#i love when obsession starts from seemingly harmless things

[harmonysanreads]

How would Yandere sunday react to Reader being Like „awww your so cute“ Even though this man is anything but CUTE but Reader is just so innocent

How... intriguing.

Sunday is no stranger to admiration, or more precisely, compliments. His title extends beyond the borders of Penacony. Regrettably, most of the compliments Sunday receives are either backhanded or made with some second motive. Your simple admission, paired with the fact that no one has used the adjective ‘cute’ on him since his teenage years, just scratches his brain in a certain way. So much so that he continues to analyze that memory continuously for two weeks.

In that process, his attention shifts from the words themselves to the person who delivered them. Out of nowhere, he remembers the exact way your lips moved, the cadence of your voice when you cooed and the way your eyelashes fluttered when you looked at him.

Sunday finds himself in a dilemma now, unable to remember what really happened from his memory. But, your innocuous admission has undoubtedly grasped his attention without much effort. He finds solace in no other method but to continue ‘pursuing further knowledge about you’.

[youryanderedaddy]

can you write gentle yandere taking their darling for the first time vs mean sadistic yandere taking them for the first time?

Btw I love ur work 💖💘💗

tw: female reader, non - con, kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, sadism, degradation, slut - shaming

Gentle ~

You know the type of guy I'm talking about. Big and buff, dark - haired, cries a lot. Watches romance movies in his free time and actually calls his mother even outside of the holiday season. Wears slutty little black fitted shirts after working out and brings you smoothies after work. He smiles and blushes. The man is a massive loser with an undying passion for anything nerdy, be it dragons, board games, collecting marks. Who would really expect this poor soul to hurt even a fly?

But he does.

It doesn't happen until months after he's taken you in. Most of the time he's being the perfect gentleman (aside from literally keeping you captive) - he cooks for you, brings you roses and chocolates (even when you throw them away or tear the petals from the flowers), cleans and doesn't make you lift a finger. He reads you poetry until your ears bleed. He tells you he loves you one hundred times a day and seemingly doesn't care about your snorts or the way you roll your eyes and push him away, already so used to your living situation you can't even find it in yourself to be scared. You think he's harmless - as harmless as a lovesick puppy.

But then one night he comes home, an unusual frown on his otherwise soft face. There is a certain type of madness in his hazel eyes. They are still so very soft and adoring, he still sees you as a Goddess in need of worship... but there is also something dark and muddy. Something possessive.

Your captor kisses you on the cheek and that much is granted - he does it every day, along with shouting "Honey, I'm home" at the door. He hugs you - tight. Tighter than ever before, it feels as if the man is trying to crush you in a suffocating embrace, like he wants to swallow you whole within his arms. For the first time you realise just how muscular he is - how much stronger he is. And then he picks you up like a blushing bride and leaves a quick peck on your forehead before taking you to the bedroom and carefully laying you down.

He doesn't give you time to ask questions - as soon as he steps a foot in your shared room, he's already tearing apart his clothes, revealing his ripped form.

"See anything you like, sweetness?" the man asks you, rubbing his hands together as he towers over you, caging you between two beefy arms. You stay silent for a moment, mouth agape at the suddenness of it all - you have never seen him like this. He starts caressing your cheeks and slowly moves down, and that's when it finally settles in your mind. You need to act quickly.

"Stop." you say authoritatively, just like you have done so many times before, praying it would work like it had in the past. But not now. This time he simply shakes his head, a crazed smile playing on his lips as he lowers his head and kisses your neck softly, lovingly. It's terrifying. You're not used to this. You don't know how to react. "Baby, I can't hold it in anymore." Your captor whispers, head resting against your shoulder, voice low and desperate - almost whiny.

"I really tried." he swallows thickly. "I swear. I tried cold showers a-and thinking about bad things but..." he bites his lip, staring at you. You look so small and helpless and, God, he respects you, he really does, but he can't help the way his crotch twitches and his pants tighten as he watches you squirm and tremble, oh-so-small and panicky, defenceless little hands scratching at his arms, but failing to make him budge.

"But every time I come home all pent up and annoyed after dealing with bastards all day, all I want is to bend you over," he continues after moving a lock of your hair out of the way so he can whisper directly into your naked ear. "And fuck-”, he says as he pins your hands to the bed frame, enjoying seeing you wiggle and pant. "The shit-" he can feel your heart beat faster and faster as your whole body gets warmer. It's awfully intimate. "Out of-" he's so excited now that he grabs your hips rather roughly, and ruts against your core, whimpering as his crotch rubs all over your clothed slit. "you".

He growls, now more akin to a lion or a bear than to a human.

He tries to enter you slowly so he wouldn’t hurt you, but the moment your tight velvety walls wrap around his hard throbbing length, he’s reduced to a feral whimpering mess, shoving at you in short sloppy thrusts, completely pussy - drunk. He lasts less than five minutes before he pulls out and cums all over your stomach, watching in fascination as his seed marks you. He slams his lips against yours, swallowing your hushed protests as he murmurs “Mine” over and over again, gripping your hips closer when he feels you pulling away.

Once his brain has cleared enough to be able to think properly he helps you clean up, touching you so gently you wonder if this wild, brutish side he exhibited was all but a dream. But it’s still very much there, barely contained under the surface - and one single moment of freedom and passion is enough to open Pandora's box. 

After that night he feels a lot more comfortable with touching you, for better or worse. 

Mean ~

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to your ‘new life’ before he basically pounces on you like a predator. To be completely honest, he’s wanted to fuck you within inches of your life since the time he first saw you - the only thing keeping him at bay for a while were the countless pretty pictures he had of you naked and writhing in your own bed in the comfort of your home that all the secret cameras he had installed managed to capture.

Before he used to treat your home footage like his own personal cam - girl show; sometimes he would wait to leave work, jerking all over your face on his screen the moment he gets home. Other times he wasn’t so patient, and he had to sneak off to the restroom any time a thought about you occurred, stroking himself to completion as he blasted his recordings of your quiet moans on his headphones.

But now you’re here in the flesh - the real thing, tied so tight you can’t move an inch, trembling all over just like a bunny caught in a trap by the hunter. He wants you completely immobilised - he’s waited ages for this moment and he wants absolutely no distractions getting in the way of him finally taking his price.

You sob pitifully, your mouth the only part of your body left uncovered, and you try to plead with him desperately. You promise him money, influence, anything he wants - whatever would be able to get you out of this hellish predicament. You even offer to give him a blowjob - which he simply sneers at, grabbing a fistfull of your hair. 

“Oh, doll, the night is still young. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He looks possessed, ready to feast on your flesh. You shiver, curling into yourself as much as possible - but he pulls your legs on both sides of his thighs, his hands seeming grand across your rickety ankles. “You’ll get your chance to choke on this cock soon enough.” He grabs his bulge crudely, massaging it through his thick stained grey pants. “Right now all I want is to see this cute little pussy stretched on my meat and those pretty tits bouncing in the air as I slap them red.”

It really doesn’t matter if you’re a virgin or not, you’re getting brutalised either way - although his comments would be different.

If you’re a virgin, he’s making sure you get the whole of his length in one - there is something terribly amusing about the toe - curling scream you let out as his cock tears you apart, something borderline pornographic in the way your brows twist and your nostrils flare, lips shut tight as to not give him the pleasure of hearing your pain out loud. But it’s obvious, and he wants you to know that he enjoys it through and through - licking your tears and the sweat off your neck, pinching at your thighs, your breasts, your stomach; whatever makes you cry the most. 

If you’re not a virgin, he still finds a way to get his fun out of you. 

“I don’t feel you clenching on me, you little slut.” He smacks your cheek with little force behind it - it’s not meant to hurt you, but to humiliate you and drive his point across. “Did you have a fucking train ran on you? I should have known you’d be a filthy whore.” He bites at your lower lip, pulling at it until he hears you whine pitifully - leaving his mark on you. “Should’a known with these cocksucking lips of yours, and ngh-” He sinks into you, voice breaking once the tip of his dick brushes against your cervix. “And t-those slutty hips, shit, keep squeezing me just like that, n-ngh, I am going to ruin you all over again!”

He fucks you for who knows how long - when he’s finally satisfied, the sun is already up and you’re drenched in sweat and cum. There isn’t a single part of your body that doesn’t ache.

He leaves you there, snickering at the sight of your empty stare fixed on the ceiling - only reaching to untie you and cuff your ankle to the bed frame instead. You weakly raise an eyebrow in question.

“Stay here until I come back, okay?” He grins with malice, caressing your wet matted hair. “Hah, not that you can really go anywhere.”

[toga-003]

˖✿°FALLEN PETALS ݁₊⋆❀˖°

ʚ summary: You unlike many other humans actually care about nature such as why you had your own garden which you grow all kinds of vegetables and flowers but hanami wouldn't let that go unnoticed...

ʚ warnings: slight mature & sexual themes - female reader - female hanami - unprotected sex - dirty talk - language - violence - mentions of obsessive behaviour - sub/dom mentions - lesbians - smut and fluff :3

ʚ prior: due to the results of the second jjk underrated character poll here's the winner:

☘︎HANAMI

20:30 PM, you've spent the usual routine of lovingly taking care of the plants around your house's small garden, you tried planting a few more seed to potentially welcome some new plants into the garden, and now it's time to relax and enjoy the simple life of taking care of nature and living comfortably while doing so.

you slowly stood up before dusting your gardening apron as you took it off along side your groves, you didn't even realize you were sweating slightly, yet you smiled determiningly as you hoped your labour and hard work would be more than worth it once you get to see the plants you worked hard on grow into beautiful flowers and vegetables as the months will pass by, you barely made it to the front door of your house before you felt a powerful presence coming towards you slowly, you felt an intense gaze on you as it approached.

you ever so slightly turn around to peek at the possible threat to your life, only to see a curse standing merely inches away from you, you flinched at the sudden approach as you took a step back, fearful yet trying desperately to remain calm. hanami seemed to harmless so far. doing nothing but gaze into your small form through the eyes she didn't posses. When the Spirit is now in front of you, her first move is... to give you a light headpat? a strange but affectionate gesture, as if she's rewarding you for something.

"A human who truly loves nature and wishes for nature to not be harmed? A very rare sight coming from humanity itself, I am Hanami. You might think of me as something along the lines of a Cursed Spirit or a ghost. I do not care if you believe in either." Hanami speaks in a deep and husky tone of voice yet her voice seemed to be the only give away to her potential gender. as if she's trying not to scare you away from just seeing her, she looks... empathetic, and she seems to try her best to act like a human to communicate with you, but perhaps she only does that because of your shared love for nature, you don't know if she's malicious towards other humans or humanity in general, but perhaps, for now, conversing with her would be an interesting thing.

"Hanami?...." that was the only word you managed to utter out of your mouth, seemingly to be in a state of sock or admiration, it's hard to tell.

"indeed, i am hanami. the protector of nature, and with it, anything but a threat to you." She repeated almost as if tolerating your foolishness. Her hand reached out slowly before cupping your face in her single hand, Her touch, while gentle, sent a shiver down your spine. Her grip was firm yet light as if she feared to accidentally break you, and you could feel a surge of warmth emanating from her hand, making your shiver feel like pure comfort. And with that, her thumb brushed across your lower lip, giving it a gentle caress before she withdrew her hand.

this might be a good start to a lovely friendship or maybe more...

the only few noises that can be heard from out of your room is faint moans and muffled whimpers, you couldn't surpass your moans as you felt hanami's thick fingers slide in and out of your soaked up pussy repeatedly, your back pressed against her board chest as she had you trapped within her lap as she thrusted her fingers so deep inside of you, firm yet gentle enough not to hurt you while rearranging your guts with her rigged fingers as she ever so slight stuffed a third finger into your aching cunt before she spoke, making sure your fragile little body wasn't overwhelmed by her size "are you doing alright, human?....." all you managed to utter out in respond was a faint 'yes' that she caught between your moans of pleasure, your grip on her forearm for support as you felt your potential orgasm approach you started slightly moving your hips to accommodate her finger movements that are rutting inside of you firmly, grinding against her hand as you eagerly chased your orgasm, and that didn't go unnoticed by hanami "are you feeling good?...." "y-yes...hanami!...please don't stop..a little more!" you mewled out in pleasure as you finally reached your limit hard, soaking her thick fingers in your cum as your body trembled from the aftermath of your hard orgasm, she slowly withdrew her fingers from inside of you before she pulled you even more into her lap, holding you within a gentle embrace, her other hand stroking your hair as you took your time to recover from the intense experience "you did well, Human..."

Made by: @toga-003

an: this is the winner of the underrated poll character which I did previously, feel free to request new jjk character who never gotten enough love, join the next poll

[elasticitymudflap]

hey I know the whole 'I did not care for winter king' thing pretty much summed it up but i'd LOVE to hear what you thought of that whole fucking episode.

IT IS SO FASCINATING TO MEEEEEEE, i mean obviously a 'role swap' universe would be regardless, but beyond the surface lies a lot of hints towards reasons why this world was so different and fucked up fundamentally!! again, my big theory is that no matter what happens our simon is not going to be able to access the crown again in any universe they visit as an extension of betty's wish, so yeah winter king's ass was probably doomed the second they set their sights on duplicating the crown but also, good , because fuck that guy

one thing that stands out to me is how our simon's morals are very different and a lot stronger than wk's, especially how he very clearly doesn't wish the madness of the crown on anyone but himself, but he can empathize with other victims of the crown. throughout the entire episode he's desperately trying to get the others to empathize with candy queen's situation as someone who knows what the madness of the crown feels like and how it warps you. but also, his approach to her is so...

like he actually vibes along to her song, compliments her "metaphor", and above all BEGS fionna and wk to see her as a person who deserves compassion, patience, and understanding... something he seemingly doesn't seem to extend to himself as ice king.

but even her madness seems somewhat suspect to him - just before her musical number he seems mystified as to why the crown's madness would make pb obsessed with him, when he knows from his reality that it's marceline that she's in love with. i'd actually argue that there is a hint of distrust towards winter king that he can't quite put into words at first, but simon's self-loathing at how "functional" his counterpart is seems to counteract his instinct and so he never pries too deeply into it.

there's this interesting reaction to pre-winter king ice king that stands out to me, almost like he's confused and doesn't recognize this specific anger and wrath to be a part of his own ice king experience. our ice king seemed to be much more of a depressed and ultimately harmless nuisance than the threatening figure he appears to be in that sequence. in fact, despite the madness, our ice king is actually quite consistent in there being a line not to cross with violence: he saves finn and jake from the hitman he accidentally hired, he refuses to kill marceline and finn when the empress commands him, he's even horrified at himself in 'I Remember You' when he pushes marceline. our ice king cares infinitely more about having friends and for people to love him and understand him than he is to actively "fix" or change himself, and in the short-circuit that is his mind he always seems to find a way to redirect his 'bad feelings' into doing something fun or impulsive than to stew in anger.

and simon isn't exactly taken in by the splendor of winter king's whole thing the way everyone else is, he doesn't stop questioning how he did it. how did he supposedly "conquer" the crown through "sheer force of will", how did he manage to get the 'best of both worlds'?

except we know it's not. and the mask-slip starts pretty ominously with his insistence that candy queen's kingdom is "forbidden". he slips up just for a moment and then returns to his whimsical wizard of oz-ass persona, and he looks almost guilty for letting on that there's something wrong here that should be avoided

which is something else i'm very fascinated by: winter king's obvious hypocrisy and the awareness of his unethical behaviour. he's quite callous in performatively pretending not to remember who betty is, and then only referring to her as "the dead one". he also seems confused by simon's heartbroken reaction to this callousness, but even more so to his characterization of her as "the great love of (his) life". he obviously has some of our simon's attachments to the past and memories of people he loved, he definitely knows and loved marceline, so why is she the only person he cares about enough to make an "ice person" of? he doesn't recall betty as someone he had a great love with - though he obviously knew who she was, so does that mean he still had some kind of relationship with her?

remember, the mere notion of finding betty so he could apologize to her literally meant so much to our simon that he was able to hide his surviving research on time portals from himself inside the ice castle, long after she would have died naturally had she even survived the mushroom war. and during the bellanoche fiasco he literally staved off death from losing his magic through sheer force of will; the intense motivation to see her kept him going in a decaying 1000 year old human body long enough for him to jump right back into his research and create a time portal to her to say goodbye. that's how much she means to him.

winter king doesn't know that betty is technically still alive, or how our simon was freed from the crown's curse. he simply offers simon a solution to reuniting with someone who he loved who is dead, without knowing how very different our betty's situation is. and that solution is to make an ice-person of that person from the time you loved them, even though you know it's "unethical".

