#i get it you're trying to use offensive language to make a point but its

[cinemastyles-backup]

Summary: Y/n meets Harry at a frat party and it goes.. well?

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral (both), hair pulling, choking, etc. just filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

"Come on, y/n. Its not everyday that we get invited to the one and only Alpha Pi Kappa." My best friend, Margo says as she pulls on my arm, "Come on. Please." She gets down besides me and sticks out her lip, "Please?"

I sigh, "Isn't their dumbass leader Harry?"

She raises her eye brows and smirks, "Yes it is."

I roll my eyes, "No."

"No? How could you say no to .." she gets on her phone and taps before flipping it around towards me, "This." Her screen shows Harry, shirtless, at the beach with his other numbskull buddies.

I smirk slightly and shake my head, "Yeah he's hot. Okay, I'll give him that, but if you're not a popular girl or super hot like him, he won't think twice about you."

"That's why we get hot! Now come on." She stands up and opens the closet, "Pick something. My selection of party wear is way better than yours.. no offense."

I laugh knowing she's right.

"Okay fine." I sigh and get up from my bed, "Oh. This little black dress is cute. I think it'll go good with those red heels I have."

She nods vigorously, "Yes yes yes!"

— — —

My heels clack against the road as we quickly cross with a group of people - all going to the same place we are.

I wrap my arms around myself trying to contain everything. My boobs are about to bust out of this dress.

The music is so loud I can hear it from down the street.

There's people hanging around outside, someone is behind held up doing a keg stand and the bystanders are chanting "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

I chuckle and look around for Margo.

"Hey." She comes up behind me, "Ready? Harry is inside. I wanna get a good look at him." She winks at me and heads for the steps.

I follow after her. She stops as we get inside, looking around in awe. "This is awesome! I'm going to get us a drink!" She yells over the music bumping.

I nod and walk over to a non crowded corner.

My eyes scan the room.

No, I'm not looking for Harry per say, but if he come into my line of vision, I wouldn't mind it. I only ever spoke to him once and he seemed higher than a kite. He bumped into me and didn't even apologize.

Asshole.

Margo comes up to me and hands me a solo cup containing a mystery beverage, "What is this?"

"I don't know, I told the guy making the drinks to make me something good." She goes to drink her concoction but I stop her, "Did you watch him make these? He didn't spike them did he?"

"Oh my god, Thea. Stop worrying so much. Just shut up and drink." She chugs her drink and throws her cup on the floor, "You're not done? Come on, I want to dance!"

I sigh and swirl the liquid around before downing it.

"Oh my god." I try not to gag, "That was so gross."

She grabs my hand, "Come on. Harry is over here. Let's give him a show." She drags me through the crowd of people, planting us directly in the middle.

She starts to move her body against mine. Her hands sliding down my sides. I slowly start to get into it, my hands dragging across hers, turning around to face her.

"He's watching." I see her lips mouth. She points to the left of us and there stands Harry with a bunch of guys and girl, his arm slung over the one red head.

I clench my jaw at the site.

Is it because I hate him? Is it because I'm jealous?

Honestly, I have no idea.

I look away from him but I can feel his stare on me. I bite my lip and start to get into dancing with Margo more. I turn her around and grab her hips as she grinds back onto me.

I flip my hair and slide my hand down her back, glancing over at Harry who now is standing up straight with his arms crossed.

I turn Margo around and I do to her what she did to me. When I look back, Harry's gone.

"Mind if I cut in?" A tall blonde asks slipping between us, "Sure." I smile slightly but that fades as he chooses to dance with Margo.

I stand there, looking around to see if anyone wants to dance with me. I quickly move off the dance floor and go back to my corner. My insecurities fighting their way to the surface.

I shouldn't have worn this dress. I should have just stayed home. I shouldn't be here.

"Hey pretty lady." A guy slams into the wall next to me, "What are y-ou doing all alone?" I lean away from him, "Too drunk. Nope." I go to walk away but he grabs my wrist and pulls me to him.

I yank my wrists but his grip is too tight for me to break free, "Don't be like that, baby." He leans in to try and kiss me but is shoved and he bounces off the wall onto the floor.

"She said no."

I look up to see Harry standing there. He looks over at me, "I told them not to let this shit head in anymore." He looks down at 'shit head' and moves his arm with his shoe, "Get out."

The guy gets up quickly and stumbles towards the door.

Harry looks over at me, "You alright?" I nod, "Um, yeah. I'm good." He nods, "You smoke?"

"Smoke what?" I ask, my innocence really showing.

He laughs and nods towards the stairs, "Come on." He starts to walk away and my legs automatically follow him.

As I follow him, I watch as his arm flexes with each grab of the railing. I think to myself how it would feel gripping my hair as I-

I'm lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize he stopped, "Oops. Sorry." I mumble as I step back from him.

"You're good. Here." He point to a door, "Come on." He opens the door and lets me walk in first. There's two guys sitting in low lounge chairs across from each other.

"What's up, Styles?" The one says holding out the, what I'm guessing is a blunt. Harry takes it and brings it up to his lips. I watch him as he slowly exhales the smoke.

My eyes go to the floor as he looks over at me, "This is y/n." I look up at the guys and hold my hand up, "Hi."

"This is Zayn and this is Louis." Harry walks over and plops down onto the third lounger, "Come here." I slowly walk over to him and he holds his hand out, "Sit."

"On your lap?" I whisper to him. He smirks and nods, "Only if you want to." I nod once before sliding onto his legs. He wraps an arm around my back to support me and lays the other one over my thighs.

"This party is getting boring." He states as he takes the blunt from, I think Louis.

"Yeah, that's why we're up here." Zayn laughs, "Too many people. I'm over it."

Louis agrees, "Totally. So y/n, you go to school here?" I turn my head to look at him and nod with a smile, "Yeah."

Harry nudges me and I look over and down at his hand. Between his ring covered fingers is the blunt with a line of smoke coming from it, "Want a hit?"

I slowly reach up and take the object into my own fingers and bring it up to my lips.

"Now you might cou-"

I cut Harry off with a vicious cough. I bring my arm up and cover my mouth with my elbow, "Oh god." I place my hand on my chest and calm down.

"Here love." Louis sets a water bottle into Harry's hand, "You ever smoke before?"

I shake my head, slightly embarrassed.

"Well congratulations, we just took your stoner virginity." Zayn smiles as he take a hit, "Welcome to the club."

I smile and look down at the blunt before taking another hit. This time I don't cough.

"Hold it for a few seconds before exhaling." Harry says watching me, "It'll feel so good." He lightly squeezes my thigh and I swallow anxiously.

I start to feel dizzy almost, but it's a good kind of dizzy.

"Do you guys do this all the time?" I giggle, "This is awesome."

"She's feeling good." Louis chuckles, "Oh to be a new stoner and not have to smoke so much."

I zone out of their conversation and turn my head to look at Harry. He has his head tilted back as he takes another hit. He opens his eyes and I smile at him when he looks at me.

He reaches up and grabs my chin, pulling me to him. His lips brush against mine, "Open and inhale." He says while holding in his breathe.

I do as he says and he exhales the smoke into my mouth. I hold it for a few seconds before exhaling the excess.

"Now that, my dear, is called shotgunning." Louis says proudly, "That's one of my favorite thing to do."

I keep my eyes on Harry as he brings the blunt to my lips. I wrap my lips around and close my eyes as I feel the smoke hit my throat. I tilt my head back and look down at Harry with a smirk.

He stay still but parts his lips, indicating he wants me to come to him. I lean down and press my lips to his before I lean back and blow the smoke into his mouth.

He shakes his head slightly with a smirk. His hand slides up and down my back and I feel it leave for a split second before it's right back to where it was.

"We're going to be right back." Zayn and Louis get up and leave the room.

"How do you feel?" Harry whispers lowly, "You look like you feel good."

I bite my lip at his words and nod slowly, "Why don't you find out." I shock myself with how confident I sounded just now, but I'm going to roll with it.

I shift so I'm straddling him, "That's why you brought me up here isn't it?" He raise show eye brows and tilts his head, "One of the reasons."

"Oh, okay. So why don't we just focus on the one reason now, and we can worry about the other ones after, yeah?" I watch as his lips curl into a smile and his perfect teeth pull his bottom lip between them.

Without another word spoken, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me towards him, his lips attacking mine. I let out a slight whimper as his teeth sink down into my lip.

"You like that?" He asks lowly.

"Mhm." I lean back in and continue making out with him. His hands push my dress up and hie slips his fingers into the band of my panties, "These are mine now."

I nod and help him get them off. He stuff them into his pocket before his hand goes back to in between my legs, "Fuck. You're soaked already."

"I kept thinking about you." I whimper as he plays with my clit.

"Thinking about what?" He asks, watching my face twitch with pleasure, "Tell me and I'll give you more."

"You. Your cock." I gasp as he slides a finger up and down my slit, feeling how wet I am for him.

"What about my cock?" He circles around my opening and goes back to my clit, repeating the action until I answer.

"How good you'd feel in my pussy. My throat. Everywhere." I moan and tilt my head back as he slips a finger in, his rings pushing against my skin.

"Your throat huh? Are you giving me permission?" He brings a hand up and rubs his thumb over my lips and chin, "I'd love to fuck that gorgeous mouth of yours."

I wrap my lips around his thumb and nod as I look into his eyes.

His lips part as I suck and grind my hips on his hand.

"You dirty girl, fucking yourself on my fingers." He leans up and nips my chin, "I'll give you something better here in a little bit, hmm." He plants kisses along my jaw as he slips in another finger.

I moan and arch my back, pushing my hips down onto his fingers more, "Harry." I whimper gripping his shoulders, "I want more."

Without any hesitation, he gets a third inside me and I moan louder, "Fuck." He smirks and lets me grind on his hand, watching me.

"That's it, that's a good girl. You gunna cum for me? I can feel you tightening around my fingers." He whispers into my ear, "Be a good girl and cum for me."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Harry." I reach down to grab his wrist, rocking my hips a little fast, "I'm gunna cum, oh fuck."

I tighten my thighs and throw my head back with a loud gasp. He tilts my head back to him and kisses me as I come down from my high, "You wanna taste yourself?"

I nod and stick my tongue out. He pulls his fingers out of my pussy slowly and brings them up, "Look at how wet you are, fuck." He inspects them and then lays them on my tongue.

I wrap my lips around them, sucking and swirling my tongue to get every part of his fingers I can.

He moan as he watches my actions, "You're so hot." He pulls his fingers out, "Let me fuck that mouth, baby."

I get off of him and he stands up, taking off his clothes, leaving him naked in front of me. His body is perfectly chiseled and his tattoos make it a thousand times better.

"Take your dress off, I need to see all of you." He starts to pump his cock as I slip out of my dress. I go to take my heel off but he stops me, "Leave 'em on."

I nod and get into my knees, "Fuck I can't wait to feel you gag on my cock." He says as he walks over to me. I look up at him and gently place my hands on his thighs.

"If I get to rough just tap me." He brushes my hair back and holds it into a ponytail. He brushes his cock against my lips and I open, tasting his leaking precum on my tongue.

He moans at the licks of my tongue, "Fuck." I start to bob my head before I push myself all the way down onto him, getting my breathing under control fairly quick.

He tightens his grip on my hair and starts to thrust in and out of my mouth, moaning and cursing with each thrust.

I can feel my eyes start to water and I blink, causing tears to fall down my cheeks. He pulls out and brings me up to my feet. He wipes away my tears and my smile at him, "Don't worry. They're good tears."

He smirks and kisses me again, backing me up until my legs hit the bed, the kiss getting hotter by the second.

"How do you want me to fuck you?" He whispers as he kisses down my neck and chest. He lays me back and kisses down my stomach and over my hips. He looks up at me, waiting for an answer.

I look down at him, "Hard and fast. Don't take it easy on me."

He smirks at my words and spreads my legs, "You're dripping for me, baby. Fuck." He leans in and licks a strip up my pussy and sucks on my clit. I gasp and arch my back off the bed, "Oh fuck."

He grips my hips to keep them on the bed and starts attacking my opening with his tongue. I reach down and tangle my fingers into his curly hair, pulling as he starts to vigorously eat me out.

"H-Harry.." I whimper and gasp as I can feel him bringing me towards my second orgasm of the night, "please don't stop. Please don't stop." I chant over and over, "fuck."

