#is that I was consumed by a new fandom and only now been able to you know

[rara-is-trying-art]

Codywan upon all

[19catsncounting]

I Got Really Into Anti/Proship Discourse And Read +30 Academic Studies - My Findings

(It’s a Yapfest but the whole post is a very long essay and study on morality and fiction and children’s safety and rape culture with a fuckton of freely accessible academic articles and resources on the subject, and I want to talk to other people about it. For a shorter abstract with all the articles and more easily ignored yapping, see my shiny new Carrd:)

It’s been a little shocking lately to have certain discussions with some parts of fandom. I spoke about shipping/harassment and how that contributes to the death of fandom on TikTok assuming that younger folks are just really, really intense about preventing sexual violence, but the more I saw the words “morally wrong” and “disgusting” and “addiction,” the more I thought about this guy-

That’s Jerry Falwell, and I fucking hate this dead guy. You see, Jerry Falwell was a preacher who hated porn, feminism, and homosexuality. And I'm seeing his rhetoric and reworked quotes a lot.

Jerry would say stuff like:

“Pornography hurts anyone who reads it - garbage in, garbage out.”

“Someone must not be afraid to say ‘moral perversion is wrong.’ If we do not act now, homosexuals will ‘own’ America!”

Jerry wanted people to believe that it’s possible to see so much sexual content that it warps your sexuality, because he was gay and wanted to think that was due to thinking about gay sex too much. Jerry did not have a lot of evidence to prove that homosexuality was harmful, so he relied heavily on how “morally distasteful” it seemed to be to suburban Americans.

I spent the majority of my teen years arguing against Jerry’s rhetoric for the right to live as a lesbian online, and I never thought I’d see morality rhetoric in people I’m otherwise very politically aligned with. And I definitely never thought fandom of all things, in all its beautiful subversive glory, would seriously start advocating for censorship, anti-porn, and to consume fanwork with moral purity.

So, I’d like to have a deeper discussion on it, both here on Tumblr and on TikTok, but that does mean checking a few things at the door:

Personal feelings decide your personal life. What you feel is valid for you, not anyone else.

In general, things that do not cause direct and undeniable harm should not be broadly prohibited just because they’re weird or distasteful to the majority of folks. Ex. Loitering does not cause harm and is a tool of systemic oppression.

The discussion of “fictional CSEM” is the most inflammatory fork of this and it is often used to derail these kinds of conversations. This is all I will say on it - the legal status of explicit visual depictions of minors is muddy. In the US, there is just one dude in Utah who pled guilty for possessing explicit lolicon he bought by mail order without also possessing CSEM with real children, and explicit writing about fictional minors has been settled as protected free speech. Dedicated organizations from the NCMEC to Chris Hansen have asked that fictional content is not reported as CSAM as it is not actionable and clogs up finite resources. 90% of NCMEC reports were not actionable last year. There are studies suggesting that virtual CSEM or other non-victim alternatives could reduce actual child harm, but there is need for further research.

We’re all in agreement that untagged NSFW is not cool, and kids deserve kid-only sections of the internet. People who are triggered by or dislike problematic content deserve to be able to not see it. 👍

 (I’ve seen the argument that blocking tags/people should not be required - sorry, PTSD still requires that you manage your triggers, up to and including swearing off platforms just as I have sworn off bars/soap brands/etc to avoid my triggers.)

I have found a lot of accessible and free articles and studies that I will link throughout so that we can discuss the fact-based reasoning, in an effort to have a civil conversation.

(Also because we are not flat earthers, we are Fandom, and if we’re going to be annoying little shitheels in an “Um Actually” contest, we’re going to have the sources to back it up.)

Minors and Explicit Material

I’m not supporting minors engaging with explicit material. I have such little interest in the subject that I’m not even going to bring in articles, but you can feel free to. I personally engaged with explicit material as a preteen of my own free will and did not find it to be harmful, and the majority of people throughout human history have been exposed to explicit material at an early age with varying degrees of harm. There are undeniable legal and harm-driven differences between a 12 year old girl looking at Hustler on her own, a 14 year old boy being sent nudes from a grown woman, and a 6 year old viewing PornHub. (And I think the guardians of that 6 year old should be charged with grooming just like the woman, tbh.)

Personal Disclaimer

I’m an adult survivor of CSA and incest. I’m a happily married adult. I don’t personally like lolicon/shotacon/kodocon. I don’t like kids. I don’t like teens. I’m personally not attracted to underage fictional characters. I have family, the idea of fucking any of them makes me want to throw up and die, so I don’t write or read RPF of my family.

I am really, really fucking intense about preventing sexual violence, supporting survivors, and fandom, which is where this all comes from.

I read and love problematic fiction - my favorites are ASOIAF, Lolita, and VC Andrews. The most “problematic” thing I’ve personally written are Lucifer/Michael fics from Supernatural back in 2012. They are “brothers” in CW Christ, not blood. They do not have any blood.

Gen Z and Online Grooming

In 2002, a survey of 1500 minors from 10-17 found that 4% had been solicited for sexual purposes by an adult online.

In 2023, that number increased to 20%.

While the linked 2023 Thorn report suggests that the vast majority of these inappropriate interactions happened on platforms that allow for interpersonal communication, which by and large minors were greatly discouraged from and had less access to in the early 2000’s, a trauma-informed approach does not allow for blame to fall on the children. The guardians of those children have monumentally failed to restrict and educate before giving children the means to access those platforms.

It is my uncited but personal opinion that the increased rate of grooming, as well as an increased interest in combating rape culture, has led to well-intentioned individuals to become digital vigilantes attacking those who they hold responsible for their traumatic experiences in a search for catharsis and justice denied for themselves as well as a desire to make the internet safer for other children, whom they are increasingly aware are entering online spaces unsupervised at distressingly young ages.

Is harassment and bullying bad for perpetrators of it?

Before we get into how ship-related hate campaigns do not affect predation or combat rape culture, we should acknowledge that it’s actually pretty harmful for the people who cyberbully. Not just in the legal/social consequences, but people who participate in cyberbullying and cyberhate campaigns have higher rates of depression, estrangement from their parents, self-effacing habits, social anxiety, lower empathy, and so forth.

One study suggests that the treatment and prohibitive for cyberbullying, which contributes to a culture of cyberhate and a lower likelihood to report or confront other incidents of harassment or toxicity online, can be combatted with media competency to increase empathy along with other important life skills.

Some Common Pro-Censorship Myths

“Pornography is Addictive/Consumption of Pornography Leads to Increasingly Hardcore Imagery And Ultimately Real-World Violence” - The American Psychological Association does not recognize Porn Addiction as real and the DSM-5 does not classify it as an addiction. Additionally, many methods used in articles claiming that porn is addictive or causes users to seek out more hardcore material were flawed or biased. There is actually some evidence that compulsive porn use, the closest you can get to a porn addiction diagnosis, is associated with shame and the user’s belief that pornography is morally wrong, which sex-negative attitudes encourage.

“Jaws caused shark culling” - That's unfortunately a simplification that ignores a LOT of surrounding context. WW2’s modern naval battles with an increase of ship sinkings and thus contact with sharks prompted the invention and use of shark repellant by aviators and sailors in the 1940’s. The most deadly and famous shark attack of all time was the USS Indianapolis sinking in 1945, which led to 12-150 deaths. The 1974 book Jaws by Peter Benchley, which was the entire basis of the movie, was inspired by One Fucking Dude who started shark hunting tours and overall seemed to have a really immaculate vibe. The interstate highways that finished in the 1950’s increased beach tourism in the 60’s and onwards, inspiring the American surf culture, further increasing the cultural desire to purge sharks for the new swath of beachgoers and their fondness for using surfboards which make them look like seals to sharks. Additionally, 1975’s Jaws inspired a huge desire for education about sharks, and the relationship between problematic media and education will be the core of this yapperoni pizza.

“The Slendermen Killings/Other Fiction Inspired Crimes” - The ACLU states that “There is no evidence that fiction has ever driven a sane person to violence.” Inspired crimes are indeed no less tragic, and thankfully rare, but people who suffer from inability to discern reality and fiction do not necessarily need fiction to commit violence. The “Son of Sam” murder spree was not inspired by a book or movie, but instead Berkowitz’ auditory hallucinations.

“Violent videogames DO cause violence” - After a great deal of funding and study, the American Psychological Association has concluded that teens and younger may have increased feelings of aggression and not necessarily physically violent outbursts as a direct effect, but older teens and young adults do not encounter statistically meaningful rates of aggression.

“Your brain can’t tell the difference between fiction and reality” - Factually incorrect. Children as young as 5 years old can tell the difference, and they can even be more suspicious about “facts” that come from sources they know also host fiction, such as TV shows.

“This stuff shouldn’t be online because it can be used to groom a child” - While I could not find specific statistics on how often pornography is used to desensitize child victims, nor how often that is specifically used in online grooming, and especially not how much of that pornography is made from fictional characters - out of a mixed group of convicted offenders with adult and child victims, 55% of offenders used pornography to manipulate their victim. I would never refute that explicit fanart or fanfic could be used to desensitize a child, but that is by far not the only tool (asking about sexual experiences/identity, making jokes, etc is extremely common grooming behavior), and there is no evidence to suggest that it is used to a statistically significant degree. In my own anecdotal experience, normal vanilla legal pornography is used with far greater prevalence, and there isn’t a similar movement to shame its production for that possibility. Nor should the creators of any material, pornographic or otherwise, share blame in the actions of a predator.

The Fiction Affects Reality Carrd

(No hate to the person who made it, in fact I give props to them for trying to find unbiased sources, I just want to point out that their interpretations of their articles are kinda flawed and one of their studies is a kind of a perfect example on small and culturally biased samples.)

Reading Fiction Impacts Aggressive Behavior - (I cannot access the full study but this article is the primary source used in the Carrd and it goes into detail) - A study showed that 67 university students were more annoyed with a loud buzzer after reading a short story about a physical fight between roommates compared to a story with nonviolent revenge. However, this study was conducted at Brigham Young University, the same campus where we got a whole video series of hot ethical takes like “I’d rather shoot a kitten than drink coffee,” so uh. Yeah. Kind of a prime example on why it’s important to have large and culturally varied sampling. (Another BYU study with 137 BYU students being odd about moral ambiguity in fiction, just because I’m starting to add Dr. Sarah M. Coyne to my list of “Sarah’s That I Dislike.”)

Your Brain on Fiction - a NYT article that describes Theory of the Mind and how fMRIs captured how readers’ minds would light up centers of muscle control when reading sentences like “Peter kicked.” The quote “The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life; in each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated” is speaking of motor functions. Emotional centers of the brain were not included in the study.

How Fiction Changes Your World - a Boston Globe article that actually describes how people who read more fiction are more empathetic and tend to believe in a just world. It does not state that the empathy a reader feels for fictional characters extends to corrupting their moral compass. In fact, there’s such a thing as a “fictive license” to explore taboo themes more thoroughly because it is not real - 123 participants were interviewed after watching two actors play the part of detective and murderer being interviewed, and participants who were told it was fake had more varied and inquisitive responses.

The Social Impact of Books - Actually reuses the previous study about the just world, so point remains. Empathy is understanding, not mirroring.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Survivors of Trauma?

It absolutely depends on the individual.

