. Confused beyond belief. That was... how were you still alive? If this was the kind of thing you were willing to do for a near stranger, with nearly 0 reservations?

It was insane, idiotic, stupid. And now you just fell asleep right in front of the same man who cannibalized your blood? What the fuck was that? How was one supposed to respond to that? Astarion was grateful yes, beyond so. He went on to have a very successful hunt, even if his catches tasted worse than ever, they still left him feeling satisfied and capable. But he was plagued with thoughts of you the entire time. Thoughts that followed him through to the morning and the days to come.

You were so damn lucky that he was the spawn that was kidnapped. Half of his brethren would have already used your trust to bleed you dry before fleeing into the night. Gods knows what would have happened to you if it was Cazador who was taken in his place. That thought alone was enough to make shiver, clouding his brain with a massive discomfort at what someone like that would do with someone as... kind as you.

Astarion would never allow it. As stupid as you were, it didn't mean you deserved to be used. Well... by anyone besides himself of course. He was starting to think that he could use all of this blind trust to his advantage. Get you attached to him, force himself as a priority in your life that was worth protecting. But for that to happen you would have to stay alive. And that would mean someone would have to protect you from your infuriating self.

Astarion supposed that would just have to be his job. What it meant that the idea of doing such didn't fill him with resentment? He wasn't sure, and he sure as hells wasn't going to try and find out.

[olderthannetfic]

i know it's easy for those outside of fandom to dismiss anti vs pro, but i need people to understand there really is a direct line from the way people started misusing "grooming/groomer" for like shipping discourse on here in the mid-2010s, and disproportionately used it against M/M and F/F ships and in stuff like CMBYN discourse, to how it is used as an anti-LGBTQ+ slur by right-wing creeps like Libs of Tik Tok now. It made the jump from fandom to like general media/publishing discourse that happened on Twitter, and then that got noticed by people posting about politics and that eventually made its way to right-wing weirdos, who think that just being an adult a kid can come out to as gay/bi/trans is 'grooming." Just accepting people is grooming. And now they're trying to use it to re-mainstream very old, previously seen as distasteful homophobia about all gays and trans people being secret pedophiles. This stuff is not innocuous and it never ends with fandom. Same with the "kink-critical" stuff that turned into "no kink at pride" respectability-politics garbage.

--

That attitude never went away among homophobes. It wasn't that underground.

But fandom becoming cannon fodder didn't help, certainly.

[potatoofdefiance]

My two cents and a rant on the allegations and Good Omens

(I will probably regret this later)

This has been eating at me for a while now, ever since the news broke that Neil Gaiman was a sex pest (see infamous TERF-adjacent podcast by Tortoise media) and I have been consciously and unconsciously ruminating over it for weeks now, so here goes.

I think the news of Neil Gaiman hit me harder than I was expecting, and certainly harder than I would have liked.

I didn’t (and certainly do not now) consider myself a “true fan”. I was never a hard-core fan, one that goes to signings or book fairs or cons to meet my favourite author. Partly because I never latched that much on any of the authors of the books or movies I loved, and partly (maybe for the best now that I think about it) because I never had the money, or wasn’t located in a geographically favored area. Meaning I never lived anywhere near wherever events with Neil Gaiman were happening.

So, with all this in mind, how is it that the news managed to hit me so hard?

I thought (read: ruminated) about it, and I think it is because of Good Omens. And the latest times. In my life, and I think a good chunk of other people’s lives too, these last few years have been a roller-coaster. You choose which particular scenario the roller-coaster is set into; mine is on fire, running through a sea of shit and we are being slapped by gooey flaming eels hard in the face.

Maybe someone might enjoy this. That someone isn’t me.

But the point is: I have been struggling. With my life, with a mental health condition, with the world and my place in it.

Enter Good Omens. In an effort to actively expose myself to “nice” stuff, stuff that would, if not make me feel better, at least make me laugh, I started tapping more into the fandom.

I’m not a fandom person. Again, never latched onto anything that had a fandom big enough (where are the Ann Halam fans? No one is making cosplays of Sloe from Siberia, are they?).

But with Good Omens, it seemed perfect for me. I wasn’t invested so much, it didn’t make me feel like I was “lacking” something in order to be part of it. I just felt like I didn’t care enough to really be vulnerable to it, I felt like it could have been a nice innocuous hobby.

But that’s the point. Thinking it was innocuous made me let down my guard enough to actually fall in love with the fandom. Fall in love with those two weirdos of characters (which by the way, I’ll say this now: I think Aziraphale and Crowley as portrayed in the series are more a product of fans and Tennant and Sheen than they are a product of Gaiman and Pratchett. And this is not a bad thing per se, I think, but let’s give credit where credit is due).

And let me be clear: I gained so so much from joining the fandom. It has positively affected so many seemingly unrelated parts of my life, and I’m so grateful to so many kind strangers on the internet who have shared such wholesome art with me, and have gifted me so much, that even putting it into words is simply not enough to explain all of it.