I let out a pleasured scream as Harry continues to eat me out through my high.

He pulls away and crawls up my tired body. He kisses me, shoving his tongue against mine so I can taste myself on him.

"Don't you taste good baby?" He groans as he slides his cock against my wet pussy, "I can't wait to feel inside of you."

I pull him closer to me and continue to kiss him.

The kiss is broken by both of us gasping as he slides into me, bottoming out right away.

"Oh shit. You're so fucking tight and wet, fuck." He curses in a deep groan.

"Fuck Harry I need you to move, please fuck me." I beg desperately.

He sits up, gripping my hips so hard his rings will leave bruises. He pins my hips down and starts to thrusts, not giving me a moment to prepare.

I let out a pleasured scream.

"That's if baby. Let everyone know how good I make you feel." He groans, "Fuck. Let your friend know that I'm fucking you instead of her."

I completely forgot about Margo, but I really don't care right now either.

"Harry. Harry. Fuck, Harry." I moan loudly, desperately trying to grip the sheets for leverage, "Fuckfuckfuck." I arch my back off the bed and moan.

"God damn. You're incredible." He praises, "Fuck."

He brings his thumb to my clit, viciously rubbing circles onto it.

I cum again, clenching around him as I arch and twist my body off the, now, sweaty sheets.

"Mm, fuck." Harry pulls out and I can feel his string of cum land on my stomach, "Shitshitshit." He pants quickly, "Fuck."

I lay there breathing heavy with my eyes closed for a few minutes until Harry comes back and wipes off the cum.

He plops down next to me and looks over at me as he brings one arm up behind his head, "Come here." He extends his free arm, inviting me to lay with him.

"You good?" He asks still breathing kinda heavy. I nod, "Oh yeah. I'm good."

He rubs my arm with his hand and I lay there listening to him breathe, "So how do you know who I am?"

He chuckles, "I've known who you are since the day I ran into you by accident."

I smile, "Really?"

"Yeah, I was so caught of guard by how pretty you were I panicked and all I could get out was-"

"Watch where you're going." I say with him.

He laughs, "Ha. Yeah. Exactly. You remember that?" I nod, "You really don't forget when Harry Styles bumps into you and doesn't apologize even though it's his fault." I giggle and poke his chest.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that." He kisses my head and pulls me closer to him. "This probably isn't the best time, but would you want to go on a date with me?"

I smirk and look up at him, "Only if you roll another blunt for us."

He smiles and nods, "Deal."

——

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated and don’t forget to hit follow!

[thecoolerliauditore]

It might be a point of priviledge on my part, but I haven't really noticed the colorism.... situation? Does it qualify as a problem? Before. Like. C!Scar is very much white to me but he's just tan like a surfer dude to me. He's a california dude and spends a lot of time in the sun. Maybe he has a hispanic grandpa, who knows.

I guess it is a good thing to stay mindful about. Even if it does scare me away a little from drawing poc characters because I as a white cracker don't wanna misrepresent ethnicities

So this ask is interesting to me and I want to make it very clear here that I'm not trying to make fun of anon, as much as point out some things here that I find worth pulling apart:

(it might help to read this reblog)

One is that while this may not be a direct response to my post, I remember making doubly sure when I made it that I made it as clear as possible I didn't want to frame it as a "fandom issue" as much as a consequence of colorism that I've noticed pop up in a fandom context.

I think culturally we're so fixated on making ourselves perfectly inoffensive, that pointing out any implication of any "-ism" in our art comes with an expectation that it's always going to be followed up with a rallying for "fixing" it or a shaming for it existing in the first place, that it may be having the opposite effect where people no longer want to discuss or interact with these things in the long run at all. As you have mentioned with the discouragement of drawing non-white characters.

This is an attitude that I find. A little troubling of recent, one of the few times I blocked someone over a fandom take was when I found a very passive aggressively worded post telling beginner artists to not share their Bigb art if they don't know how to draw black people well enough. That is ludicrous to me, how good is good enough? How will you ever get feedback if your art never sees the light of day? Why are you actively discouraging people from celebrating a black creator? etc.

It's interesting to me that every other hallmark of beginner artists are seen as endearing if not a little "cringe" but struggling with certain ethnic features that have been historically left out of or portrayed offensively in media for years is seen as some sort of moral failing on the artist's part.

So to answer your question of "does it qualify as a problem?" I answer: that's up for you to decide. I'm simply pointing out a trend I've noticed and hinting at its roots in colorism.

Second is the description of Scar, specifically "maybe he has a hispanic grandpa" because I'm not sure if you're aware, anon, but that is more or less Bdubs' genetic makeup if we believe what he says in that one stream clip and his Assyrian roots are the entire reason people take Bdubs whitewashing much more seriously than Joel/Skizz/Scar whitewashing.

It's partially what I hinted at in the original post as well, that Skizz for example is White by modern standards (probably. afaik) but his skintone is visibly more olive irl, hence why I believe the language we use for race is flawed in general.

So the questions I'm proposing are: why is it offensive to whitewash Bdubs, but not Skizz, when the only big difference between the two is 1. a pfp and 2. OUR views on what "counts" as white (not theirs, as demonstrated by Bdubs himself and his mid-stream race crisis)? Does whiteness make one immune to the effects of colorism? What is "whiteness", how do we define it? Does that definition change when it comes to interpreting characters?

These are all questions that I believe are unnecessary, but good to ponder.

For those uninitiated though, I think it might be better for now to simply draw as you see fit and look into the concept of white guilt, as well as its counter-productivity when it comes to working towards racial harmony. And please, for the love of god, keep making imperfect art.

[st-asya]

I think I've got too much time on my hands, and it shows. That's another endless post. I know I read too much into the plot (I've got another explanation of everything that's written there and it's WAY less complicated), but I could not stop writing it, and at some point it started to make sense, so...

s1ep3

Look, I guess Izzy is a controversial character, I don't really have a solid opinion on him yet, this post is not to be seen as hate towards him, I'm trying to understand the reason he behaves the way he does, I'm not terribly successful in doing that yet, but I've only just begun.

Izzy: Honestly, I really don't think this Bonnet is worth your time.

Blackbeard: So, he's a fancy man with a fancy ship, and he travels with a brigade of imbeciles. Do I have that right?

• First of all I don't recall hearing the word 'imbecile(s)' that often anywhere but this show, that's just a little linguistic(al?) observation. 'Travel' is a pretty interesting word to use in this scene, but it's very fitting.

• Love the way Blackbeard straight up ignores Izzy's line to get to the point.

Blackbeard: And he bested you at swordplay. (that gesture, as if words are not enough to make a point, he wants Izzy to pay extra attention)

Izzy immediately takes the bait (cause of course he does, that was the whole point of this trap)...

...and finishes it off with complete self-obliteration. I'm not even sure if he realises he's basically being ridiculed cause it's way more important for him to keep things professional (even in front of a person who's very well aware he doesn't need to cuz there's nothing to prove, there's a reason he became first mate, I think), to prove he messed up because of the 'imbeciles' (as if it's their fault). I'm not saying he's dumb (he's very far from being dumb), he just might be too caught up in being offended, he's pissed. He does understand (I guess) that this kind of response is immature (cause these are excuses), but it's hard to think rationally when your pride is hurt, the first thing he thinks about is to hurt the offender right back, it's automatic. You actually gotta have an impressive control over your irrational emotions to realise you're wrong and shut up when all you want to do is say something hurtful. The point is he's still messed up and he does not want to make peace with this fact, look at the way his body language changes immediately, the way his eyes shift, he can't even contain the emotion mentally, that's just too much to handle, but it's still controlled, barely noticeable, and his whole demeanor is already stiff as hell, it's sheer concentrated rage. To him that whole interaction was borderline offensive, even the memory makes him feel angry, still.

• Speaking of Blackbeard, it's such a masterful way of essentially reprimanding someone without outright showing it. I mean you could call it a friendly banter, but Izzy is having none of it then. Those were pretty casually delivered remarks, just his regular voice, as for the face, we can't even see it. The center of attention is mainly the way he's wording his mini speech.

• But I guess, Blackbeard is the only one who can get away with that kind of attitude towards Izzy, and not only because he's a captain, I suppose (idk where that assumption comes from if I'm honest).

• And then Izzy just suggests killing the crew even though a few minutes ago he stated Blackbeard should not even concern himself with following Bonnet in the first place. I don't think the crew can make decisions on its own, so if Blackbeard shouldn't give a damn, why should the crew?.. Was Izzy hoping to divert Blackbeard's attention from this epic fail? So if he killed the source of the damage to his pride, Blackbeard would be like you've restored my faith in you, you're excused (if it's true then why is it so important to him)? Cause Izzy can clearly see Blackbeard is not really satisfied with the outcome of the unprofessional ambush. Or he overthinks it. (no, the only one who's overthinking stuff is me). Or was he like I've had my ass kicked, yes, can we please change the topic already?

[damnfandomproblems]

Okay, it may be time for another one of these sort of inbox reply compilation posts, regarding the same post Problem #5168 and the ensuing reply exchange.

One more reply from the OP of #5168, responding to this ask:

Being passive aggressive and acting superior is ALSO rude. Therefore, since it was done in reply to my submission, i have every right to swear and tell that person where they can shove it. Im not trying to say you cant give me what i give you. Swear at me too if you want. Idgaf. I just refuse to be told how to speak. People wanna act like they no longer take me seriously because i swear, but decide to argue with me and tell me they dont like that i swear. Make it make sense. idk why I'm being singled out lol. Maybe because I'm actually responding to it. Hardly do i ever curse at people. I didnt call anyone a bitch or use any particularly offensive language or anything. All my cursing in my submission was used to express my anger with the exception of telling vague people to fuck off. I swore only 8 times. Yet the first anon that submission got acted like it was truly difficult for their pure, swearword free mind to read. Like seriously how does cursing and being angry make something "hard to read"? They must have a hard time reading everything here. Honestly i think they should look to read somewhere else because this blog is all about people's problems. Everyone's angry about something or another. Ig my submission was just tooo angry for people. Guess i crossed a line by being angry and cursing in my submission. Its such a stupid thing to argue about too cuz most of these people agree to some extent but for some reason they just cant handle me being upset? I can't wrap my head around why they care so damned much about whether or not an argument has swearwords or not. There's literally no need for me to censor myself here.

And a few others' replies, regarding this exchange.

Anon:

My dude, you're accusing others of missing the point, yet in your very first paragraph you're already going on about "professionalism" when that's not what anyone else was talking about. You're putting words in their mouths.

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Anon:

This is becoming such a strange conversation... Even if someone is being passive aggressive and or a dick to you, stooping to their level and then some by telling them to shove a post up their ass is just childish. Secondly, are you willingly ignoring how that anon pointed out that nobody cared if you responded "professionally", it was about just doing the bare minimum? "Professional" is a pretty wild word to use, nobody was suggesting you have to sound like you're working as a bank teller. Maybe the other anon pulled something out of their ass but where did "professional" come from but your own ass...? I don't know, just reading this whole thing is just perplexing me. ^^;;;

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Anon:

Can the two people arguing through the askbox get a room already

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Anon:

So this whole "fuck" debacle is happening, and I can't stop laughing because all I can think of is this scene: https://youtu.be/PmCLeTqD4hY?feature=shared&t=44

(It is a YouTube link to a clip from the South Park Movie)

[cattaliatayuun]

Alright back to fluff for the soul. Yes I write two things and two things ever (fluff and angst), and no, none of them are ever substantial beyond quick one shots XD If it ain't broke, don't fix it!

FFXIV Write Day 25- Perpetuity

No warnings except for like. Borderline candy sweet fluff, I guess. Cavity achingly sweet on occasion but yeah Zero connection to MSQ. Feat. mine and my boyfriend's WoLs :3

---

"Li,-"

"Not my name."

A quick laugh escaped Dev at how quickly he was cut off. He leaned back on the couch, peering over its back to look across the lounge at Cattalia.

They'd slowly been making progress on decorating this room, and despite it still being partially empty, it was already feeling like home. A square of couches on one side for a sitting area, a piano and some awaiting empty space on the other, with a simple bar between them, tucked against wall.

Awash in the warm glow of the chandelier overhead, Cattalia flipped through a furniture catalog, eyeing the empty space next to the piano in hopes that something might jump out at her-- metaphorically speaking.