Writing expressively about traumatic experiences has been shown to be effective to reduce depression, or more effective in reducing dysphoria and anxiety than talking to fellow survivors, and Written Exposure Therapy is broadly prescribed to survivors of trauma, with one study centering on car crash survivors finding that WET resolved their PTSD symptoms and continued to be effective after a year.

In this study, which sadly is not available online but it is too important to leave out completely, survivors of CSA were given fictional novels about CSA and in closely reading and analyzing those stories, were able to understand their own experiences and were indeed drawn to write about their own experiences as well.

Engaging in problematic fiction, like all fiction, allows for consent as well as control. If at any point a survivor does not feel in control or wishes to stop, they can at that instant. They can even rewrite their narratives and take control of their story in fictionalizing and changing the account. They can even try to understand what their abuser felt through fiction, which is helpful considering that the vast majority of survivors had a relationship that had been positive and even loving with their abusers at times.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Everyone Else?

It again depends on the individual.

Antis might be a little right that most people don't want to read problematic stories. In a study exploring whether fiction can corrode morals, 83% of study participants stated that they would prefer not to read a short story justifying baby murder if they had the choice, even if that exploration isn’t inherently harmful.

This very small sample study of 13 participants discussed how young women interpreted sexual themes in writing, including explicit fanfiction, and how that was beneficial and informative to explore sexual desire and examine healthy and unhealthy relationships in a safe and controlled environment.

This meta-analysis further discusses how problematic and sexual themes in YA literature are useful to illustrate what sexual violence looks like, and begin educational conversations through those depictions to break down harmful myths such as “if she didn’t scream, she wanted it.”

Empowered by the “Fictive License” previously cited, problematic fiction can be beneficial for anyone who desires and is capable of consuming and analyzing it.

This study analyzing abusive aspects of three films - Beauty and the Beast, Twilight, and 50 Shades of Gray - concluded that these abusive themes should be discussed to increase recognition and awareness, not censored based on those problematic themes.

This study of 53 women were asked to read different versions of fictional intimate partner violence flags, or “toxic behavior” like surveillance, control, etc. In every version of the story, whether the female or male had those behaviors either courting or committed, the women recognized the behavior as wrong.

Another study that reading allows for the moral laboratory to explore morality in fiction without decisive impact to corroding moral permissibility.

Is There Ever Any Point Where Fictional Interests Definitively Speak On Someone’s Morality?

In short - not really. Loving Jason Vorhees does not put you at risk of murdering campers as long as you know he’s not real. Writing Wincest does not mean you look forward to family reunions, as long as you know incest isn’t okay in the real world. The real world, where real people are harmed, is where you find the measure of someone’s character.

This Psychology Today article is the best source I could find for quotes from a fantastic book ‘Who's Been Sleeping in Your Head? The Secret World of Sexual Fantasies’ by Brett Kahr regarding taboo sexual fantasies and how they are not only common, but not inherently harmful.

There are people who enjoy problematic media in an entirely nonsexual sense, of course. I myself don’t get off on problematic media - I think it’s just interesting to explore different experiences, and I think that can be revolutionary.

Additionally, fantasies in general have almost always been in the vein of “things you don’t want to really happen in reality.” In a study of 351 asexuals, more than half reported that they fantasize about having sex, but that doesn’t mean that they actually want to. You can fantasize about dating Billie Eilish - it doesn’t mean that you’d be happy dealing with celebrity culture.

(I personally fantasize about the internet being just for adults, but in practice I think that would be incredibly harmful and isolating for at-risk youth and LGBTQ teens) Fantasies always pluck out only the bits of reality that you want to engage with.

If You Get Off On Fictional Kids, You’re Attracted to Something About Them Being Kids

Not inherently, surprisingly. Wearing a schoolgirl uniform is a pretty common roleplay, and it’s not meant to “fool” the participants into thinking they’re indulging in pedophilia. There’s a wealth of emotional and sexual nuance in that specific kink - innocence and virginity play, tilted power dynamics in ‘scolding’ the uniform wearer for dress code violations, even the concept of a sexually provocative “teenager” can be played with without shame, because the world of fetish and fantasy is separated from condonable actions for the vast, vast majority of adults. (The only study I could find on this is this small study of 100 white guys found on Facebook, which itself states it is not definitive, found that while there might be correlation between attraction to children and interest in schoolgirl uniforms, there is no proof of causation. AKA, the rectangular pedophile might indeed like square schoolgirl uniforms, but not everyone - in fact, the majority at nearly 60% in this very survey - that likes square schoolgirl uniforms is a rectangular pedophile.)

Even sexual age play between adults is not indicative of pedophilia because it exists in a setting between two adults who fully understand that the mechanics are completely fake, allowing the power dynamics that would be abusive between an adult and child to be ethically explored.

I don’t have an official-looking study to cite, but I have asked people who like content about underage fictional characters why they do so. Overwhelmingly, a lot of the ones who like underage age gaps like the fantasy of an older and more experienced character taking a younger one under their wing, to have the opportunity to commit violent and blatantly objectifying harm and yet try to create what inevitably does not truly pass as consent, but seems near enough to the characters. Some think that the characters themselves have an interesting chemistry. Some read underage fic and still imagine the characters as adults. Some like to explore the feelings of shame that the older character must feel and how they mentally compartmentalize to go forward with the relationship, and how the younger character found themself in that vulnerable position - which is exploring a harmful situation through fiction to understand how it could play out in real life.

People who like fictional incest like exploring the shameful components of that taboo relationship - and I have seen a lot of works that compare how bad incest could be to other harms, like the Gravecest route in a game with parental cannibalism. And then there are folks who like analyzing the codependency of having one person fulfill every social need - family, friend, lover, AKA Wincest.

What makes a predator if it’s not just sexual attraction?

90% of CSA survivors know their abuser, discrediting the still-entirely-too-popular Stranger Danger myth. And shockingly, only 50% of abusers are pedophiles.

That means 50% of child molesters do not have sexual interest in children because they are children, but they victimized children because they are more accessible in lieu of adult partners, with increased rates of incest.

While I could not find a specific study on the relation between dehumanization/objectification of child victims and child molesters (and if you find one, please send it to me!), this study speaks on dehumanization as a precursor to adult sexual violence.

This study, conducted on convicted child molesters in prison, showed that child molesters tend to fantasize about children while in a negative mood, further contributing to the theory that child victims are dehumanized prior to abuse.

This very small sample study found that in a mixed sample of internet only/contact crime/mixed offenders, offenders who had contact with children had lower rates of fantasizing about children.

In short, half the time a child predator is someone who wants to offend against a child regardless of attraction to the fact they are a child.

Resources To Recognize Grooming/Abuse Victims/Predators

I would absolutely be remiss to not share my collection of resources to help detect signs of abuse/grooming as well as warning signs of a predator who may be targeting elders/women/teens/children:

Darkness 2 Light is a fantastic resource overall, this page details stages and signs of grooming.

RAINN personally helped me through my PTSD journey, and this article detailing the signs of sexual trauma in teenagers is thorough and non-judgemental

Signs of abuse as well as warning signs of predation that does not use gendered language nor play into the Stranger Danger myth.

Education, not Censorship

I think a lot of the energy against taboo content among young people still has a lot to do with the desire to end rape culture. The tools that we Millennial Tumblrinas gave you Gen Z kids were snatches of leftist theory, deplatforming, and voting with your dollar, so it’s reasonable to think that removing taboo content like pedophilia, incest, rape fights rape culture.

It doesn’t.

Rape culture is fought by education. Comprehensive sex education, education about consent. Talking about what consent looks like, what sex can look like, what rape can look like.

There should be more taboo content to talk about these things, to show all the shades it can look like. From a violent noncon to fics that aren’t even tagged as dubcon yet still are in shades that are hard to suss out, we should talk about it.

A Non-Empirical Example Of Good Media Analysis and Education to Combat Rape Culture

Let’s use the example of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen’s relationship in House of the Dragon. Canonically, in both the book and the show, they have a romantic relationship that appears for the most part to be positive (the show being more contentious but I dedicated an aside to Sarah Hess and our beef at the bottom of my Carrd, but feel free to ask how I feel about writing producers with any variation of the name ‘Sarah’) despite an age gap, a sexual relationship that began while Rhaenyra was a minor, and incest - the problematic hat trick if you will.

I have seen anti-Daemyra shippers condemn Daemyra shippers for “Condoning grooming, age gaps, pedophilia, and incest.” Which is not just a broad, inaccurate, and harmful statement, it’s not at all constructive or educational analysis.

It would actually be beneficial to say “Daemon is grooming Rhaenyra as a teenager with gifts, devoted attention that takes advantage of her isolation and vulnerability, frequent nonsexual touches, the extreme desensitization to sexuality in the brothel visit,” etc etc. And even so, it is not useful to say that people cannot still ship the relationship and acknowledge those aspects. They might want to further explore the issues of consent in their dynamic in fiction, they may want to strip away some of them with narrative reimagining. Some might want to ignore the taboos completely and indulge in the fantasy entirely, and some might find the actors hot as hell - AKA, anyone who watches the show.

It’s honestly a little similar to me in how Jerry Falwell would tell his followers not to watch or read or take in any media that dealt with homosexuality unless it was condemning it - even Will & Grace was on Jerry’s shitlist. And so, Jerry’s followers missed out on a lot of media that could have educated them about queerness, could have humanized queer people for them - and that did not make queers go away. Just like ignoring or shutting out media about incest, rape, and other forms of sexual violence doesn’t make those things go away - it just tends to make you less informed, and little less capable of empathy towards people affected by those subjects.

So let’s stop shaming those that ship a complicated dynamic - you get less fanworks exploring those taboos, and less of a discussion overall. You shut down the morality lab of fiction, and to be honest, it’s wet sock behavior.

Some FanFiction Specific Studies

How dubcon fanfiction can flesh out the intricacies and messiness of realistic consent

A review of darkfic written about Harry Potter in 2005 (which, I will personally attest has never been outdone in how profoundly taboo those works were)

Interviews with 11 Self Insert writers who wrote on themes of rape, abuse, control, yandere, etc, and how that was beneficial to some who had experienced sexual violence themselves

Conclusion:

H…holy shit, you actually read all of that?? Congrats dude! That is a lot of time and brain power to dedicate to any one thing!

By the way, I am not really gifted at writing articles or any of that junk, and I tried to make my hyperlexic ass a little more accessible instead of bringing out all the $5 words. I am literally just an autistic who took a couple technical writing classes over a decade ago and really wanted to sort out my thoughts and try to have a platform for discussion. Also, I am really fucking bad at math. I failed two different college level statistics classes twice each. Gun to my head, I could not tell you what a standard deviation is, which is why I worked entirely with the percentages.

And I do want to have a discussion! I would in fact like to not report anyone for sending me gore or death threats or any of that stuff! I don’t think everyone will agree with me, in fact I’m certain that you could find studies that contradict some of mine, and I’d love to discuss them!