... but betty being "dead" was always the case to our simon, he knew that she was dead because of course she was, it was hundreds of years in the future! but there was always a way back to her, and it was because of his relationship with one miss betty "ancient magic was my major" grof that he had this plan ready at his fingertips

so i think maybe either this world's simon didn't have a very strong relationship with betty, or he did but he had some reason to write her off as 'dead forever' and throw away the prospect of ever seeing her again. it's interesting that despite writing betty off, ice king's obsession with bubblegum persisted as a point of his madness and transferred to her, when even our ice king still cared a lot about "weird lady", though he didn't know who betty was.

in any case, he dismisses the subject very quickly with "jokes" that creating an ice person of someone you cared about, who died, would be unethical. and yet...

this, too, is very interesting to me. little ice marcy has marceline's actual axe bass, the axe which hunson brought with him to ooo after simon summoned him to take care of marceline when he had to leave her - marcy converted it into a bass herself of course. and the two definitely met and stayed alive together when marcy was a child

i've seen people theorize that marcy died in this memory here, but considering the presence of the axe i'm honestly not so sure. i mean, she grew up enough to gain and convert the axe to a bass, maybe she died of old age as a half-demon and never turned into a vampire? except that non-vamp marceline from farmworld seemed to still be kicking, what would an extra 12 years be to someone like her?

despite simon's pleas for fionna not to hurt candy queen and for them to help her, winter king INSISTS that she can't be helped, and that the only solution is for fionna to "knock her out", not kill her, because he would lose his conduit for the crown's madness and so this cycle will continue forever. winter king seemed committed to keeping the secret of how he "conquered" the crown, and who he hurt to manifest this reality of his, only to reveal it supposedly when simon was infected with the crown's madness again.

so why did no one stop winter king for 100 years? finn wouldn't have been born yet, but surely marceline, if she were vamped up and aware of what winter king had done, would try to stop him? but there's no sign of her in this world... save for her one possession we know she had later in her life, in the hands of an ice clone of her, frozen at a time in her life when she still loved simon unconditionally.

... i'll leave you with one VERY interesting production note steve wolfhard posted today about the blade he gave fionna, because it implies that even beyond this simon lacking some integral part of what makes him himself, the madness of the crown wasn't completely absent the way he'd thought it had been, so even in the end it wasn't a "perfect" solution to the madness.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Would you write a fic where it’s really warm in the village one summer so maid Reader is wearing a tank top with no bra around the house and Donna notices Reader has nipple piercings and becomes really flustered and obsessed with them. If you’re uncomfortable with the nipple piercings part feel free to eliminate that part completely <3

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Heat wave

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Maid! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: 4,350

Summary: You have to change your clothes, cause it's too hot there...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open, my inbox is empty and asking for yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“This is unbearable...” You murmured, wiping the sweat from your forehead and airing your uncomfortable maid clothes.

It wasn't usual to be so hot in that place, but that summer seemed like it was made especially to annoy you.

A lost village in Romania was the only place where you didn't plan to get hot. A visit to your family a while ago was what you needed to decide that you preferred that gloomy place to the modern world.

You were always the weird one, the strange one, the one who didn't fit in. Well, it might seem like a sinister coincidence, but in that sinister place there were people much stranger than you. Maybe the cold, the snow, the feeling of living in a completely different way, were the reasons that pushed you to make the decision to stay, and never return to your old life.

But, as expected of a young girl like you, you should work.

Gardener, farmer or maid, those were the available jobs, or at least the ones you would be willing to do, because to be Lord Moreau's test subject or Lord Heisenberg's metal worker were never among your options.

Luckily, you had the opportunity to work as a maid for one of the village Lords, a seemingly harmless one, although she was not at all: Donna Beneviento.

At least you had the recommendation of the all-mighty Mother Miranda.

At first working for that woman was strange. You barely saw her and you certainly didn't talk to her. You went three whole months without hearing a single word from her mouth. Well, Angie made it more entertaining, at least you could talk to her.

You were not ignorant, much less innocent. It didn't take long for you to start seeing a strange behavior from the lady in black, some shy curious approaches towards you and finally, a conversation.

Then more, and more, until you were finally able to see her face and strengthen the trust she had in you. Well, trust and… Something else, for sure.

Her beauty, her fragility, the darkness that was hidden behind her gray eye... All of this meant that Donna was not the only one who wanted to get closer. You could call it many things: irrational attraction, love, desire... But honestly, nothing you said regarding your feelings had reached her ears. Of course, Lady Beneviento had never said anything about it either.

You had feelings for her, and she had feelings for you. It was only a matter of time before that strange, annoying tension disappeared, but you didn't know when or how it would happen. Your patience was extensive, but little by little, it was shrinking.

You didn't want to lose your job. You didn't want Donna to tell you that you were wrong. You would have to wait for her to take the first step, but how? That was something that seemed impossible.

“You've been complaining all morning,” the Angie doll protested, the only company you normally had at that time of the morning. Donna spent a lot of time in the workshop. You started to think that this was her way of running away from you.

“I'm complaining because it's too hot, Angie,” you said, with a furious snort, untying your overly covered maid's dress. “This is horrible.”

“I don't feel hot,” the puppet said, with a cocky pose, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Well, how lucky you are,” you whispered with clenched teeth, running a hand over your sweaty forehead again.

“You're weak, (Y/N), Donna doesn't like that,” Angie said with a dark tone that made you turn your head sharply towards her.

“Doesn’t she? And what does Donna like?” You asked amused.

Angie definitely knew best. To think that maybe she said those kinds of things because she shared part of her mind with the lady of the house was like a relief to you.

“You should ask her that,” Angie said without further ado, plopping down on a sofa and thus vanishing your attempt to get information from that piece of porcelain.

You could have insisted, but that terrible heat was affecting your own health, making your body want to faint at that precise moment, or throw yourself into the soft, cool water of the waterfall.

“Hey, I can't take it anymore, Angie, I need to take off these infernal clothes at least,” you sighed, leaving the rag on a table and leaning on it, continuing to fan yourself with your hands.

“Donna sure likes that,” the doll murmured, in a discreet tone, but loud enough for you to hear it and smile mischievously.

“Oh, really?” You said, with a soft, velvety tone. The doll got off the couch and pretended to shrug her shoulders. “Hey, seriously, can I wear something different?”

“Wear whatever you want, you whiny maid. You can go naked if you want to,” Angie muttered, heading out of the room, as if what she said earlier had been something she shouldn't have said at all.

“Well, that's too much, isn't it?” You said to yourself, going up the stairs to enter your room and get rid of that horrible dress.

Carefully, you folded the clothes on the bed and looked for something more suitable for those horrible temperatures.

You didn't have a lot of things in your old suitcase, but a tank top and a skirt, a perhaps too short one, presented themselves to you as an acceptable alternative. You smiled satisfied at your choice and bent down to pick them up, but the sound of tearing fabric made you turn completely red.

“Oh, no...” You sighed as you felt the fabric of your bra hanging teasingly from your back. “Oh, great, fantastic... Now I have to sew it up,” you grumbled, studying that inopportune tear.

“Hey, whiny maid!” Angie's squeaky voice interrupted you just as you were threading the needle. “Donna wants an iced tea!”

“I'm coming! Shit…” You whispered, leaving your sewing kit aside.

One order from the lady in black was more than enough to turn you away from whatever you were doing. Well, almost anything. Picking up that top and skirt, you looked in the mirror, checking that the lack of your bra was not so obvious. It was, but you didn't think care, hurrying down the stairs and heading to the elevator.

The coldness of the drink you made along with the pleasant temperature of the basement made you feel more comfortable. You didn't even pay attention to the obvious revelation of your body in that top.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you whispered kindly, slowly opening the doors of the workshop. “Angie told me you wanted…”

The lady in black had her back turned, working tirelessly on her dolls. She barely paid any attention to you, she simply pointed to one side of the table so you could leave the tray you were carrying, causing only the sound of ice to interrupt that serene calm that always surrounded her.

“Here you go,” you whispered, glancing at Donna, who nodded gratefully.

“I've told you a thousand times not to call me...” She murmured with that hoarse voice that was almost addictive to you, slowly directing her gaze to yours. When her eye met your body, she remained silent, as if something had prevented her from continuing. “…My lady”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Donna. I always forget about that,” you said, leaning on the table casually and frowning because of her strange look. “Do you like it?”

“What?” She asked, looking away abruptly, something that made you look at your body, at what had caught her attention.

Oh no, no way. There was no chance that the elegant and lonely Donna Beneviento was looking at you bust, or maybe she was?

“The tea, do you like the tea?” You said amused, crossing your arms. She blinked erratically, glancing sideways at you again.

“Yes, I asked you for it,” she murmured, being interrupted by the sound of breaking wood.

Comically, the paintbrush she was carrying in her hand snapped in two, as if she had been exerting too much force on that little wooden stick.

“Oh, wow, let me help you,” you said, bending down to pick up one of the pieces, making her gaze return to your chest and her breathing become labored. “Hey, Donna, are you okay?” You asked worried.

It wasn't the first time that her mental problems played tricks on her in an absurd moment like that. You were used to it and besides, you loved that you were able to make her relax in your arms.

“I'm fine. The brush has just broken,” she murmured, with a superb expression, turning her body to return to the painting of that porcelain doll. You nodded suspiciously.

“Are you sure? If you’re having a crisis, you know you can tell me,” you said in a soft voice, standing up to rest your hands on her shoulders and observe her gestures and expressions. Looking weak or sick was one of the things Donna hated, and even more so in front of you.

“I’ve broken the breast, I mean, the brush,” she stammered, her face completely red. Oh yes, she was looking at your breasts.

“Okay...” You sighed, holding back your laughter. “I hope you don't mind that I’ve changed my clothes. It’s too hot here.”

Donna looked at you more discreetly, lowering her eye from your chest to your short skirt. Like a zombie, or a puppet, she shook her head as she tried to regain some of her composure.

“Yes, it’s, it’s hot,” she repeated, this time turning back to the table and looking for another brush in a vase.

“I was about to listen to Angie and go naked,” you said, amused, but on purpose, making poor Donna choke on her iced tea and comically break another of her paintbrushes.

“That, that would be a bit inappropriate, don't you think?” Donna said with a nervous smile, searching in the vase for another victim for her trembling hands.

You shrugged with a triumphant smile.

“Aren't you hot in that dress?” You ask, diverting the conversation to one that wouldn't make her so horribly nervous. The lady shook her head, her gaze fixed on the half-painted doll, very far from your indiscreet top.

“No,” the doll maker said dryly, with the tone of her voice asking you to leave the room as quickly as possible.

“Well, I guess that's admirable,” you sighed, moving a little closer to look at the meticulous work of the brush on the doll.

As you bent over, your cleavage was once again visible to Donna, who swallowed, pretending that she hadn't looked at it again, and cautiously left the brush on the table, probably to prevent her nerves from breaking it.

“(Y/N), I... I'm, I'm hungry,” she said, shaking her head and with a fake smile. “Could you prepare lunch?”

You nodded, releasing her from that scandalous view of your breasts.

“Sure, what do you want?” You asked kindly, separating yourself so she would stop shaking.

“I don't know,” she said, putting on a serious look and returning to that disastrously painted doll.

“Something refreshing?” You asked again, laughing internally at the reaction that your new look had provoked on her. “A salad could be a good idea.”

“Yes, that... Quick, go to make it... Per favore,” Donna said, moving her hand to indicate she wanted you to disappear.

 You gave her a bow that was intended to be elegant, but was blatantly mocking, and you left the workshop, putting a hand over your mouth to mitigate the laughter that her nervousness caused you.

“Wow, wow... Well, it seems like maybe I'm showing too many things,” you said, sighing, looking at yourself in the reflection of a pot.

Although you were embarrassed by the involuntary display of your body you were making, it seemed to create some kind of nervousness in the lady in black and that… That was good.

She had to take the first step.

You began to prepare the salad calmly, humming songs that seemed almost from a previous life. As you cut the lettuce, you remembered that nervous look, that look that went straight to how unsubtle your clothes were. Deep down you didn't want to be so direct, but you knew her. Maybe a healthy exhibitionism would bring out some of those feelings you knew Donna was repressing.

The sound of heels on the floor gave you a new opportunity to attack, one you weren't going to waste.

“Hey, Donna, come here,” you said, peeking out the door, making the lady in black stop in the hallway, upset at having been caught in something resembling an escape.

The woman sighed and walked slowly to where you were, looking as high as she could, above your eyes.

“What do you want? I was going to take… A shower,” she explained, a little crestfallen. “A cool one.”

“I knew you were hot,” you joked with a smile. “Look, I thought I could boil some chicken breast, I think it could fit very well in the salad, what do you think?”

“Breast...” The lady murmured, involuntarily returning to look at your chest, at those marked nipples that seemed to draw her attention in an almost uncontrollable way.

“Yes, chicken breast,” you said amused, with a slightly low and joking tone. She smiled, shaking her head and pretending nothing had happened.

“That's a good idea, (Y/N)” she said, regaining some of her composure and slowly backing away towards the exit, not giving you time to counterattack.

“Don't make the water too cold, you could catch a cold,” you murmured as advice, pretending that you didn't want to keep her by your side a bit longer.

“No, I... No,” Donna said hurriedly, cowardly running away from you.

You smiled, shaking your head. It was a sad, melancholic smile. That woman was important to you, Donna was important to you. You were almost obsessed with her, you thought about her, you dreamed about her... Maybe that desperation to know if the love you felt was reciprocated was turning you into a shameless exhibitionist.

“Do you like it?” You asked politely when you served lunch. She smiled innocently and nodded, much to your joy. Cooking for her was one of your favorite hobbies.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she said with a whisper, returning a smile.

“Well, let me know if you need anything, I'm going to eat too,” you commented, grabbing some salad, ready to get away, like in all meals.

“Wait,” Donna interrupted, making you turn around slowly. “You can, you can eat here with me if you want.”

“With you? But I’m your maid,” you said, surprised, but pleased by the offer.

“That's stupid. Sit here, please,” she asked you kindly, pointing to the chair in front of her with the fork.

“Okay, thank you,” you said with another elegant bow.

At first the meal was in silence, with nothing to say, just shy smiles and glances, glances that were always directed to the same place.

Donna wanted to be discreet, to pretend she wasn't looking at what you knew she was looking at. But you were even more subtle, noticing that detail, her nervous breathing when her eye looked at what it shouldn't.

You could continue playing at teasing the lady for much longer, but you decided to stop beating around the bush and see how far you could stretch the rope of her patience.

“My lady, are you looking at my tits?” You asked with an indifferent tone, one that didn’t show any offense or annoyance. You didn't even look at her. You just poured water in your glass.

Donna looked up with a frown, dropping the cutlery on the plate.

“I told you not to call me...” She began, with some offense in her voice until her eye opened and her face suddenly reddened. “What did you just say?”

“You're looking at my tits,” you repeated amused, crossing your arms so the objective of her gaze would become more evident.

“Of course, of course I’m not, how can you say something like that?” Donna said suddenly, playing with the salad so as not to look at your face, probably looking for some excuse for you to disappear.

“Well, I've seen you looking at them,” you said, with that passive, indifferent attitude.

“I would be looking at something else and your... Body has gotten in the way,” she said in a clumsy and childish manner, hiding her blush behind a glass of wine.

“Oh, sure,” you whispered with a suspicious look, tilting your head in a funny way. “You’re such a clumsy liar, my lady,” you said with a mocking but seductive tone at the same time.

“Don't call me...” The lady said, closing her eye furiously, squeezing the cutlery tightly in her fists. “Oh, you know what? I'm not going to give explanations to you. You said it, you are my maid.”

You opened your mouth surprised by that out of context comment, noticing how the tension was getting even stronger. The rope could stretch further, but it could also break, and it had to do it now, or it would never do it.

“I don't mind you were looking at them, Donna,” you said with a seductive tone, leaning over the table to give her a better view of your exposed bust, something she didn't overlook, cooling her expression even more.

“I wouldn't do it if you hadn't worn those clothes,” she murmured, with a cold face and an angry or annoyed expression that didn't match the trembling of her hands.

“My clothes?” You asked, without stopping your bright eyes from hers, which was fleeing from your gaze as if it were a matter of life or death. “Oh, well, I already told you, it's very hot here.”