"What! All the Scions get to call you Tali, but I'm not allowed my own nickname for you?" Dev complains, feigning offense despite the wide smirk on his face. Cattalia scoffs, turning to raise a teasing brow back at him, barely managing to stifle a laugh as she saw his upside-down face half hanging over the back of the couch.

"That includes you, y'know. Besides-" She closes the book, hands resting on her hips with a huff. "You have an entire language of words to pick from, couldn't you pick your own pet name?"

Dev vanishes from Cattalia's sight, slumping longways onto the couch with a long, dramatic sigh.

"I did! Two letters, from our alphabet, as they appear in your name!" He protests, gesturing widely enough that Cattalia could glimpse his hands moving from the other side of the couch. She rolls her eyes, tossing her catalog onto the presently empty bar and resting her forearms on the top of the couch, leaning forward and feigning annoyance as she sighed.

"Remind me again, why I married you?" She teased, the necklace she kept her wedding ring on hanging between them like it new it was a relevant set piece. Dev grinned, one arm wrapping around her neck, the other tugging on her arm with slowly increasing force.

"Because you love me?~" He suggested innocently, still trying to pull her over the couch. Cattalia snickered, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Ah, yes, because you never leave me alone. How could I forget." She retorted with a roll of her eyes, before sighing and giving in, rolling shoulder first over the back of the couch, and into Dev's gleefully awaiting arms. He was quick to catch her, and wasted no time nestling her into a comfortable position to snuggle.

"Now why would I ever do that when it would mean parting from you?" He beamed, holding her close and gently nuzzling his forehead against hers. Cattalia's ears fluttered happily, unable to wipe the smile from her face even as she continued.

"You're not helping your case." She returned flatly, raising her brows at Dev expectantly. Seeing such a scene from the outside, one might even suspect that he was the clingy one, but nothing could be further from the truth.

"You don't seem too upset with your circumstances." Dev remarked casually, running a hand through Cattalia's hair with a teasing raise of his brow.

"Oh I'm just seething-" She started to retort, attempting to shift slightly so she could use her arms to further emphasize her point, but Dev only hugged her tighter, smirk widening in the process.

"In fact, I believe you went so far as to marry me about it, isn't that right? Mine in perpetuity and all that?" He continued with a confident wave of his hand. Cattalia groaned, facepalming into his chest for lack of other options.

"That is not what that means!" She counters, slightly muffled by Dev's shirt but still very audibly frustrated by his misuse of words.

"I'm not hearing a no my beloved~" He teased, unaffected by her attempts to change the topic of conversation.

"You're impossible." She finally relented, looking back up at him with a reluctantly fond sigh.

"Oh come on, stick the landing! Is it really so hard to say?" Dev nudged her with his arm, brows raised expectantly, still waiting to hear the words she'd been so carefully avoiding.

"You've asked me plenty of questions by now, how could I possibly know which answer you're looking for?" Cattalia dodged again, feigning ignorance with a shrug and roll of her head, before she looked back to Dev to see him in full carboy pout mode. Her act dropped, narrowing her eyes at him momentarily before breaking under his expert coercion.

"Alright, alright..." She relented, and Dev's pout quickly lit up into an eager smile again. Cattalia's expression softened, leaning into his chest with a light chuckle.

"I love you too, my knight."

---

I am only mildly embarassed to be posting this, which is better than I thought it'd be tbh, so I'll take it as a win. And in the case this is vaguely incomprehensible, you have my deepest apologies, but I had to add a few mild in jokes or else I wouldn't have done it justice XD Thanks for reading! 💙

[bugwolfsstuff]

Wine Child Chp 2

Percy: I don't go on a picnic.

I figured after fighting gods, monsters and titans since I was twelve and fighting in a war, the fates would let me chill out and have a semi-ordinary life for a while. I personally think I deserve some semblance of a vacation.

Unfortunately, the fates seem to disagree with that.

So here I am, instead of being on my way to go out on a nice romantic picnic with my girlfriend, Annabeth (gods, I love saying that); I'm at the archery range staring at Chiron having a casual conversation with the goddess of youth, Hebe about how our camp director, and the god of wine, Mr D ticked her off.

Did I mention that she's holding a very alive-looking, violently squirming gym bag?

"Well, it's a funny story, really." She said, which meant in god language: It was very much not funny, but you better laugh or I vaporize you. "Dio had said some extremely offensive words to me about youth, and I simply couldn't let that slide. So, I decided to teach him a lesson about the value of youth."

She twirled the gym bag in her hand as she talked, pulling it up by the straps and tipping it upside down like a very angry yoyo.

Whatever was in the bag really didn't like that, which to be fair, I'd be pretty cranky if some goddess shoved me in a gym bag and then started playing with the bag like a yoyo.

"What I didn't account for was how whiney he was. So then I thought, hmm, where was the best place where he could learn to appreciate youth? Nowhere else but summer camp!" 

The bag, like me, did not like that idea and started to squirm more violently. I shifted my weight uneasily, my hand instinctively reaching for Riptide. I have a feeling one way or another, that bag was gonna be opened.

I glanced at Annabeth, who also was staring at the bag with piercing grey eyes like she was trying to see through it. Is X-ray vision an Athena power?

Lucky — rather unlucky — for us we didn't have to wait long to find out.

"Welp, I must love you and leave you, demigods!" Hebe said, unzipping the bag and disappearing laughing.

As soon as the bag unzipped, I uncapped Riptide, ready to fight whatever cranky monster tumbled out of it.

Yeah, that did not happen.

Instead of a cranky, snarling monster, a lump of curly, black, untamed hair fell out of the bag and before anyone could react, flung itself at the closest person.

Which happened to be me. Because it's always me. I swear I have a giant sign only visible to monsters and gods that says:

Please attack Percy. We don't like his face.

"No more monsters!" It shrieked, trying to impale me with a sword that was way too big for it. Which, first of all, rude. You're already shrieking and trying to impale me with a sword; you don't need to insult my appearance as well.

I sidestepped out of its way, causing it to stumble as it tried to regain its balance. I had a good look at it now.

It wasn't an it at all.

It was a kid, a little girl that looked no older than 8. She had weirdly familiar purple eyes that looked like they saw something horrifying. The sword she was holding was far too big for her, and she stumbled as she waved the sword at the crowd wildly.

"Get away!" She screamed, stumbling as she swung her sword at an Ares kid who dared get too close. "No more!".

She looked barely 8 years old and downright terrified, and the Ares kids trying to surround her and take the sword weren't helping. In fact, they were making it a lot worse.

Then something worse happened.

The girl caught sight of something, "you!" she yelled, pointing at me before charging. Abandoning her sword on the grass to...run faster. Oh great.

"Hey!" I put my hands up in surrender, "I'm not gonna hurt you!" 

She either didn't hear me or just ignored me and continued charging. "Hey!" I said again, taking a step back as she got in kicking distance....for her to kick me, not the other way around, I'm not kicking the little girl.

Surprisingly, it turned out she wasn't going for me.

I stumbled as she shoved past me with too much strength a child her age should have. 

She headed straight for Will Solace, a son of Apollo and before any of us could react, she delivered a swift kick to his crotch, causing him to double over in pain.

Every guy in the camp simultaneously winced, and there was a chorus of oohs and ouches.

Even as Will doubled over in pain on the floor, the girl wasn't finished. She yelled extremely colourful Greek insults and accusations that didn't make much sense to me.

"You were supposed to protect us! You were supposed to care!" She screamed, pummeling him with her tiny fists.

"Woah! Hey! Calm down!" I yelled, rushing over to pull her off him. I tried my best to hold her back, but it was like trying to wrangle a wildcat. She continued to struggle against me, her eyes blazing with fury as she yelled at Will. 

"You! Kourotrophos! You should have protected us! You should have protected me from her! I prayed for you!" 

I don't know what a Kourotrophos is, but she said it with so much venom I almost expected her to start spitting acid at him. She also put emphasis on her, like it was the worst word she could think of. Which, from the kind of swears she was throwing at him, would have to be horrible.

And what did she mean that she prayed for Will? What did she pray for: 

Dear god of crotch kicking, please guide my foot and make Will Solace wish he was never born.

"Let me go!" she shrieked, clawing at my arms furiously as she tried to escape. Will soon recovered and scrambled away into the crowd.

"No, we're not monsters. We're—ow!" Ever been bitten by a demigod? It freaking hurts, and from the feel of it on my arm; this one had sharp teeth.

Annabeth rushed over, her expression unreadable. "Let him go, Percy!" she said firmly.

Now, if anyone else told me to release the feral screaming, biting, scratching child into a crowd of people after she has already injured one. I would be seriously questioning their mental state. 

But this was Annabeth. And when Annabeth tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. She probably had a plan, and if she didn't?

Well, the situation would have been hopeless anyway, and at that point, any idea would have been helpful.

So, I reluctantly put the child down.

She didn't attack, probably all tuckered out from using my arm as a scratching post and a chew toy. Instead, she stumbled, shivering slightly. Annabeth kneeled to her level. Which I personally would not be doing; that kid looked like she'd go for the eyes.

"Monsters!" the kid wailed.

"No." Annabeth promised, using her gentle 'I am completely harmless, and you can trust me' voice. That is usually reserved for young campers and Hades' dog Cerberus that one time. It was always weird hearing Annabeth change so quickly. "It's all right. We're not going to hurt you."

The kid trembled, all the wildness draining out of her. She had dark eyebags under her eyes, a deep cut on her cheek that looked slightly infected, and her limbs were stick thin like she hadn't eaten in days. How the Hades she had enough energy to swing that sword, attack Will, and use me as a chew toy and scratching post, all while screaming her lungs off, was beyond me.

"Monsters?" she whispered, her eyes swivelling to look at the still-growing crowd around us.

I could understand her hesitation. The Mist could even fool demigods like us and make a Chimera look like a Chihuahua (not that Chihuahuas weren't already little monsters), and the fact that she'd been shoved into a bag and then cornered by Ares kids probably wasn't giving her a good first impression of us.

"No, not monsters," Annabeth said, "We're...." She hesitated. The kid might not know what demigods even were. That happened alot. Kids these days clearly never watched Hercules (the Disney show, not the guy). "...Well, it's hard to explain, but we fight monsters just like you."

"You're like me?" The kid asked, still suspicious, but she sounded slightly hopeful, too.

"Yes," I promised, and the kid scowled at me with her big purple eyes. I was slightly afraid she was going to kick me, too. There was something familiar about her scowl, though, like I've seen it before. "Why were you in Hebe's bag?"

Her scowl deepened, but thankfully she didn't kick me, "I don't know. I just woke up."

Maybe that's why she was so murderous; I'd be cranky, too if someone woke me up from a nap by shoving me in a bag and dumping me in a Summer Camp without a word.

In fact, that kinda sounds exactly like something that would happen to me.

"I'm Annabeth, and that's Percy," Annabeth said, "You can trust us. We have a friend, Chiron. He can help you."

Speaking of Chiron, where did he go? He was there when Hebe opened the bag. Did he just go to the Big House to play Pinochle with Mr D and leave us to deal with little Miss Crotch-Kicker on our own?

The little girl nodded, "Okay...I'll go with you."

"So..." I whispered to Annabeth, "Any clue who little Miss Crotch-Kicker is?" I figured if anyone knew who this kid was, it was Annabeth. 

"I have a vague idea, but I need proof first." She replied cryptically

"Wanna share with the class your idea?"

"Not yet."

"You know I can hear you, right?" The kid crossed her arms and scowled at us, keeping her distance at the back of the group. She had been silent the entire walk.

Annabeth and I sheepishly apologized. The last thing we needed was to upset the already untrusting and wild kid.

We walked in awkward silence until we got to the Big House.

Chiron was alone on the porch. Mr D was nowhere in sight. Which was good. Because if I have to listen to his sarcasm while dealing with this situation. I'm setting the kid on him.

The little girl stopped the moment she saw Chiron.

"Kentauros! Monster!" She shrieked, and I was afraid that was her form of a battle cry.

Chiron smiled at her kindly, "Yes, Dionysus, I am a kentauroi, but you have nothing to worry about. I'm not like my brothers."

"What—?" 

Then I saw how tense the kid suddenly got.

'Dio said some extremely offensive words about youth, so I decided to teach him a lesson about the value of youth,' Hebe had said.

That's where I recognized the kid's scowl. That's why her purple eyes were so familiar. That's why Mr D wasn't with Chiron.

This kid was the Wine Dude himself.