I’m sure it will still be tempting to throw around accusations of pedophilia because sometimes, confronting your previously held beliefs is incredibly uncomfortable. If you could not do that, that would be great? I don’t like being compared to someone who profoundly abused me just because I have a different opinion on how to combat rape culture and empower survivors. If you can do that, I’ll do my absolute best to be cheerful and welcoming and respectful as well. 😁

PS - I’m also not really going to be phased if you call me weird or cringe - I am. Always have been. Cringe, weirdness, and autism have made me do and capable of doing some fantastically neat and impressive stuff. But if you try to say something like “proshippers are too yucky and weird to be in fandom” - I’m going to have to refer you to your similarity to Kate Sanders of Lizzy McGuire fame, you “prEpz >:(“ - [My Immortal, legendary author unknown]

[h2llish]

ミ ˖ ✧ DEVIL'S GHIBLI EVENT

❝ once you've met someone you never really forget them ,,

✉ ─── i've been talking about doing this event for quite some time now after i was introduced to ghibli movies and here it is! there is no deadline for this event because i am only accepting a number of requests, further explanation, along with the rules, below.

♡ ─── rules (please read them carefully!)

♡ as i said, there is a set number of requests i will take, one for each prompt. it's first come, first served event. if the first prompt you wanted is already taken you can try asking for another! this post will be updated regularly, so keep an eye out!

♡ i have not added all ghibli movies, just the ones i really like, and got the best prompt for. some of them are only romantic, some are only platonic, and some can be read as both; i'll be sure to mark them so you know!

♡ i am strictly a male and gender-neutral writer, so do not request for female readers. if no gender is stated, it will be written gender neutral.

♡ all my fandoms apply! that being: twisted wonderland, demon slayer, obey me, stardew valley, and fields of mistria.

♡ if the request isn't exactly as you pictured when requesting i apologize! i'm doing my best!

♡ you can choose to switch the roles of the character and the reader.

that's all! if you have any questions, please let me know!

♡ ─── prompts (you can tell a prompt's been taken when a character's name is beside the prompt)

❝ it just takes a while for your memory to come back to you ,,

howl's moving castle ─ feat. elliott

(romantic) prompt: after a run in with the slightly infamous wizard rumored to consume the hearts of that which they deemed most beautiful ─ you were cursed by a very spiteful witch. with nowhere else to go, and no way to break the spell, you have to rely on that same wizard who you learn isn't quite what people say they are; and you fear, you may be falling in love with them.

spirited away ─ feat. ruggie bucchi

prompt: a move to a new place is stressful; only you weren't warned of the possibility of finding yourself in the world of spirits after a wrong turn and an overly curious pair of parents. and now you're left to fend for yourself with the weight of having to rescue your family on your shoulders, before you're trapped there forever and forget who you once were. ─ although, it helps to have someone who seems to know who you are, willing to help.

kiki's delivery service ─ feat. eiland

prompt: when coming of age, you must set out to begin a life as a brand-new witch. and after doing just that, you find yourself in a big city, with new people, interesting sights and ─ a loss of magic? it's an adventure you start to question if you're ready for, but in the end, you're happy to have the people you've met there at your side.

princess mononoke ─ feat. idia shroud

(romantic) prompt: after saving your village from a cursed and rampaging boar, a god, you're suddenly ailed with that same deadly curse. with the consequence of never being able to return again, you set out to rid yourself of this curse, only to find yourself in the middle of a war between humans and the gods of the forest. you meet a human who was raised by gods, with the intention to kill anyone who threatens their home and their family. ─ but perhaps, you realize, you're both in over your head.

my neighbor totoro ─ feat. epel felmier

(platonic) prompt: moving to a new house to reunite and grow closer to your ill mother, you and your sibling hadn't expected to learn your neighbor was a wood spirit, totoro. what awaits you as you set out on this new adventure with your younger sibling and your new otherworldly friends?

whisper of the heart ─ feat. balor

(romantic) prompt: after discovering the person you've had a (one-sided) rivalry with after they'd beaten you to so many books, you're suddenly questioning if you can live up to a purpose you don't have. so, setting out to feel worthy to stand at their side. an unspoken question remains, will you be able to answer it before time runs out?

tales from earthsea ─ feat. floyd leech

prompt: a force has upset the balance of magic as you know it. troubled and with regrets, you set out; it's up to you, to restore the world of magic as it once was. you meet people, both allied and foe. ─ only, something stirs in you, a darkness that eats at you: and the question rises, will you be able to restore order before chaos consumes, or will you give in to that darkness?

castle in the sky ─ feat. malleus draconia

prompt: after witnessing them float down from the sky, straight into your arms, you're unexpectedly drawn into a journey full of pirates, government agents, secrets, unknown identities and ─ flying castles? in your self-given quest to help your new companion, you're wrapped into a world you'd only heard about in stories. will you regret your choice?

that's all! remember this is first come, first served!

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through an ai

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

You don't need to worry about the ATSV fandom dying. As someone whose been in the Marvel fandom over ten years - I can assure you this is natural.

The ATSV Fandom Isn't Dead: A brief look into the science of fandoms.

[me standing beside Hobie beaming my thoughts of love and adoration into his head like I'm professor x]

A lot of people are afraid of the ATSV dying - and I don't blame them.

In the era of shows releasing all in one day, or movies coming to streaming almost immediately - it's not hard to say we're in an era were content is consumed at ridiculously rapid rates.

I mean, this time last year Wednesday was breaking records on Netflix. Where's the hype now?

I know you see it too, there's less posts everyday in the Hobie tag, less screenshot breakdowns, etc etc etc.

But I'm here to tell you - The ATSV fandom is doing just fine. Better than fine. All of this is meant to happen.

Let me put it into perspective.

ATSV released on June 2nd - it's November.

ATSV released a little over six months ago.

For reference: The Avengers (2012) was released on May 4th.

The Avengers DVD wasn't available for purchase until SEPTEMBER 25th - almost SIX months later.

The time that the Hobie fandom has formed and existed - is the same amount of time people had to wait just to see The Avengers again.

Large periods of time where tags only get three posts a day TOPS was nothing to fear. xReaders and fanfics held the fandom over until the next trailer, the next sneak peek or leak.

Prior to the release of streaming, only a little more than ten years ago - it was NATURAL for a fandom to wait six months before even seeing the movie for a second time.

And mind you - streaming didn't exist. If you wanted to see The Avengers again, you had to go out and BUY it. $26.99.

If you wanted to order it online - you'd have to get it shipped to you. Before Disney plus, we watched on BlueRay Discs.

And the fandom was fine and healthy.

If a fandom that doesn't even have a DVD release can keep up content for six months, I think we'll be fine.

But I'll admit - there's still the question:

If the ATSV fandom is 'doing fine' then where is everyone going? Why are the tags getting slower?

The answer is simple:

FANDOM BIOLOGY

I LOVE social sciences and the systems people create and how they work - even unintentionally.

And I have a theory - one about the natural evolution and regeneration of fandom. Hear me out -

When it comes to ATSV:

We are leaving the Analysation Phase, the phase in which content creation is centered around deciphering and breaking down the most recent installment in the fandom.

During this phase usually see art of newer characters, new ships, meta breakdowns, easter egg point-outs.

We were in that phase.

Once the Analysation Phase dies down, usually main content creators may remain. The intermediate or liminal period.

The intermediate is usually when you'll see more x-reader art pop-up, the levels of fanart evening out as artists return to their favorite characters - usually incorporating any new ones they gained from the last installment.

Shitposts usually also become popular around this time, as the shock and weight of the story wear off, and we're more able to joke about the storyline a lot more light-heartedly.

That's why the intermediate point is often see as the passion 'dying out'.

When in fact, it is the fandom getting comfortable. Resting for the next phase.

And after a few months, the next phase comes:

The Speculation Phase:

The Speculation Phase cannot come until the Analysation Phase is over.

During the Analysation Phase the fandom begins to breakdown and digest the writers intentions. They integrate the new character into the story, and the fandom.

As the audience and fandom talk amongst each other, we get more solid ideas of who the characters are, what their motivations might be, and most important of all-

What they might do.

In the Speculation Phase we turn from the last installment - and start looking towards the future.

Let's take Hobie for example.

Looking at the timeline of the Hobie fandom, we can see a progression.

Originally taken as a punk-rockstar and little more, throughout the months the fandom began posting things about punk culture, the 70's, Hobie's motivation in the comics, and how that all correlates to him.

As the fandom analyzed, the collective zeitgeist and understanding of Hobie grew into something a lot more sound, and telling.

We looked at the parellels he provides in the story, and what kind of person he is.

And because if that we have seen a marked improvement in people's contextual understanding of Hobie - as a punk and a hero.

And now that we can understand him - we can predict him.

The same goes for Miguel - over the months, a lot of us have began to question if we know him as well as we think we do , if we really know the kinda person he is -

And if we really know what he's doing to do.

That's where the Speculation Phase comes in.

The Speculation Phase in fandom is when we see some of the most passion - and instead of tapering off overtime, it builds. More and more until the next release.

The Speculation Phase is when the fandom takes the analysis' and from there, they begin to theorize.

Now that we understand, we can begin to predict.

And this is arguably one of the most interesting parts in a fandoms natural ecosystem.

During the Speculation Phase, we can see a number of diverse opinions appear.

As more and more creators begin to gather their understanding, tips from the writers, new released news, and past comic book arcs, we start to see dozens of triguing paths the writers can take us on.

As more news releases, the more hype people get. I mean - imagine how you'll feel when they release the first new poster of Hobie, or Miles? Or when we get to see Miles.G in the trailer?

And with each new poster, or trailer, we're given clues. The theorizes develop more. And the plot thickens.

It's all natural.

So I can understand the fear. Only getting one or two new posts when you visit the Hobie tag can be a bummer. But it's natural and it's GOOD.

Y'all, we need to conserve our energy. We are in the liminal phase. And they never last long.

With the news of the voice actors back in the studio, and a cliff-hanger like we have - I can assure you, it's only a matter of time before we begin to see the theories, the trailer breakdowns, the people guessing what Miguel might do, or exactly how much tech Hobie is hiding.

And when that time comes we need to be READY. I can already feel it on the horizon.

I really wonder what they'll do with all that left over Hobie concept art.

Plus with explosion of Hobie approval, I wonder if they'll add him in even more. Hobie fan-service anyone?

Hmmm...

But chill y'all, we're on the right track -

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

If you read this far, as always THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And as a token of my appreciation, I hand you this Hobie. Hold him gently please

Bye 💗

[navstuffs]

Synesthesia

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

Summary: "A condition in which stimulation of one sense generates a simultaneous sensation in another". Or aka the fic where Gojo Satoru fucks you inside his domain expansion.

Trigger Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!, SMUT, tiny squint of dubcon (reader goes mind blank inside the domain), creampie, multiple powerful orgasms, reader gender isn't mentioned

Author's Notes: probably the hardest smut i have ever written. idk how many times this has been done in the fandom (im sure tons) and one time i read this INSANELY good fic abt it and have never found it again. anyway, enjoy! credit on the images from this post right here.

other gojo fics

An average person will feel many sensations in this world, either physically and/or spiritually (if you believe in that type of stuff). Before meeting Gojo Satoru, your emotions were still there to remind you, hey, you are human: come and feel us; you can't stop us.

Everything changed after you met Satoru.

Gojo Satoru wasn't normal. Even in your first meeting, even without being a cursed user, you could tell something was off about him in the best way possible. The white hair, the ethereal blue eyes behind the sunglasses, or the fact that he consumed sweets as someone should be consuming water. Even your concerns about diabetes didn't feel necessary with this man. 