“That is not an excuse to show your... Virtues around the house,” the lady in black snapped, with a cocky, defensive posture. Those were defenses you had already decided to break at that very moment.

“Oh, do you think my breasts are virtues?” You asked, without giving Donna any chance of respite. She seemed very nervous, but she hadn't cowardly run away like other times so, well you could consider it a small victory.

“Your body is a virtue, (Y/N). Your whole body,” she murmured, paying a compliment you never expected her to give, making your heated cheeks even hotter.

“That was very... Nice,” you commented, in an almost inaudible voice, changing your arrogant look for a tender one.

“And yes, I’m looking at your breasts, I like looking at your breasts, are you happy now? You can leave right now if you want,” Donna said abruptly, crossing her arms and looking away from, suppressing a small sob.

“Leave? Why?” You asked amused, raising your eyebrows. “I should feel flattered.”

Donna didn't respond. She simply looked at you to check that your impassive reaction was correct and not a product of her imagination.

“You haven't stopped until you provoke me, right? You want to provoke me so I lose control and then you can leave my house, and my life,” the lady in black accused, standing up in a threatening way.

That phrase should have scared you, or made you feel helpless, but on the contrary, you burst into a rather comical laugh.

“What are you talking about, Donna? Come on, stop talking nonsense,” you laughed, earning an even more dangerous look. “I wear these clothes because I was hot and yes, they may show a little… Well, you know, my nipples, but that wasn't to provoke you, my bra simply broke.”

“Of course, yes, sure,” she said, with a suspicious tone, which made you laugh even harder. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Well yes, I’m laughing at you, my lady,” you said, perhaps risking too much, but sure of what you were saying, sure of wanting to clarify certain things that were beginning to consume you. “Even walking around the house naked, I wouldn't think I was provoking you. There is no one to provoke you, Donna. You're like a block of ice... Oh, ice... I could really use one right now...”

Your rambling talk only angered her more, causing her to clench her fists on either side of her hips.

“If you don't want anything from me, why do you provoke me?” She asked, ignoring your erratic explanation.

“Because I might want something from you,” you whispered in a more serious tone, playing with the fork on the plate.

“Do you want more money? You want to kill me? Lock me up? What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” She asked with a voice cracked by nerves, presenting all the symptoms that you knew preceded a crisis.

You sighed, shaking your head and wiping yourself with a napkin slowly, ignoring all those danger signs. Slowly, you dragged the chair and stood up, walking with a determined step towards the lady in black, who followed you with her eye, with her body prepared to make you suffer.

You sighed again, already being very close to her and you put your hands on your hips, maintaining that dangerous look. A smile changed that cold expression on your face and you took another step, two, until you were close enough to smell that subtle and intoxicating lavender perfume.

Your hands traveled to her face, cupping it roughly and pulling her towards you, making your lips collide, making you kiss her, making you do what you had been waiting for so long.

At first Donna didn't move, but after a few seconds she returned that tender kiss, bringing her hands to your hips.

After a few wet and affectionate moments, you separated from her with one last quick kiss, slowly moving away from her and returning your hands to your hips.

“I want that, Donna,” you whispered, before dropping into the chair and continuing to devour your salad as if nothing had happened.

The lady in black looked at you surprised, but with a more relaxed expression, approaching you slowly, taking your hand so you would release the cutlery.

“Do you like me?” She asked with a nervous tone, broken by the sensation your lips caused on yours. You nodded nonchalantly, trying to ignore her gaze, to no avail.

“So much,” you whispered drinking water as if nothing had happened, as if you hadn't just kissed your lady.

“I like you too,” she said, with the same shy tone. You looked at her and smiled cutely, winking at her.

“Great,” you said amused, kissing the back of her hand.

“You didn't have to look like that... Just to prove it to me. You could have told me,” Donna murmured, pointing again to that provocative top. “I've been waiting for you to say something like that for a long time, too long.”

“Yes, yes...” You sighed, biting your lip. “I've already told you that this is because of an accident... But...” you said, standing up again, gently grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to your body. “If it has helped to clarify things, I’m glad that you’ve looked at my breasts…”

“I haven't...” She said, embarrassed, with a nervous smile. “Well, I… I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, it's okay,” you said, placing a strand of black hair behind her ear, noticing the heat of her skin, which you knew was not due to the high temperatures. “I'm glad you like them...” you whispered in her ear, making her shiver shyly.

“Yes, I...” Donna murmured, carelessly, looking at you again in that place, now with less discretion. “I've been wondering... What is that?” She asked pointing to one of your marked breasts. You looked at it and smiled mischievously.

“A piercing,” you explained, shrugging your shoulders.

“A what?” She asked, looking at it closer. No lust, just curiosity.

“An earring if you prefer,” you commented, making her more nervous with your closeness.

“Why do you have an earring...There?” She asked with a cold expression, trying not to look at it so directly, which you sighed for.

You shrugged again, running a finger over that metal part, amused by the curious innocence of Donna.

“I don't know, youthful nonsense...” You murmured with a much wider smile. “Do you want to see it?”

Donna shook her head, her face betraying her true desire, causing you to laugh softly and kiss her cheek.

“Yes, no, I mean...” She stammered, which you took advantage of to lower your hands to the edge of your top and raise it little by little until it was over your head, making her look away from you. “(Y/N)...”

“What?” You asked amused, resting two fingers on her cheek to guide her gaze to your naked torso, making her sigh overwhelmed. Maybe it would be the heat, or maybe… Another kind of excitement…

“You are so beautiful...” Donna whispered, running her hand over your chest, with her gaze fixed on that metal piercing that had caught her attention. “Why have you made holes in your body?”

“Oh, well, it's... It was fashion,” you explained, letting her fingers explore your skin, letting her meticulous caresses make your heart beat harder. “Don’t you like it?”

“It's... Weird...” The lady commented, with her fingers playing on your flesh, surrounding your breasts without touching them, respecting what she thought it was your shyness.

“I can take it off if you want,” you said, with a dark smile, guiding her caresses toward that area of ​​your body, toward that metal ornament.

“Oh, no I...” She said, smiling nervously at how your hand guided hers. “It's weird but... I, I like it.”

“It's hot here, don't you think?” You asked, changing the subject abruptly, with the lady in black focused on exploring your body. She nodded, as if she wasn't paying attention to you.

“Yes, this heat wave is horrible,” she commented distractedly, while you pulled her waist to get closer to her ear.

“You should take off that dress, Donna. I also want to see your body...”

[katesprocessblog]

Week #1

Introduction

In class I had explored the topics of Belonging, Movies, and the Uncanny Valley. After doing the mind mapping exercise, I decided that for this week I will explore the idea of belonging and nostalgia in unsettling media. I don't have a particular destination in mind with my research, so for this week I want to expand upon those ideas and just go wherever the internet took me.

Research

Beetlejuice (1988)

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)

With the sequel coming out, I thought it would be interesting to rewatch the original which I haven’t seen since I was a kid and then watch the new one in theaters. After watching them both as well as looking into the reception of the new movie, I realized how Tim Burton occupies a very niche place in Hollywood. And I think it makes sense to research him because I guess I am interested in exploring things that are unsettling, but I am not a fan of typical horror.

What I found out was that Burton got his start as a Disney Animator but slowly transitioned towards things that were more “spooky”. Here’s a list of all of the spooky movies he’s done: Beetlejuice, Sleepy Hollow, Frankenweenie, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, Hansel and Gretel, Edward Scissorhands, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and more. Looking into his background, Burton grew up in Burbank, California. Burton said that growing up there left him deprived of seasonal change, and the spooky holiday was a time he could experience that without actually having it.

Now knowing his background, it makes sense that most of his work is about a young outsider “suspicious of adulthood's normalcy”. I loved learning about his work. Going into this I actually was not a fan of Beetlejuice. I just thought it was too creepy as a child, but being able to look back as an adult now I was able to relate a lot more to the themes behind the films. While researching him, I also checked out some work from an art exhibit of his. I think the aesthetic in Beetlejuice is not for me, but I enjoy some of his other work a lot more.

"Untitled (Ramone)," 1980-1990.

"Untitled (Romeo and Juliet)," 1981-1984. 

Room of installations at the Tim Burton exhibit at LACMA

I Saw The TV Glow (2024)

Another movie my research made me think about was I Saw The TV Glow.

The director Jane Schoenbrun uses nostalgia and horror tropes to portray the feeling of queerness but that can be expanded to feeling alienated in general as a kid. In the movie, the main character Owen is introduced to this one show that he becomes obsessed with called the Pink Opaque. We see many clips from it throughout the movie. There’s a really powerful scene near the end of the movie where many years later he rewatched an episode from the show and it looks nothing like it used to be. It was far more childish. I think the movie really captures the feeling of rewatching something and your perception of that media being completely different from what you had in your mind. Sometimes a memory of something from your childhood persists far past the actual thing itself if that makes sense.

Don't Hug me I'm Scared

Salad Fingers 3: Nettles

Going down a bit of a nostalgia trip, I remembered some videos on YouTube that went viral when I was younger. I remembered how my brother liked to show me things like Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared and Salad Fingers because he always liked to freak me out and scare me.

These series were huge for my generation and they tap into this like collective cultural fear of unsettling dangerous things that are hiding “beneath the facade of normality”. It goes into the idea of the uncanny valley, the phenomenon whereby nonhuman objects or creatures’ resemblance to a human creates a feeling of unease and fear. You definitely feel this when watching these videos, where the characters depicted are seemingly harmless because they’re 2D or animated and resembling kids toys that should be safe. But then it devolves into a more sinister world and nature. While these examples don’t go super deep into a meaning or explanation, I thought it was a good starting point due to their huge popularity.

Other Sources

DeSalvo , Robert. “Exploring Tim Burton’s World of Outsiders and Misfits.” AV Club, www.avclub.com/tim-burtons-world-of-troubled-misfits-1850735603.

Southern California Public Radio. “Last Chance to See Tim Burton’s LACMA Exhibit.” Southern California Public Radio, 14 Oct. 2012, https://archive.laist.com/programs/madeleine-brand/2011/10/31/21195/talking-with-tim-burton-lacma-exhibit-winds-down/.

“‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.’” Spotify, The Big Picture, 6 Sept. 2024, open.spotify.com/episode/4vC26kGPTqJmboI8nJIZ1E?si=0968e62393964919.

Reflections

I think I explored some really interesting ideas pertaining to the topics that I started with. I like how this eventually led to where I am now. I also like how a lot of the media I watched and researched centered around the idea of not belonging and the feeling of being alienated. Going forward I’m not sure if I want to continue down such a creepy path and I might explore the topic of belonging through a different lens.

[panaramic-art]

Sorry my miss wording I was asking who they are as characters what makes them different from all the other mikes and Williams?

Ah! Okay, I see. Well..

Mike takes over Williams identity after he disappears, running Fazbear Entertainment and basically running himself into the ground to actually make the restaurants successful and murder free! He really does a great job for learning on the fly, and even though he's tiered all the time we joke about him having absorbed the entire Michael-verse's supply of luck to get this to work at all.

William is exactly as his name says, he's William, but with Mike's personality. He's a genuinely kind person and a really good father to Evan and Elizabeth. He tries to be a good dad to Mike, but he basically refuses any attempts William makes, and it becomes even worse when Clara dies. Mike becomes reserved and cold, while a grieving William tries desperately to help his three children, everything he has left.. he really does try, but Mike ends up in charge of his siblings a lot as William has to work and Mike is old enough to babysit. He tries to be home as much as he can though.

Well, one thing leads to another, and Mike kills Charlie, gaining a bloodlust that he feels a need to fulfill. William teaches him robotics, happy to finally have a shared interest with his beloved Michael, and they make an entire line together, called the Funtimes. He has to step away at the end to get the restaurant ready, and that's when Mike adds in the murderous aspects. William trusts his son, of course, so he doesn't double check anything. Opening day, Elizabeth goes missing, and William is destroyed. He searches for her and begs the police for answers for months, almost a year. But little does he know, Michael had already retrieved and burnt her body, leaving her soul to find it's home in their creation.

He's just finally starting to heal when his youngest's birthday party rolls around. He was excited to have it at Fredbear's but when the day comes William can't help but notice something was off. But he's exhausted, and he looks away for only a moment before his little cub was dangling from the jaws of fredbear. He screams at the sight and sobs as the EMTs cart him away. All the while comforting his oldest, because surely Michael must be horrified and in shock by what this harmless prank had turned into. Mike doesn't get punished, because William was sure that the horrible sight and the red that stained his favorite mask must be enough punishment for the crime, moreso when poor innocent Mike lost his baby brother.

In the end, William discovers Mike is crazy. Though he discovers it too late. Mike is obsessed with death, and life, and preserving everyone in his machines so they can never leave him, even his beloved Jeremy was given new life after Mike found him beaten black and blue one night. Now he was safe, immortal, and all HIS. And he was about to do the same to William. Though his father was a bumbling dolt who couldn't see a beautiful opportunity if it was in front of him, Michael had a reluctant love for his father. And even though he couldn't save his mother, he would save him. Then truely Michael could be a god to everyone he held dear.

It didn't work out the way he planned though. He planned to kill him with the scooper, before transferring his soul to his father's favorite, spring Bonnie, but an updated version Michael himself made. It still had the capability of becoming a suit, but it wouldn't ever need that function. However, Charlie, who Will found and who initially pointed him in the direction of his son being a murderer, interviened, and Michael ended up in the suit instead, before getting springlocked. She dragged Williams corps away, planning to hold a small ceremony for him before burying him. But only a day later, he wakes up seemingly okay, except for the hole in his chest. And the fact he starts to rott a little while later.

[vlyteng]

Beauty standards and its relation to racism and colourism

I am a film junkie and I adore Japanese films. My love for Japanese films started when I watched a specific movie, which just so happens to be one of the most breathtaking films I’ve ever watched in my life - Helter Skelter. Helter Skelter is a movie that tells the story of a famous actress, Lilico, who has had several cosmetic procedures over her body. Lilico makes life terrible for people around her as she struggles to manage both her professional and personal issues as a result of the adverse effects of her surgery (Letterboxd 2012). It is based on a manga that Kyoko Okazaki wrote and released between 1995 and 1996 (Cherif 2022). The message of the movie is made clear to be depicting the extent we can go to achieve what we deem as "perfect beauty", but how it can lead to an unhealthy obsession with our physical appearance. Throughout the film, the audience will witness Lilico’s fall into an endless, abyssal spiral of depression as she tries to fix the side effects of surgery with, well, even more surgery.

Beauty standards in every culture look different. In the West, the hourglass figure (otherwise known as “slim thicc”) is the goal! Some features that are commonly celebrated and strived for in Western countries are light-coloured eyes, blonde hair, pale skin and small noses. The beauty standard in Asia also has a similar standard but skinny is what most people go for. Obviously, Asians do not have the same genetics as Westerners. If someone frequently consumes beauty content from Western culture, they may be influenced to change their features in some way in order to fit what they think is the “standard of beauty”. Some may think beauty standards are merely just guidelines for people to follow to be seen as more attractive, but I think it goes much deeper than that.

I believe beauty standards are built on the foundation of racism and colourism, discrimination or prejudice towards those with dark complexion. You might think it’s a stretch but hear me out. A good example of this is when we discuss skin tones. Have you ever thought to yourself “Man, my skin is so dark” or “Man, I wish I had a more pale complexion”? Why are we so scared of getting a little tan from the sun? Why do we immediately deem darker skin = undesirable? As a Chinese, why are bigger eyes and double eyelids more adored than mono or hooded lids despite it being the most common outcome for our ethnicity? All these questions point to an underlying distorted perception that we were taught since young and continue to experience in our daily lives. They take the form of seemingly harmless little statements, like when the aunt that nobody likes asks you if you’re going to keep eating those pineapple tarts during Chinese New Year, or when your beautician mentions how perfect you’d look if you just got a little nose lift during your monthly visit to the beauty salon.

All in all, there is no such thing as “perfect beauty” as the definition of it is so different for every single person, everyone has their own version of beauty. Aiming to achieve it is unrealistic and will not only cost you millions of dollars, but also endless amounts of mental strain. I understand that it is easy to fall into the rabbit hole that is insecurity and anxiety over appearances and our bodies. But something I truly believe is that without our body, no matter what it looks like, we will not exist. Your body is constantly trying to take care of itself and we should be grateful for having two arms and two legs, functioning ears and nose, eyes to see the world and a mouth to taste Kyochon fried chicken (yes, I am craving it as I am writing this). To end this, I’d like to dedicate a poem I wrote for an e-book about self-acceptance and to love our body because it is trying its best to keep us alive every day. 