And one of the results of this “wave of wholesomeness” is I also started following Gaiman more closely.

Like so many, I loved Coraline. Gaiman seemed a genuinely nice person. An old guy who had wisdom to share, and who seemed to be fascinatingly non-stereotypical? If that makes sense. What I mean is that he was everything my father warned me against. A goth, weird, a writer therefore an artist (and in my family we know artists are fools who end up on the street jobless and homeless). And yet, to me now he seemed such a normal guy. Yes maybe someone who enjoyed that fashion style, but otherwise very far away from the usual excess of a rockstar. Of course I was too young when he was at the peak of his rockstar years. English is not my first language, and when he was 40 I was in elementary school and just learning about him, and you know, they do not write about his fans passing out at signings or his groupies on the back cover of children’s books.

What I mean is that I didn’t have access to all the media and information about him.

So I start seemingly connecting to this writer, whose works I have enjoyed for the most part, and who seems such a nice guy in how he interacts with his fans and people in general. Such an inoffensive, kind person. And kind seemingly to everyone.

I started liking him. To the point where I remember telling my partner: you know, Neil Gaiman is someone I’d take a coffee with (which in Italian culture is one of the greatest honors one can give you. Having a coffee while sitting at a café and chat for hours is what good friends do).

So, in my mind he had a special place now. He was someone I started to admire and look up to.

And this is, I think, where it hurts. It hurts because even if I wasn’t personally victimized, I never met him, he never acted creepy with me, he doesn’t even know me, it still felt like I, as part of the fandom, had been used for his clout. And also, it hurts to feel like someone you trusted because of how they presented themselves has lied to you.

And on top of that: it is so fucking disrespectful. The fact he thought he could get away with it. With hurting so many people (one is one too many by the way), and causing so much pain, while also enjoying crowds of adoring fans, both online and in person.

I find it personally difficult to reconcile my love of the GO fandom with all of this right now. And I think it’s for a number of reasons.

Firstly because the silence of institutions and people around these facts has opened some old wounds and made me angry again towards a system that I perceive as hostile towards me and people like me who might be vulnerable.

What I mean is: I know that Gaiman is a powerful person, and a lot of people need to bring money home and are tied to contracts and what not (yeah I’m looking at our favorite two male presenting british actors here) and I understand it. I do. And this is exactly why this stuff makes me angry again. Angry at the whole shitty system we live in, where if you happen to be in some kind of power imbalance you might end up having to eat shit and shut up while witnessing violence against you or others and not being able to utter a word about it. This sucks. It makes me angry. It makes me angry that Michael Sheen, someone I like to believe would be among the first to shout “I BELIEVE THE VICTIMS” if he was talking to friends at a bar, likely has to shut up and play nicely because Darth Amazon has some fucking clause written in Braille somewhere that says he has to sacrifice his firstborn if he ever dares to suggest he doesn’t like anyone related to the franchise.

It makes me soooo angry that we stay in the dark, and we only know from those people who are brave, and powerful enough to speak up about something that (allegedly) has been known for fucking years in the writing community. That this person was a creep. That he was treating people, mainly women and non-binary folks, if not bad, at least poorly.

And you know, this makes me even more angry because I have been in such shitty situations too! I was a victim of a system where exploitation and borderline abuse were normalized in a work setting.

And it wakes something deep in me to read that “it was an open secret bla bla bla” and again: I understand why people set up whisper networks instead of taking these giants down. I understand it. It still makes me angry because I simply do not want to live in such systems. Systems where I’m either the sacrificial lamb or I’m the one tying it on the table, or handing the axe over to the butcher, or a witness who has no power to stop the suffering.

I don’t want to live in such a system. But I have to. In my real life. I have to put up with so much shit sometimes, shit that makes me feel like I cannot stand up for my values because hey, I need to pay the bills too. And Good Omens was one of those few things where I could escape a bit into an alternative reality, where everything could be a bit better.

And I’m sure the fandom is still like this for most of the fans. I have witnessed first-hand how supportive and cheerful this fandom can be.

For me though, it still makes me think of all this...tsunami of shit.

I want to be able to enjoy the silly fanart, the memes, the wait for season 3 again. But I can’t. I can’t because my brain does not work like that. Good Omens still means Neil Gaiman too much to me. And I cannot go around talking cheerfully about Good Omens while feeling like I’m feeding into the clout of someone who used their power to coerce vulnerable people. Because (and I might be wrong) it feels like the message I’m sending is: my comfort show/book is more important than your pain or your life. And I can’t. This is not the truth.

I feel for the victims. Probably I feel even more than it would be healthy for me, or normal. But I don’t know, I feel like I connect to them. Maybe because I’ve been a victim of abuse perpetrated in clear power-imbalanced relationships, or because I felt like nobody cared about me and my wellbeing for so long, that eventually I stopped caring too.