"H..how do you know my name?" Dionysus said, already on guard. Which was fair, she—or he? Why was Mr D a girl?

Chiron just smiled at them, "We have a lot to talk about inside." Then he turned to us, "Percy, Annabeth, will you please alert the rest of the head counsellours and tell them there is to be a very important meeting."

Annabeth nodded, frowning, "Come on, Percy."

I sighed and followed her.

I guess we arent going on our picnic any time soon.

-----

Chapter one on tumblr

And thats the last chapter of this I will be posting here. When i post the third chapter it will be going on Ao3

[gren-arlio]

Could you not insert yourself in translation and translator conversations when all you do is machine translation? It's really disrespectful to those who spend time actually bothering to learn languages to properly translate content faithfully, especially when you've been caught wanting to a call a character you don't like a "bitch" in your "translation". MTL also can't really properly read grammatical contexts in certain languages correctly. It's really not a good look when you could be doing better by spending more time learning

Well, this wasn't exactly the thing I expected to see on Puyo Day.

You have a point to an extent. Yeah, MTL doesn't exactly...get some things right, no doubt about that. It's bound to make mistakes. Take me completely misunderstanding the Bottling mechanic. That's on me. You're also right on spending more time properly learning the language, I can see how it's disrespectful to people who are learning. I'll admit I'm wrong there.

The thing is: I'm doing this to learn as well. The info itself, while not perfectly accurate, still pertains fairly well to the game. I can admit that what I'm doing isn't perfect at all. I'm no professional, I'm a 17 year old kid who does this in his spare time. The bitch thing? Yeah its not good, but it was legimately my first time doing it, having not much clue where to begin since I was by myself. Even I admit it looks bad, lot of my early translations suck.

And even then, I don't just put it in a machine and call it a day. I do edit a lot of the lines since the machine doesn't make it make much sense, isn't grammatically right, or doesn't have the context. I'm still editing a lot of the works, trying to add characters' personalities since the thing makes it stale. The machine is flawed, but I realize that and improve on it. I'm not great at Japanese myself, so I'm learning it via this.

With the mistakes I make, I still get corrected from people who do know, and I learn from it. It's a learning experience for me. And those people don't really see my work as "disrespectful" from the times I've spoken to them. The Bottling Mechanic mess up was corrected pretty quickly since I was told by someone who does really good translations, and they didn't take offense to it, and me using a machine to help me out.

I won't be removing myself from the talks. Im doing this to learn, as well as just doing it to have fun. Nevertheless, happy Puyo Day to you.

[kristyvscrochet]

We need to talk about the term Crochet Girlie bc it's important.

A lot of people who crochet use the term crochet girlie to talk about themselves and others. I think this is mostly because there is no cute, easy way to call yourself a crocheter or to identify ourselves as a group with a common interest and hobby.

Crochet is a French term, so using English grammar to modify it into an identity (crochet -> crocheter) is just clunky. While it still works perfectly fine, we still started using crochet girlie. As English speakers on the internet we define ourselves using short hand, in group language.

So what gives? Why are we calling ourselves crochet girlies instead of crocheters or simply saying "I crochet"? Almost none of us are "girls" with nearly everyone who crochets being a late teen or adult woman.

Well, consider these 2 interactions.

"What do you do for fun?" "I am a runner."

vs.

"What do you do for fun?" "I go on runs."

When you're able to answer a question with "I am a"... I am a runner I'm a graphic designer I'm a mother... you're giving your conversation partner an insight into what you do in your day AND your relationship with that activity-- how you identify with it. 'Going for runs' is fundamentally different than 'being a runner'.

Being a runner implies a long history of running, that you have in depth knowledge and a lot of experience, that you enjoy it and schedule activities around it, and that it's an important part of your life. This type of answer is a lot more illuminating, personal, and quite frankly more interesting. It tells your conversation partner who you are as a person and what your values are.

It's really natural, especially as women who are socialized to create and value more intimate connections, to want to answer a question about yourself with an "I am a" statement. Think of every female empowerment pop song ever. They rely heavily on "I am a" statement lyrics and it works. We WANT to have an identity like that.

Combine this need for an easily stated, one word identity with a societal obsession with youthful femininity and you get the term crochet girlie.

The popularity of the _____ girl (that girl, tomato girl, clean girl) or girl _____ (girl dinner, girl walks) language is a symptom of our societal obsession with youthful femininity in general, but that's a broader conversation. Crochet girlie is a bit different than those other examples, as I'll get into. Every ____ Girl trend is designed to be accessible to anyone, easily relatable, and easily emulated.

I'm not trying to say that the term crochet girlie is bad or shouldn't be used anymore. WE as individual crocheters should keep using it. As I have explained, we want and need to make "I am a" statements about ourselves. For a lot of teenagers just 2 or 3 years into their crochet journey, its an incredibly accurate and endearing term. It's cute if a friend calls me a crochet girlie. It's not cute if that's how people think of people who crochet.

Crochet girlie (specifically the term girlie) is inherently juvenile. It is a cute, friendly term that isn't offensive or abrasive. And I've got a huge problem with it.

The point I really want to make is that the term shouldn't be used to describe the community of people on the internet who crochet as a hobby and post about it online, gender inclusivity issues aside.

In my opinion, the public perception of the craft cannot be "I buy my silly little yarn and sit down with my tiny little hook and I do crochet girlie things." Quite frankly I find this humiliating.

Years of practice. Hundreds of hours of work. Thousands of hours worth of knowledge and experience that have been passed down mother to daughter over centuries can't be boiled down to "crochet girlie." Again, its fine if my friend calls me that. It's humiliating if that's in the headline of an article.

See this article calling crochet "knitting's funky little sister." Between DMs and comments on an Instagram post, this language is fun, familiar, and accurate. From a national news outlet, this is downright disrespectful. I truly don't think we should tolerate giant corporations using our friendly, personal language that we use to describe each other as content to put ads on, but that ultimately does nothing to spread interest in learning the craft. Imagine how offensive an article describing ballet as "hip hop's slowmo tip toeing cousin," would come across. A statement like that shows no respect to the history, dedication, and talent within the art form. It actively belittles interest.

So why is crochet getting the trendy ____ girl treatment? And why does it matter?

Firstly...

Society has always undermined the interests, hobbies and work of women. In an effort to strip us of our power and prestige, society will continue to associate what we do for fun as childish, passing interests.

And secondly...

The algorithm has no soul and cannot distinguish fleeting fashion micro-trends chased for clout from genuine human interest.

And it matters because crochet is a genuine human interest.

After all, crochet isn't just a fashion trend, new video game, or something that you can buy. It can never be marketed and sold back to us. It will always belong to us and, more importantly, be defined by us. A yarn store will never be a crochet store, just a blank slate for us to use to create what we want.

Crochet girlie is a symptom of a misunderstanding of why the craft is popular, why 10 second videos of it get 6 million views, why thousands of new crocheters have flocked to craft in the past 4 or 5 years. But again, I'm not asking you NOT to use the term crochet girlie.

What I'm really asking you to do is demand the respect you deserve from news outlets, brands, and corporate accounts. I want you to value the work that you put into your craft. I want you to feel proud to carry the knowledge of generations of women before you in your head and on your fingertips. I want you to feel like the master and expert of an art form (well, eventually).

I don't want you to just accept that your skill is viewed as a frivolous modifier. I don't want you to internalize the dismissive conversation around crochet at large. I don't want you to view corporate media as an accurate reflection of the crochet community.

This challenge doesn't exist for women alone, all people who crochet should be respected in the same way for their skill. You do have to acknowledge this craft exists and persists because of women, which is why businesses are flippantly trying to sell it back to us without any looking any deeper. They don't know what genuine human interest even is and they don't care.

I encourage you to call out overly familiar language by brands and corporations, especially news outlets. I want you to confront them with the deep and rich history of crochet and the level of dedication and commitment it takes to be a part of this history. Even learning how to chain for the very first time can take hours. It's not a passing trend.

Crochet is not another aesthetic that just anyone can buy, take a pic in, then leave at goodwill in pursuit of the next trend. It is not something that can be capitalized on or exploited for money, unlike old trends like e-girl, it girl, clean girl, that girl. Crochet simply can't be bought or sold.

It is a learned skill. It takes hundreds of hours to just become competent. Respectable, talented people use this skill to create works of art. And how dare anyone try to characterize crochet as anything less.

[nerves-nebula]

im feeling pissy rn.

if you dont identify with the word queer and it makes you comfortable then shut the fuck up about posts adressing the queer community. if you arent queer then you arent part of the queer community. how is this a hard subject to grasp.

i swear ive seen insane takes by queer ppl and lgbt ppl alike but I have yet to actually see anyone try to force someone who doesnt ID as queer into IDing as queer. Not saying it doesn't happen but it's clearly not as prevelant as some people insist it is.

What I HAVE seen a shitton of is queer people talking about themselves and other queers and getting responses being like "um don't call me queer??" when it's very. very obvious that the post is about queer people and not fucking whatever you are.

i saw someone say in one of those Dont Call Me Queer!!!! posts that "English isn't my first language so I can't reclaim it you're literally just calling me a slur in your language" and like yeah. all of our words for ourselves are slurs/reclaimed slurs except the VERY very new ones and the fucking acronym that keeps changing. (which is made up of slurs)

we dont have any umbrella terms for ourselves that havent been used as slurs regardless of origin. not much we can do about that except say that if i refer to queer people and you dont ID as queer then why the fuck would you assume im talking about you.

queer is like one of the least offensive slurs in the first place since it's not reclaimed as in "a slur we like now" but reclaimed as in this was literally slang we used for ourselves BEFORE it was a slur. Unlike a lot of other slurs like fucking. GAY. you idiots. you absolute fools. I hate you all. eat a brick and die.

and then these people will piss themselves when you point this all out cause they've fully eaten the radfem/terf pill that Queer is a Slur and insist that you pointing out that every word we use for ourselves is a slur is somehow you trying "force them to ID as queer" or "calling them queer"

I would NEVER call you queer if thats the way you act anyway cause I heavily respect queer people and I have nothing but contempt for you.

i've seen non-queers say that people who ID as queer are both just Back Water Idiots who don't realize they're saying a Bad Word, AND that we're just priviledged rich college morons who've never REALLY been harrassed with slurs before.

and if you think that any part of this post is attempting to call you Queer when you don't ID with it, and not a queer tranny expressing its frustration, then i will refer you back to the point of this post in which I've told you to eat a brick and die.

[papirouge]

I'm the anon that sent you the message about hating the term PoC. Yeah, I pretty much agreee with everything you say. I don't believe much in POC solidarity because our struggles are very different between each other, and trying to paint everything as us vs whites does not really work. Perhaps for americans it does, since they have a very diverse population, but it's more difficult when talking about other countries.

Like latin americans do not have the best relationships between each other, they might share language but have very different cultures. Like the other day I was reading about this cartoon named "Oye primos" that was going to premiere and it was made by a second gen latina, where she looked to represent her growing up in a latin community in the USA, but she was clowned by pretty much every latino leaving outside of America. First, because the name of the cartoon is gramatically wrong (it should be "OIGAN primos, not OYE primos), second, because she used the word "LATINX", which latinos hate, and third, because she named the town the characters live in "Terremoto (Earthquake) Heights" or something like that (people though it was offensive because Mexico and Chile have suffered through a lot of earthquakes). And there's other stuff, like people saying the animation is ugly (very calart) and so on. Some people even started praising Los Casagrande, a spin off of The Loud House with a main mexican family thats not even made by latinos, but its considered far superior.

Sorry, I got a little carried away with that, what I wanted to say it's that its pretty common for latinos to kinda tear each other up, but they unite if they want to clown a "gringo" or something (and yes, they pointed out that the author basically being a 2nd gen makes her a gringa... I guess). Plus a lot of latinos dont like anything that looks "woke", and they considered that show does, so it was doomed from the start. The creator of the show felt pretty overwhelmed by the negative reception, received a lot of backlash and it apparently affected her a lot. I feel pretty bad for her actually.

And yeah, argentinians are actually pretty white, not only because a lot of italians and germans migrated there (if you ever read the names of their national soccer team, you'll notice many names are of italian origin), but because they're at the very south. Chile is also pretty white. But yeah, argentinians have always been pinned as being pretty arrogant and full of themselves, so it doesnt surprise me that they feel they're superior because their team is white. I remember that argentinians and fans of Messi in general were clowning Mbappe for allegedly being in a relationship with a transwoman, so they invented some pretty homophobic chants... soccer fans be like that

Ugh, this got so long,... I was gonna mention asians and their own issues too, but i think it's enough. I did wanted to ask you something though: is France a racist country?? How has your experience being impacted by being black?