Don't be angry with your body Your arms lift the weight of responsibilities Your legs walk you through life Your eyes see the beauty behind the ugly Your stomach houses butterflies that make you feel alive Your nose lets you smell that wonderful apple pie that you love Your body has been through everything with you it does not deserve your hatred and your anger. - S. Z Tao

References

Cherif, M. C 2022, The Dark Side of Beauty Standards in Helter Skelter: A semiotic analysis, The Artifice, viewed 8 June 2023, <https://the-artifice.com/helter-skelter/>.

Letterboxd 2012, Helter Skelter, Letterboxd, viewed 7 June 2023, <https://letterboxd.com/film/helter-skelter-2012/>.

[rice-enjoyer]

A taste so sweet ; it makes all of your senses rot, from within.

a/n: this has been MARINATING in my drafts since august. reader is a cook/chef from Liyue! ~3.0k words! this is not sagau, for once, wow! a mostly harbinger-centered fic, i was simply not feeling it with scaramouche, sorry simps. (my boy pants though. - pantalone is finally in the spotlight! the wording of this fic seems to make it easy for me to go on and on about him.) dottore does get his routine paragraphs that are a mile longer than everyone else's, he's still my favorite war criminal <3 cw: gn reader, x reader format. food, probably everything that has to do with preparing food, reader gets kidnapped, reader has some angst added and self-esteem issues but it turns into fluff very soon. few mentions of death, (reader's and a side character's)some obsessiveness + possessiveness, reader ACCIDENTALLY cuts themselves with a knife, very short-lived and harmless wound.

--

As the saying goes: The way to anyone's heart is either through their pants or stomach - you chose the latter, being a well-known chef from Liyue. You sort of had to. How did you end up becoming the 11 harbingers' personal chef? Well... You liked to participate in those little cooking competitions, that's how. Always being on the podium, never getting anything worse than 3rd place. You grew up loving to participate, even as a child - not expecting to win, but to learn. Knowledge when it comes to cooking, baking, recipes, and how to alter them just fascinated you, ever since you were young. Xiangling was a close friend of yours, and you've been thinking about signing a contract, to work in a restaurant. You went home, already planning your future as an official chef for the restaurant. With new responsibilities in mind, you sigh deeply in the empty hall as you take off your shoes. Your mind was filled and rattling with all sorts of new problems to antagonize over. You were worried, deeply, but concealing that should be the best, weakness has no place in your heart for now. Maybe later, when you are a bit more comfortable with being employed at a new place. Everything was going too well. Maybe you'll even make friends! And, as you'd joke, fate really despised you. Only, it wasn't a joke this time.

The Fatui are everywhere, you can't deny that. But you started to notice a new pattern as you were about to start working at Wanhmin. Day by day, more and more agents show up around your workplace, then on the street, you live in, you were sure someone broke into your home the other day. But there was no evidence, so what can you do? Stay paranoid, and vigilant. Only one problem with this seemingly flawless plan. You are so exhausted from working one day that you didn't lock your door. You were already busy making dinner, craving stone harbor delicacies since it was easy to prepare - you hear the door creak open. Your train of thought has abruptly stopped.

Now, for the exact beginning of your pitiful reality. It all started with an offer you just can't refuse, literally. A misunderstanding brought you to Sneznhaya, how very tragic. The person rummaging and searching for something in your house made eye contact with you, as you were trying to arm yourself with a single, very average, and rather dull kitchen knife. Mistaking you for someone else who had information worth taking, maybe until your lifeless body would get thrown into the soft snow. While the only thing at your disposal was cooking knowledge, and your lowly excuse of a weapon. Such a sorry fate, for you, and that cicin mage who suddenly vanished shortly after failing such an important mission - never seeing your kidnapper again. You were naive, fate leading you by the hand into a pit you can never truly crawl out of.

Lucky for you, meeting your end would've been too kind of a finale to your seemingly short-lived story. Seeing how you are useful in a way, death's cold grip didn't pull you into the night. In the end, you did sign a contract to work, just not in the restaurant. Becoming head chef for the palace rather quickly, your talent would've been wasted, and, no one would want that now would they? Seeing how you were pleasant to be around, compliant, and mostly, quiet, you were just perfect. Having to serve food for the recruits, and agents were no big deal. You'd even strike up conversations with them, some of those were quite lovely. The problem was that after a while, the harbingers have taken an obvious interest in you. You were too frightened to notice that, at first.

To cope with your sudden change of scenery, of environment, to digest your experience, instead of sleeping at night, well, you'd walk. Restless, going from empty room to empty room, looking out the window. With whatever little moonlight was illuminating these rooms, you'd wonder, if you could ever rest, in a place so cold, so distant from your entire being. And so, the cycle continued, you'd wake early, still dark outside to start preparing for the day, exhausted from not getting any rest. Hands full of idle work, thoughts filled with uncertainty. You dreaded lunch, more so than before. Slowly, you climbed the ranks unintentionally, and because of your hospitality, every single cook, maid, and housekeeper tried to shove all of their scarier duties toward you. You may stutter and show minimal signs of discomfort when talking with any of the harbingers, but you wouldn't break under pressure, therefore, the other staff would live to see another day for a job fulfilled well. But knocking on their doors, when you knew you'd be bothering all of them, wishing they'd just, interact with you as little as possible. Oh but fate just hated you, you were just sure of it. You danced the same, off-beat waltz around the palace at dinner. It took you a while to understand but they hated each other so much. Your daydream of not having to talk to them on a daily basis, having them together at a single location, like one of the many dining rooms was never happening. There are a few exceptions, of course, but by the looks of it, they'd rather eat glass than willingly talk to one another. It was night again, so you'd get yourself ready for... walking. And restlessness.

And so, you thought you were replaceable, anyone can cook, bake, and make dishes taste divine, with the right background and experience.

Anyone could be you.

Oh, but how wrong you were. None of them would admit it to you, of course. Prideful creatures they are. The slow, slow change was seen by all, yet no one talked of it. Annoyance at your presence turned to quiet acknowledgments, nods, and slowly, questions. Having as stressful jobs as theirs, it was nice to hear you chatter about simple practices you do to complete your given duties. It was a breath of fresh air, literally. Some even asked you, - if it was only the two of you, - that you would not use their titles, as it makes them feel closer to you, to being human. They were all oh so curious, about your process, all your thoughts about how to make those extremely difficult Fontaine pastries, what was the difference between baking and cooking, and exactly what would it take to poison them, but before that thought could continue, you reassured them that would never happen, as you are the unofficial taste tester, also eating the exact same things they do, and so on. So, instead of quietly humming to yourself, feeling alone, you realized, they were just as lonely as you. And so after months, you'd find yourself humming along with Columbina. She'd ask to dance with you, and, who were you to deny her a little fun? The pots overboiling had different plans, of course, but you managed. She prefers sweet and light dishes, but the ones with some sort of sweet or tangy filling are her favorites. Like taiyaki, for example. Only because that means there's usually some extra cream on the corner of your lips, and she can easily fluster you by holding your chin in place to clean it off with her finger, sighing in delight while your cheeks become tinted with red and babble at her sudden boldness.

As you were having breakfast, Sandrone was showing you her newest altered automation, mouth full of a slice of an egg, spinach, and cheese pie you cooked for her, it was hard to make out what she was saying, but you listened. She seems to prefer mild salty flavors and portable dishes, which is understandable, seeing how much she's focused on her work. Her favorites are bread specialties you make oh so very often, mora meat, or bread pockets made with fresh fish. You only noticed this when one of her robotic assistants asked you to explain in great detail on how to make the foods mentioned, to produce the exact same result as you do.

On your way to the market, Arlecchino just happens to run into you, saying how the orphanage is not far from the market, knowing very well it's in the complete opposite direction, but you indulge her, talking as if you've known each other forever. You play into her fantasy of having a friend, but after a while, it seems to be genuine. You were homesick the day before, so you made a big batch of lotus flower crisps and took some with you. The sweet aroma from your bag intrigues her, and she now has a favorite snack to eat, not only because it's sweet, but mainly because it reminds her of your walks to the market.

La Signora, she scares you the least. While it seems that she's just as cruel and terrifying, she has known love at one point in her life, teaching you ancient recipes from Old Mondstadt. When making one of them is a success, her subordinates are eternally grateful to you because it puts her in a better mood for days. One dish she really likes and has told you that it reminds her of the past is northern apple stew, so you make it for her whenever you can.

You'd genuinely smile when Tartaglia compared your cooking to his mother's, saying it has a similar "warmth". Another advocate for seafood and fresh fish, he has told you many times when you make Wanmin-style black-back perch stew, he feels like he's right back in Liyue. He's constantly complimenting how skilled you are with a knife when cutting meat. Perhaps it's an invitation to sparring? Who knows, he is never quite clear on that.

Capitano is very against it, however. That's why there's never a direct and clear answer to his question. Why harm the one person who can make good food? This just fuels Childe to annoy you further. Not only because it's fun to do so from Tartaglia's perspective, but also because it's a sure source of Capitano's attention. He is not picky at all, quite the opposite. But there is an obvious preference for meat-heavy dishes, like braised meat or minty meat rolls. A small nod of appreciation that makes you smile softly.

Pulcellina is assisting you to send your letters that are addressed to your family almost weekly, making sure that your loved ones don't think your disappearing meant certain death. He reads them in secret, or so he thinks. How could you not suspect it when you've learned that there is no privacy in this cold place left for you? To your surprise, you've found another pasta lover through him, making most, if not all of Liyue's noodle-centered foods.

Dottore seems to think you want some sort of favor from him, he's far too focused on his research to realize that being a chef is your actual job. It appears that way, but he does care, whenever one of his clones drops by the palace or he meets with them personally, there seems to be a small batch of select spices on your desk or some sumeru roses. How surprisingly thoughtful of him. In exchange for his efforts, you often make Sumerian dishes, such as biryani.

Going out of your assigned guest room, that later on becomes your very own, starting the day with drinking bitter and dark coffee with Pierro. He has told you many times how certain flavors you use in your recipes remind him of a faint memory that tastes like home. You are more than welcome to stay in his presence, "You are no bother, truly." - he finds himself saying rather often. If you have any writing to do, please, feel free to knock on his door, working in solitude is so much more tedious, even if there aren't any words exchanged between the two of you.

Much later, after finishing up in the dead of night, you'd find yourself drinking authentic Liyue tea with Pantalone in his office. You'd sometimes look over his shoulder, interested in what he was writing so quickly. He swears if he were to start explaining, it would bore you tremendously. There have been times when if you'd say one of his colleague's names, he'd listen to you a bit too eager to hear any form of gossip you'd pick up on. You've found yourself a person to actually converse with, good job! There have been occurrences when you'd find yourself getting a bit too comfortable on a sofa in his office, his velvety voice accidentally lulling you to some well-deserved sleep. Don't worry, a secret like this will never be the topic of the newest talk. That would mean sharing your company, and your limited free time with others, and that is certainly the worst. At least with him taking a liking to you, there is nothing in all of Teyvat you are short of. Fate is forgiving to you, just this once. Sometimes voicing your concern about how this is all a bit too much, he'd laugh. "Oh, please. I sincerely hope you are doing this out of formalities." Dismissing whatever humane insecurities you have left like it's the most normal reaction one might have.

You were the last one to notice that closeness, of course. Both figuratively and literally. You were doing a million things at once and accidentally cut yourself while chopping vegetables for dinnertime. A small diagonal cut going from the knuckle of your index finger to the middle of your thumb, nothing major, you think. A voice, coming from behind you thought otherwise. You turned to your left, only to feel two short taps on your right shoulder. "Oh, that could get infected if you don't treat it. Hm. You probably should." - A dramatic sigh left his mouth, probably because there wasn't anyone else around. "Come, you have work to get back to, and so do I. But I can't focus on said work if I'm hungry." Of course. Dottore. The concept of personal space is foreign to him, not leaving you any time to protest or even process what he said. Grabbing your arm a lot more gently than you expected you are being pulled or rather, taken to that god-awful lab again. His tone of voice is...softer, it seems. After a long series of walking, going outside to feel the snow decorating your face in a flushed red because of the cold, going down numerous staircases, you end up at your destination. Keys jingling, ancient iron walls creaking.

He gestures at a chair for you to sit down at. You do, while looking around, this place still irks you. "Tch, I can't just clone you and make you anew, Pierro made one of me sign a contract to swear by it, ugh. Take better care of yourself. This is an order." Judging by his tone, how fast and seemingly carelessly said those words to you, he probably wanted to keep all of this to himself but failed spectacularly. You let out a hearty laugh. The first one in months. Your guard crashes down, into the unwelcoming environment. Your laugh brightens every dark corner of the lab, for a short moment. Someone so apathetic getting worked up over something so trivial really makes you chuckle. "Hah, sorry I apologize." - you deeply inhale to catch your breath. - "I could make something extra for your troubles. Would you like anything specific, Doctor?" "Something sweet should suffice." He finishes wrapping the bandage around your hand, suddenly wincing in pain. He applied something antibacterial to the bandages, but you were too distracted having a good time to notice.

Most of them complain to you about their workload, their colleagues, everything. You now know way too much about the harbingers. You've made them softer towards yourself, but also towards each other. You are acquainted with all of them now. Dottore gloats about being the first one to make you laugh as some huge achievement, like one of his usual cruel experiments on his subjects. You do hear of this, from a maid who took your refreshments to the meeting room. Another thing you hear of from the same maid is how delighted they all are that you don't they don't have to share your attention with the Balladeer, as he is currently busy wreaking havoc in Inazuma. This makes you feel a little honored, but still uneasy. The course fate has picked for you made you so much more than you bargained for.

You hum softly. The same flavor of pride has set its poisonous teeth in you, just like it has in theirs. The walls they've built around themselves are turning into dust in your hands. You've awakened something humane in them, but, only towards you. And, of course, you would never dare to admit it, but they've changed you. You were still kind, and considerate, but the hunger for knowledge in your eyes... it has a different spark, a darker tint, barely noticeable, but it's there. Knowing you can... access information with no trouble, your view of the world, of fate, changed.

They all take great satisfaction in this, it was one of the few times something could be called a genuine team effort. Don't expect them to work together for another cause, unless it's the Tsaritsa herself declaring war. Her cold and gentle gaze makes you feel at ease when the palace is as empty as the poor people's eyes, glassy and dull who dare say anything against her Majesty's principles.

Making a cozy home for yourself in a place like this would make any workplace hire you in an instant, but why would you want to leave now? Maybe a visit to your family, making up for the many weeks and months of not seeing them, sure. But you'll come back, no matter what. You do seem to have some say in the matter, but smiling politely and declining is the way to go for now. It's quite a funny thing to think about, how you have the world's most feared feeding from the palm of your hand. Yes, you are sure of it now, fate has changed you.

--

Taglist! (If you'd like to be added/removed, let me know!) : @the-real-fandom-person @petrichor-1 @00kama00

[mmarthajones]

Ok at the demand of literally no one, I am so obsessed by the idea of a period drama, honouring the book, drawn out character development and trauma heavy adaptation that I’m going to drop my ideas here. Not at full outline level, bc however stupid I’d love to actually do this one day, but here’s why you should trust me with Dracula(under a read more cut bc this IS going to get long)

I’m going to clarify before I start that I’m almost definitely going to forget stuff but if I were to do this I would have the biggest corkboard with tons of info and ideas on. This is just a flavour of the corkboard.

First thing, format: TV over movie at almost all costs. It’s an epistolary novel with bits and viewpoints and details and far FAR too much stuff for a movie. As many parts as the studio will give you. While adapting it into a movie could be done, it’s just so much better fitting for TV to me.

Genre: see, everyone gets that its gothic horror, that part isn’t in question. The thing most adaptations don’t get straight in their heads is which genres they’re going to borrow other tropes and stuff from. The book is actually a mishmash designed to compliment the horror, and while I’ve nothing against horror movies, a TV series needs more to fill it out. To me, one of the big reasons everyone hates on the Coppola flick is that it draws more from the tropes of other horror movies, but Dracula is *psychological*. This will become important later. 

So what genres am I borrowing from? Period drama. Sure, seemingly the total opposite, but actually that’s the point. If you borrow from the calmness and romanticism of period drama in the quiet moments, it makes the horror all the more horrifying. USE the audience expectations. Romance, bc Jonathan/Mina relationship goals. 