And it is bad. It’s dehumanizing to a point where you really start believing you don’t matter. Your wellbeing doesn’t matter. There are more important things.

Ok so, I don’t want the victims, the survivors, to feel like this. They matter. They matter to me because if there’s one thing that is going to re-ignate the sacred fire of defiance in me is being able to stop this self-feeding cycle of self-loathing and misery. You matter. We matter. Vulnerable people who have been hurt matter to me. If there is one thing we can do to resist these systems of oppression and these people who abuse their power, that thing is believing that the people they hurt matter. If not more, at least as much as them.

And the way I show myself and others that the victims and their lives matter to me is by distancing myself from Neil Gaiman and his works, at least for now.

I feel bad for people who might have found themselves unwillingly tied to all of this. I feel bad for Sheen and Tennant, for all the wonderful artists and craft-people who have put so much of their work and love in Good Omens and I don’t want to let them down.

My two cents are that season 3 will not be canceled if they see there’s enough traction, and definitely won’t be canceled unless fans start a crusade against it, which won’t happen most likely.

The fandom loves Tennant and Sheen too much, and these are too much nice people to really hold a grudge against them, so I don’t think it will be canceled.

I’m afraid we (I say “we” meaning everyone who loves Good Omens) will be “held hostage” by Gaiman in the sense that he knows season 3 is not going to happen without him, so it’s either “we” or the majority of “we” behave, or it’s not going to happen. Which again, I don’t think he would lose the opportunity to make some money, and he also has contract duties to fulfill, but it still is worth it for him to try to leverage his power.

I wanted to end this rant on a positive note, somehow. But I don't know exactly what to say. Recently one of the things that has brought me laughs and joy has been the Channel 4 series “We are Lady Parts”.

In one of the episodes they quote a very beautiful poem, which came back to mind when I was listening to Claire (the latest woman who has come forward with allegations) on the “Am I Broken” podcast.

The poem is Speak by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, I will paste the version from the show, because I think it’s very powerful and beautiful.

Speak, for your two lips are free Speak, for your tongue is still your own This straight body still is yours. Speak, your life is still your own.

See how in the blacksmith’s forge flames leap high and steel glows red, padlocks opening wide their jaws. Every chain’s embrace outspread.

Time enough is this brief hour Until body and tongue lie dead. Speak, for truth is living yet. Speak, whatever must be said.

[sugar-omi]

Before I say anything else, I swear to god I’m not a purist or one of those weirdos who value virginity or think premarital sex is wrong

BUT do you think Rockstar Cove would feel bad (not exactly guilty, unless you like him pathetic like that like I do, but more like regret) about being a hoe before meeting MC? Like yeah he fucked around a lot for fun but now he knows none of it could measure up to doing it with MC, who he would literally move heaven and earth and kill his lifelong dream for and his first time would’ve been so different if it was with the one he loved

Bonus if MC is a virgin because I think that would definitely make him feel guilty for not “waiting” for them and not “giving” them his first time (again, not for religious reasons or anything, just because of emotional intimacy)

I love torturing him and wanna see him in distress hahaha 😈

first of all- SAME. i feel like, i might come across as religious sometimes, all imma say is dont ask me SHIT abt the bible or religion or anything. i fell asleep every time i went to chruch and god is SICK of me using his name in my filthy smut fics, i know it

BUT OMG YES. this this this...

i like to imagine he doesn't sleep around too much, he needs a bit of a connection for that, plus he's a celebrity so he can't sleep around nearly as much unless he's trying to get a fan pregnant or get a new stalker. so his body count isn't through the roof, but it certainly isn't low...

but he is at the very least a flirt. he'll flirt with you up and down the street, maybe even eat you out/suck you off, and if you're really lucky, get your back blown the fuck out.

when he meets MC though... all of that is over the second you make eye contact. he's obsessed with you, cant get you out of his head and he needs to see you again, needs to hear your voice and your laugh... he's totally done for, all he wants is you now and he's never felt like that before...

doesn't really know how to act because he hasn't been a long-term or one-person man until now but he absolutely cannot let you go.

if you've never been in a relationship before, it's been awhile since your last date, or only in one or two relationships that were more or less serious, he's anxious about being perfect for you.

he doesn't wanna scare you off, as if his fame and public image isn't bad enough.

oh my god if he learns you're a virgin though... he's dead. his heart has stopped...

immediately asks if you're serious, and what the fuck, and now he's worried you won't wanna have sex with him, would you trust him to take your v-card? has he slept with too many people for you to be comfortable with sleeping with him? is or would he be taking advantage of you? what if you hate having sex with him?

he's spiraling. he's thinking too many thoughts and its up to you to bring him down and tell him that you trust him, you wanna have sex with him and you are sure you won't hate it.