And then you started dating him. Yes, you, the average human being of this world, the single person in the million of eight billion or more. And he chose you, fell for you, for some crazy idea in his head. You became his new drug in the best way possible. Gojo Satoru could never have had enough of you. 

The kisses were intoxicating, and his neediness was that of someone who could not hear the word "no." Satoru would pout like a child, his head down enough that you could see his eyes shining through his sunglasses. And you would say "yes" as if only that vision persuaded you (it was your heart speaking).

Now, fucking Gojo Satoru, that was on a whole new level. At this point, you knew of the curses, the Jujutsu world, and the fact that somehow you are dating the strongest of that universe (?!). Fucking Gojo Satoru was not like fucking your other lovers. Satoru was entirely in during sex. As in head, soul, mind, the total package deal. And it was only fair you gave him the same. 

-x-

"What would happen to normal humans inside your domain expansion?" 

The question is met with curiosity by Gojo, who is wearing his black bandana today. He ponders for a moment, one finger toward his chin (because you said once he looked cute doing it, and he does it every time now). "They probably wouldn't be able to see it. Just feel it."

"Could it be considered safe?"

"Mhmmm, let me think. For some milliseconds. Why?"

"Nothing."

Oh, but Satoru had already perceived your interest. Your eyes did not meet his, and you tried to look away, embarrassed. His smile grew from his side lips until Satoru questioned, his voice low, " Is there anything I should know of?"

"You promise you won't laugh?"

-x- 

That's how you end up on top of him, his dick buried deep inside your body. It is already overwhelming, suffocating almost, the air being pulled from your lungs every time your hips meet his, and you weren't even inside his domain yet. Satoru insisted on starting slowly for your safety: 0.1, 0.2 seconds max, according to his estimation. 

"Now?"

"Are you close?" You shake your head impatiently, furrowing your brows. "Didn't think so."

Differing from all the other nights, you sense Satoru's tension. He can't relax, not even without you moaning in his ear. It's not that Satoru believes he will hurt you; Satoru has to consider the slight possibility of what could happen if he lost control for a tiny second and ended up frying your brain on accident.

"'Toru. Focus on me." You demand, squeezing his nipple so he can come back to you.

Satoru reacts: he starts rubbing in between in the middle of your legs, stroking your sex in a way only he knew how to do, after weeks of studying your reactions every time you had sex. In less than two weeks, the prick had learned places you haven't even discovered yet. It had to be six eyes, giving your body away like that. Biting where the neck meets your shoulder together with a particular way of fucking you and hitting on the place that made you see stars could make you cum in minutes. You are thankful he is the strongest because Satoru had ruined you for any other person who existed. 

"Focus, honey."  His voice is steady, his chest heaving up and down.

If someone asked you how a mere mortal felt bringing God to his knees, you would know exactly how to explain. That's exactly how you felt fucking Satoru. Like now, with his hands on your hips, helping you sink inside further every time, your open palms resting on his chest for support. It feels powerful and mythical; his mouth parted away like that, licking his lips from time to time. Satoru is a proud moaner, loud and about - but for this time, his forehead is furrowed in concentration, and barely any noises are coming from him. If it were any other time, Satoru would have helped you or taken control when it had gotten too much for his small patience to handle, moving his hips until you were a blabbering mess.

But now, he has to be focused on not harming you. The situation is even more thrilling if you think like that. Bring a God to his knees because if you don't, he might kill you with his power.

"Satoru!" You moan, needy. A warning that you are getting close.

His white hands raise, and you watch (as always) fascinated as the bandana comes off, even forgetting about your looming orgasm. Gojo Satoru is the most attractive man you have ever seen in your entire life, and if you believe in reincarnation, about ten more lives. He has a smirk on his lips now, happy with the way he affects you. I mean, how couldn't he? 

"Domain expansion, Unlimited Void."

Everything stops. The air stops moving, and time stops. You are paralyzed, your eyes wide, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. Your mind goes blank in the total sense of that word; you can't form a single thought. You forget your name, can't remember your parents' names, or where you were born, what you do. 

At the same time, everything is being shown to you; your consciousness is there, floating lost in the sky, but you can't grasp it. The only thing you can feel is your orgasm, but even that feels like it has toned down, a small explosion the size of a jelly bean growing inside your stomach.

The next thing you know, you wake up in Satoru's arms, gasping for air, shaking, with tears coming down your eyes. You can't stop squirming, and you realize it is your orgasm, with so much energy that could light up an entire city, spreading in your veins and going back into your brain at a swift speed, amplifying your senses. Then you find yourself staring at Satoru's blue eyes, and your mind goes blank again, but not like when you were inside the Unlimited Void. No, now you can feel everything: Satoru's love, Satoru's shooting his cum inside of you, Satoru's hand gripping your hips, the scream coming out of your throat!

Satoru is murmuring something, praising you, saying he loves you, but you pass out again, and the entire world goes black. Satoru holds you, feeling your heartbeat, not placing his bandana on his eyes, your body twitching unconsciously. 

You return to him after a few minutes - if anyone asked Gojo, precisely two minutes, twenty seconds, two exact milliseconds, almost three. 

"'Toru?" Your voice sounds exhausted, grateful, and in disbelief all at the same time.

"I'm here, honey. I'm here. You are okay." He kisses your forehead, holding you tightly in his arms, still buried deep inside you.

Later, when you ask, Satoru will answer that he had felt your orgasm within you. He had never seen you so out of this world, literally dumbfucked. He won't confess he got worried for a second and ended up placing you inside his domain for ONLY one millisecond. You also won't confess yet that you wanted to try again, up to 0.3 seconds (normal humans wouldn't survive), but who cares? You want Satoru to fry your brain. Instead, you will roll your eyes at his answer, slapping his arm playfully, and he won't even turn infinite on because it is you. And who is he to ever deny you? You who finally made his life whole. 

You that had a God wrapped around your finger.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Why do you only post 1 request/nrc family in one day? I remember you saying you finished all of it and it's in your scheduled. Why not post NRC fam twice a day?

[Referencing this blog update!]

Hey, so 💦 I’m sure it wasn’t your (the anon’s) intention for the suggestion to come off as a entitled or rude. However, it certainly didn’t make me feel good to read, especially since I was not asking for advice in the first place.

This blog is my own space in the fandom, so it’s only natural that I decide the pace of my posts and what kind of content is put out there. Whether I decide to post one, two, none, or more creative writing pieces a day is entirely up to my discretion and no one else’s. I don’t think it should warrant any further explanation—but let this be the one and only time I have to.

I understand that you may be eager for more content or for another masterlist to be put out. (Those are the only reasons I can think of for wanting 2 interactions posting a day instead of 1.) But I have my own reasons for why I don’t cram all my writing pieces to post in a short span of time. I want to leave breathing space between them and have time to casually talk about Twst. Regardless of whether or not I have finished pieces on the backburner to put up, I intentionally space my creative writing work out so people can sit with them, digest them, and (I hope) better appreciate them.

You don’t know this because you don’t see my queue, but I don’t have ONLY the remaining NRC Family Day interactions scheduled. I have 60ish other asks queued (3-4 per day). This isn’t even accounting for new asks I may get + reply to and add to the queue. Part of what I like about running this blog is the interaction and the discussion we can have on here, and I want to continue being able to do that. To post more creative works a day would mess up my preferred rhythm for the blog.

I ask that you try to put yourself in the shoes of the creator—be it be or someone else whose work you consume. Creators are putting out art, writing, etc., typically for free, for any fan passing by to enjoy (should they choose to). We are not beholden to this, but we choose to do it anyway out of love and passion for Twst. Now how do you think we feel when someone comes up to us after already gobbling up our creations and asking (sometimes demanding) for more? Does that not read as… I don’t know, a little callous and ungrateful? It dehumanizes the creator and makes them little more than a content farm churning out the next hit of dopamine. That’s so incredibly demoralizing 😔 It grossly undervalues what we do. And it definitely does not encourage us to want to continue creating.

At one point, I was satisfied frequently posting multiple writing pieces a day. That is no longer true. It had become stifling and thankless so I intentionally stepped back and have been much happier since.

I hope I was able to get my thoughts across well 💦 It’s just a really frustrating sentiment…

[withahappyrefrain]

 He’s All That

Summary: Bob has always been shy, which has gotten in the way of meeting folks. So, his friends decide to give him an impromptu makeover. 

Shoutout to @liz-allyn who came up with this idea and said “Abby, how have you not written this yet?” You’re not in this fandom, but I love you and love how we bonded over our childhood love of Bill Pullman 

Warnings: Language, Rooster being a himbo, Phoenix having the majority of the group’s braincells, drinking, afab reader 

Bob was shy.

Always was, always had been.

As a child, he found comfort in clinging to his mother's leg while she talked to other people. It allowed him to take in what was happening without being dragged into the conversation.

Of course, folks always noticed him. Always cooed as they kneeled down to exclaim, "Aren't you just a shy young thing!" before continuing the conversation with his mother.

Sometimes, he misses those days. Not the part about being a child. Moreso, he missed how folks would make the observation and just move on.

Now he had friends who could not take a hint.

"Just go talk to her!" Natasha badgered. Bob had hoped he could get away with tucking himself in the corner and stealing quick looks.

The group had decided to switch things up and go to a regular bar. It was a nice change, getting to wear civilian clothes instead of the khaki uniform. New sights and new faces.

One face in particular had stood out to Bob as soon as he walked into the place.

"I don't….I don't want to bother her. That would be rude," Bob stammered, staring down at the cup of peanuts in his hands.

He thought he was being subtle. Glancing over to steal looks and glimpses of her radiant smile. Offering to pick up drinks so he could walk by and hear that bright laugh that was sweeter than any love song he had ever heard.

Apparently not.

"Dude, she's been looking your way the whole night," Bradley commented, joining the two  in the booth.

"She could have been looking at any one of us!" Bob whispered, hoping it would send the subtle message to everyone else in the group to quiet down. The amount of alcohol they had consumed had already impaired their ability to gauge the volume of their voice.

"I followed her eyes, they led directly to you," Mickey said before taking another sip of his beer, joining the already crowded booth, "Go talk to her."

"She's…she's with her friends! That would be rude!" Couldn't they see that Bob didn't have the backbone required for him to just waltz up and start a conversation? If he did, he wouldn’t still be sitting with them right now.

"So then wait until she gets the next round of drinks! It should be her turn soon," Natasha commented, narrowing her eyes on her backseater.

Why was he so aversive? The girl was practically perfect for Bob. Confident but not cocky. Wasn't afraid to be loud, but only when she needed to be. Sweet with her gingham sundress and the countless thank you’s she said to Penny, a hint of edge with how she stayed on top of her friends' stories and jokes. But not intimidating.

Bob had been looking with stars in his eyes. The lovesick look that adorned his face would have been cute, if that wasn't all he planned on doing that night. Natasha knew Bob and knew he wouldn't make a move without major encouragement.

"I-I don't want to bother her." Couldn't they get the hint? He was nervous, painfully so. Being able to waltz up to beautiful women and strike up a conversation was never in the cards for Bob. He'd stumble through his words, turning in a blushing, rambling mess, talking about the most random things, like the Lego set he just completed.

And who wanted that?

Bob could easily calculate a missile range on the fly. But talking to someone he found attractive?