Character development: Oh, so much to say. Jonathan fully established as female gaze hero to start off with. This is not played off as boring. A character arc filled with trauma, at least one solid breakdown, and a portrayal focussed around a solid core of emotional strength. You must be incredibly attached to harmless little Jonathan, so that his trauma harrows you to the core. And then I shall make him go after Dracula with his big knife. You’re welcome.

Mina: Strong female character, but not StrongTM. Strong, supporting literally everyone, putting the bravest face on it. This will only make it more terrible when we see her break down in private. Somehow has Eldest Daughter syndrome without siblings.

Dracula: Oh, Dracula. Yes, I will make you scary again. To my mind, the sexyman Dracula actually undermines the thing that should terrify you most. You don’t go to Dracula because you are drawn in by his charisma. His magnetism is unfair, unwilling, and a complete violation of all that makes you you. He will delight in your struggles, draw it out, undermine you psychologically, all with a smile on his face. This is an ancient master of war tactics, battlefield veteran Dracula. And anything that is played for laughs, any stupid failure, is just serving to underline how unfair the whole thing is, how much he can get away with. A relentless, creeping evil. 

Everyone else: look, I could go on for ages about every single individual person here. Safe to say, I would be trawling the tags for every character essay and taking it all into careful consideration.

Castle Dracula: Yes, I’m making a distinct point of this because it struck me today. This setting will not be played for laughs either. Creaky doors and dramatic organs begone. It will be a place where you should watch every shadow, because it being the Count’s home means something. Seat of his power. It should feel like an extension of him.

Hope: Yes, I’m making its own thing. Jonathan/Mina should be the cutest thing. The quiet moments of any heroic viewpoint should be full of warmth, handholding, hearthsides. A general sense that people are the heart of this, and that with them there, you might be able to get through it. The hope is what makes the horror. Hope, and the lack of it. When Mina gets burnt, it should ripple effect through everyone. Jonathan’s desperation at the return of the Count and the idea of going back to the Castle should be visceral. Just like the book, this series would be made by the quiet moments. 

Ok this got very long and I’ve seen so many great analyses in the Dracula Daily tag that I’m not talking about but wow guys look at this and tell me you don’t want the heart-driven Dracula series. 

(This is also where I tell you this is my first time through the book and I’ve never properly watched any specific Dracula adaptations. But I’ve Heard, yknow?)

[itsevanffs]

Hihi!! I've been hyperfixating on tommary lately and I absolutely loved (In the dark!)! I wanted to see if u have any tommary/harrymort fics that u recommend.. preferably ones that feature a possessive Tom ^^ ty in advance

I guess this would be the right time to publicly declare my bookmarks as open? Everything on there is a hard rec, and I vigorously quality-check those... for my liking and my liking only. (Sorry, not sorry. They're there for me, after all.)

That being said, hmm. I've got a few you might like.

Below the cut: more (additionally to my bookmarks) Tomarrymort (Tomarry or Harrymort) recommendations with possessive/obsessive Tom in alphabetical order; NOT order of how much I enjoy them. I'd argue I enjoy them all equally, just in different ways.

Ps: thank you! I'm incredibly flattered you liked my work :D

and don't let the police know anything by littlecupkate https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920947

Ted Dirlod is dangerous, Harry Potter knows this for a fact, but the man was still his only hope at escaping a doomed fate. It is never wise to blackmail a crime lord. It is even more unwise(?) when said crime lord is obsessed with you. An expanded version of "praying to whatever's in heaven, please send me a felon"

Genuinely lovely? Ticks all my boxes, at least, and minimal angst, which is always a plus. That being said, you should probably read the work mentioned in the summary as well for context. But hey. Two cakes by one person ;) Can never go wrong, can it?

As Certain Dark Things Are to be Loved by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015619

Tom was Harry's best friend growing up and his first love. At eight, Harry gave Tom his first kiss before moving away. As a freshman in college, the name of the RA on the door across the hall is terribly familiar.

Also absolutely deliciously indulgent. Tom is a possessive terror and Harry loves him for it. Need I say more?

Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic (series) by Snickerdoodlepop https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133141

Once Voldemort realizes that Harry Potter is his horcrux, his plans change drastically. So does Draco Malfoy's assignment for the school year. Harry's sixth year starts going very differently. Snape is on a mission. Harry needs to learn pureblood politics. Draco Malfoy is trying to convince Harry to forgive him. Voldemort finds himself visiting Harry Potter in his dreams. Everyone is realizing that no one is quite what they thought. And through it all, there's a mystery. What is Ancient Magic? Can Harry use it to save himself or will it pull him toward the dark side?

Honestly, genuinely, hands down the best fucking tomarrymort series I've ever read. Hard, hard rec from here. The first work is completed and the second is in progress, so it's a nice pile of words to chew through!

can't commit to anything but a crime by caelesti https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286483

Excitement is the word he does not dare utter, even in the privacy of his own mind. It’s wrong, he knows. These women are people, in their own right; people with fears and aspirations, with friends and families and dreams, and to have anything cut those lives short is nothing but tragic. To have anyone cut those lives short is nothing but condemnable. He doesn’t have James Potter’s laugh lines, but he does have his father’s innate flair for danger. He doesn’t have Lily Potter’s enthusiasm, but he does have her insatiable curiosity. (In every world, Harry will excel at finding the biggest spot of trouble available and sticking his nose in it.)

Hot serial killer serial killer hot. That's it, those are the thoughts. Please read.

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440826

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. _________________ Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Okay so if I'm the reincarnation of Shakespeare, May_May_0_0 is fucking... Ted Hughes. Which doesn't say much to your average viewer but that man wrote my favourite poem ever (the one I based my war fic off) and I hold him in very high regard. This story? It is poetry in its rawest form. Pure, condensed beauty. If you decide to read only one of the fics in this list, please choose this one.

Either must die at the hand of the other by Metalomagnetic https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356095

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

When is Metalomagnetic not a master of words? When will I cease becoming breathless at every paragraph, at every cleverly twisted word that comes back and reveals itself so beautifully later?

Fine Line by galaxiesundone https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949952

Magic always leaves traces. The lingering darkness of Sectumsempra, combined with Harry’s nature as a horcrux, awakens the soul piece contained within Ravenclaw’s diadem. At twenty years old, Tom Riddle walks a fine line between man and monster, the devil and the light-bringer in one. His influence forces Harry to face an ancient enemy unlike anything he has faced before: temptation.

Long story short: Tom Riddle is Hot and Good At Being Hot and Harry truly doesn't stand a chance and I am here for it. Lord help me I love this fic to pieces.

Good Intentions by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035334

Five year old Harry Potter meets and befriends a seventeen year old Tom Riddle while hanging out at his dad’s station. James Potter decides to take Tom under his wing, using Tom’s connection with Harry to try and keep the teen grounded, even as he begins to investigate the Death Eaters, a dangerous organized crime group and their mysterious leader only known as Lord Voldemort.

The sheer potential of this fic. The horrible, terrible dread of future events that have yet to be revealed. I will cry.

Honey, Smoke, Shiver by machiavelli https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068062

Harry - Omega, only son of Lord Potter - is nothing more than a useful playing card in a political game of power and money, one that is bought by the famed Tom Riddle: powerful, dangerous, pureblood Alpha. Unsurprisingly, Harry loves being underestimated.

Machiavelli is always a rec from me. Sorry lads but that's the way it is. Never a moment where I won't recommend their stuff.

Sickly-Sweet Obsession by maquira https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259103

Quiet, studious Tom Riddle spends his first year thirsting after an older student—Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, Harry Potter. His crush is common knowledge, and even Harry finds it cute… at first. Possessiveness spawns monstrosities. Tom does all within his power to mess with Harry’s dating life. And one seemingly harmless crush spirals into something darker, begetting deadly consequences.

Again; the potential. Delicious. This will bloom into something beautifully twisted, I'm sure of it.

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Audair https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745546

Riddle’s undivided attention snapped to him with the swiftness of shattering glass. His turbulent magic receded from where it had besieged the shop. "You,” he breathed. Coiling in leisurely motions, the eager tendrils of his magic reached for Harry, swathing about his limbs and neck and chest with a liquid, flowing fascination. "I’ve been looking for you,” Riddle continued, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over Harry. It was an appraisal that felt simultaneously like the raking of iron nails and the tender drapery of silk. It was so familiar, and yet… so foreign. In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.

This work has recently been undergoing a rewrite, and I can tell you with certainty it's only gotten better for it. It's beautiful; the setting, the atmosphere, the vibes... Perfection. Captures Knockturn Alley's mood impeccably and does not disappoint a single moment.

the pleasure, the privilege by asterisms https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227528

It begins with Vernon Dursley's body, dead across the table. In which Voldemort is dosed with amortentia, and nothing is better for it.

Completed, terrifying... and gorgeous.

The Shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn) by PaperWorlds https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380079

Shrike: A songbird with a sharply hooked bill, known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling their bodies on thorns, the spikes on barbed-wire fences, or any available sharp point. A young Harry Potter survives an attack by notorious serial killer Voldemort. Over a decade later, they meet again.

Lads I'm so desperate for an update from this fic that I might cry if I think about it for too long. I keep saying it and I'll say it again; this is one of those fics with amazing potential that are sure to never disappoint no matter what path they take. An incredibly hard rec.

To Raise a Servant by bluegrass https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780816

Tom had found the boy amidst pouring rain. He figured he'd always wanted a pet snake.

Surprisingly not quite as dark as the summary makes it seem? I certainly enjoyed it, though, and that's why it's on this list.

What He Grows To Be by Severus_divides_into_H https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042240

Tom Riddle is a frightening coil of darkness, cruelty, and greatness, and changing him is Harry’s only hope for saving people he loves. Going back in time, he takes Tom from the orphanage, but his optimism shatters with every year they spend together. Tom still longs for darkness. Tom stifles him in his possessiveness. Tom is fixated on him to the point of destroying the world just to keep him. But Harry loves him. And the future changes.

Beautiful. And absolutely terrifying. I've started crying mid-scene at least three times for this fic, and it honestly seems unfathomable if you haven't read it if you're on my profile, since I think this is one of the fics that have shaped my style and ambitions. It is what I aspire to be.

[a03bkdk]

no quirks bkdk fic rec list (p 2)

thirsty gay wingman fic by lalazee

((smut-14130-1/1))

Oct 11, 2019 "Thinkin abt besties-since-birth BkDk goin to college together, Dk begrudgingly bein Bkg's wingman w/chicks & lamenting his big gay crush. One nite, Bkg cant get laid, hes drunk in a shitty mood, so Dk propositions him, which turns into the best night ever & the WORST consequences."

My tweet got 366 likes & 66 reblogs, so that was more than enough reason to write about it.

romeo and romeo by supercrunch

((10473-1/1))

There’s a nasally howl from the neighbour’s place. Izuku looks up – it’s the very loud, very blond guy living in the unit opposite. They’re technically in separate blocks but their balconies are close enough they can see into each other’s living rooms. He’s dancing around in his pyjamas. Yodelling at the top of his lungs off-key, swinging his Pomeranian around by the armpits like a furry ragdoll. “You’re a dog! You’re a fluffy little yellow dog and you’re a pain in the ass but you’re still my favourite shit-stain, yeah!”

Izuku bursts out laughing. The neighbour’s head whips around. He yelps when he sees him, tossing the dog on the couch and scrambling out of view to hide in the hall.

Izuku drops the watering can and runs back inside to find his phone.Small Might: Guys. I've decided i have a crush on my neighbour.

(quarantine baking: a balcony romance)

mechanical bull by warschach

((smut-27573-1/1))

Katsuki has a track record of bad choices, it's a condition, but Izuku might be the one choice that's right.

battle of the bands by roadtripwithlucifer

((smut-168158-26/26))

'The rules are simple. Battle of the Bands. Local bands send in a single track to the radio station, and ten tracks are selected. Over the coming month, the songs play on the station and listeners vote on the top five. The top 5 play a live concert as part of a music festival, then the top 3 at a larger, indoor venue. The top two have the honor of opening on the first stop of All Might’s retirement tour – here. In Izuku’s home town. And finally, the winner gets the ultimate prize. Getting to spend the rest of the tour, forty cities, across the country as All Might’s opener. Three months. Same tour bus. Shoulder to shoulder with the greatest musicians the world has ever known.'Izuku Midoriya is a broke college student presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. But winning isn't gonna be easy, especially when one band's aggressive blonde frontman seems to be dead-set on making Izuku's life a living hell.

oh my god! they were roomates! by phatye

((smut-79108-57/57))

“Don’t go through my shit, and if there’s a tie on the door, then fuck off!” Katsuki growled. “...what?” he asked. Katsuki glared at him. “This is fucking college, and I plan on getting laid a lot! I don’t need some nerd cockblocking me! And what is with all the fucking toys here!” Katsuki had moved over to his shelves. “Are you a fucking child or something?!” This was not what he was expecting.

shades of blue by young_crone

((smut-22525-1/1))

Echoes filtered down the white hall as he descended the stairs toward the locker rooms, reverberating from the pool. A whistle, the sound of breaking water. He swiped the towel over his face, paused. The sliver of cerulean catching the sinking sun pouring through the skylights, the red and white lane buoys, the burn of chlorine.Izuku ran a hand through his curls, snagging on a knot. The clock on the wall reminded him how late it was. A minute wouldn't hurt. He worried his lip. Just a glimpse.

k-9 by warschach

((smut- 18304-1/1))

Izuku takes in a stray on one rainy night, except it's not a dog, it's a dog shifter who goes by the name, Katsuki. After the initial wave of panic and embarrassment, Izuku thinks his new pet/roommate is pretty cute.

sucker punch by warschach

((smut-41551-1/1))

But, whatever, Disney Boy over there was—

Prettying up real damn good that Katsuki got kind of distracted—totally understandable, like god those CGI pine eyes—and didn’t see the straight path he made for the metal trash bin in the center of the area until he was tipping forward and waist deep in discarded bottles, plates, balled up tissues sticky with he prayed was chocolate ice cream and nacho cheese.

Mina howled behind the gate. “Look, Katsuki returned to his home.”

(or Katsuki works security at Six Flags and moonlights as a derby dude and continuously looks uncool around Izuku)

may I take your order, dipshit? by supercrunch

((6373-1/1))

So, like, maybe Bakugou wasn’t really the best choice for this whole pizza delivery shindig.

(Midoriya in love, Bakugou in denial, and way, way too much cheese.

A BakuDeku romance in thirty minutes or less. )

raise me so high (your sins become my pedestal) by stardust_painter

((smut-10804-2/2))

After his boyfriend cheats on him, Izuku wants to do something stupid. The question is how stupid does he want to be.

The answer is very stupid apparently.

eye for an eye or whatever by tobiyos

((smut-4049-1/1))

“I’ll make it up to you!” Izuku says brightly, lifting his head from Katsuki’s lap.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow but he isn’t still pushing Izuku away so. Progress. “Fuck are you gonna do to make it up to me?”

“Hmm…” Izuku says quietly, tapping at his chin. “Oh! You’re still a virgin, right?”

Katsuki chokes on his own spit and promptly renews his efforts of pushing Izuku away by the forehead. “Fuck off,” he wheezes, “get out of my room.”

leap of faith by ladyofsnails

((28771-4/4))

Midoriya Izuku is just a random kid who loves art, analyzes everything, and is obsessed with the (in)famous hero Mighty Spider. He's got a loving mother, a great uncle, and maybe not too many friends that aren't those two but he's working on it.

And then a random cute boy shows up at his school, a spider bites him, he meets his hero under the worst possible conditions, and it all goes to hell. Now he's got villains on his tail, a promise to keep to a dead guy, and a washed-up hobo as his mentor.

Here goes nothing.

green is the warmest color by gloriousporpoise

((smut-12287-2/2))

“Woah, someone call the fire department,” Eijirou says, elbowing Katsuki squarely in the ribs. “That guy is smokin.’”

“I literally hate you.”

Here’s the thing, though. Eijirou’s a certified dumbass, but his current observation isn’t even a little bit wrong, much to Katsuki’s displeasure.

“Think you can get his number?”

Or, Bakugou is a painter without a muse.

you and i collide by ethereals

((smut-20442-9/9))

And not that Bakugou’s the type to sexualize a potentially dead body; especially one that he just accidentally murdered, but the man has some pretty solid DSL’s. He would hit it, with more than just his car.

OR

in which rich fratboy! bakugou is a badass who accidentally hits poor med student!izuku with his car and chaos ensues therefore.