omg when he tells you how he wishes he could've given you his virginity, that he wishes he waited for you. you have to laugh, he's so silly... because how was he supposed to know that he was gonna meet the love of his life? if he knew, would he have believed it and waited or laughed and went about his business?

when you do finally decide to have sex... cove goes the full 9 yards, takes you on a lovely vacation, buys you anything and everything you look at twice, gets the most expensive hotel room he can find and spoils you absolutely rotten.

has the lights down low, candles lit and flickering gently along the absurdly luxurious room and he takes care of you.. slowly undressing you, kissing every inch of skin and whispering sweet nothings.

pulls you apart with his tongue again and again until you're weak and trembling, begging him to hurry up and just move onto the good part...

he doesn't fuck you, he makes love to you. it's all so sweet and intimate that even he can't help but feel like it's his first time again, his heart beating nervously and he's a bit shaky, moving automatically in ways he knows from experience.

he would cry, he has his arms around you, hardly moving his hips in a way that's satisfying to your long aching body because he's so intent on being gentle with you, treasuring you and tending to you...

cries and tells you how much he loves you, how much he treasures you and that he'll take care of you forever. that you're his soulmate, begs you drunkenly not to leave him and be his forever, to stay with him and love him and let him love you and spoil you. that he'll give you everything he has, materially, mind, body, and soul, everything is yours.

he promises that you're the only one for him now, that no one else will or could ever take your place and that he's always going to be yours in the end.

if this is what your first time is like.. jesus fucking christ, imagine him proposing to you.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘WILDFLOWER AND BARLEY,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Sometimes you don’t think you deserve him….other times, you think it’s for the best that you stay.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. SMUT AND ANGST!! reader is toxic, but eddie is too, so its ok. eddy being vanilla but also strangely dominant. guys this fic is FILTHY. also,, part 3 to gotham characters eating you out. takes place with like season 2 eddy, post kringle. Did i write a fic inspired by a Hozier song that isn’t even released yet? yes. readers taking advantage of eddy. but also, eddy is more than willing to give. kind of a character study. im so sorry if i made reader too mean ive had this idea for a week😭

fic requested by @clementine-writes-things <3

♫ “My coffee black in my bed at 3 / You’re too sweet for me. You’re too sweet for me.” Wildflower and Barley by Hozier

You’d fucked up, majorly.

God, what were you thinking?

Edward Nygma, the quirky forensics guy. The loon, as your fellow officers eloquently put it. And you didn’t necessarily disagree. He was certainly a peculiar fellow. He had always a thing for…what was her name? Kristen Kringle. That was it. You’d been working with him for years, watching him moon after her. You could…understand the appeal, you guessed. She had a sexy sixties librarian type of thing going for her. She kept to herself. Maybe you should’ve done the same. She’d dissapeared a few weeks ago.

You somehow landed yourself in the bed of Edward Nygma. You’d been hooking up…For the past two weeks in a row. No judgement, yeah?

It started as a joke. You and the other officers, chatting with beers and obnoxious comments towards the other tools in the GCPD. Jim Gordon…Harvey Bullock. The way the men couldn’t seem to keep their mouthes shut, especially Jim.

Well, you’d gotten plenty tipsy, staying after work. You pummled those beers back like it was your last night alive. And hell, living in gotham? As an officer? It very well could be.

They were all drunk and laughing out of their minds. Anything anyone said seemed overly funny. Especially when one of your fellow cops brought up the name, “Nygma” like the name was it’s own disease.

“You think Y/N could sleep with him?”

“Yeah, Y/N, go fuck the loon. I wonder what it’s like.”

“You think he says riddles when hes cumming?”

“Whats long, hard, and has ‘cum’ in the middle?”

The numerous voices of your “friends” rung out, and in the moment, drunk out if your mind, you too thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

“I could do it.” You affirmed, alcohol giving you the liquid courage you wouldn’t typically have. After the “oooooo”ing from some of your coworkers, you decided, fuck it. Edward was tall, had nice cheekbones, and was smart. You could do worse than a one night stand.

So you confidently marched into that forensics room, high on the dare the other cops had given you.

You found him, looking into one of the forensics mirrors. He was muttering to himself and you snorted. Weirdo. Oh well.

He pushed up his glasses when you two made eye contact. He was sweating, for some reason, in that lanky labcoat and rubber-gloved hands. He stood up straight and went rigid when he saw you.

“Ms. L/N-“ He was about to question, when you rammed your lips onto his. You remember it like yesterday- how hesitant he was. The way he parted for air, breathing wildly at you. He kept trying to ask questions the whole time you were eagerly undressing him. But he didn’t seem to mind your fowardness.

Well, just your luck, that one night stand was the best fuck of your life. The way his cock fitted perfectly into your body, like it was made for your cunt alone. You two fucked on the forensics cabinets, your coworkers in the next room over, and it was exhilarating. Especially when the usually reserved Ed got unusually rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass just right.