Nope. Couldn't do that even if his life depended on it.

"It's not bothering if she's been eyeing ya," Bradley countered before taking another sip of his beer. Was he one to talk? Perhaps. But Bob didn’t need to know that. 

"She came out to have a good time with her friends, I doubt she wants to talk to some random guy," Bob mumbled.

A collective sigh was heard from the squad. This wasn't unusual for Bob- trying to get him to talk to people he clearly found attractive was like pulling teeth.

"Alright baby on board, I'm already tired of this conversation. Either you talk to her within the next twenty minutes or I will," Hangman declared before grabbing Javy for another round of darts.

The group stared at Bob, who was now shifting in his seat, face bright red.

"C'mon Bob, are you really going to let that sweet girl deal with Bagman?" Phoenix practically begged her backseater.

Bob didn't want her to deal with that. He wanted to talk to her, to make her smile, to make her laugh.

But how could he compete with Hangman? The man was not only good looking, but he could get out a complete sentence with zero stuttering.

Bob knew exactly what would happen. He would stumble up to the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart with just one smile, barely able to get out his name. Once she saw he was incapable of talking without making a fool of himself, she'd find an excuse to walk away and go talk to someone like Hangman.

"Just go talk to her, tell her you think she has a great smile," Bradley offered. At this point, it was no longer Bob just being ‘Bob’. It was painful to watch.

Bob scoffed, "Her smile isn't great. It rivals the sun."

"Oh my god, just say that!" Natasha felt like she was talking to one of her many younger siblings, meaning the urge to smack Bob upside the head was growing stronger and stronger.

"I can't! I'm….." he sighed, "Okay look at me."

"Why-"

"Just look at me!" His cobalt eyes were narrowed, his thin lips formed into a tight line- Bob's adorable way of looking stern.

"Now look at Hangman," he instructed once his friends finally followed his order, "Now look back at me."

"Is something supposed to be happening?" Mickey whispered to Bradley, who simply shrugged.

"Notice the difference? Please tell me you see the difference," Bob practically begged.

"I mean yeah; Hangman would benefit from having someone tell him to sit the fuck down and you're a pleasant human being," Natasha laughed.

"He…" Bob signed, "There's a type of guy that girls usually go for and out of the two….it's not me."

"Bob! You're an amazing guy, and as a woman I can confirm that any lady would be lucky to have you," Natasha assured her friend.

"Nat, no offense but isn't your view kinda skewed since you don't like men?" Bradley whispered, receiving a deadly glare in response.

"Okay, well as someone who's actually in a relationship," now it was Mickey's turn to receive a death glare, this time from both Bradley and Natasha, "Cielo has told me so many times that she doesn't understand how you're single."

"Your girlfriend has also said she wants to adopt me, so that's like my mom saying she thinks I'm swell." Bob sighed, pondering if now was a good time to start drinking.

"What we're all trying to say Bob, is that you're a catch," Bradley stepped in, "You just need to grab her attention! I have a great song for that-"

"We are not singing a song again," Nat quickly snapped.

"My ears are still hurting from Coyote failing to hit every note," Mickey commented, pulling on his ear for added effect.

"Okay, if we're not doing a song- which would totally work by the way- what should we do then? Give him a makeover or something?"

"That might be the first intelligible thing you've said all day," Nat commented.

"Roo's onto something. We just need to spruce Bob up," Mickey said, analyzing his friend's current appearance.

"What do you mean-"

"Roo, go get the comb that I know you have in your car. Mick, get our friend a confidence booster shot,” Natasha ordered, already on board with the idea.

"What are we- Nat, where are we going?" Bob asked as his pilot began dragging him to the bathroom.

—----------------------------------------

"Just follow me. If we had more time, I would put on the Teen Movie Makeover Montage playlist I have saved on Spotify," Phoenix said, trying to reach for the buttons on his top and walk at the same time.

"You're what?!"

Growing up with three sisters and being in the military, Mickey had walked in on strange things.

The sight of his friends in the bathroom of the bar, Phoenix trying to do Bob's hair in the sink, Bob being forced to sit in a chair, dodging Phoenix's hands, and Rooster holding up two Hawaiian shirts…….was high up there on the list.

"Why do you have two shots?" Bradley asked, as if Mickey was somehow the strange one in this situation.

"Why do you have two Hawaiian shirts, in addition to the one you're already wearing?" Mickey retorted.

"One of them is for Bob."

"For the last time-stop that! I'm not wearing- I mean it, Natasha!" Bob hissed.

"Which one do you think is best? I think the orange and red one would bring out his eyes," Bradley commented, ignoring Natasha and Bob arguing.

"Bob, if you didn't put so much gel in your hair, this wouldn't be so damn difficult!" Nat snapped back.

"Dude, you have curly hair?" Mickey asked, walking over to the sink to inspect his friend and roommate's hair.

"Uh, I think it's wavy?" Bob replied. Half of his hair had been doused with sink water, as was the right upper side of his shirt.

"Cielo is gonna be so mad at you! You could have gone with us when she was helping me restock the hair care routine she created for me!" The level of betrayal was not quite what Mickey felt when Bob admitted to liking Star Wars more than Star Trek, but it was pretty close.

"You and your girlfriend are so cute, it makes me want to puke," Natasha muttered.

"I call dibs on the hair. You two can help him take the confidence booster shots," Mickey instructed his friends.

Phoenix took both shots, motioning at Bob to open his mouth.

"I'm not drinking-"

"Either you take them or I tell Bradshaw to put down the Hawaiian shirts and open your mouth for you."

Bob took the shots, nearly spitting out the liquor that was burning his throat and nose.

"Oh my god, that's awful. What the heck was that?" Bob asked between coughs.

"Confidence booster. Also known as tequila," Mickey grinned as he began scrunching water into Bob's hair.

"That's disgusting! Also how is any of this," Bob gestured to the strange site that was taking place in the bathroom, "supposed to help me?!"

"You need to switch up your look! And what better way than with a new hairdo?" Phoenix said.

"Plus, that tequila should start taking effect soon. Now, blue or red?" Bradley asked, motioning to the shirts.

"We are trying to make this girl notice him in a good way Bradley," Natasha teased as she finished unbuttoning Bob's navy shirt, revealing a white t-shirt underneath.

"Wait, I think the white t-shirt is a better look!"

"Bradshaw, your observation skills are unparalleled," Natasha muttered, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"It shows off your arms and your veins! A lot of women dig veins for some reason," Bradley remarked, observing his colleague and friend.

"Isn't that usually a sign of dehydration?"

"Considering how much he loves to drink Coke Zero, that checks out," Mickey commented.

"My arms feel bare," Bob rubbed an arm with his hand, not used to showing off. He still kept his shirt on at the beach.

"Okay, what do you think?" Mickey asked, Bob's hair now fully ungelled and several curls swooping over his forehead.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Bob commented, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"That's just the tequila taking effect."

"Wait! It's just missing one more thing," Rooster leaned over, taking off Bob's glasses. He folded them and clipped them to the v-neck of Bob's shirt, much like one would with a pair of sunglasses

"I need those to see!"

"You'll be close enough to her, it'll be fine," Rooster said, despite the fact that was not how poor eyesight worked.

"Should we get him another shot?" Mickey whispered to Nat.

"I don't think he's used to this much alcohol, we don't want him throwing up on her shoes," Nat whispered.

"Wait, that's a thing?!" Bob all but yelled.

"Alright, let's get him out of here and find the future Mrs. Floyd."

—-------------------------------------------

Bob didn't curse that often.

But this was fucking stupid.

He was stumbling around the bar (because he couldn't see jack shit), trying to find this girl (who was probably already talking to Hangman) without getting in anyone's face or dry heaving from the three tequila shots he had been made to take (which was harder than it looked).

Bob felt ridiculous, he knew for certain that he looked ridiculous. Why did his friends think this would work? Why did he think this would work?

What would he even say? He wasn't confident like Hangman, charming like Coyote, coy like Phoenix, cheeky like Rooster, or romantic like Mickey.

He was just…..Bob.

Sure, family members had told him "Oh Robert, any lady would be lucky to have ya!" He had heard countless "You're adorable/delightful/so charming, how are you single?" from his friends and their significant others. It was an attempt to boost him up, make him feel good.

All it did was highlight the loneliness he felt, his inability to talk to someone he fancied, and his lack of luck when it came to finding someone he could potentially settle down with.

He had tried. Blind dates, dating apps, striking up a conversation at a bar. All had ended in disaster, with Bob still single at the end.

This was pointless, so with a heavy sigh, Bob turned around to head towards the door-

when he ran straight into someone.

Due to the height difference, their head went straight into Bob's broad chest. He bucked his knees to study himself, wrapping one arm around the waist of the other person and placing his other hand on the back of their thigh to steady them.

"I am so sorry!" A sweet, familiar voice said against the fabric of his t-shirt, sending vibrations all throughout his body.

The person looked up, revealing the most beautiful eyes Bob had ever seen.

Oh fuck it was her.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, eyes squinting so he could take in every detail of her face; every eyelash, mark, mole.

"I'm good, thanks for catching me!" It was then Bob realized his hands were still on her. He became all too aware of the fabric that draped her waist, even more aware of the soft skin of her bare thigh.

"I'm….I'm so sorry," he removed his hands from her body, taking a step back, "I um I should have watched where I'm going."

"I mean, it's hard to watch out for someone who's literally not in your line of vision," She giggled, bringing a hand up to her mouth. It was then Bob noticed the small outline of a moon inked on her inner wrist.

Bella Luna.

Somewhere, Bradley, Phoenix, and Mickey were all mouthing something for him to say.

Good thing he couldn't see jack shit.

"I should have been more careful," one of his hands reached up to the nape of his neck, running his hands through the curls and did she just bite her lip at me?

"So should I! Honestly, it's my fault," she began digging through her purse, "I really should be wearing these!"

Bob's mouth dropped as she pulled out a pair of black octagonal glasses and placed them on her face.

The frames were perfect, accentuating her gorgeous features, particularly her bright, doe-like eyes.

Bob could stare into those eyes for all of eternity. They were warm but also grounding, like the force of gravity that always pulled him back from sky to land.

He would never complain about being brought down if she was there on the ground.

"Oh my god, they're going to get married," Bradley remarked to Natasha and Mickey. The three were huddled together, watching from a distance.

"Just because she wears glasses too doesn't make her Bob's future wife," Natasha's eyes could not roll any harder.

"Nah, I have a knack for these things. Called it with Mickey and his girl and he's currently saving up for a ring. Also did you message her Aunt yet? Today's her birthday," Bradley asked the other WSO.

"Yeah….." Mickey said, giving the two pilots no confidence as he quickly pulled out his phone to type up a message.

"Well, it's only fitting I wear mine then," Bob said with a smile on his face, reaching down to grab his glasses. Whether it was the tequila or her presence that was putting him at ease, he didn't know. And he wasn't super concerned in regards to finding out.

Her eyes widened when Bob put his glasses on, "Oh my god! You're," she put a hand up to her forehead, as if she was smacking herself for not realizing it sooner, "Lieutenant Floyd! I am so sorry! I'm-I'm far-sighted and you didn't have your glasses on so I had no idea it was you I had-"

"Y-you know my name?" Bob asked, astounded that this angel in her adorable glasses knew who he was.