Don't be sorry anon, I love these loooong asks where I get to know more my followers 🧡

It's pretty ironic you're talking about Asians because in one of my post where I'm talking about White conservative weaponizing minorities against each other somehow triggered A LOT of people. I even got a comment saying "put the reblogs back I have to give my perspective as someone with Asian/japanese ancestry" and I got like..... "Hm no?" LMAO This girl REALLY thought her opinion was remotely relevant when this was my perspective as Black person and I am not interested about some random Asian take on that issue. Sis really thought my post was a diss against Asians success (I mean every single person who interacted with that post had a negative IQ and entirely missed the post that's why I muted the reblogs) and got like "the cOnsErVatiVes aRe jUst acKnoLedgiNg oUr sUcCesS uwu"...... There's no wonder East Asians are looked down as White people's cucks 💀 IDK, if my community was being weaponized by racist scrotes to dogpile on other I wouldn't go uwuwhy do you mean?uwu about it. How can people have so little self awareness? ...That's why I don't believe in POC and that some communities will actually be more than willing this silence us. Sis really tried to all lives matter my take and I have no patience for that.

And soccer is brain disease tbh. Case in point : the racist Argentinians players dragging Mbappé... Which is a shame bc Messi and him seem to be very cool. Fans are the worst. I think I realized how racist these people were when they said ANTOINE GRIEZMANN (France NT player) wasn't White enough just because his mom was...... Portuguese (when his dad is German)💀

Imagine thinking this man is not White enough when them Argentians be looking like tragic mulattos themselves 💀💀 HE'S LITERALLY THE ARYAN PROTOTYPE 💀💀his name is ANTOINE. THAT'S THE WHITEST FRENCHIEST NAME EVER!! NEVER IN MY LIFE DID I MEET SOMEONE CALLED ANTOINE THAT WASN'T WHIIIIITE 💀💀💀💀

Argentinians living up their nazi heritage ; Portugal ain't white enough lmao...

What's funny with Latins is that they have this thinly veiled superiority complex with Black people.....but highkey are envious of the cultural impact of Black culture worldwide. Latin culture has a load of influence on music, but its impact is not as multifaceted as Black culture (beside music, fashion, hairstyles, make up, slang, etc.). I saw some Latins seethe about Black Panther and the hype the Black community was having from this movie, and Black twitter, in its usual shadiness got like "hmmm don't you have Rio? 🤔" LMAOOOO (it was before Encanto though)

And is France racist? hm... I mean, it's a European country 🥴🥴 but it's definitely one of the least racist one for sure. Non french netizens will do the most about how islamophobic France is, but Islam isn't a race so the problem our country has with Islam isn't much related to race. Because of colonization, France has many territories oversea where its natives are Black, so France is inherently already multiracial, and that's something that many French people acknowledge. I feel like french are more worried about culture than race (ln many aspects, I, as a Christian Black woman, have to bear much less prejudice than a Muslim male, for example). That's why our country is very defensive against Islam (which comes with a whole cultural set) rather than race.

We consider assimilation as a staple and reject self IDing communities (whether they might be sexual, racial, religious). Any stats trying to quantity race, religion or sexuality are ILLEGAL, here. That's why when I see foreign rightoids be like "France is already 25% Muslim!! #greatreplacement" I just know they are full of shit, because such stats are technically illegal...

To give you an example, France leader of the far-FAR right is a Jew...(Eric Zemmour) and a significant amount of people from North Africa/muslim are in the (far) right too.. (many of them change their names to make them sound more french/less Arab such as Jean Messiha lmao)

France itself is a mixed nation between Romans invader and Galicians (basically France indigenous) also some viking mingling in the north(?) That's why french people can be very phenotypically diverse. If you look Griezman (France North type) and Kenji Girac (Southern France type - he's also a gypsy) who are both White french while looking quite different.

Unfortunately nationalism is on the rise, there's an actual revival of neo Nazi (which is hilarious bc France has been invaded/defeated by Nazi and that actual self respecting French rightoids hate Nazism because of that 💀) so I feel like France is getting less sale for foreigners/non Whites. I think France is the best place to live in Europe if you're afraid of racism but yeah, it's getting quite heated here....

[trickstarbrave]

williammdalton replied to your post: williammdalton replied to your post: ...

My point is that there are horrible people on both sides. Sourpunchgay comes to mind, but I point them out specifically because it would sound ridiculous if everyone went around shouting “wow, the gays sure are hateful. Look what this hamtaro-looking-mofo said.” Actually I might of seen something like that but it was called out

yeah except this is repeated behaviors that make asexuals and aromantics feel unsafe in the greater community????? and im a hypersexual aromantic talking about how absolutely fucked up it is and how disgusted i am????????? ‘aspec community’ dont even bother with casually including aromantics unless you’re going to openly condemn the shit i just showed you. 

the issue isnt “OH THE ACE COMMUNITY IS SO MUCH WORSE NO BAD PEOPLE EXIST ANYWHERE ELSE” its the fact that this shit is hardly ever addressed because you all FLAT OUT SAY IT NEVER HAPPENS AND THEN BACKTRACK EVERY TIME SOMEONE SHOWS YOU ITS AN ACTUAL PROBLEM. WHICH YOU LITERALLY HAVE JUST DONE. 

its a huge problem not me ‘strawmanning’ ace tumblr. its not me saying ‘uwu nothing bad happens everywhere else’. its me, a hypersexual aromantic being told im tired of being ‘shallow’ for being sexual at all. im tired of being told my relationships arent as ‘pure’ or that im ‘being aphobic’ to my ace partner for talking about any sexual thing with him and im tired of this giant crusade against a sex disorder while the ace community continues, again and again, to use ‘hypersexual’ in demeaning ways only to be accused of exaggeration and lying when i point it out, because its easier to do that than actually acknowledge a problem and address it. it becomes an issue when you refuse to address it. saying ‘every community has issues’ isnt a solution. its an excuse. how is “well we’re just as bad as every other community ha ha!” make you look any better??? it just shows you don’t care about actually making a safer community so long as you think you can get away with it and deflect criticism 

as for ‘calling out hateful ~gays~’ as you put it yeah that also gets done. i have met many ppl disgusted w other exclusionists and refuse to call themselves exclusionists from the lying (discoursezilla condemning child porn and incest porn despite MAKING AND SHARING IT ON THEIR MAIN) and outrightstupid and hateful banter and i dont say “uwu this is strawmanning i dont see it happen dont demonize an entire community” i call those people out too bc i wont tolerate it. 

[amatchinwater]

Hello!! Can I request an Eddie x male reader fic, where the reader is a vampire👀?!?🩸🩸

You sure can!! Sorry it took so long! I apparently couldn't just start it with him being a vampire, my gremlin brain demanded to write how it happened too. So, this is kind of a rewrite of the end of 4x06, 4x07, and some of 4x08 No vol 2 spoilers!!

Leave the Bat Biting to Ozzy | Eddie Munson x male reader

Summary: You were the other half of Steve's co-captain for the swim team, so it made perfect sense to you to dive into Lover's Lake in search for the gate to the Upside Down with him...much to Eddie's disapproval. Once you bite the tail of one of the demobats and can't spit out all of its blood, you start to feel weird...sucks to wake up next to your best friend that you're in love with trying to bite his neck and drink his blood. Good thing Eddie is more than okay with it, though.

Warnings: 18+ (just in case) blood, violence, demobats, protective Eddie, language, blood drinking, light angst (due to fighting demobats and reader getting anxiety about possibly hurting Eddie) but honestly it's more fluffy than anything, drug use

Words: 4035

a/n: I hope you like it, love! It kind of ran away from me. Requests are still open, send one if you'd like, my loves 💚

Masterlist

Not my gif!! Credit to creator!!

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, trying to push your shoulders to make you sit back down in the boat. “Absolutely not,” he says, pointing at Steve, “Harrington’s got this just fine.” 

“Eddie,” you groan, rubbing the frustration from your furrowed brows, “if I can help-”

“I’m sure you can,” he nods, eyes wide, “but I don’t really care. I’m not letting you risk your life.” Eddie cocks his head at the indignant grunt, “no offense, Steve.” He just rolls his eyes, taking his shirt off and pelting your best friend in the face with it. “I deserved that.” Throwing the shirt into the bottom of the boat, Eddie puts a cigarette between his lips.

Robin promptly yanks it out and throws it in the water, “gross. Eddie, we really don’t have the time to argue about this right now. If he can help Steve find the gate faster and he’s willing to do so, there’s not much you can do to stop him.” 

“Don’t forget,” you stand, taking your shirt off as well, handing it to Eddie rather than hitting him in the face with it. Though you kind of want to. But he was just denied nicotine, you’re not about to tick him off on top of whatever protective streak he has going right now. “I was co-captain of the swim team with Steve. If anyone else here is fit for the task, it’s me.” 

“Just-” Eddie shifts in his seat, clutching your shirt in his hand. His discomfort is heartwarming, really. Makes the massive crush you harbor for him throb in your chest. “Be careful, please,” his brown eyes widen their worry for you. 

Unable to resist the tease, you ruffle his hair, “‘course,” you grin when he swats your hand away. You notice Nancy giving Steve much the same interaction you and Eddie just had. And you know for a fact that she’s not over him. You have eyeballs and aren’t stupid either. But Eddie’s just your best friend and watched two people die painfully to Vecna. He probably just doesn’t want to lose his best friend in the same way. “See you in a bit,” you take a deep breath, nodding at Steve.

“Let’s go,” Harrington adjusts the bagged flashlight in his hand and dives in. 

You share one last look with Eddie, the metalhead looking heavily conflicted before you follow Steve. The water is like icicles stabbing every inch of your skin. But you can’t let it stop you, following the soft golden light ahead of Steve’s fluffy hair. Reaching the bottom of Lover’s Lake, your lungs begin to make it known that they’d very much like fresh oxygen inside of them soon. You push on with the other boy, finding a trail of fish bones. 

Steve looks uncomfortable and anxiety sours your stomach too. Swimming through the murky water, your vision turns red. You and Steve push on until you find a split in the earth. Glowing scarlett with what looks like veins around it. This has to be the gate. When Harrington tries to inspect it further with the flashlight, you too reach out without really thinking it through. Not only does the bagged light get sucked in, but a giant black tendril pops out of it, wrapping around your wrist, yanking you through the portal. 

You scream, the last of your air bubbling out into the water before you're sucked through. Sputtering the rank water from your mouth, coughing as you’re dragged through the Upside Down. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to be here and you had hoped you’d never have to be again. Without your shirt on, the skin of your back stings with scrapes as you’re brutally pulled along the ground. You try to pry the vine off of your wrist, but it's got you in a vice grip. 

“Oh shit,” you grunt, coming up to a fallen tree. You smack into it; hard. There’s at least three bruised, if not broken ribs and your shoulder screams in pain. But you stopped. Long enough to dig the vine into the sharp wood, freeing your hand. 

But you’re far from safe. A high pitched, menacing shriek fills your ears and you see bats flying your way. Nowhere to run, definitely nowhere to hide, you reach for a branch at your feet. Swinging the wood, one of the bats with very sharp teeth goes flying away from you. Just as you make to swing at another, one wraps its tail around your neck and you’re slammed to the ground again, gasping for air. Lungs burning and no prying of your hands gets the bat off of you. As if being choked to death by a fucking demon bat…demobat?- you don’t care enough to think about that right now- two more swarm around you, sinking their teeth into your sides.

Screaming in agony, you thrash around, trying your best to buck them off of you. Wildly waving your hands to smack at them and the one strangling you. Your sides are killing you, it hurts so fucking bad. All you can do is scream, hoping that someone is coming. That Steve was able to get through or get the rest of them to come help. 

“Y/N!” Eddie yells and the bat around your neck is stabbed in the face repeatedly, Nancy and Robin trying to beat away the ones eating you. “I’ve got you,” he says, the two of you working to get the tail off. The slimy cord lifts enough for you to bite a chunk out of it, gagging around the rancid blood in your mouth. 