By the time you two were done…you were fucked out of your mind. Pleasantly surprised.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to get away. You told the cops it was vanilla, and reveled in their dismay. But…you came back for seconds. And then thirds. And then fourths. And then you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up in your own bed.

And just as if you were Kristen…he started following you. Your coworkers snickered. You’d see homemade cupcakes left on your desk. You’d catch him staring at you from the other side of the precint. You writhed under his gaze. For a man with not much expirence, he was obnoxiously good at sex. And he was even more obnoxiously good at not understanding the meaning of coworkers with benefits, and not a relationship.

But…mornings like these? You can’t complain.

Taking yourself back to the present, you awoke in his bed. The sunlight of the open windows bled through your eyelids, and you felt yourself smack your lips. You blinked yourself awake, same as you always did. You shifted underneath the covers, which had been neatly adjusted over you. It was infuriatingly comfortable. You let a yawn escape your lips.

“Ah, good! You’re awake!” You heard his voice chime, far off in the kitchen. You looked up, seeing his tall frame. He stared at you adoringly, and you felt your heart pang.

He carried a tray of coffee and breakfast. You sat up. It was the usual morning routine. He made the most exquisite breakfasts for you.

“A necessity to some, a treasure to many. I’m best enjoyed among pleasant company. Some like me hot, some like me cold. Some prefer me mild, others prefer me bold. What am I?” He spoke the riddle quickly.

You blinked at him, tired. You shrugged nonchalantly.

He made his way over to you, swiftly and delicatley placing the tray in your lap.

“Coffee.” He looked a bit dissapointed at your lack of answer, but brightened back up instantly. “Almost black, not quite. 1 Sugar. No cream. Just how you like it.” He noted, and it was in this moment, you felt the weight of your actions. He’d memorized everything about you. Whatever records you liked, he’d play softly. He’d learned your favorite flavor cupcake, and how you took your coffee. Gods, he’d even bought the brand of toothpaste you had at your house, so it was familiar brushing your teeth in the morning.

You squinted, adjusting yourself to the sunlight of the room. Golden. You felt the weight of the tray, and met his gaze. God, it was intense. The way his big, puppy dog like eyes harrowed in on you. Like you were the world.

He was practically wagging his tail, watching you take a slow sip of coffee. He wanted praise, as though perfected it, finally.

He was too sweet for you. You didn’t deserve any of this. But selfishly…you couldn’t resist.

You gave him a small nod in approval, letting the liquid glide down your throat. Damn it, The coffee was perfect.

He positioned himself next to you on the bed, sitting, legs crossed. He looked at you almost creepily, eyes never leaving as you finished your breakfast and coffee. You didn’t say a word to him, but you did listen to him ramble quite a bit. Every now and then he’d ask a casual question, and you’d stay silent, or give him a one worded answer. You’d see his smile falter, but he’d continue.

When you were done, he’d grab the tray from your hands. You let him do the work for you. You liked his bed. He came back, eyes big and bright. He sat once more, looking at you expectantly. You furrowed your brows.

“…What?”

He shrugged, giving a slightly nervous, manic giggle. You cringed a bit, but faltered when you felt his fingertips glide across your thigh.

Oh. Thats what.

“…We have work in an hour.” You replied. The mantra played in your head. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him. You felt guilty.

“I’ll be quick.” He affirmed, peeling the covers back. Oh, fuck it. Who were you to deny him?

He didn’t lie, he was fast. The covers exposed your skin, still undressed from the previous night. You felt the cool air on your thighs and pussy, and couldn’t help it. You caved.

In an instant, he was worshipping your legs, working his way up. He kept eye contact with you, laying gentle bites and pecks into the plush of your skin.

He kissed his way up, tonguing the bite marks he left in his wake. You shivered when his lips hovered over your pussy. He wasted no time. No, he didn’t tease you, he needed to please you as quickly as he could. It was a need for him.

His tongue came into contact with your pussy lips, and you shivered. Instinctivley, you threaded your hands through his morning messy hair, and shoved his face into you. He reciprocated instantly, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good. He licked up and down, tongue flicking gently on your cute little pearl of a clit.

He circles it and taps it with his tongue, saliva dripping and mixing with your juices. His movements are quick and calculated, and he indulges you, body and soul. He hums in pleasure when you arch your back up into him uncontrollably. It’s almost uncharacteristic- the way he switches from being so soft and gentle, to practically making out with your pussy. You feel his fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s a whole different person when he’s mouth fucking you.

Your moaning and shaking, saying his name over and over. Somehow, your getting off to this. To the idea you don’t deserve him. That he’s such a nicer, better, smarter person than you. And although he doesn’t vocalize it, you wonder if he strangely shares the sentiment.

It’s almost like he knows. Like he’s self-aware- of all your selfish thoughts. Like this, him eating you out, him on his knees for you, making you breakfast in bed- is some sort of revenge.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s making you feel awful, guilty for your mistreatment of him- by giving you more and more of him. And you find yourself cumming in his mouth at the thought.