Her eyes widened at his question, heat rushing to her face, "Yeah, I um…I noticed you from across the bar, not that I was staring, it's just hard not to notice you…wait, that sounds bad! You're just really handsome and so-"

Bob felt a hand squeeze one of his shoulders, "She was asking who the guy in glasses was."

Bob turned his head and much to his (and everyone else's) surprise, there was Hangman standing there with a smirk.

Jake was only there long enough to establish his presence and flash a knowing wink to the woman who was now clearly flustered.

"I-I am so sorry," She stammered out, unable to look Bob in the eye.

"Why?" Bob asked. Usually he was the one apologizing in these types of situations. But he wasn't. He actually felt….pretty good? Was this what feeling confident was like?

She had displayed interest in him, asking for his name. Which confirmed that all those times he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, she was actually looking at him.

And that was when he had his glasses and gelled hair. She looked at him when he was Bob.

That made him feel pretty damn good.

"Plus, I've been looking for the moon to my stars for years. Would hate to see you go after we just met," He added, giving her a smile so soft it made her knees weak.

Her brows knit together in confusion, as Bob took off his watch. Confusion turned into astoundment when he revealed a cluster of three small stars, inked on his inner wrist.

He held it up to her tattooed wrist. She stared in silence. 

Two separate tattoos. Now complete as one. 

“Yeah, they’re getting married,” Jake commented, now standing with Mickey, Bradley, and Natasha. 

"See? Even Hangman agrees with me!" Bradley exclaimed.

"A broken clock is right twice a day Bradshaw, don't get used to it."

She looked down at the inked skin- hers and Bob's. Then back at him, then down again.

The silence got to Bob, who began to follow his natural instincts: apologize.

Bob liked to think he wasn’t super corny. Sure, he always planned to bring roses weekly to his person. That was a given. But matching tattoos?

Maybe it was a bit too much.

"Can I buy you a drink?" She asked, unphased by his rambling.

"Sorry, that was really cheesy, I just always thought that the moon and stars go together better as a couple's tattoo than the moon and sun, because they don't ever meet and I just said couple's tattoos, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Can it be water? My friends made me take three tequila shots to help me talk to you, but all it's done is made the room start to spin," Bob asked, completely serious.

"Absolutely!" She found his hand with ease, threading her fingers through his, "My friends made me take two vodka shots as a 'confidence boost', so I would love some water right now."

"Lead the way, Luna." Bob couldn't help but smile at how the nickname caused the bridge of her nose to scrunch up in delight.

He'd do anything to see it again.

Something was telling him the probability of that was extremely likely.

Call it luck or confidence. Either way, Bob Floyd felt good.

________________________________________

@chxosunbound @heartsforts @lt-bradshaw @soverign-lights @mymamalife @bobfloydsbabe

[everybodyhatesmiddleschool]

It has been six excruciating days since I was plunged into the Bridgerton fandom against my will.

I was minding my own business, watching YouTube compilations of the best kisses in TV history, when I unwittingly clicked on a video about Colin and Penelope, and I was immediately down so bad for them.

Let me be clear: Bridgerton was not part of my life before I clicked on that video. I wanted nothing to do with it; I had no intention of ever watching or reading that smut. And then, without warning, it swept in and took me in the night, much like Colin Bridgerton in the back of a carriage.

To say I have been lost in the sauce these past six days would be a gross understatement. The carriage scene is literally ruining my life. I haven’t gone to sleep before 1 a.m. since Sunday, and I have been over an hour late to work every day. Why? Because I cannot stop consuming that godforsaken scene — watching gifs of it over and over, reading y’all’s hilarious takes and memes about it, watching it with the audio descriptions turned on (🥵), watching it with the music removed (🥵🥵), watching Luke and Nicola on their press tour, watching, watching, watching.

Have I started actually watching season 1 of the show? Of course. Did I check out the large-print version of the first book from the library since it was the only copy available? You bet. But I do not care about these other characters and storylines. I want it to be Colin and Penelope on the screen and the page in every sentence and every scene.

And either fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t even have to be looking at a screen to be distracted by them — my daydreaming has never been as maladaptive in my life as it has been this week. I can hardly think of one ten-minute stretch in the past six days in which some imaginary scenario has not been taking over my brain. I want to be part of their world so bad — not just Bridgerton, but Shondaland. As is the case for 90% of all of my daydreams, I want these actors to know I exist. I want them to look at me with just as much awe and love as I look at them. So I might be staring at my computer screen in my cubicle, but in my mind, I’m on a press tour of my own that intersects with theirs. (I’m never the desperate fan with no life in my dreams; my idols always see me as their equal). I might be driving my commute in my car, but in my mind, they’re congratulating me about my own novel being optioned by Netflix. I might be brushing my teeth in my bathroom, but in my mind, we’re laughing together on Graham Norton’s couch.

But Lord, here comes that freaking carriage scene once again, inserting itself into my mind (pun unavoidable). I cannot get over it. I’m so stuck there that I’ve found myself wearing shoes I don’t remember putting on, carrying coffee mugs I don’t remember putting in my bag, driving a speed limit I don’t remember agreeing to as acceptable. There is laundry that needs to be folded. Bills need to be paid. Emails need to be deleted en masse without reading. But I can’t find the door that will let me out of this damn carriage.

I had a conversation with myself two days ago about how we might be able to adapt to this new living situation. After a few temper tantrums, I finally said, “Girl, if you’re going to watch this scene 1,000 times, you have got to find a way to make it a constructive part of your life.” So I did what any rational adult would do: I started writing a scholarly paper about why it’s so powerful — not just for me but, according to the internet, for a lot of women. And I have every intention of writing an entire paper about this … if I can find the time. I’m just so busy right now with consuming this damn scene.

Was starting to write that article enough to satiate my obsession with this scene, with this show and these actors? Of course not. So this morning, I started writing a spicy scene of my own, featuring not Colin and Penelope but two other vaguely outlined characters who I’m sure I’ll give names and personalities to later. I was literally sitting in my cubicle, hunched over my planner, writing down snippets of sexiness in as small a print as possible in case someone walked up on me and looked over my shoulder without me noticing. And I’m not gonna lie: this shit’s good. I’ve never written smut before, because I’ve never had enough spice in my own life to feel like I’d be able to do it justice on paper. But that imagination of mine — she’s a freak. And my mind? My mind has moved way past the gutter. It is now in the outhouse. It’s in the slop with the pigs.

It should have come as no surprise, but as usual, the act of actually writing down the jumble of mess in my brain has had the effect of breaking some of the spell. I was also forced to focus on work because of looming deadlines, and I currently feel calmer than I have since Sunday. But I am truly living in fear of June 13. I cannot go through this again, and I know that I’m bound to, because I know that what’s been shown so far won’t hold a candle to what’s coming. And if I get down bad any further, I will be deep enough in the ground for this to become my final resting place. I’m not ready to be buried, but it feels inevitable.

But somehow, despite my own wants and fears, and despite the fact that we haven’t even been introduced yet to the bedroom where Colin and Penelope are sure to end up, I am somehow already lurking from behind the window curtains in the corner, peeking out at them doing the deed. I know what I hope I’ll see: based on the excerpt I’ve seen from the book, they will be in front of a mirror — expressly because Colin wants Penelope to see herself in full for the glorious goddess she is, and she will look at her sexy, bare self with just as much pride and love as we viewers behind the screen will (but probably with slightly less lust than Colin, who I pray will be very loud about how hot she is).

I am dreaming about this scene, but I dread it. Because if it’s as good as the carriage scene, I will immediately be re-enscripted and sent right back to the trenches where I spent the last six days. I’m excited, but I’m scared. And I’m afraid of getting lost in the woods again, because I know that if I do, I won’t want to be found.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi. I’m sending this anonymously but if tumblr glitches and it isn’t anonymous please don’t post this because I’m absolutely completely entirely mortified.

I’m 20 FtM. About a year and a half ago, when I moved out and started at college, I discovered fandom, and began to get really into reading fics on AO3. My parents had heavily restricted my internet access growing up, and as new adult I began to discovered the barrage of content online.

Soon enough, I was spending about an hour or two every night reading smut fics. I never thought anything of it, because, well, it’s just words, it’s not *actually* porn, right?

Recently I did start watching some explicit videos but tried to limit myself to only once or twice a month because the shame I felt as well as the strange dissatisfaction just wasn’t worth it.

After doing some research, I found a study that said that watching porn for more than an hour a week was unhealthy. I thought, yeah, okay, fair enough.

Then I realised: does my fanfiction reading count as pornography?

I kept thinking to myself that because it was text it didn’t count, but —does it? Is that the reason that lately I’ve been feeling strangely dissatisfied and empty after reading/watching? Will I feel like this when I eventually have sex?? (still a virgin, mainly for dysphoria reasons)

I found all this stuff online that says porn addictions can screw you over for life, that you can’t find sexual satisfaction with a partner.

Should I cut back?

I don’t normally masturbate while consuming porn. I feel too ashamed. I normally just sit there and read/watch.

Am I a porn addict?????? Should I quit reading smut? Help.

If you can’t tell, I wasn’t raised in a very sex positive environment and I feel very ashamed. I don’t really know who to talk to and I just feel very guilty so I’m resorting to an anonymous ask on Tumblr.

If you read this, thank you for taking the time. I appreciate it.

— Jason

hi Jason,

I don't think you're a porn addict. I think you're probably just an anxious 20 year old from a pretty restrictive background and now that you have a little more freedom you're kind of nervous about it, which is very normal.

I want to be super clear: written porn is porn. porn is any sexually explicit material designed to titillate; it's existed since WAY before the moving picture existed and it will exist long after the internet has crumbled to dust. people like porn! and it's okay to like porn. the text-based stuff is particularly high on the list of porn that's pretty unambiguously fine, morally-speaking, because you never have to worry that the performer you're watching has had their video stolen by pornhub or that, god forbid, anyone onscreen isn't a willing participant, but I want to be super clear that liking sexually explicit photos or videos of real people is also 100% fine.

obviously I have no idea what study you read, but I'd be cautious about any study being boiled down to such black and white, attention-grabbing headlines. you can interpret a study to mean virtually anything if you want to, and there are a lot of interest groups with a vested interest in demonizing porn. if reading smutty fan fic makes you happy and isn't interfering with the rest of your life, you should do that.

unfortunately it sounds like it's not making you happy lately, dissatisfied and empty feelings. in the kindest way possible, I don't think much of that is being caused by the porn itself. it sounds like it's coming from your gnawing worry that you're a porn addict. maybe it's best to take a little step away from porn and smutty fic for a while, if only until you feel able to engage with it without feeling bad.

also, speaking of porn addiction: that's a very dubious condition, and one that's not scientifically or medically recognized. to be certain, people can develop a reliance on porn that disrupts their daily function and can wreak havoc on their lives, but that's true of anything that causes your brain to spit out happy chemicals. anything that become a maladaptive coping mechanism, including and especially things that are fine and even necessary in small doses. sleeping, exercising, and going shopping are all things that can be life-ruining if done to harmful excess, but that doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong if you like to sleep in, go for runs, or browse your favorite online stores every once in a while.

if reading smut isn't causing you to skip out on your more important obligations, fail to take care of yourself, or bringing on bankruptcy, I think you're probably alright. the biggest danger I see here is you beating yourself over the head with your own anxiety about this, which may be a sign that it's a good idea to take a step back for entirely different reasons than you were worried about.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

been working on this for weeks but consider it a present for @ravendruid's birthday. extremely rated e, lol, as i create the slutty keyleth rep i wish to see in my fandom.