It hurts it enough to make it release you and that’s all you really care about, the girls having killed the other two. Everything hurts, rolling on your side you groan, spitting the blood you didn't accidentally swallow from your mouth. You feel a hand cup the side of your face, lifting your head for you. Struggling to keep your eyes open through the pain, blinking heavily, you see a positively distraught Eddie, trying to look you over. 

“This is why I didn’t want you to do this,” he chastises. But you see the concern in his eyes. Eddie sounds hysterical, “told you you were risking your life, that this was dangerous,” his bloodshot eyes filling with tears. “You’re hurt,” his gaze drops to your torso. Any other time, you’d probably feel a little embarrassed about his focus on your bare chest. You’re in too much pain for anything to matter right now. “That’s a lot of blood,” Eddie’s face pales. 

“You don’t say,” you deadpan, coughing out a laugh. 

Steve drops to his knees beside you once the other bats have gone, “we can’t stay here.” He looks towards the portal and several bats have surrounded it, screeching in warning. “Looks like we can’t leave either.” 

Eddie cups the side of your face, thumb brushing the skin softly, “can you walk?” 

Taking a deep breath, you nod, feeling the pain subside to a manageable burn. But you grunt and grit your teeth, even standing up with the help of both boys pulls at your wounds. Flaring a white hot pain in your sides, you slump into Eddie’s arm, taking calculated breaths, “I’m okay.” You nod, trying to convince not only them, but yourself. “I’m okay,” you repeat. 

“Bullshit,” Eddie remarks, wrapping his arm around your back to help you follow the group towards the woods. “I will carry you if I have to, sweetheart.” 

Despite the blood loss in your torso, your cheeks burn with a blush at the name. Not the first time he’s called you that, but he just saved your life. You’re allowed a moment to be taken aback that your best friend that you’re head over heels for is not only calling you a pet name, but doing his best to take care of you. 

—

A unanimous decision to go to Nancy’s house for guns was made while Eddie and Robin helped patch your wounds. Robin babbling about rabies the whole time, surprisingly keeping you in good spirits. You’re grateful for your friends, but you really want to lay down. Your head is throbbing like crazy and you can feel your heartbeat in the wounds on your stomach and sides. It’s not fun. Far from pretty. And it makes you nauseous. Not even sitting on the one loveseat in the Wheeler’s house not covered in Vecna’s vines next to Eddie is making the room stop spinning. 

He’s holding you close, rubbing his fingers along your arm and it’s almost enough to get you to fall asleep. Almost. The constant thunder and bright red light keeps you right at the edge. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

Eddie turns his head, his chin resting atop your head, “what are you possibly sorry for?”

“I didn’t heed your warning,” you grunt, an attempt at a laugh. Your limbs feel disconnected. Like they’ve fallen asleep. The repulsive scent from the wet tendrils surrounding the house seeps into your nostrils, furthering your desire to vomit. Everything feels too intense.  

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he kisses the crown of your head, holding you tighter, “I’m not mad at you. Worried, for sure. But I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re more or less okay. Once they figure something out with Dustin, I’m taking you home and we’ll take care of those bites. The bleeding seemed to stop on its own, so I don’t think you need stitches or anything.”

“Thanks Eds,” you mutter tiredly, nuzzling into his neck. Not caring enough to try and hide your feelings at the moment. You’re in pain and he’s been the main source of comfort and safety for you for years. 

—

Using bikes to get to Eddie’s trailer is the fastest and smartest option. You fully agree with that. Wholeheartedly. The actual act of doing it? You’re even closer to throwing up than you were before. Clutching to Eddie’s back while he pedals you both down the road. Every bump in the pavement has your stomach churning, demanding whatever remnants still inside be released. The throbbing in your head has reached an aggravating peak. A migraine on crack. Even in the darkness of the Upside Down, it still feels too bright whenever the red lightning crackles through the sky. 

You cling tighter, pinching your eyes closed, “how much farther?” You grit out, carefully inhaling the scent of Eddie into your nose. More intoxicating than it’s ever been before. It’s almost making you dizzy on top of everything else. Salivating to the point of if you don’t swallow fast enough, you’d drool all over his shoulder. 

“Just a couple blocks,” Eddie’s hand pats yours and you quickly twist your fingers until they’re entwined. He squeezes your hand and you’re sighing softly at the lifeline offered. “Hang on for me a little longer, sweetheart.” 

“Is he okay?” Robin asks, keeping up with Eddie’s pedaling. “He looks a little green.”

“Rob?” You ask.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you huff softly. Voices are almost too loud. Your stomach won’t stop its incessant churning. And now, your fucking teeth and gums hurt. Whatever bullshit this is, you’d kindly like it to stop. Every smell entering your nose is more intense than the last, only adding to the cocktail of discomfort.  

“Shutting up,” she replies as you feel the bike turn.

The ride is even bumpier after that, like you’ve gone off road. Squinting an eye open, you see your assumptions are correct as Eddie’s trailer comes into view. “Eds,” your head lolls from fuzziness on his shoulder when he stops the bicycle. “Eds, I don’t think I can walk.”

“I got you,” Steve’s by your side, helping you stand long enough for Eddie to get off the bike. 

The moment he’s off the bike, he doesn’t care to stop it from falling to the ground, opting to scoop his arms under your legs and lifting you into his arms. “A shower and bed is just moments away,” he tucks your head into his neck, heading into his alternate home. 

You must have fallen asleep, because you’re jolted awake an unknown amount of time later, “mhmm, wha-” is all you’re able to articulate. 

“I need you to go to Steve for a minute,” Eddie tells you. 

When you open your eyes you see an opening in his ceiling much like at the bottom of Lover’s Lake. Dustin, Erica, Lucas, Max, Robin and Nancy looking at you upside down from Eddie’s actual living room. A few blankets have been tied together to make a climbing rope. Your eyes widen, “I can’t climb right now,” you sound frantic, clinging to Eddie’s vest. 

“I know, I know,” he’s quick to rub your back in sweet, reassuring strokes. “I’m gonna give you to Steve and climb through. He’s going to help you through the gate and I’ll be right there to catch you. You trust me?” You stare at him skeptically, but nod just the same, knowing this is the only way you’ll be able to get home. “See you on the other side,” Eddie kisses your forehead, placing you in Steve’s open arms. 

Your stomach does a sickening somersault watching Eddie climb the blankets and be sucked through, crashing into the waiting bed. You hadn’t even noticed you were shaking in Steve’s arms, until he’s holding you tighter in more of a hug. “We’ll be as careful as we can, okay? You know he’d never let anything happen to you.” 

Steve’s words of reassurance help only just. Carefully, he stands on a chair with you still in his arms, Eddie standing on the bed on the other side, arms open wide for you. Grabbing the blanket, you hold yourself steady while Steve gently pushes you through. The moment your hands are in Eddie’s you’re sucked through, crashing on top of your best friend and onto the mattress. You scream out in pain, sides feeling like they’re tearing back open. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie hugs you close for a moment, allowing you the time to calm down from the pain. “Come on,” he carefully moves you so he can get up and scoop you right back into his arms. “You guys good?” He asks the group, Steve falling onto the mattress behind you. They must nod or give him some affirming answer, because he says, “good, I’m gonna help him clean up and get him to bed.” 

“Should you guys really stay here with an open portal in your living room?” Dustin asks.

“My house is empty,” Steve offers, “I have a spare room and everything. Pack a bag of what you’d need. Henderson’s right, you’re not staying here.” 

“Not like we have a car here,” Eddie cuts in.

“I can take my mom’s keys,” Max suggests. “We rode here on our bikes, Steve can drive you guys home.” 

You’re already shaking your head, “I don’t think I can handle a car ride right now. Just let me take a shower and rest for a bit. Then we can figure out where to go.”

“Fine,” Steve sighs, “but we’re staying here with you guys.” 

“Fine.” 

—

Eddie gingerly helped you into the bathroom, turning around when you’d taken your boxers off. He’d left you a towel and a change of his clothes, saying he’d wait for you in his room to give you some time to yourself. 

It was sweet, but also not. Every time you closed your eyes you saw those fuckign bats feasting on your stomach. It must just hurt more than the actual damage, because the wounds aren’t as deep as you’d expected. You clean them with peroxide nonetheless and change into the clothes Eddie gave you. Your favorite faded Guns N’ Roses shirt of his and soft plaid pajama pants. Meeting him in his room, you can’t help the small laugh at the sight waiting for you.

Eddie propped against his headboard, lighting a joint, a steaming cup of tea tucked on the windowsill beside his bed. “Did you make me tea?” You ask, sitting beside him, taking a careful sip of the warm liquid. Chamomile floods your senses, warming you from the inside out. 

“I smoke and sell pot,” he takes a hit off the joint, offering it to you which you gladly take. Hitting it generously, hoping it will make the pain go away and help you sleep for a bit. “You really think I wouldn’t have other natural kinds of sedatives? Come on now, you know me better than that.” 

You chuckle softly to yourself, glad that you can do so without irritating your wounds. “Thank you,” you smile into your mug, polishing off the last of the drink. Setting the mug back on the sill, you settle into his bed, pulling the covers over your shoulder. “I’m glad we’re out of there.”

Snuffing out the roach, Eddie curls up beside you, pulling you into his chest, “me too. Thought I’d lost you,” his voice is above a whisper, lips moving against your forehead when he speaks. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Anyone, I can lose anyone…but not you. I can’t lose you, sweetheart.” 

You cling to him harder, sniffling into his chest, the harsh reality that he’s right slamming into you. “I’m right here, Eds. You saved me,” nuzzling your nose into his shirt, you sigh. 

“And I’d do it again,” Eddie assures you, tracing lines along your back and your heavy lids finally close. “I love you,” he says quietly. Something else he’s said countless times, but even in your tired state you can hear that it sounds different than it ever has. 

But you’re far too tired to not only think about what it means or to even say it back. Falling asleep in Eddie’s arms like it’s any other night you’ve stayed over. 

—

“H-hey, uh, sw-sweet- shit,” Eddie groans, sounding almost like a moan. “Sweetheart, what are you d-doing?” He asks, pulling your shoulders gently. “Not that I-I’m complaining. Oh my g-" his hips buck into yours, “I just- fuck.” 

It’s the movement that makes you realize that you’re no longer asleep. Rather unconsciously licking and sucking on his neck. The sound of his heartbeat thrumming away in your ears like the world’s most beautiful drumline. His smell invades your nostrils, taking over every sense you have. Intoxicating and sweet, you bite at his neck in earnest, moaning when you taste a droplet of his blood on your tongue. 

The taste earns your stomach a hearty growl and your eyes snap open and you jolt away. Startling yourself when in your haste, you’re suddenly on the other side of his room, staring at a wide-eyed, hard and thoroughly confused Eddie on his bed. Your gums are on fire and you can see the artery pulsating in his neck even from here. What the fuck is going on? You try to back away, confused and ashamed of yourself for having hurt him. You don’t even register that not only do your sides not hurt, but you feel better than you ever have. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s up on his feet, carefully walking over to you, arms out like he doesn’t want to startle you. 

Too bad, you back away again, hitting his wall, “d-don’t,” you stammer. You have no idea what’s happening. All you do know is that you can still taste his blood on your tongue and you want more. So much fucking more. It makes your teeth ache and your stomach twist in hunger. You’re not stupid, you’ve read enough comics and seen enough horror movies. Foolish of you to think that in a town like Hawkins, Upside Down bats wouldn’t turn someone into a vampire if they survived. Or swallowed their blood. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you say, holding your hand out in hopes of stopping his advances. 

It doesn’t. 

Eddie’s inches away from you, reaching out to cup your face, examining your features. “Holy shit,” his eyes widen, thumb pulling back your top lip. “Y-you have fangs. And your eyes are red.” 

Your stomach nearly falls out of your ass. “Eddie,” your eyes burn with tears, “tell me this is a joke. That I’m still sleeping.”

His finger comes up to where you’d nipped him before, a pin prick of blood resting on the pad, “sorry, babe, I don’t think it is.” Panic sets in, heaving your chest with painful breaths as the room spins. “Whoa, whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie crouches to the floor as you slide down the wall, “you’re okay. You’re still alive. Just a cool ass vampire now. I mean, that’s fucking sick, right?” 

“How is that cool?” You look at him dumbfounded. “Vampires feed on blood, Eddie. Blood! I didn’t even know what I was doing. I could’ve hurt you,” your own eyes turn to saucers, your hand covering your horrified expression, “I-I could’ve killed you!” 