He greedily laps at your swollen clit, overstimulating you. You let out a loud yelp, and he keeps going, only for a few more seconds.

It’s weird. He’s weird. But as you sober up from your orgasm, shaking underneath him, you brush those strange thoughts from your head.

You look into his gentle eyes again, watching him ramble off apologies. You two will most definitely be late to work. You scold yourself. Why would you think such an odd thing? No, he’s a complete sweetheart. Not a degrading bone in his body. You think.

Yet…you still feel the bruises forming on your thighs. And the burning guilt of using him.

You left his aparment in a hurry, driving yourself insane. You seem to convice yourself it was a weird orgasm thought, maybe you’re more kinky than you thought; for some pseudo pyschological self degradtion.

You go to the precint, just as you do every other day. The work is effectively still just as boring and your peers are still just as insufferable.

You’re given a few files by some mysoginistic cop you haven’t aquainted yourself with, who obviously assumed you were the new record keeper. You snort, but decide to take it. You browse over the files, snooping. They are forensic files, and your heart drops. Ah. You’ll have to give these to him.

You enter the forensic room without knocking- at least, you’re about to. But you hear him mumbling to himself, and decide to listen in for a moment. Curiosity getting the best of you.

“You’re too good to her.” You hear him argue with…himself? “You need to show her whose in charge.”

“I am!” He retaliates to his own voice.

“By making her coffee?” He snarls, and your brows furrow. He smashes a file cabinet closed loudly. You jump.

“Yes!” Ed’s voice growls out, fed up. “If you were smart enough to understand-“ He begins, and you’ve heard enough. You enter the room.

Ed looks at you bewildered, and you look at the same. He’s sweating, and his hair is in dissaray. You two make eyecontact and you grimace. What the hell?

You hardly register what he was actually saying, and more that he was having a seemingly very heated conversation with himself. You watch him fumble with his glasses.

“…Ed?” You question, and he snaps.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is quick and sharp. Thats uncharacteristic. You wince.

“Uh, files.” You nod to the papers in your hands, and he blinks, standing up straight. He clears his throat.

“Right.” He recovers, quickly. You narrow your eyes at him, and hum, giving them to him. He’s about to speak, but you rush yourself out of the room, heart pounding.

He is weird. He is a freak. You chime. Your coworkers have been right.

Any shred of pity you had for him has dwindled significantly, and you mull it over in your mind.

Maybe you do deserve eachother, You think. You’re the best he’s going to get.

[madwomansapologist]

i love everybody because i love you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "strawberry blond". companions (lae'zel, halsin) x druid!tav. background cast (alfira, mirkon, scratch, owlbear, shadowheart, astarion, wyll, mizora, karlach, minthara). lae'zel love language is pressing a dagger against your throat. i accidentaly made her somewhat a stalker?? there is a high chance minthara doesn't sound like her because i killed her like two onversations in. if you discover which animated character is my biggest inspiration for this tav i will give you a reward.

In a harsh world, people are supossed to shield themselfs from even the possibility of danger. Is the only rational response to the ambiguity of chaos. What those who crave to survive must learn, what those who deserve to survive must do.

You get stronger, so you won't feel pain. Because to feel pain is to remind your soul that one day your body will perish. To get stronger is to forget about the eventual end. Is to get protected from death itself, even if as just a concept.

When not even death can catch you, you're free. When you have nothing to love, nothing to care about, you are free. That's real strength. To be invulnerable. To have nothing to lose, no one close enough to ever hurt you.

Lae'zel lost the count on how many times you bleed. How many times you fell. Burned, drowned, exhausted in pain. Arrows crossed your chest, swords cut your legs, calloused hands stopped you from breathing.

You're somewhat good at hiding it. How much things can hurt you. When someone disrespect one of your companions, when people blame you for their fates, when you did everything you could and it wasn't enough. It hurts you in a different, worst way. She can see it on your face.

Maybe you could've earned a good end, if the world worked in a different way. A peaceful life, one fit for those who don't aspire greatness. But Lae'zel knew it was only a matter of time until the tadpole took control. She felt it on herself. Saw it on you.

No one would save her, no one would save any of you, but perhaps Lae'zel could. It was an merciful act. To end you first. You failed as a leader, but you tried. Then she'll go to the others, knowing she's brave enough to kill herself after.

She thought you had surrendered yourself to her. That you had come to the same conclusion. A wise druid, after all. Then Lae'zel felt. The cold thread against the base of her neck. A dagger she didn't saw coming.

"Step back," you ordered, voice unaffected. Lae'zel never heard you like that before. She had a dagger against your throat, but you spoke as if you rule the entire world.

"Chk, you think that tiny blade of yours will stop me from free..."