97.6 FM by jamjars

((smut-32249-3/3))

Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Or Radio Host! Baugou x Listener! Midoriya

give me that sweet love by xsxuxgxax

((smut-32768-9/9))

Things Katsuki needs to excel at: be hot, be clever and pretend to be nice, let Izuku kiss him publicly, let Izuku fuck him privately…

(sugar baby katsuki and sugar daddy izuku pretty much)

dance with me by astralchaos

((30161-10/10))

Mina pulled up a video of a young man, seemingly teen, dancing to a popular new hit, and Izuku felt his heart drop to his stomach. His skin prickled and felt clammy as he started sweating nervously, not daring to move or make a noise. His eyes were glued to the screen but he didn’t see anything – his brain was too busy going into overdrive and freaking out.

Because Mina was showing him a video of himself. The one he uploaded last night.

How on Earth did she find this? He had barely a few thousand views, he wasn’t popular, and it’s not like he was even any good, especially compared to her or Kacchan–

“That move was sexy as hell,” Kacchan said, and that was when Izuku realized that his childhood friend – his longtime crush – also leaned in to watch the video Mina was showing him.

puppies puppies by Esselle

((15491-2/2))

"So after doing all that," Katsuki says, "you're just going to settle here? Tatting up wannabe bad boys?"

"You think all guys who have a lot of tattoos are wannabes?" Midoriya asks, so smoothly that it throws Katsuki.

"Wh—no, I mean—maybe!" Katsuki says. "You'd know best, wouldn't you? Are you a bad boy?"

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes it, and he regrets them immediately. There's a figurative list of things that one should never do, and probably high up on it is asking dark-haired sailors with ocean green eyes and black swirls of ink all across their barely concealed muscles if they are bad boys.

--

Katsuki thinks he has everything he needs in life: a successful pet shop, an occasionally reliable assistant, and the unconditional love of the twenty puppies he’s raising for adoption. But when the tattoo parlor next door hires Midoriya Izuku, a hot sailor with an affinity for dogs, it makes Katsuki wonder if he might need something more.

Like… a piece of that ass. Maybe. He’s figuring it the hell out as he goes.

im gonna make a part 3 later ergaegrggjnjuvuh

[dreamii-yume]

Did you say birthday crumbs? 😌😌😌

I saw the cradle in his bday card and immediately thought. Lilia likes babies. He wants babies. MC can give him a baby... Whether she likes to or not.

It's his birthday! Why don't she fulfill his wish, please?

Yume may be very late for Daddy Lilia’s birthday, but there are never truly a time where we can be “late” for hornii. (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

“You would be a great mother. I’m sure of it.”

Lilia had randomly told you that one day as what you initially thought as a strange way of breaking the silence. You didn’t think too much of it, there were more things that the old fae had said that left you speechless after all. You laughed at it and took it as a compliment instead, flattered even. He was truly a man full of surprises, you naively thought that day. You didn’t even notice that glint of mischief in his eyes, a sign that may or may not just be some childish intuition, but he was dead serious.

...You know, thinking back, you should’ve noticed all the signs while it was still there, harmless and tamed. You did not understand what he really meant by it, but you accepted it anyway, since you genuinely thought that he meant no ill will. It was most women’s dream to become a good mother after all and you just happen to be very good at taking care of kids. So, for this talent to be recognized by someone older and more experience than you in raising kids, it made you happy. But ever since that day, Lilia started acting strange towards you.

...For some reason, every time you meet up with him, coincidentally or not, it was always your stomach that he’s most especially delicate to. During one of his surprise acts of affection, his hands would always snake down across your tummy, caressing them through your shirt. Whenever he’ll take the opportunity of resting his head down on your lap, you’ll find him eyeing your stomach with a loving look in his eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for something. Even times when you’ll suddenly find him in your bed the next morning, leaning his ear on it like there’s even something to hear on the other side. When you get scratches and wounds just near your waist line, Lilia would freak out and patched you up as fast as possible, whispering something about how upset he is for something to damage your skin on this specific spot.

You weren’t one to judge people, Lilia was a man full of surprises after all. It wouldn’t be too strange if he has some kind of stomach fetish of some sort. Even though you knew that this man was a lot older than what you already thought, Lilia knows best on how to use his appearance as weapon and mean to get out of the situation. He’s so childish and mischievous, kinda like how a typical young boy would act, and to you, who’s weak against the affections of a child, it was a blade that cuts you deep. It bothered you for a bit, but eventually got used to it, letting him do what he wants.

“Eh? Lilia-senpai, you have kids?”

“You can call them that, but they’re not my own.”

Eventually, you started catching on his true intentions bit by bit and they were surprisingly very wholesome...At first, at the very least. He was very careful of not naming the identity of the children that he took care of, but being able to hear him fondly remembering his moments with them, you came to understand him a bit more. You didn’t want to assume to much to a life that you’re not very familiar with, but a simple thought came into your mind.

Perhaps, Lilia was simply...lonely.

He is fond of children, and had claimed to raise some until they could walk in their own out in the outside world. His bond and love for them was undoubtedly absolute, but as he said, his relation to them was not something that he could call his own. Perhaps Lilia was not interested in your abdominal region alone, but instead of the womb that can bare those children. Thinking that, you almost considered all his actions justified, not that you didn’t before, but at least you have some sort of context behind it. Lilia said that you were going to be a great mother someday, but with these thoughts in your head, you just can’t help but think that it’s a compliment that best suit him instead.

...That’s what you kept thinking as he one day grabbed you by the hand, leading you in the bounds of his room. His hands were so smooth, moving across your arms, legs, and back, giving you goosebumbs along the way. Of course, his last destination was on your stomach, going underneath your shirt and feeling warmness of it all. He nibbles on your neck like a little mouse, but with one wrong move, his fangs could absolutely pierce your flesh open. Charmed by his hypnotic touch, you reaction didn’t quite line in with your rationality as Lilia pulled you by your chin and slammed his lips against yours.

With his tongue playing inside your cavern, his saliva felt as if it was laced with natural aphrodisiac, rendering you immobile. You were surprised, but got you distracted enough to not be able to notice your clothes slowly being stripped away. Chuckling, Lilia couldn’t help but find yo oh-so adorable, having to completely wrap you around his fingers

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“P...Please...I-I’m so full...” You sobbed as you covered your face in embarrassement, still in disbelief that something like this is happening to you. “Pull out...! Please, I c-can’t take any more...!”

Flinching as his fingers traced over the small bulge in your stomach, filled with the seed that can penetrate the depths of your flower so easily. “Not yet, Love. Just a little more.” He whispered, eyes half-lidded and seemingly drunk with both lust and pleasure. “We’ll have to make sure that you get the most of it in.”

A sharp, burning pain spread from your lower region as he pushed himself in your cunt deeper. “Aagh!” You squeaked as you instinctively grabbed the sheets and grit your teeth. Despite his best attempt of stuffing your hole with his own cock, his overwhelming cum had still managed to seep out through the gaps and stains the bed. Lilia hummed in disappointment, before scooping some in his fingers.

“Aw...What a waste.” He sighed, coming into terms that your human body just doesn’t have enough capacity to hold truck-load of a fae’s love juice. You also hoped that he had come to understand that yourbody is practically giving out on you. You’re exhausted, after being relentlessly fucked for hours, you just wanted to let your heavy eyelids fall but every time you do so, Lilia would use pain to wake you up. However, he took one look at the white substance sticking to his fingers and he proceeded to glance back at you, the look in his eye was not something you appreciated. Unfortunately, you were not given enough time to ponder over what went through his head as he suddenly shoved those cum-filled fingers inside your mouth.

He pinches you tongue, smearing the flavor of his love juice on your taste buds with a sadistic smirk on his face. “...Guess we’ll just have to improvise, yeah~?” He playfully said, as your mouth quavered whilst forcefully tasting his salty juices. You whined at his actions, but Lilia sighed heavenly from just your horrified and tearful expression combined. “Aah...What a good girl...I knew you were the perfect fit for me~!”

To your dismay, he began to move again, motivated to ruin your body both inside and outside once more than it already is. He pulled his fingers out of you, before immediately cupping your cheeks obsessively. “Those eyes...Oh, how I love those eyes.” Lilia said and in an instinct, you closed them as a force of habit when he began to move his hips, dragging your battered walls along. “...The eventual eyes of a dedicated mother, a loving wife.”

“Even after all this time, your eyes haven’t died yet. How wonderful...” You cried as you felt the disruption straight into your womb, toes clenching as you weakly gripped onto him. “This is exactly why...”

“...You would be a great mother, Darling...” Lilia told you once again, reminiscent of his former words but now carries a heavy burden on you. His eyes glows red, learning closer to your lips to give you yet another painful, yet passionate kiss. “...And just the perfect, loving wife that I dreamt of.”

Since I was late, this doesn’t seem to have anything related to Lilia’s birthday at all (*´Д｀*) pls im sorry my head is long been drained but regardless, Yume’s still going to put this in the Birthday Crumbs watch me break my own rules lol

Yume’s Resolution is to get a driver’s license and be better at it, and write sinfics faster. (*´꒳`*) What’s yours, Darlings?

[wandering-travesty]

Call Me By Your Name

    You weren’t sleezy. That was just a word idiots used to try and pull you down to their level. Yes, your hair was slicked back. Yes, your eyeshadow was dark as the night. Yes, your suit jacket barely covered your chest. Yes, your nails were painted black and sharp as daggers. But, no, you weren’t sleezy. You were dressed for your job. What was your job? Well, that was a bit more complicated….

 “I need you to get close to him.” Erwin said coolly, stubble covered chin resting on his strong hands.

 “I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely hoping you had too much wax lodged in your ear canals.

 “You heard him.” You met the glare of the midget standing behind your boss.

 “Okay, smartass, I did. But you can’t be serious, boss! He’s beyond dangerous. Shouldn’t someone like,” you gestured in Levi’s direction, “one of the Ackermans take care of this? I’m not discounting myself or anything, but fucking with a Yeager is basically a suicide mission.” You were actually shocked Erwin asked you to do something so important. More so, dangerous. You weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a death sentence. You’d lost enough comrades to know that.

 “Listen, he’s the key to taking down the Marlian Syndicate.” You knew that, but still, this seemed out of left field. “The Ackermans are strong, yes, but they lack a certain…”

 “They’re not ready to whore themselves out. Just say that, Smith.” You understood now. The Ackermans were cold blooded killers ready to strike at any moment. However, they were awkward and completely inept at things like lust and heated and frankly revolting rendezvous. That was how he wanted you to get information for him.

 Erwin wanted you to fuck the leader of the Marlian Syndicate.

 “I wouldn’t use that wording exactly, but your assumption is correct.” Levi couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, but Erwin continued to stare straight into your soul. He was the leader of La Peste Eldienne (The Eldian Plague) for a reason. Strong, debonair, charming, and slightly insane. He could down a beer in one swig, sip a martini all night long, or abstain from alcohol completely. Whatever he needed to do, he did. He murdered, sent the idiotic young and the hopeless old to their deaths just the same, and could absolutely wine and dine a stranger until their clothes practically flew off their body if it was for the cause. You needed to be like that. Especially at a time like this.

 “I’ll do it. And I’ll do it well.” You assured your boss and his partner. Yeah, this would be easy. You could go low as the scum you were about to completely fuck over. You had been climbing up the ranks as of late, so this would be easy as pie.

Before going on your little date: you made a mental note of the main players you would have to deal with. The list you had went something like this:

Porco Galliard: Complete idiot. All brawn, no brain. Basically a bouncer with a fancier jacket and a higher salary. No worries about him doing anything funny.

Pieck Finger: The sweet little thing they kept around for good reason. Part of you wished you had to deal with her instead. She was witty and had a surprising amount of control over the shipments of cocaine and ammunition that went on about the city. Her pretty face and calm demeanor hid her true genius. She was one of the more concerning figures at tonight’s gig, but also one of the one’s more willing to hear you out before killing you.

Colt Grice: Basically a smarter but weaker version of Galliard. He was really only part of the Syndicate to learn from the best and become a great mafioso one day. You had high hopes for him, despite yourself.

Bertholdt Hoover: A freakishly tall mix of the last three members of the gang. So sweaty and shaky he wasn’t allowed to handle guns under any circumstance. That told you all you needed to know about his threat level.

Annie Leonhardt: Tiny, quiet ball of rage and skill. Could murder you in an instant, but would only do so if ordered. Not a concern unless someone else found you out, or you didn’t like being glared at all night.

Reiner Braun: His personality changed with the passing minutes. Could be calm and almost kind, or could snap your neck like a twig in his giant ass hand. He was a wildcard, and a dangerous one. Though he was obsessed with following orders and being the perfect little soldier boy, so you didn’t need to worry about him if no one told him to start shooting.

Yelena: Even more freakishly tall than Hoover. Also freakishly obsessed with the gang leader and his “master plan”, whatever the hell that was. Maybe you would find out tonight. Anyways, she would only do anything if you threatened the boss in any way. If you did your job right, that wouldn’t be an issue.

Eren Yeager: Easily the most brash and idiotic member of the gang. His problem was that he was trigger happy. In this business, trigger happy meant dozens of dead innocents piled up on the club floor in an instant. You had to be careful around him. Unlike most of the others, he would kill you without thinking.

And the top dog. The man of the hour. The man you had to seduce:

Zeke Yeager: Think Erwin but with more wit and charm. Not to mention more of a sadistic mindset. His favorite game was cat and mouse, seeing how long it took before he had a good excuse to have someone drawn and quartered. His expertise was slow torture that the victim didn’t even really know was happening before the barrel of the gun was already pointed to their temple. And you had to fuck him so stupid he leaked confidential information.

 The only other issue with Zeke was his habit of sleeping around. Yes, he was a tramp by most standards. A harlot with exotic tastes. You had heard stories of him seducing women and men alike, and god only knew what they did once he succeeded. What that meant for you was he would be hard to impress.

 So, you were here to beat him at his own game. And if you were found out, his younger brother would most likely shoot you on the spot. That was, if one of the others did it first. Or even worse, Zeke decided to be a tried and true asshole and torture you to death. The options were endless, and you hated them all.

 So there you sat, ass perched on a bar stool, sipping on a gin rickey and waiting for your opportunity. The room smelled strongly of tobacco, rum, and cinnamon. At least you would die surrounded by what you loved, you thought, laughing grimly to yourself. Men and women danced to slow songs you faintly recognized. The air buzzed with haughty laughter and upper class small talk. You barely had any idea how to interact with high society shitheads as high and mighty as the ones Yeager surrounded himself with. You weren’t often sent out to jobs like this. You were like Levi, born in the slums and never taught how to properly behave. You knew what you had to, much like your knowledge of the goings on of La Peste Eldienne. You knew your gang traded drugs, ammunition, and whatever else was a hot commodity at the time, but nothing other than that. You were actually quite glad to know nothing, since that made you a pretty unimportant person to rival gangs. Not as many death threats and kidnapping attempts came your way, unlike the ones Erwin, Hange, and Levi got every day. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts on the gang hierarchy.

 “Excuse me, miss. The boss wants to chat with ya’ real quick.” A man with greasy hair and green, catlike eyes softly gripped your shoulder. Considering what you knew of Galliard, you figured that grip wouldn’t be soft for much longer if you didn’t do as he suggested.

 “Oh, alright. Did he happen to mention why?” You were genuinely curious. Porco didn’t offer you any solid answer, but there was a reasonable explanation.

 Zeke wanted to get his rocks off. Parties could be interesting, with the right people, of course. The right people hadn’t happened to show up that night. You, on the other hand, seemed interesting. To be frank, you were gorgeous. Even from a distance, he could tell there was something behind your eyes that spelled trouble. He loved people like you. Vicious, cunning, witty, all hidden behind an uninterested and bored demeanor. Those were the people he wanted around him. The best examples were Pieck, and surprisingly, Levi. They seemed to be completely different people than the ones hiding behind their eyes, and Zeke loved to see how long it took to break them down. Well, he was a bit kinder to Pieck, but you and Ackerman got the rough treatment.

 “Zeke, what the hell’re you doin’?” Eren pulled him out of his rather disgusting thoughts of…things better left unsaid.

 “I’m going to talk to a woman, Eren. What does it seem like I’m doing?” Zeke had a sharp tongue and quick wit, which he didn’t spare even his brother from.

 “I get that, but why that one? She seems…shady t’me. I wouldn’t let ‘er get too close, y’know?”