“Baby,” he pulls your hand away, cupping your face again, “you couldn’t hurt me. I know you. You’d never,” Eddie’s voice is so sweet and calm, settling your nerves. “We’ll figure it out, okay? But for now,” all you can do is watch as he moves his hair from his neck, tilting his head to the side in offering, “you need to eat. I’m not going to let you die because you’re fucking stubborn.” 

“No,” you vehemently shake your head, ripping out of his hands and stumbling to his bed. Your hunger turns your limbs to jelly. 

Eddie’s quick to catch you before you fall over, arms wrapping around you, turning you to face him. “I’m offering it, babe,” he smiles at you, “if anyone is going to feed you, it’s going to be me.” He finds the way you look at him like he’s grown an extra head hilarious, his chuckle vibrating through you. “It’s what we do for the ones we love, right? Take care of them however we can.”

“I-”

“So, if my best friend,” he brings your chests flush, “the guy I’m absolutely in love with is now a vampire who needs blood to survive,” Eddie shrugs. “It’s a no brainer, really.”

You don’t get to comment on his words, though you feel your heart clench at the admission that he shares your feelings. Because he’s cupping the back of your head, guiding your aching fangs to his offered neck. Instinct takes over once you smell his blood again and you sink your teeth into Eddie’s flesh. His fingers grip your hip hard, letting out a moan from the feeling. His blood is the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your life, tangy, but so fucking sweet. 

Addicting. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, pulling at the strands at the back of your head. 

Removing your fangs from his neck, you lick the wound clean, watching in wonder as the two small holes heal. “Sorry,” you avert your eyes, not ready to look at him. Afraid he’ll be upset with you for drinking too much. 

“It’s okay, Eddie says, gripping your chin to make you meet his gaze, “it was your first time. I’m sure you’ll learn how to not take too much. I’ll be fine,” he smiles warmly at you, lovingly. “Do you feel a little better now?” You nod. “Good,” Eddie looks at your mouth, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “your eyes are back to normal again.” It’s an offhand comment before he’s locked on your lips again, “hey, sweetheart?” You hum in response, breath caught in your chest. “You didn't really tell me to fuck off when I told you I loved you. So…Can I kiss you now?” 

You smile, chuckling through your nose, “that's because I love you too, Eddie.” 

His lips brush yours softly. A featherlight touch. But then you both inhale sharply, crashing your mouths together. It’s feverish. Groaning into each other, hands grabbing whatever they can. Tongues and teeth clashing until you’re dizzy and gasping for air. 

“It’s about time you admit it, Munson,” Robin’s voice yanks you apart. But she’s smiling at the two of you, “Steve you owe me twenty bucks,” she yells over her shoulder, making you and Eddie laugh. “So…a vampire?”

[mocharadio]

Go to Sleep, Idiot.

Now Playing(Title): Go to Sleep, Idiot.

Song Artists(Characters): Albedo x gn!reader

Genre: Slight Angst/Comfort, Mutual Pining

Remix(Au): Modern Au, College Au (somewhat vague)

Lyrics(Summary): You're tired, but you won't go to sleep unless Albedo does too. Feelings get acknowledged, much to your discontent (or not?)

Explicit?(Warnings): no beta we die like Albedo's sleep schedule, reader is emotionally detached, they/he used for Albedo, ooc(?), mentions of Bulimia (an eating disorder) on the readers end

A/N: yes this was rushed, yes this is manifesting for Albedo to come home. I'm writing this at 2 am by the way lol /srs

also this is the first time I've wrote anything besides headcanons in a while so like please bare with me </3 English ain't my first language either so..yikes.

Feel free to criticize! Please like and reblog ^^

It's 3 a.m.

3 in the fucking morning.

So why isn't he in bed?

"Dude, Albedo, it's getting so late it's.....no longer late. Why haven't you gone to sleep yet?" You lean against the wall just a few steps away from your bedroom, peeking into the living area where Albedo was. They can feel the glare you're giving him, but choose not to comment regardless. "Ah, so you're ignoring me now. I see." you sigh. You walk over and plop yourself on the couch next to him, looking over his shoulder. They don't bother giving you a second glance, they're aware of your overbearing but very much enjoyable presence. He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it immediately to scribble something down. You lay your head on his shoulder, waiting for them to respond at some point. You know he will, he always does; they never ignore you without a reason. Luckily for Albedo, you're too tired to notice the hitch in his breath when your head makes contact with him. They're not used to this much.....affection? Does it even count as affection? Especially from the likes of you. No offense, you just tend to be very...distant. Glancing over his shoulder, he allows themself to relax for a moment and lean their head against yours. "I.....need to finish the rest of these notes. I'll be done in a few." he finally replied. "Uh-huh, sure you will. I know how you work, 'Bedo. If I don't stop you now you'll be at it till its time for your first class." Normally they'd just shrug it off if you scolded them. It's a normal occurrence for the two of you. Albedo reprimands you for your unhealthy eating habits (what are they, your mom?) and you reprimand him for his shit sleep schedule. Somethings....different this time though, they can feel it. You let out a small groan due to exhaustion and lean forward to rest your elbows against the coffee table. "I'm not sleeping until you do, period." you scoff. Albedo finally turns to face you, not even attempting to hide the dark circles under his eyes. They tilt their head to the side, as if they were trying to study you, analyze you, like an experiment. Hoping that they'd get their way.

And you weren't having any of it.

"Alright, that's it. Let's get you to bed pretty boy." You stand up and try to drag him off the couch, only to find yourself flung back on top of it. Son a bitch pulled you down. "You've gotta be fuckin-" they slap your hand over your mouth and give you a side eye to cut you off, before inhaling and saying those words you didn't even realize you never wanted to hear till now. "What's wrong? You haven't been acting like yourself lately. You still scold me as usual but it lacks a certain...energy. Have you not been eating well? Not sleeping, maybe? Did I..... do something wrong?"

That. That right there.

Truth be told you were doing pretty well, actually. Your grades are doing better than ever, as of recently you weren't gorging and then starving yourself for days on end (hell, you'd say this is the longest time you've gone without relapsing), everything was A-Ok! Except for the fact that you're in love with your roommate! Shocker!

You didn't and still don't have the heart to tell them about your feelings, it could ruin everything, but you knew it would come to this. You can't keep hiding your feelings forever, you know it would start showing at some point.

You just never thought it would be like this, never thought he would ever think that he was the problem and not you, but at the end of the day you're still too much of a pussy to admit your feelings.

"Y- Where did you even get that from? No, you didn't do anything wrong 'Bedo-"

"Then why are you so distant towards me. We used to be so close." Ouch. That fucking hurts. Especially because you know they're right. You thought it would be okay to open up for once, to let someone in, but as soon as you realized your...romantic predicament, you just shut him out all over again.

You hurt him, and this is another reason why you can't tell him how you feel. You don't deserve them, you don't deserve to love or be loved by them.

At least, that's what you think. Albedo sees it in an entirely different light though.

They adore you. They love you so much it hurts them sometimes, because they don't know how to show it. He tries, he really does; in lingering touches, soft gazes, their vulnerability. A kind of vulnerability only you're allowed to see. So where did they go wrong?

It's silent, and tense. Neither of you move or speak for a good five minutes. What's even left to say? You can't bring yourself to deny it, cause you know he'll want a reason, a reason that you just can't give him. Not now.

Finally, Albedo scoots closer to you, hand resting on top of yours. They tilt your head to meet your gaze, half-lidded eyes focusing intently on your lips. You act like you don't see it, there's no point in getting your hopes up, not for someone you don't deserve. You decide to break the silence, shifting the focus onto him.

"Bedo. Have you been overworking yourself just because you think you did something wrong?" You know you're right when you see a slight flinch, before he turns away. "You still didn't answer whether or not I did do something wrong...I did, didn't I?"

Your heart shatters when you hear his voice crack, you can't keep going on like this. If you didn't deserve them before, you definitely don't now. You need to fix it, you know you do. So you try.

"No, you didn't."

Part of you thinks you can get out of this without having to expose that part of you, the part that feels something for him. The part of you that's vulnerable, weak. "Then why?"

You realize there really is not easy way to get out of this. You can't bring yourself to say the words, you might fall apart if you do. So you kiss them instead. It's short, but it sends the message. You let your free hand cup his cheek as you pull away, avoiding his gaze in fear of what he might do, what they might say, and that fear only grows bigger when he just says "Oh."

It dissipates when they lean in for more, returning the kiss they didn't have enough time to process beforehand. This time, you both pull away, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"I see. Well, I'm glad I didn't do anything wrong but....maybe just tell me next time?"

Of course he would.

"Like you're one to talk" you grumble. You would wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now if it wasn't so cute. They turn back around to continue typing their notes, but you just close the computer. Laying back on the couch, you pull him closer until he's laying on top of you, face on your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

"I'll help you finish it later. Go to sleep, idiot." Ah, yes. Your lovely word choice. They know there's nothing but genuine concern and fondness though, so he lets it slide. "Mhm. Thank you."

You both let out a sigh of relief, before drifting off to sleep.

[byakkomaruu]

head-canons [sfw/nsfw] - brahms heelshire

nsfw head-canons below the cut.

gender-neutral reader; no pronouns used.

warnings - swearing, switch!brahms, hinted predator play(?), somnophilia, voyeurism (typical), hinted phone sex(?), sadism, hinted bondage, choking, begging, lingerie, brahms is rough and borderline violent at times(?), size kink, hinted shower sex.

__________________________________________

i. after revealing himself to you, he doesn't often use the child voice. it's usually to taunt you when he gets bored and feels like leading you through a goose chase through the heelshire estate. sometimes he uses it to make you laugh, or just because brahms is a little shit.

ii. if he doesn't ask for a kiss goodnight (or just kisses in general), something is wrong and there is a disturbance in the force.

iii. despite his colossal stature, he moves around the manor very quietly. life in the walls taught him the language of silence. it's very hard to hear his footsteps. since you won't always hear him coming, expect to be spooked often, even if he doesn't mean to scare you.

iv. he hates malcolm. sure, malcolm is the one that brings the food, but brahms is very clingy, and he obviously can't be with you when the grocery boy is around. if malcolm is here, brahms is most definitely watching. he refuses to leave you alone with malcolm, even though the other man means purely business.

v. he would definitely eat stuff like nutella or marshmallow fluff straight from their jars. very few condiments of those kinds don't have sloppy excavation lines from brahms taking a fork or spoon through them. ice cream is absolutely included, but that one's a given.

vi. brahms hangs onto his mask like a lifeline. once every blue moon will he take it off around you. he trusts you, sure, but the porcelain face brings him comfort.

vii. if he cut your hair in your sleep before revealing himself to you, he will try to return it to you at one point, like a cat bringing a dead rodent to its owner as a little present. you obviously won't take it back, but the gesture is nice... right?

viii. he would let you do anything to him; he absolutely adores you. wanna paint his nails? sure, but make sure he actually lets them dry. wanna cut or style his hair? he won't like sitting still for long periods of time but play with his hair a little bit and he's sold!

ix. when he wants to be alone, for whatever reason, he will retreat back to the catacombs of the manor. however, he won't be completely gone: if you call out to him, he will make himself known by knocking on the walls to let you know he's still around. he's never too far behind.

x. he loves helping you cook. he won't often involve himself in chores unless you ask for his help, but in the kitchen, he's always there, grasping at various things and wondering how he can help you with whatever you're making. his two main motivators: you and fresh, warm meals-- he will never go back to cold or microwaved leftovers again. beware, though: he will lick the spoon and taste everything, whether it tastes good or not. he has yet to learn his lesson after he tried to eat a spoonful of straight cocoa powder.

xi. speaking of food, he hates spicy things. if you're eating super spicy stuff, brahms will look at you like you're the crazy one. he will never understand how on god's green earth you can tolerate it. it's one of the few kinds of foods that brahms despises. alongside pickles. he hates pickles as well and i don't accept criticism.

xii. brahms is really intelligent. probably smarter than you, no offense. he's definitely not patient enough for things like puzzles or math equations, though. he'll only really do stuff like that if you're there with him; he doesn't care about whatever it is, he's just clingy as shit.

xiii. there's no hiding spots for you, no little nooks or places you can put things so brahms won't find them. he'll find them eventually.