"What I think doesn't matter, but what I know does." Your eyes burned her skin. "You're stronger, I'm faster. I propose you a bet. If you kill me, go on with your plan. If I kill you, that's it. I won't kill them. I won't kill myself. Even if I can, even if I must. You would've died for nothing, forever ignorant if it was the right thing to do."

Lae'zel saw you barefoot at the Emerald Grove, applauding Alfira as she sang. Crossing the river by jumping from stone to stone, talking to Mirkon as if he wasn't a kid but a dear friend. How many times did Lae'zel found a bed shaped of you on the grass right next to where Scratch and Owlbear slept?

A sacreed deer, whose even blood is ever so sweet, howled like an wolf.

Would you turn into a mindflayer out of... stubbornness? Would you let the rest of your beloved party turn into something utterly disgusting, putting in danger all those people you swore to protect, just to prove a point?

Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't.

No one died that night.

You intrigued Lae'zel. Before you were her supposedly defenseless prey, and now you are the object of her curiosity. Lae'zel didn't understand you. And she craved to.

So she kept a close eye on you.

You bleed. All the fucking time. You bleed, and you wept. But everytime someone crushed you down, you rose up. For every tear that fall from your eyes, you made sure to smile. You survive, and you keep on doing it.

Strength and weakness merged in the warrior's mind. She knew what strength is, she can smell weakness from afar. Lae'zel was taught everything she was supossed to know.

But you were never the one to fit in old impervious notions.

Lae'zel saw you end a hyena's suffering without flinching, and you trying to hold on the wind when you were about to fall. She heard you helping a bird decorate its nest, and the breaking of a skull of someone brave enough to maim Shadowheart when she was near you.

You yelled at Astarion as he tried to stop you from helping gnomes. Helped Wyll with herbs for his pain after Mizora's trick. Helped Gale with dinner, putting a smile to the usually frowed wizard's face. Gave Karlach her first hug in years.

She saw your every movement. Lae'zel heard you laughing, saw you dancing, watched as you helped your new friends. Sometimes it felt as if you made white lines so she could follow you. So Lae'zel could see you being good, nice, decent. Being you in a way that showed her that no, you would've never let your companions turn into mindflayers. You were bluffing, and she fell for it.

At some point, it started to ache. Anytime you laugh at some tiefling's story, something inside Lae'zel burned. At night, she could picture your smile on her eyelids. When you call her name during battle, yelling instructions that somewhat always end in victory. When you look at her.

She can still see that fire. That same flame that stopped her from killing you right then and there. But diluted, controlled. And still, just as able of burning her entire soul. You have a fire contained within your gaze, and Lae'zel doesn't mind getting burned.

Maybe you're not that weak. And maybe she's not that strong.

She's not watching you anymore. Observing your every move so she can understand your mind. Not a prey, not a walking question mark. Lae'zel is purelly admiring.

For some, you came as a tempest. Slowly, without announce your intentions, your way of being embraced them.

A few flinched, scared of what that meant about them. That by admitting you're good despite it all means they could be good too. Some welcomed it, scared of what that meant about the world. If you're good despite everything that happened, then others could be too. Others chose not to.

But you stroke Halsin as a thunderstorm, just as quickly and fiercly. In such a dark time, you were a lighthouse. A shining light that blind at first, but embraces and comforts.

The grove was in danger, his life could end at any given moment, a goblin camp separated him from the world he worked so hard to protect. But your party helped him, and it gave Halsin the right amount of hope.

You asked him to stay behind, and he did so. Halsin wouldn't be able to control himself, and you didn't need all that attention. He was hopeful, not an idiot. But when Halsin heard screams from the room beside... Knowing that Minthara was there, Halsin couldn't help himself.

A wizard focused on the goblins. As he held them in place, a cleric made sure to end them. But at the other side of the room, the only other druid he saw in weeks had a dagger deep on her chest.

Minthara had you on your knees, her nails digging on the skin of your chin. A burning tiefling didn't knew a way to react that wouldn't end within that same blade slicing your throat. She waited for an order, an instruction of any kind, and Minthara realized that you were leading the rebels.

"Is that your leader?" Minthara looked at the tiefling. Her eyes were numb, bored even, but her grin was sharp. She forced to blade deeper. "A weak druid, barely able of helding a sword? Are you that desperate?"

You should've cried. You should've beg for mercy. You should've do anything, instead of laughing. Minthara glared at you, sure that you were reduced to a crazy, desperate animal. But when you bit her hand, blood staining your chin, you were more of a beast.

Minthara stumbled, and you pulled the blade she left on your shoulder. Blood ran down your side, but that didn't stopped you from rising up. Halsin don't think anything would've.

"Maybe you're right," you hissed. With her dagger on your left hand, you took your sword from the ground. "I'm not a fighter. I wasn't educate to control the Weave. I can't heal a thing. When I can't do something, I find someone that can. Without their help, I would be dead by now."