 “Eren, please be rational.” Zeke held a palm out in front of Eren, as if to physically stop his train of thought. “You and Yelena will shoot at the first sign of danger, so inviting this lovely woman to join us for a harmless chat isn’t a danger in the slightest.” Zeke reassured his brother, neglecting to tell him his true intentions. He was sure that would just make him more upset and skittish, which was dangerous for everyone there.

 “’Kay, boss. Got the dame ya’ asked for.” Porco trudged to the brothers’ secluded table with you in tow. He had kept one hand on your shoulder and the other right above your ass. The two main reasons being: one, he didn’t want someone so seemingly important to escape his grip, and two, you had a nice ass.

 “Ah, thank you Galliard…you can let her go now.” He gave Porco a knowing smirk. He let you go immediately and walked away, cheeks slightly reddened. Zeke didn’t want someone else touching his new toy.

 “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but did you need something from me? That man made me leave my gin at the bar and I would like to finish it at some point.” Oh, Zeke was going to love you. You weren’t flighty or scared in the slightest. He knew you had seen some serious shit. Not to mention how you cared more about your alcohol than a dangerous mafia boss and his younger brother ordering you over to their table. You were attractive and relatable. What a catch.

 “My apologies, Galliard tends to be a bit, how do you say, brutish. Feel free to order something new and sit down with us.” He gave you a smile that told you it wasn’t a suggestion. This guy was already just as bad as everyone had told you. He hailed a waiter over to the table. You knew that wasn’t some kind gesture, rather a show of how much power he had over everyone there. His long, thick fingers and suave smile also showed you how easily swayed you could be by dashing looks and raw power.

 He held himself like a king but talked like a philosopher. At the same time, he was down to earth yet still slightly condescending. You never knew where you stood with him, and he liked it that way. His flaxen hair was parted down the middle, and unlike most of the men there along with yourself with their hair hardened with pomade, it was fluffy and moved as he gestured wildly when he spoke. He tended to talk with his hands, once again drawing attention to just how attractive they were. His face was indescribably beautiful. His eyes were like stormy oceans cascading with passion and intrigue. His lips looked soft and plush with a wonderful roseate hue. His beard was well groomed and framed his sharp jaw perfectly. His gold rimmed glasses had a habit of hiding his eyes when thrown into direct light, which often happened with how he talked with his whole body. The way he constantly made direct eye contact with you had you lost in a daze of desire and fear. Was this all some sick ploy to get you to slip up and get everyone you loved killed along with yourself? Or was he seriously that interested in you?

 Eren was quiet most of the time, unless Zeke spoke to him. He didn’t like you. You were too similar to Zeke for his tastes.

 “Say, Eren, could you pass me a smoke?”

 “Oh, so you do have vices. See, you never ordered a drink for yourself, so I assumed you were a man above pleasures of the flesh.” You flashed a toothy grin at him, signaling that it was just playful banter. You two were both rather good at that.

 “My dear, the more you get to know me, the better you will understand just how enthralled with earthly pleasures I am.” He winked, and it sent you to the moon with want. How could a man be so gorgeous, charming, dangerous, and sadistic all at the same time? And why did you have to deal with it? You needed him out of his right mind, but it seemed like that could never happen. Whether it came from alcohol, drugs, or sex. You planned to use a mixture of all three. As you continued your playful jabs and taunts at each other, you found your opportunity to seal the deal. One sniff of the white stuff and he was putty in your hands.

 “Now you know, Mr. Yeager, gin isn’t my only vice.” You kept your usual sly tone.

 “Oh really? That is quite the interesting thing to say.” He matched your energy perfectly. This was too good.

 “Have you ever happened to try, well, what do they call it these days? Well, I tend to call it blow. Snow, stardust, snort, sugar, crack, whichever you prefer, I suppose.” Oh, how brave of you to mention your own trade to your top competitor.

 “Why, yes, I have indeed partook in snorting blow. Is there any reason as to why you’re asking me that right now, darling?” You wished he would stop with the pet names. Or rather, you wished you would stop loving them so much. It felt dirty to enjoy your enemy’s company to this extent.

 “Well, I was wondering if you might like to sneak off and try some of my personal mix.” You leaned in close, covering the side of you mouth with your hand. Eren wasn’t a bad kid or anything, but he’d mess with your plan, and you couldn’t have that. Especially not with his slippery ass trigger finger.

 “Your own personal mix, eh? Don’t tell me you’re involved in the trade, now.” He leaned in just shy of touching your lips. “That wouldn’t be very good for either of us, sweetheart.” That’s it, you were fucking this man if it was part of your plan or not. The entire thing could go south, and you’d still want this man’s dick in your mouth. You didn’t really care anymore. He was too hot to handle, and you were this close to cracking under the pressure. Zeke was right, you were fun to play with.

 “Not at all, I just happen to know the right people.” You grinned at him, knowing you technically weren’t lying. It was your own little inside joke, or so you thought.

 The next thing you knew you were in Zeke’s penthouse, smashed up against the wall with a hand around your neck. By all accounts, this is what you wanted, but it was also quite the opposite.

 “Dearest, I find it insulting that you think I would fall for that pitiful act.” He had you figured out from the moment you walked in. Zeke Yeager never forgot a pretty face. He’d wanted to have you naked in his bed for months, and here you were, all helpless and needy. You were adorable, thinking you could get whatever you wanted from him.

 “Smith was a fool to send anyone, let alone a little minx like you.” You hated how good being insulted by this bitch felt. How did he make it so that your panties got wetter every time he called you a different synonym for whore? It was so awful and so amazing.

 “I’m the slut, yet you’re the one actively trying to fuck me? Do I have that right?” You quipped the best you could from under the pressure of his strong hand.

 “Alright then, we’re both sluts. But the difference between us is that I admit it, yet you pretend to be this perfect little princess in order to fuck powerful men like me.” His grip on your neck tightened as if to add injury to insult.

 “Don’t insult me,” you had to catch your breath between each word, “I fuck men ten times more powerful than you.” But, god was it worth it. You figured he might slap you or otherwise reprimand you, but no, the bastard just smiled wide. What a fucking asshole.

 “Maybe to you.” He widened his cheshire grin. “Maybe you think Erwin’s more powerful. That he has a bigger cock and sucking it will get you further in life.” He pushed you further into the wall. “Or maybe letting Ackerman smack your ass will earn you some cash. Or having Zacharius sniff around your cunt instead of your neck will rise you up the ranks, hmm?” You just grimaced at him, knowing none of it was true. “Or maybe,” he let out a chuckle, “letting Zoe do whatever the hell they’re into will get you more coke and gin.” He was mocking you, ruthlessly, with no signs of stopping, and without letting you get a word in. You were starting to see black spots in your line of vision.

 “Well, fucking with me will get you much more, angel.” He finally let your neck go, letting you fall to the ground, left to look up at the devil in front of you.

 “You fucking suck.” You glared at him, not necessarily trying to hide how much you were enjoying this. As it happened, you weren’t some innocent angel. No, you weren’t a sadistic maniac like Zeke, but you knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily vanilla. As if reading your earlier thoughts, he bent down to your place on the floor.

 He slapped you, and it wasn’t gentle.

 “You’re a sloppy whore on your best days, now get up and strip.” Well if worst came to worst, you could say that you got him where you wanted him…just not exactly how you wanted him, or with a guarantee you would get what you wanted out of him. Honestly, you felt kind of flattered by his attention and apparent need to fuck you.

 “God, do I have to do everything for you, sweetheart?” Apparently you had been standing around catching your breath too long for his liking. He had made quick work of his own jacket, shirt, and dress pants, leaving him in a black pair of boxers. You hated admitting how magnificent he looked. He was muscular, but not in the same way someone like Reiner or Erwin was. Every single limb on him was lengthy and wiry, thus the bruise marks forming on your neck. While on the subject of length, from what you could see, it applied to his cock as much as it did his other appendages. If it looked that good through the black fabric, you couldn’t even dream of what it would look like out in the open, slapping against his defined v-line and abs.

 You hadn’t even noticed him getting closer to you, completely forgetting about his earlier demand turned complaint.

 “Not only are you a harlot, you’re a useless one, as well.” He came close enough for you to smell the hints of smoke, pine, and black tea that wafted off of him. He started playing with the collar of your shirt. “But damn if you aren’t a pretty one…” He said that more to himself than you, clearly not being comfortable complimenting you. He saw you as a toy, a pawn in his game of chess he was playing with the rest of the world.

 You decided that would be your last deep thought as he began to undress you. Nimbly moving his fingers down each button of your dress shirt, until it came completely undone and bore your chest to him. You were by no means flat, which seemed to entertain the man in front of you.

 “I knew you’d be the perfect slut for me.” He groped your breasts through your bra, hands greedy with the clear goal of making you yearn for him. “Perfect tits, soft skin, pretty face, nice ass, strong will. Yeah, you’ll be fun to break.” He gave you one of his signature smirks, making you want to crush his windpipe and deepthroat his dick at the same time.

 You shrugged your top off your shoulders and let him snake his arms around your chest to undo your bra and expose your tits to the cool air of the room. He didn’t waste time kissing your filthy mouth, and instead skipped straight to your sensitive neck. He slowly dragged his soft lips down your throat, kissing his way over to both sides and under your jaw. He licked and sucked at any area that made you gasp or let out some embarrassing little noise you tried to desperately to hide. He hated how you hid, he needed you to need him, to want him at a level beyond human comprehension. He wanted to destroy you, do break you down to your most animalistic and pitiful form. You were strong, that was for damn sure, but he wanted to fix that.

 He took all this into account as he began nipping at the tops of your breasts. He moved from one to the other with no clear pattern. He dragged his tongue down to your right nipple, only touching the tip of his tongue to it, making you shiver in anticipation and let out a small whine. Yes, that was the progress he wanted to see from you. He swirled his tongue around it, slowly making his way to the center, harshly sucking it into his mouth. He pulled his sinful mouth away from you, leaving a trail of saliva connecting him to you. He quickly made his way to your other nipple, doing the same and driving you just as wild.

 “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to make more noise, darling.” He teased, sounding genuinely annoyed with you.

 “Well, maybe if you did a better job, I would be louder.” You had discovered your talent of keeping up with his smart mouth, and you used it to your advantage. You wanted to rile him up; to get a rise out of him. As previously stated, you didn’t want a vanilla little love making session, you wanted to fuck.

 “Alright then, if you’re so keen on keeping quiet,” he put his rough hands on your bare shoulders, pushing you back onto the ground, this time on your knees, “how about I stuff that mouth?” You hated how good he was at turning you on.

 He pulled his dick out right in front of your face, letting it lay on his toned abs, just as you had envisioned it. It was easily 10 inches long, 5 inches thick, with a slight upturn that could drive you insane if it hit the right spots, which it would. It was flushed pink and dripping pre-cum; it was pretty.

 “Well, are you just going to gawk at it or are you going to make yourself useful, slut?” The sweet pet names were out the window, swiftly replaced with the most debasing insults he could think of. To avoid any more of his smart ass remarks, you took his thick cock in your hands. You slowly stroked it, taking in exactly how big it was. You moved your plush lips closer, giving it a few small kitten licks to test the waters. You kissed the head and gave longer licks up the side, earning a grunt or two from the man above you. As you began to swirl your tongue around his tip, his strong hand came down and pushed on the back of your head. It wasn’t gentle, forcing you to take him down your throat. Considering his size, it was no shock that you choked on it at first, but he kept his hand on your hair, forcing you to stay on him.

 “That’s it, sweetheart, keep that dirty mouth on fat cock.” Tears starting pooling in your eyes as you struggled to breath around his length. “Aww, are you actually crying?” He cooed, taking sick pleasure in mocking you. “How pathetic of you, darling.” His words send shockwaves of shame and pleasure down to your core. You abhorred how badly you needed him inside of you. As he let out a low moan, he pulled you off his cock, tugging your hair just enough to make you even wetter.

 “Alright, angel. I’m not a big fan of blowjobs, so we’ll leave it at that.” You coughed a little as he bent down to your heaving form.

 “Really? That’s a shock.” That was your genuine reaction. You were far too fucked out to be a smart ass at this point.

 “Yeah, you’re not the first to make that observation.” Much to your surprise, he picked you up bridal style, barely breaking a sweat in the process of getting you to his bedroom. Though the lights were on, you couldn’t take in many details, your cock drunk state making it difficult to process anything other than the warm, bare skin of the monster you tried so hard to vanquish.

 “Now, lets get these cute little panties off, hmm?” You had forgotten him taking off your pants in the heat of the moment. His menacing figure loomed overtop of you, slowly sinking down to your thighs. He placed licks and kisses all over them, leaving a few bite marks along with them. You moaned louder than before, feeling too blissed out to care about your pride. You felt large, tepid fingers hooking themselves between your legs and into your panties. He pulled them to the side, wanting to really take you in. Despite his lust for power and dominance, he much preferred giving head to receiving it, especially when it came to women and their soft, tender pussies. You were no exception to this rule.

 “Goddamn you’re fucking wet.” You looked up at you, making you lean your head back to avoid his gaze. “You must like me more than you care to admit, sweetie.” Just after saying this, he ran one long finger up your dripping slit, coating his fingertip in your slick. He looked at it shimmering in the low light of the room, grinning before taking it into his mouth and tasting what your cunt had to offer.

 “You taste like heaven. Surprising, considering what a nasty girl you are.” Unlike you, he could keep that smartass act up for hours on end, no matter how lost in your sex he was. He landed a chaste kiss to your throbbing heat before flattening his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle. He began to devour you, making the lewdest noises you had ever heard in the process. You felt amazing, and disgusting, and just about every other emotion you had ever felt in your life. He was a god at eating your pussy, feeling no remorse in having his lips and beard dripping with your juices. To hell with the burn marks he left on your thighs and the burning sense of guilt you had for moaning so loud and creaming all over the face of your greatest enemy. Shame and guilt were for foolish children with no place in the world, Zeke wanted to enjoy every last second of destroying you.

 As he continued to lick and suck at your most sensitive spots, you began to feel your stomach tighten, signaling your closeness. Zeke noticed as well, taking note of your erupting moans and groans and tugs at his silky hair. He moaned on your clit, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You came all over his face, arching your back of the soft sheets and making you scream his name. He kept his lips attached to your clit as you came down from your high, keeping you ensnared in his trap of bliss.

 “God, you moan like a fucking whore, you know that?” The way he insulted you felt disgustingly good, especially coming from such a obnoxiously handsome man.

 “And you eat pussy like a god.” The veil of hatred came off in one foul swoop. You couldn’t hold back how you truly felt about Zeke Yeager. You were in love with the way he treated you, and spoke to you, and ate you, and soon enough, fucked you. He was so damn good, and you just hated to love and loved to hate him.

 “Oh, do I now?” He let out a low chuckle, taking pride in how helpless and stupid he had made you. “Does that make me your god, pet?” It wasn’t a real question. He knew the answer, and he loved that answer: yes.

 “Now, how about I partake in some earthly pleasures and fuck your brains out, sweetheart?” He questioned, moving his arms up to rest on both sides of your head. His face was right above yours, lips hovering over your breathless, panting ones.

 “Yes, please.” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you grew impatient and needy as all hell. Zeke had a sinister idea. God was a nice term, but he could think of a better one.

 “How about you beg daddy for it?” He was such a disgusting pervert, and he relished in it. You mustered all the strength you could in order to speak.

 “Please fuck my pussy, daddy.” That was all he needed to push himself inside your tight heat. Your walls clenched as he thrusted balls deep inside of you, not caring if you needed to adjust or not. Luckily, you didn’t, despite his size.

 “Fuck yes, angel. You’re so goddamn tight.” He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, using you more than making love to you, which is exactly what you both wanted. Your walls clenched and throbbed as he brought you to orgasm once again.

 “Cumming all over my cock, sweetheart? Such a dirty whore.” He teased, continuing his motions, hitting your g-spot over and over again without much issue. His dick was perfect, reaching every inch of you that made you scream out in pleasure and overstimulated bliss. All of this for a few bags of cocaine and bullets. You weren’t even thinking of that as he pounded into you, getting rougher and sloppier than before. He was getting close to his own high just as you were about to reach your third. No one had ever made you feel like this. You never wanted to let him go. Fuck everyone you cared about, this was too damn good to throw away.

 “Where do you want my cum, slut?” He asked seconds before climaxing.