Keyleth doesn't get horny. It's not that she doesn't like sex, because she does. She likes sex with Vax, specifically, the only kind of sex she knows, because he makes it fun and because she likes seeing how happy and relaxed it makes him and because she swears he knows her body better than she does, the way he's able to pull sounds and sensations from her that she'd never have known she was capable of.

No, Keyleth likes sex. She just never...seeks it out. It's an out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. She's got a thousand things on her plate these days, so much going on and so many people counting on her, that if Vax weren't there to kiss slowly down her neck as she finishes her reading for the next day's meeting or run his hands along her waist while she gets changed, she probably would forget sex existed altogether.

Which is what makes this so strange. There was a terrible accident at a bakery in the wee hours of the morning, an oven malfunction that resulted in two-thirds of the building burning near to ash before the flames could be stamped out. Much of Zephrah has gathered to help, clearing out debris and helping the air genasi family that owns the bakery recover what they can from the wreckage. Keyleth and Vax were among the first on the scene, having been woken with the news by a Blade, and in the intervening hours, they've managed to organize what will become the rebuilding efforts.

Keyleth is meant to be discussing what needs to be physically handled versus what can be fixed via arcane means, but she's not listening to a word one of the few wizards who lives in town is saying. Instead, her attention is entirely consumed by Vax, who is helping the baker affix a large tarp over the portions of the building left standing to act as a makeshift wall. Vax's sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, revealing muscular forearms that strain to reach up to hold the tarp in place. His long hair has been haphazardly braided out of they way, and two spare nails bounce between his full lips as he and the baker discuss their strategy for tackling the tarp. At one point, Vax brings a hand down to wipe sweat off of his forehead, leaving a streak of ash and dust in its wake. He reaches back up to hold a nail in place for the baker to hammer in, and once they're done, he relaxes back down, grins at their success, and claps the baker on the back.

Keyleth wants to climb him like a tree.

She's taken so aback by the intensity of her own lust that the wizard has to say her name three times for her to drag her eyes away from the muscles Keyleth can see beneath the back of Vax's sweat-slick shirt. He's clearly annoyed, this wizard, but Keyleth's missed every word for minutes now. "Can I trust you with this?" she asks, desperately, she imagines. She doesn't wait for an answer, just turns around and weaves her way through the crowd of neighbors until she's at Vax's side.

"Hey!" He gives her his easy smile, the one that normally makes her feel warm but now makes her feel as though she herself will soon be ash and smoke. "Got this up, so at least we won't be damaging what's left as we clean up this mess. How are things going on the magic front?"

It is by the grace of the gods that Keyleth doesn't shove him up against the tarp he's so proud of and knock the remainder of this bakery to the ground. "I think...we need to head home. Just for a bit."

His brow furrows. "I think we can still help out here. At the very least we can help get the fallen beams out of the way."

"Mhm, yeah." The mid-morning sun illuminates the sheen over his face. She's going crazy. "I just...there is something at home. That can help."

"Oh. And...you need me to go with you."

"Mhm!" She doesn't know how to convey how fucking desperate she is for him to shut the fuck up and come with her now. "Please."

"Okay." He's clearly confused, but he turns to tell the baker that they'll be back in just a bit before sliding his hand into hers and allowing himself to be tugged in the direction of home. She doesn't blame him for his bewilderment; neither of them has any precedent for this, her sudden, uncontrollable, unshakable need for him. She doesn't even know how she's going to explain it to him—hopefully she won't have to. Hopefully he'll catch on quick.

He's so damn friendly, saying hello to everyone they pass, giving quick updates on the situation as she half-yanks him along. She knows she must seem absolutely feral right now, and, well, she feels it. Can he feel the thundering of her heart in his palm? Is her skin burning his, her nails digging into his hands? No, he is oblivious, grinning and cordial to each of their neighbors. Normally she thrills in how easily he's made a home of her people, but not today. Today she's hungry.

When they get to the little cottage set aside just for them, she fumbles with the key, missing the keyhole three times before Vax's long, practiced fingers curl over hers and pluck the key from her hand. "Okay." He unlocks the door and pushes it open. "You need to tell me what's going on, because you're—oh."

She shoves him inside, slams the door shut with her foot and then spins him around so his back's against it. His face blooms in surprise as she presses herself against him. "Driving me fucking crazy," she growls, pawing at the shirt hem tucked into his trousers like a cat trying to get a bird through a window. "Such a jerk, looking like this—" She bites down into the crook of his neck.

He hisses, his hands coming to clench at her waist. "Holy shit, Kiki." Finally, she's able to yank his shirt free, skitter her hands up his stomach, where he warm and hard and hers. "You...oh gods..." Good, his brain's just as fried as hers is. Serves him right. "This...it's different."

She kisses him, all teeth and spit. It's a far cry from the way he so tenderly kisses her, no reverence or care. She kisses to mark, to claim, to devour. One of his hands, broad and so very skilled, pulls her in closer by the small of her back, while the other grabs fully onto her ass. She growls into him; going fucking crazy.

Vax breaks away with a gasp. "Kiki." She pushes up on his shirt, which is now bunched up around his armpits. "Kiki." He takes her by the shoulders and pushes her a few inches away. "What the hell is going on?"

She doesn't know what she looks like, but by the bafflement on his face, she must look wild. Her skin is on fire, and there is a pounding up and down her torso that she has never felt outside of the bedroom before. Somewhere beneath the sizzling want, there is embarrassment, humiliation for losing control like this, but right now, she just can't bring herself to care.

"You..." She swallows, willing her blood to stop boiling for a second so she can formulate something resembling a cogent thought. "You just...with the sweat and the shirt and the arms, fuck—" She digs her nails into his bicep like she's going to tear it out from beneath his skin. "I'm losing my mind."

He smiles, then, the kind of mischievous smile he tries to hide from her when he doesn't want her to think he's laughing at her even though he definitely is. "Keyleth...are you horny?"

"Jerk." She shoves his shoulders again, so he bounces off of the door, and then, before he can decide to tease her anymore, she falls to her knees.

She doesn't do this often. She gets so self-conscious, more concerned about how he's reacting and how awkward her neck feels and how sometimes it really is difficult to breath instead of on just doing it. Vax never complains, never asks for reciprocation after he so gleefully eats her out, and so she knows she's out of practice. She can't stop the shaking in her fingers as she tugs at the laces of his trousers, where he is already straining against the leather.

"K-Keyleth." Good, now he sounds just as flustered as she feels. "Are...are you sure?"

She answers by tugging his loosened pants down to reveal his half-hard length, which, after one deep breath, she takes in her mouth as far as it will go. From above, she hears a sickening crack as, she assumes, his head slams back against the door. "Fuck," he groans, his hands coming to weave into her hair. They tug, and it's rough, far rougher than he normally is with her. "F-F-Fuck, Kiki."

She wants to swallow him whole. She wants to unhinge her jaw like a snake and consume him, claim him entirely for her own. He tastes salty, like skin, like sweat. As she swallows back her own saliva, the fingers in her hair tighten and a high keen rips from his chest. Keyleth can’t help the hot wave of satisfaction that ripples over her skin; she did that.

“Keyleth,” Vax pants, his breath coming fast and hard. She hollows out her cheeks. “Oh fuck—K-kiki, wait.”

She doesn’t take her mouth off of him, just looks up with the best approximation of a frown she can muster in this position. His face is a mess, mouth agape, eyes unfocused. “Gonna…not gonna make it,” he gasps out. “Want…you…”

Well. She’s not going to argue with that. Reluctantly, she pulls her head back, letting her tongue trail out from beneath the length of him, and his legs nearly buckle out from under him. The hand in her hair slowly uncoils, like Vax has to actively think about how to relax each of his fingers, and Keyleth stands. She wonders what she looks like, so flushed with wanting him, wonders if he can tell exactly what he’s doing to her.

His hands grab her face and pull it to his, the kiss of a starving man. Vax has a hundred ways of kissing her, tender in the mornings, excited after they’ve been apart, curious when he’s aroused and testing her waters. This is different. He kisses her like he’s trying to catch up, like she’s a wild beast he’s chasing through the woods.

Her hands find his waist again and she’s tugging, yanking him away from the door and deeper into the cottage. Vax stumbles, his pants at an awkward height around his thighs, but he’s dexterous, he’ll figure it out. After a few moments, the backs of her legs hit something solid, and Vax’s lips don’t need to leave hers for his arm to come out and sweep whatever had been on their little kitchen table onto the floor. Some vague part of her mind tries to analyze the resulting crash to figure out what exactly just got unceremoniously tossed to the ground, but she finds she just doesn’t care all that much. Let it break. She’s busy.

Vax’s fingers grip her waist hard, and she’s going up, slammed onto the table. Her legs wrap around him automatically as she scrambles have him closer, closer. His lips trail down to her neck and his fingers, long, nimble, so very good at what they do, fumble at her waistband. “Fuck,” she sighs, her head falling back so he can mouth at her throat.

“Fucking pants,” he growls. “Are they usually this difficult?”

“Losing your touch?” She pulls the tip of his ear into her mouth and sucks on it.

He tugs harder. “Keep making fun of me and you’ll lose my touch.” Then manages to yank her pants down and off in one fell swoop, making her yelp. The table is cold under her ass, but she finds it easy to ignore as two fingers slide into her as easily as they might lace through hers on a stroll through town. "Keyleth," he groans against her mouth. "You're soaked."

"Your fault," she gasps, heart jerking erratically in her throat as he works tight circles inside her. "Your fault your fault your fault—"

Annoying bastard as the nerve to look pleased, like he's proud to have reduced her to this. Because she is reduced, just hot skin and slick thighs and lips that need to be touching him at all times. He obliges her, one hand on the back of her head, crushing her mouth to his, while the other hand, arm pinned between their torsos, seamlessly slips a third finger inside. The sound she makes is animalistic, something she thought she'd only be capable of making while wild shaping. He's simply too good at this. He's not even looking, just an innate expert touch that makes the flame in her belly burn brighter. How does he know exactly where to brush those callused fingertips? How has she not exploded yet?

Her arms, draped around his neck to keep him as physically close as possible, squeeze down between them, to tug at where he's hard and leaking in front of her. He bites on her lip in encouragement, and his fingers—fuck she loves his fingers—slip out of the way just in time for her to kick her heel into his ass to shove his hips forward. He enters her all at once, rough, unforgiving, and her back bows with the force of it.

It's never felt like this before. Normally it's gentle, quiet, romantic, Vax being so careful to ensure that she's not in any discomfort, that she's having a good time. This is not that. Vax fucks into her hard and fast, the table vibrating beneath her as she clings onto him for dear life. She buries her face into the crook of his neck as stars explode behind her eyes. She feels so full, her every nerve sparking and crackling as she pulls him in deeper, deeper. This is it, whatever she was craving, whatever need he spawned in her, he's giving it to her now, and she can't get enough. Her breath staccatos as the muscles in her stomach tighten—she is so, so close.