Halsin came here to act. To help, protect, kill. But all he could do, just like everyone else in that room, was to watch you. To look at your beaming smile, to see the blood on your teath, not even trying not to get blind by it.

"Why would anyone follow someone that professes to be so weak?" She looked at the wizard, a dead goblin at his feet, her brain thinking of all the ways she could defeat your party. "What can you do that give you the right to rule them?"

Your smile seemed to grow wider. "I can beat the shit out of you."

And beat the shit out of Minthara you did.

With a first impression like that, ain't no mistery why Halsin couldn't do anything but to stay with your party. But to go on with you, deafeting the Shadowcurse and exploring Baldur's Gate. But to see you shine, feel your warmth, and let it pull a string on his heart.

At the end, it didn't matter how it started. It didn't matter how much they fought the thought back. If they lied to themselfs, made you a villain on their minds, welcomed you with open arms.

You have their hearts. Simply as it can be. You have their hearts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR'S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[loveundrwrld]

Ex bully yan x Male reader please I beg🙏

no need to beg, king ;) you need only ask

yandere ex-bully x male reader

(cws: unhealthy relationships and dubcon kissing (reader is afraid of him still), stalking, violence)

tanner winced slightly as you dabbed his bloody knuckles with disinfectant. you looked up nervously, your instincts telling you that he'd yell or insult you. instead, he gave you a toothy grin.

"oh, don't worry babe. i can handle a bit of pain."

he was sitting on a chair in front of you, looking down at you with fond eyes as you tended to his bloodied and bruised hands. it was a strange predicament you'd found yourself in, touching a man you feared- but, you could only blame yourself.

when you had first gotten a letter from tanner and figured out that he was stalking you, you were terrified and filled with rage. you didn't want anything to do with him.

but, it was also clear from those letters that he was deeply desperate to get your attention. you jumped on the opportunity, thinking this could be a way to get him to do something for you that you've always been too afraid to do yourself. some part of you wanted closure for how terrible your teenage years were, and the only way you thought you could get it was revenge.

you cut a deal with him. you offered to start dating him if he'd beat up his "friends" who helped bully you in high school. which he agreed to, eagerly. he came to your house soon afterwards with pictures of his former friends badly bruised and beaten, looking barely alive.

your stomach twisted... and you did not feel the pleasure from seeing them in pain like you expected to. you could only feel the empty feeling inside you growing.

and, of course, now that he's fulfilled his end of the deal? you have to fill yours. he's never said as much, but you're too frightened of what he'd do if you don't. after all, from the photos he's shown you, he's perfectly willing to get violent if it helps him get what he wants.

and, although you'd loathe to admit it, you felt like this was one of the only ways you'd be able to have someone treat you like a boyfriend.

the last few times someone had asked you out, you had completely frozen up. you couldn't trust strangers at all, fearing that they'd turn on you and turn everyone you knew against you.

tanner on the other hand was certainly still frightening to you, but at the same time, he was a known fear for you. you knew not to trust anything he said, him turning on you would be more than expected. he was the devil you knew, and that was good enough for you.

at the moment, he had just beaten up your co-worker for having a "crush" on you. he'd only asked you out for dinner, but tanner saw that as a challenge to your relationship with him. even though you weren't even sure if the your co-worker even liked men at all. you regretted telling tanner about your day at work when he asked yesterday.

"are you thinking about something?" tanner asked, looking down at you as you wrapped bandages around his hand.

"just thinking about what happened with derek," you mumbled.

"oh, yeah well, of course you're thinking of him. he was so annoying to you, right? i can't stand guys like that who can't take a hint. god, he's so fucking stupid..." tanner said.

you wisely didn't comment on his hypocrisy.

"my guy deserves better than a weirdo like him. you like macho, strong guys like me better anyways, right?" he asked.

he angled his face closer to yours, trying to make eye contact with you, eager for you to respond. you flinch a bit as his face gets closer to yours.

he sees this and his eyebrows furrow. he leans back with a frown on his face, biting his lips as he looks away from you. he's clearly thinking about something, and you're nervous about what he's going to say. when he turns to you, he looks at you with sad eyes, looking at you like he's a stray dog pleading for food.

"baby... are you still scared of me? have you not fully forgiven me yet?"

you freeze in place, nervous, and you keep your mouth shut. your heart is racing, thinking that he'll lash out at you no matter how you answer. he'd promised you many times before that he'd never hurt you, and you worried that showing any signs that you didn't believe him would make him change his mind on his promise.

"i can kill those losers from high school if you want even more revenge, you know. would that be enough for you to trust me? would you love me if i did that?" he asked you, his tone somehow sounding sweet despite the horrible things he was saying.

nervous and wanting to distract him, you press a peck of a kiss against his lips. his frown turns into a dazed smile, his eyes wide and looking down at you with pleased surprise.

"aw, baby... you do love me!"

he smiled and angled his face down to kiss you as well. for better or for worse, you knew how to calm him down now.