 “Wherever you want it, daddy.” That was exactly what he wanted to hear. You had been molded into the perfect toy for him, even if it was just for the moment. He had debased and perverted you, like putty in his hands. You thought you could just waltz in there and take what you wanted from him. But no, instead you were writhing around on his bed with his fat cock filling up your pussy while you screamed for your daddy. You were filthy, slutty perfection. He quickly pulled out of you and shot his cum on your stomach and chest. Noticing you were still squirming around, he pushed his thumb to your clit and rubbed circles as two of his fingers entered you and hit your sweet spot.

 “Come on, slutty girl, cum for daddy.” This time felt different than the others. You were completely out of your mind with pleasure and lust, and he was hitting just the right spots. You came around his fingers, squirting your juices and ruining his sheets. As if he could sense it, he had moved his face down just in time for it to reach his mouth, coating yet another layer of your cum on his beard. He licked his lips, savoring you taste and the blissed out, fuck drunk look on your face. He wished he could keep you like this forever. No, he would make sure to keep you like this forever. You were going to be his for the rest of time, no matter what it took. Even if he had to play the long game and pretend you had a choice in the matter.

 “Well, sweetheart, I’m afraid you have to go home empty handed. I’m sure those tarts will just pat you on the head and congratulate you for trying your best. That’s why they’ll never surpass me, and that’s why you will come crawling back to me.” You couldn’t respond, too disappointed and drained to say a word.

 “I have a shower that I recommend you use.” He looked down at you, your eyes hazy and barely focused on him. You were completely exposed to him. You looked beautiful. “In an act of civility, I’ll let you sleep here tonight. On a different bed, of course, considering the damage you’ve done.” You laughed at that, and he followed suite.

 “You know Zeke, for a monster, you’re not too bad.” You looked at him, admiration clear in your eyes.

 “You’re not too unbearable either.”

[bigskydreaming]

Hello, hello, tis I, your friendly neighborhood ‘dude who is obsessed with people making jokes and insults out of Dick’s name’ back with another episode of Why No But Seriously Why!

In today’s episode, we’re going to focus on the fanon of the swear jar. That thing ordained by Alfred that makes many an appearance in fics and headcanons....including ones that also show Jason and/or others calling Dick a Dickhead and other things all willy nilly and suchlike and forthwith.

How does this track, asketh I? Does Alfred provide exemption clauses for making fun of your brother, to the others? Does Alfred not consider making crude insults out of the name Dick to be a swear? Does Alfred, a born Brit, hailing from the land of the “We’ve Been Calling Richards ‘Dicks’ For Longer Than The Rest Of You Have Been Calling Them Rich’s,” not consider the fascination with making penis jokes out of the name of a child he’s helped raised from the age of EIGHT to be uncultured, crass and frankly unacceptable in any house he resides in?

I’m just saying, does it really make sense, and is the risk of pulling readers out of your story if they’re NOT amused by the jokes made of his name really worth whatever it is you feel is added to a story BY making the same old jokes about Dick’s name?

As I’ve said many times before....Dick Grayson? Fictional character. Has no feelings that actually need protecting....OUTSIDE of fiction. Making jokes about his name from beyond the fourth wall, just people commenting on a fictional character’s name? Go wild, go crazy, have a freaking Bacchanalia. Truly does not matter, if you ask me.

But IN universe? IN fiction? Totally different story, because look what those jokes require or make assumptions out of:

1) That Dick truly has no protective or defensive feelings whatsoever about his childhood nickname, and genuinely feels nothing about people habitually taking his choice to keep it as an invitation to insult or mock him.

1b) That Dick doesn’t in any way ever perceive peoples’ insistence on associating his name MORE with the insults and penis jokes than they do with it just being a name, to in any way be a slight against his beloved parents, of the “well they should have known better than to call him that” variety.

1c) That Dick has no negative feelings whatsoever about the fact that even his close friends and family regard his name as being no more worthy of respect or being ‘offlimits’ than the average Gothammite or public citizen might regard it, despite the fact that his close friends and family are perfectly aware of the public’s history of looking down on Dick for his origins and thus you’d think would WANT to appear different than them in Dick’s eyes.

1d) That Dick has never at any point expressed anger, frustration or bitterness that he can’t even have his name respected without even loved ones superimposing their own associations on top of it, no matter what it means to HIM.

2) That Alfred truly has no opinions whatsoever of the other charges in his care disrespecting Dick’s name and its origins stemming from his first parents.

2b) That Alfred has never expressed this opinion to any of them or made his displeasure about such jokes known.

2c) That Alfred doesn’t find it disappointing that the rest of the family and associated friends and allies seem disinclined to separate themselves from the general public’s opinions of Dick’s name by regarding it with a little more respect as at least a sign that they regard Dick himself with a little more respect than the general public.

3) That Jason or none of Dick’s other friends or family have never taken the initiative to wonder for themselves how Dick might actually feel about the frequent jokes or insults, and if shockingly, he might not actually be fond of them.

3b) That Jason or Dick’s other friends or family have chosen not to care or respect the opinions of Dick and/or Alfred or anyone else who states or suggests that these jokes or insults aren’t welcome.

4) That none of Dick’s other friends, be they Titans, or Uncle Clark, or siblings like Cass or Damian or frankly anyone, ever speak up in defense of Dick’s name and suggest that there’s a significant lack of respect around it and thus around him, that they personally take a very dim view of. (Even when Jason’s best friends include Dick’s former fianceé and own longtime BFF).

5) That nobody has ever bothered to think that only EVER being addressed by some form of insult by even his own siblings might possibly have a slightly demoralizing effect on someone’s self-esteem over time.

5b) That nobody has ever bothered to think that making sexual jokes about his name and thus innately sexualizing Dick from even his earliest days in Gotham, when coupled with the hyper-sexualized stereotypes people often apply to Romani individuals and further coupled with the suggestive rumors surrounding Bruce’s reasons for taking in a young boy, might possibly have contributed over time to Dick having an extremely skewed view of himself as an innately sexualized being no matter what he actually did in terms of sexual behavior.

I mean.....there’s more. If I felt like it.

But the point is......there’s a LOT of implicit assumptions that creep in alongside the seemingly harmless jokes and insults surrounding Dick’s name, the second you start to really focus in on how it might appear from his POV....IF you include even just the possibility that he DOESN’T like it.

EDIT: Also, lots of people have pointed out that its just sibling culture to make fun of a sibling in ways that you wouldn’t be okay with someone outside the family making the same jokes. And this is absolutely true! BUT. My issue here and why I don’t think the Dickhead jokes fall under this umbrella, is because I can say in my experience being from a blended family, and from what I’ve discussed in the past with other kids from blended families....there are ‘rules’ about this sort of thing, when you have adopted siblings, and the one near-universal truth that I’ve always found is that anything that stems from an adopted sibling’s first family, the one you do NOT share with them, is absolutely off limits. You mock them for something that originated outside your family, you’re the asshole, because at that point, you’re literally no different from outsiders to your current family making fun of that sibling. That ‘joke’ is not YOURS to make or share in, if you do not have the history with the thing you’re basing the joke on, that your sibling has with it. Shared history is the entire basis of siblings being able to mock each other while still citing solidarity against outsiders, and in adopted families, there absolutely are elements of each others’ lives that YOU are the outsider to, and it absolutely falls on you to respect that just as you’d want your sibling to respect the same of you in turn. If Jason absolutely would not be okay with Dick or anyone else making jokes about Catherine or his life with her, he should not be okay with making jokes about Dick’s name, circus origins, or other aspects of his life that stem from or call back to his time with his first family. The same holds true of all the others as well.

The other aspect of this name-calling not falling under the excuse-umbrella of just being typical sibling culture is its entirely one-sided. Show me the tendency where Dick responds to these everpresent jokes or insults by even light-heartedly calling Jason and the others insults like Hey Asshole, or Dumbass or anything like that. When things are entirely one-way, the impression given is not that of a camaraderie of back-and-forth. It becomes just one person or multiple people punching down in a way they feel confident from experience the other person will NOT respond in kind, which gives them an outlet for venting frustration, resentment or aggravation which risks them nothing, because they KNOW Dick won’t retaliate, and at that point that exchange becomes something very different from a general sibling back-and-forth....because there’s no ‘back.’ What you end up with at that point is literally just hostility, no matter if more mild than other cases, and a situation where one sibling is simply taking ADVANTAGE of the opportunity afforded by another sibling’s good nature and refusal to engage in hurt feelings even while you feel free to cause those feelings in them. And that’s just not a good look. Its just not. And even if you find those exchanges humorous yourself as a writer or a reader, you might want to keep in mind that to plenty of other readers, its making even the characters you like and INTEND to be liked, just....come across as kinda not cool assholes instead.

END OF EDIT.

And here’s the other point:

Its not really about his name, and never has been.

His name is simply emblematic of how EASY it is for people to fall into the trap of just....choosing to overlook Dick’s POV entirely, the second its pitted against other characters and what they might gain from their POV....even if that ‘gain’ is as simple and basic as the slight moment of humor Jason gets from making a joke or mocking insult out of Dick’s name.

Here, let me present this another way:

Every single person alive has SOMETHING they get defensive or protective about. SOMETHING that they’re like no, this is offlimits to people, this is not for their consumption, their entertainment, its not for THEM to take and twist into something other than what it is for ME, because its MINE. This is basic human nature. EVERYONE has this feeling about SOMETHING that’s particular to them.

And with Dick, most of the things that we’re generally given to view him being protective or defensive about are either almost more about other people than him - such as being protective of his family members - or else, they’re things that he’s not ALLOWED to be purely defensive or say, territorial about.

Like for instance, the name Robin.

Think about how Robin is pretty much one of the ONLY things Dick is largely deemed to be defensive or proprietary about.....BUT how that’s also largely used NOT to have him wholly in the right for feeling that way.....but to put him in conflict with the other Robins, given that they also have strong feelings about the name regardless of its origins, and its not solely Dick’s anymore.

Now here’s my question:

If for example, you go with the take that Robin was Dick’s mother’s name for him, and that’s why Dick is so protective and defensive of that name.....why would he be any LESS protective or defensive about his mother AND father’s OTHER name for him....given that the only possible reason for him TO stick with the name Dick all throughout adulthood, is that its the form of his name they referred to him by, and thus, clearly, it DOES carry emotional significance for him?

See what I’m saying?

Why is it, that the only time so many people see Dick laying a claim to something, being defensive or protective of something that’s HIS, standing up for HIMSELF.....is when the waters are murky, when its not a clear cut case of him being wholly in the right, when it pits Dick against someone else and says both are at least somewhat valid?

Why is it so RARE to see people imagine Dick putting his foot down in defense of himself, in defense of something that’s HIS.....where its 100% crystal clear that he has every right and reason in the world to feel this way, where there’s no doubt whatsoever that he’s on the correct side of thinking “this is mine and I get to say this”?

Even about something as simple and basic as his own name?

And why is it the only time we seem to see people sticking up for Dick or weighing in on his behalf, its in the case of extreme actions like him having been raped or abused? Why are there hardly any stories of people looking at alleged family and friends bitching about Dick or heaping insults on him or his capabilities and saying hey, he’s been doing this while most of us were sitting in middle school detention, you could show him some respect? Why do none of the people who value and respect Dick so highly ever seem to weigh in like THAT in stories?

My challenge, should you choose to accept it, is just to look at the above list of possible reasons why Dick might not be thrilled about how people use his name....and just IMAGINE what it would look like, if Dick just said to another character....”Hey. Could you cut that out. I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” Even just “I really don’t like that.”

How does a scene like that go? One where Dick is wholly and completely justified in putting his foot down, in feeling that someone is overstepping or paying him an insult or a disservice?

We hear all the time in fandom about how in the name of ‘humanizing’ Dick and ‘making him more relatable’ some people focus overly much on emphasizing his flaws, his alleged temper, his secretiveness, etc.

I’d like to argue that flaws are not actually the only staple of humanity. Risking making a character more dislikable is not actually the only way to make them feel more human or relatable. THIS is another way to do that. Make them defensive, proprietary, territorial, even prickly.....but with REASON. With CAUSE. With JUSTIFICATION. Because people are ALLOWED to be, when people are being a - all irony intended - total dick to them.

And there is a long, LONG history in fanfics, of people being exactly that to Dick, and him just....smiling.

EXCEPT for when his choice NOT to smile, and to actually take offense and push back......pits him against another character but with the other character usually being granted just as much right and reason to not give way.

So? I’m saying you have right here a perfect example of how to flip the script on that. To make it abundantly clear that Dick has just as much right to put his foot down with even people who love and care about him and say hey, you’re doing something I don’t like, that in fact even hurts me, and I want you to stop.

Why not use it? Why does there always seem to need to be an ARGUMENT about whether or not Dick is in the right to feel wronged in some way.....when its so abundantly clear that he’s given no shortage of reasons for that in practically every other fic?

And consider.....if you’ve never previously entertained the idea that Dick might take offense to how people treat his name, or feel defensive about it......what else might you be overlooking that he could feel that way about, and is there any reason why you think you tend not to view Dick as being defensive of HIMSELF and things that are uniquely his?

*Shrugs* Just food for thought, mayhaps.

[jolyneswife-anime-reviews]

Puella magi madoka magica anime review

Spoilers for madoka magica and tw for obsession, despair and death

Please note: this review doesn't cover Magia Record, the spinoff series. I have made a separate post regarding that.

“If someone tells me it’s wrong to hope, I’ll tell them they’re wrong every time!”- Madoka Kaname

Genre: psychological, action, tragedy, magical girl (Yuri implications)

Where I watched it: Netflix

Characters: 8.5/10 (The series wastes no time getting the point across, and this attitude is reflected in the characters- all unique, beautifully developed throughout the series, they are reflections of all the different things being "human," can mean, with characterization being used as a tool to explore key themes in the anime- selfishness and selflessness, hope and despair, good and evil etc. Personally, I think Sayaka in particular was crucial to the reader if they were to understand life for magical girls, as she started off the anime as the bright picture of hope, just a regular teenage girl who wanted justice, and by the end, she was in a very different position)

Setting: 9/10 (This is some of the best visual storytelling I've seen in anime, with the witches' labyrinths reflecting them as people in so much detail we get overwhelmed, and the last battle between a witch and Sayaka being treated with simplistic setting and contrasting black, white and red to direct your focus to her, and her suffering. There's often something happening in the background, which, more often than not, holds hidden meaning in terms of the story)

Plot:10/10 (the anime is only 12 episodes in length, short and straight to the point, but it does its job at telling the story, wasting no time to build a wholesome and light-hearted facade for the first few episodes, before tearing that all away in a matter of minutes and heading in a much darker, more sinister direction)

Comfort: 3/10 (this is not a light or a comforting watch as it explores several dark themes, with things often not ending on a positive light for the clueless girls who decide to become magical girls)

Philosophy: 8.5/10 (this anime sits almost unrivalled when it comes to symbolism and the depth of analysis that can be done, such as the nature of wishes and what makes an action truly selfless)

Art style: 8.5/10 (the art tends to be on the cute, aesthetic side at first, which is visually pleasing and in line with the facade of perfection. This changes with the witches' labyrinths, which look a bit like brightly coloured collages, and in the darker scenes the pallet turns more dull to match the mood)

Originality: 9/10 (although we're not strangers to "dark" magical girl anime now, madoka magica was the first of its kind and, with its unique visions and plot twists, paved the way for many others)

Consistency: 9/10 (the quality stays high throughout the episodes and even the film, without fillers or too much fan service)

Addictiveness: 9/10 (This anime easily makes it to my top 5 this year- the characters, plot and setting are crafted so meticulously, it's guaranteed to get you hooked- the complexity of the world, the explorations of the girls' true nature and the ever deepening mystery of what a magical girl is make this a very addictive series.)

Average score: 8.4

Madoka Magica starts off like a seemingly normal slice of life anime, with girls who lead privileged lives and have no bigger problems than boys or looks. Once the mysterious transfer student is introduced and gives Madoka an ominous warning not to change her life to protect herself and those she loves, the plot starts moving. After being rescued by veteran magical girl Mami Tomoe from a witch labyrinth, the girls discover you can make a contract with Kyubey, a seemingly harmless creature from outer space, where he grants you any wish of your choice in exchange for your service as a magical girl fighting witches. The girls view it in a positive light at first, but after they witness a few fights and encounter the "real" magical girls, things quickly turn sinister. The girls realize they have essentially sold their soul and signed a death warrant in exchange for flawed and misguided (though well meant) wishes and spiral into despair as they try to find a way out. The only person who can provide this is Madoka, who has been watching from the sidelines, terrified, but has so much potential as a magical girl that she could potentially become god.

Masterlist