xiv. brahms is a very light sleeper. there's no sneaking away from him, especially if he's sleeping in bed with you. if you toss and turn, he'll grab you and hold you close so he can actually get some rest (also, he's one of those freaks that sleeps on his back, live with it).

xv. if you like to dance to a song you listen to, try getting brahms to join in! you'll have to lead him around by holding his hands and pulling him along. he has no idea what the fuck you're doing, and he isn't the biggest fan of your taste in music, he's just following you along while he watches you sway and swing to the rhythm. his movements as he follows you are very awkward and bashful-- yes, he will step on your shoes, and it will hurt like a bitch --but he's got the spirit! :D

xvi. he has a massive size kink (no pun intended). standing well over six feet tall, he very much enjoys towering over you, even if he's not the one in control. however, there's a voice in his head that tells him how fragile your neck must be.

xvii. please god do not think he has poor hygiene just because he borderline had no choice. he doesn't mind showers or baths but would gladly them with you. he won't keep his hands to himself, though, fair warning.

xviii. he hates teasing of any sort. if you crack open a dictionary to find the definition for the word impatient, brahms' picture only isn't there because he was too short-tempered to deal with turning it in. if pissing him off is something you want to do, tie him down somewhere and give him a show! listen, he's a voyeur at heart, but he hates being forced to sit and watch when he is right there next to you.

xix. want some exercise? play hide and seek or let brahms chase you through the manor! it's a great thrill for him. most of the time, he will beat you though, and he always insists on a reward for his victory (hint hint, wink wink, nudge nudge).

xx. sometimes after sex, mostly when he plays the dominant role at the time, he'll steal your underwear. yeah, he doesn't need to since you're his now and you can just give them to him if he asks, but what's the fun in that? he does return them... eventually.

xxi. another big kink of his is somno, for either of you. when he wakes you up with his face between your legs, he'll start apologizing to you once he realizes you're awake, telling you that he couldn't resist and that he's sorry for disturbing your slumber, but he won't stop unless you make him. if you wake him by, for example, sucking his cock, you have until he fully wakes up to have your fun: he takes it as an invitation.

xxii. good lord do not let malcolm call you, brahms will most definitely pull some shit. or do! brahms will pitch a fit if you really need to talk to malcolm, and if you chase the masked man off so you can speak with the grocery boy, he'll make sure you can't walk afterwards. yeah, good luck talking to malcolm if your voice is raspy and weak. :D

xxiii. kisses. everywhere. he especially loves marking up your neck, legs, and wrists. as much as he wants to, he knows he can't leave anything in a place you can't hide it (fuck you, malcolm).

xxiv. toys are definitely on the table. at first, he hated them almost as much as malcolm-- how dare you even consider a plastic device over him --but when you introduce them to him, he changes his mind completely. get him a few for himself, he'd definitely enjoy them when he can't get ahold of you.

xxv. if you're into choking, good news!: the first time he ever choked you, he got really into it. his hand was exploring your chest as he fucked you against your mattress, and when you grabbed his wrist and moved his hand up to grab your throat, you could hear an alarmed gasp from beneath his porcelain mask. you almost passed out and you had to let him know when to stop so he doesn't actually hurt you, but he is so ungodly into choking you if you introduce it to him.

xxvi. the first time he ever fucked you was his first. he's not stupid or clueless; he just hasn't interacted with anyone face-to-face aside for his parents in twenty years. when he first put his cock inside you, he was very quickly thrown into an internal battle between pounding into you without giving you a chance to breathe or stopping to give himself a chance to savor this feeling to keep himself from cumming too quickly. you created a monster, good luck!

xxvii. brahms' sex drive is so ungodly high; it isn't even funny. he is so down to fuck 24/7 it is mental. it is also incredibly easy to get him hard, too, take notes. this motherfucker needs a leash and a muzzle to behave, good lord.

xxviii. if you think you're able to masturbate alone, you're dead wrong, brahms is most likely watching you in silence (he's a voyeur at heart, everyone). the moment he hears you cry out his name, it's game over: he also thinks of this as an invitation. the first time you moaned his name while masturbating, you heard him stumble from inside the wall across from your bed.

xxix. eye contact during sexual acts is your best friend with brahms. with him in charge, it empowers him, makes him grin like a madman beneath the mask and tighten his hold on you. with you in charge, the longer you hold eye contact the more he crumbles. he will never ever be the first to turn his gaze from yours.

xxx. lingerie is well appreciated in brahms' eyes, but the moment he sees you, he'll pounce like an animal. he won't admire you for too long. he'll try to rip it off of you, too (he has done so several times), so it's best to leave more expensive clothing items for a time when he can't tear it up-- or just be quick about taking it off.

[doberbutts]

trans men and trans women cannot enter cis manhood, our issues are not 'men's issues', none are. They are other axis of oppression that men experience, filtered through their manhood. The association with transness, womanhood, and afab experiences intrinsically links us as targets of misogyny. when are we gonna stop trying to pretend our ASAB doesnt impact anything; even when coercively assigned, its kind of important. The fear of acknowledging sex, like at all, is getting ridiculous that yall thinking like MRAs, instead of acknowledging targeted misogyny and transphobia, filtered through your manhood, not stemming from it.

I'm gunna be real here: it feels very condescending to have someone link the definition of "coercively" in my inbox while I know that the phrase "coercively assigned sex at birth" is an intersex phrase, not a transgender one, and I've been very, very loud about my discovery that I'm intersex. It feels wrong to have someone be that patronizing about a phrase people like me came up with, to clumsily explain why they think I'm wrong.

Anyway.

When I was being taught how to be transgender by an older trans woman who called herself transsexual, the theory at the time was that trans men are actually included in discussions of transmisogyny because we are oppressed by a unique intersection of transphobia and misogyny that trans women do not face, just as trans women are oppressed by a unique intersection of transphobia and misogyny that trans men do not face.

Somewhere along the way, it became unacceptable to say that trans men face misogyny. "If you say you experience misogyny you're misgendering yourself" "if you're a man you can't experience misogyny" "trans men were never girls or women so they have never experienced misogyny" are bad and incorrect takes, but they are takes often repeated at us when we discuss our issues nonetheless.

Somewhere along the way, it became unacceptable to say that trans mascs face transmisogyny. We're exempt from ever feeling any sort of effect from it, because we're men and men don't experience misogyny so it's "just transphobia". The rise of TME and TMA labelling split everyone into two groups; TMA people were just trans women, trans fems, and maybe very feminine cis men who toed the gender line a bit. TME was everyone else. Don't look too hard at the cis black athletes getting kicked out of sports for having high testosterone levels due to concern trolling about ~evil predatory trans women athletes~. Don't look too hard at butches getting kicked out of bathrooms. Don't look too hard at trans mascs getting denied abortions. That's "just transphobia". There's no misogyny happening here. And if it is it's just misogyny and transphobia and not transmisogyny despite that being the literal definition of the word.

So if we're not allowed to call it transmisogyny which my transgender ass was taught to do by a transsexual woman, and we're not allowed to call it misogyny because we're men, and it seems that "just transphobia" isn't accurate language to describe our experiences with how society treats us, we're gunna make our own words to talk about it. That's how language works. At some point you've gotta accept that telling people their language is bad while doing absolutely nothing to resolve the actual problem being discussed is tone policing, which solves nothing and helps no one.

And it's honestly pretty offensive to repeatedly call people who are talking about trying to lower rape statistics and suicide rates the same as people who have been proven to be extremely violent, especially so to come into a black New Englander's ask box so close after the Buffalo shooting and expect me to take kindly to you comparing me to a racist that deliberately killed multiple people sharing my skin tone because he's sad he can't get his dick wet. How dare you, actually. We have done nothing to you by talking about our problems and trying to work out support networks to get trans mascs in bad situations the help they desperately need. Uplifting our own is not the same as choosing to become mass murderers writing manifestos. I shouldn't even need to explain why that's a fucked up thing to say.

[sevs-corner]

One Piece's WWHI Series (Isekai Ver.)

2.) What would happen if the others heard you speak your native language? (Part 2)

~Previously~

After gathering the lost sheeps, the crew got to drinking with Whitebeard and Red-haired pirates. Apparently, the yonkos met on this island and decided to catch up with each other.

Which leads the lass to this particular…predicament.

"Are you sure you want to join a kid's game?" the girls asks, quite concerned by the way how the two yonkos are acting.

"Yeah! Start explainin' kiddo!"

"It's been quite some time since we had a friendly game, right red hair?!" The two laughed with arms strewn across each other shoulders.

The girl sighs but does as he says anyways, "okay, so it's called 'Patintero.' Basically, there are two teams," she points towards the group split between the two captains. "One is on offense, while the other is on defense."

"The defense team stands on these lines," she taps her foot on the white taped ground which were laid in a rectangle with line intersecting the sidelines in the middle creating squares. "Rule is that the person in charge of this one line cannot step out of it nor cross onto other lines." The girl hops onto one side of the rectangle and opens up her arms. "And all the offense team have to do is pass the defense team!"

"Sounds too easy," Zoro commented with a smirk, ready to pound Sanji to the floor.

"But!" the girl added with a finger twirling, "no going out of any of the lines or you are out!"

She chuckles at their groans, seemingly catching onto 90% of most of their plan.

"No Devil Fruits or weapons either then?" Shanks pouted and the girl ruthelessly nodded with a glare.

"Of course! We're playing it the OG- classic way," she huffed before whistling. "Get to your places, we're gonna start!"

The offense team was consisted of Whitebeard, Ace, Luffy, Zoro, Robin, Nami, and, Usopp; while on the other team, Shanks, Sanji, Franky, Chopper, Brook, Marco, and Thatch were on defense. It quite hilarious sight to see, two yonkos facing off against each other right outside the bar.

"No Haki by the way!" The girl whispers to the red headed captain who pouts in response.

"Why not!"

"Because it'll give your team an unfair advantage," Benn rolls his eyes and the girl couldn't help but giggle. She did try to invite the first mate to the game but he explained that he had to watch his captain instead.

"Unfair- shmair- everything's fair game as a pirate!"

"Correlation?"

"Me!"

Dead panning, she proceeded to turn around and signal to the others.

"Ready!"

"Are you just gonna ignore me?!

"Set!"

"Kiddo… :("

The girl glanced at the captain's puppy eyes, and she couldn't help but feel bad. That's why…

"Go!" she shouts with a grin.

"Heartless!"

The girl merely cackles, walking away from the ensuing chaos to narrate the whole game.

"Zoro goes in for a slide- but oh no!" The girl watched as he gets clotheslined by Franky who simply stretched his arm to one side of the rectangle to another. Blowing the whistle, she shouts a "foul!" "What?!" She points at his extended arm with an arched brow, "you used a weapon." "That’s my arm!" "You are considered a weapon," she whistles, "you're out." The cyborg stands there in shock, his jaw hitting floor and Sanji couldn’t help but sympathetically pat his shoulders. "Wouldn't that be unfair?" Marco frowned, "It is part of his body and its not like he can remove it." The girl thought about it for a second before snapping her fingers. "You're back in Franky." He shouts out in glee and the girl could see- at the corner of her eye- Zoro grumble at her call and she couldn't help but let out a cough of a laugh in her fist. "Oi! Wasn't that foul play?!" Zoro complains. "Just make sure you don't use any of your body modification Franky." The girl reminds, to which the cyborg threw her a thumbs up. "Did she really just ignore me?" "I know how you feel."  

"YOU'RE ON THE OTHER TEAM."  

"Though, you have to agree that we're definitely on the same team against her."

"Ah…Right."

AFTERMATH:

For the girl to be dying on the ground right now was a sight they we're not surprised to see.

Despite officiating the whole game- as well as narrating it- she couldn't help but choke on her spit when Whitebeard would simply get caught right by the crown jewels, or Ace and Luffy would try to initiate their plan but because of the zero coordination they have with each other (they argues the whole time on who could finish first) they flailed like flying fishes.

Although, Shanks ended up winning despite Nami, Robin, and Usopp being able to get through.

Did they use Zoro as bait multiple times?

Yes.

Without hesitation.

Every time.

"Fuck all of you." Zoro grumbles, dusting out the dirt that was stuck on his shirt as the three just shrugged.

"You just have to be as good as Captain Usopp to win like me, Zoro!"

"Ha?"

"EEP!!"

"Pucha- we need a round two here!"

"NO!"

"yes!"

"SHUT IT SHANKS."