He knows this, knows what makes her tick better than she does, so the hand that had been gripping her waist to keep her steady comes around to work precise, nimble circles into her clit. That's all it takes. Her body seizes, vision going white as the breath whooshes from her body. She's clenched around him, subsuming him entirely; she cannot begin to understand where she ends and he begins.

The force of it brings him with her, and when he spills inside, he gasps hot breath into her chest. Her ears ring, the sound of her own blood pumping louder than anything she's ever heard before, but as her muscles slowly begin to relax, she hears a sound, strange, high-pitched, soft—oh. That's her.

"Kiki." Vax leans heavily against her, and her jelly bones struggle to keep them both upright. "Kiki."

Her hand comes up to stroke his hair, to calm him, to congratulate him, honestly, she's not sure. She swallows this keening noise that is coming from somewhere inside her and pants, "Good...job. We did it."

Vax snorts a laugh into her shoulder, barely keeping himself up on the edge of the table. "That was...holy shit."

Now Keyleth feels it, that pride that earlier annoyed her when on his face. She did this, left him silly and speechless and sweating. Somewhere, on the farthest edges of her mind, that self-conscious embarrassment is threatening to creep back in, but frankly, she's too wrung-out to notice. "Sorry to...spring that on you. I was...affected."

Vax hauls himself up to take her face in his hands and plant the hardest, filthiest kiss on her mouth. "Do not ever apologize for that," he growls, and the sound make her still-quivering folds twitch. "That was...fucking transcendental."

"No fair," she pouts. "No big words."

"I'm very sorry." He runs his fingers, still slick from her, through her hair, and she's too tired to be grossed out. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but...what brought this on?"

She shrugs, and her skin is getting hot again, the embarrassment beginning to win the war over post-coital stupidity. "You."

He grins at her, the dumb, happy grin that she cherishes like no other. "Well. Now you know how I feel, like, all the time."

She gapes at him. "You feel like that? All the time?"

"Pretty much! Not my fault my girlfriend is a sexy, all-powerful nature goddess!"

"Oh my god." She ducks her head against his chest. "I thought I was going to shatter into a thousand pieces."

"Are you telling me you didn't?"

She rolls her eyes and shoves him. "Alright, my horny meltdown is over, time to get back to work."

"Yes ma'am." He steps back so she can slide off of the table, and they both look at each other askance. "But uh...shower first?"

"Yeah, good idea."

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

Thoughts and feelings about Izzy in s2ep4 and what it means to me as a fellow disabled person:

Yeah, so, that episode, huh?

You know, I already knew going into this new season that Izzy's storyline is going to hit me hard regardless of the exact little plot points it might have, but it's only now, several hours after I've watched eps 4&5 that I'm really starting to digest what his story means to me in it's current shape. This is... a bit long. I also mention a character from a different show - Isaac from Sex Education.

Izzy has always been a bit of a dick, right? That's the reason a lot of people hated him in the first season.

Well, now he is a bit of a dick and disabled. And let me tell you how fucking ecstatic I am about that.

You see, looking for disabled characters in media I consume has rarely been gratifying - if they are there at all, which already is rare, they have very little to do, and if they're even semi-important, they're almost always the epitomes of goodness. Nice, understanding, quiet, patient.

Barely there.

The first time I truly felt something change in this area was with the appearance of Isaac in Netflix's Sex Education. He's sarcastic, funny, talented, honest and mean.

The fandom of that show hated Isaac, let me tell you.

It was mostly because he took direct action to separate the main ship of the show that had many people obsessed. As you'd expect. People's ableism immediately jumped out. As you'd expect.

Because how dare he have his own motivations and wants, and to do what he thinks is right?

Barely there.

And now we have Izzy. Izzy, who also did what he thought was right, which in s1 of the show was trying to separate Ed and Stede. He wasn't trying to make himself too likeable at any point (well. when the crew almost mutinied on him in s1 he did do a last ditch effort but. you remember how well that went).

My point is that now we have someone who isn't particularly nice, and now he's dealing with a sudden loss of ability in his body, which is going to make him even worse. He's angry! Of course he is! He's hobbling around with half a leg gone, humiliated, exhausted, barely recovered from impromptu amputation, no anesthesia. And a suicide attempt! He's angry at himself, his body, at Ed, at Stede, at God if he still believes in one, and who knows who else.

He isn't suddenly going to become nicer to people just because. He doesn't need to be humbled.

(a little sidenote: I do not accept the reasoning that Izzy somehow deserved to lose his leg, that "oh what did he expect riling up Ed when he was heartbroken?" etc. He wasn't expecting to get shot in the fucking leg. Nobody fucking deserves that, and if you think that Ed shooting him in the leg and Izzy subsequently having to have it amputated was an "appropriate punishment" for "what he's done", you're just cruel and wrong. Now scram.)

But that's the point. Disabled people deserve help regardless of whether or not we are nice.

Thankfully (not from Izzy's point of view - his pride was definitely bruised in that moment) the crew saw him struggle, and acted in kind. Because Izzy is their dick. And now - also their unicorn.

And it means so much to me that we get the representation of disabled people who thrash around and rattle the bars of their societal cages, furious at the world that isn't welcoming to us, and receive love and care and an invitation to a loving community regardless.

We shouldn't have to be here just when ableds are ready to give. We aren't meek vessels for your good will. Izzy is such a painfully realistic (as far as the universe of the show permits, given it's unavoidable goofiness) portrayal of the anger of someone who's lost some of their body's past ability, and how one might deal with it.

And I really wanted to say something about that, because I'm afraid it might get lost in the discussion about the more popular and more easily digestible aspects of the show.

[mixu]

Hi, hope you are doing well. )

I am curious to know your impressions, anecdotes, experience of being a veteran SNS shipper. How was your experience with Naruto fandom? Has it changed? It would be great if you could talk about it.

Hi! I hope you’re doing well too. I barely receive any asks, so I’m excited.

Ah, my experiences and anecdotes being in the fandom, especially as a SNS shipper (does it count as shipping if they’re canon?) … It’s more than half of my life (I feel like I’m talking to my grandchildren) so this could get long.

I’ve been part of the fandom for 17 years, but it’s just recently that I’ve gotten to interact more with other fans both pro and anti sns. This mainly for three reasons:

Time period

When I entered the fandom internet and social media weren’t what they are today (that’s how old I am). I barely had access to internet for school and quickly read the new manga chapter before having to disconnect.

Location

Younger people don’t realize this but the globalization of manga and anime are quite recent. Now you can find merchandise even at the supermarket and a great catalogue of series is at your disposal with minimal effort. And being an “otaku” in the 2000’s was begging to be bullied at least in my country, so I preferred to keep my interests to myself.

My personality

I’m not the most social of people.

Thus, in the beginning, the fandom was nonexistent to me. It was just me, what Kishi wrote and my thoughts.

Little by little I got to interact with other people who were mainly shônen fans, and never read outside of that demographic, so there was no chance they would recognize a “non-pure shônen” even if it hit them in the face. There was not much to discuss aside from who would beat who, and I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it back then anyway, but my guts knew there was something different about Naruto. More than met the eye.

I next met a different part of the fandom in the form of fanart and fanfiction, but at that time it never crossed my mind that people would cling to those non-canon portrayals with their life. I would say most of these fans are avid consumers from other demographics that got attracted because something (the romance or the potential gayness) caught their eye, but are only interested in how to bend the characters to fit their vision. I know fanfiction and fanart are supposed to be self-indulgent, I enjoy it and write it even, but I’ve mostly managed to separate from the real thing. Not many discussions about the story as a whole (please keep in mind we were all teenagers back then).

So, none of those previous fan groups seemed to understand what I couldn’t put into words, and for the longest time, because my understanding of Naruto and Sasuke’s story was mostly instinctual, I had to go along with it. I let myself be gaslighted into believing my thoughts were just a byproduct of my fujoshi tendencies (I guess it could be right to call me fujoshi, but never due to Naruto).

After a quite long break, not just from Naruto but from manga and anime in general, I came into contact with the more educated part of the fandom in tumblr, and I finally got to put into words what was behind Naruto and Sasuke’s dynamic thanks to all of the great analysis that I found. I got vindicated and felt like I could finally live in peace but it was short lived.

When I met all the crazy antis, oh boy, I understood why ignorance is bliss.

That being said, there are indeed a bunch of obstacles between the fandom and understanding the true significance of Naruto’s story. However, not all of them are due to lack of knowledge when it comes to narrative devices and storytelling tools. I’m far from proficient in that topic and I can confidently say I got it.

Discarding those who will perpetually live in denial due to bigotry, homophobia, lack of an open mind, cultural differences, etc, and after much pondering elicited by this post of yours, I’ve come to the conclusion that the shônen label holds way more power than I originally thought. Or better say, all that shônen represents functions as the most effective reality filter.

Because Naruto was labeled as shônen:

The dudebros who only care about the power escalation won’t understand even if they are not homophobic because they came for the blattles and cool powers, nothing else matters.

The lost shôjo readers who force nh and ss into focus and think they can bend the “romance” to cater to their taste because a shonen writer would drop the ball with something as delicate. “Let Kishimoto draw his battles, we will fix the deficient love story because we know how true romance it’s supposed to look like. We wouldn’t be interfering with the hero’s story, anyway.”

All the while ignoring they are dragging a bunch of toxic tropes with them. They don’t see their pairings as failures because shôjo also has its good share of toxicity and abuse.

The fujoshi and fundashi who despite coming after the gayness, still miss the point because they do not care about the story so long as two hot men are kissing or fucking or whatever. They don’t actually believe in sns because most of their pairings are ships for fun, anything can be shipped, (pencil-senpai and sharpener-kun) so they see Naruto as a love story only under their terms but never in canon.

Then we have people that read a wider range but fail to look at the story as anything else than one written for male teenagers. Got shôjo for romance seinen and josei for more maturity, so shônen is meant for an easy quick snack.

Some of my friends, that I consider very intelligent people, way more versed in storytelling and narrative and whatnot than me, who are definitely not bigots or homophobic, still miss the point because they weren’t looking for it. They realized only after I pointed it out (I even made a ppt presentation, but that’s another story).

As for the people who understand from the beginning:

There’s of course those with the knowledge to dissect the story, and who can consciously ignore the restrictions of the labels.

Yet another group (I consider myself part of this one) that manage to bypass the rules only guided by instinct, but kept second-guessing themselves until they met someone from the previous group.

Then there’s my mother, bless her, who watches anime and loves her romances, but knows shit about manga demographics and wonders how the fuck Naruto and Sasuke gave birth to Boruto because in her eyes that little piece of shit has to be their son.

So once again, it all comes back to Kishimoto and his decision sell his soul to Jump. Was it all for fame or money? Was he too hopeful and naïve? Was it all a cruel prank?

What happened to mangakas like Tezuka? That man knew no limits.

That’s it for my thoughts on and interactions with the fandom. I think I leave my evolution as a sns stan for later if you’re interested in it.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: And I am back in my "Nessian with RED (TV) fic titles" agenda. They are just so RED coded and I had been dying to write something related to this album it is one of my fav albums of TS tbf.

This one shot is more Cassian centric, and it is also a type of fanfic I had been meaning to write for the longest times. I just feel like the fandom overall forgets that Cassian has a lot of trauma and insecurities, and I wish we saw more of that.

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

Nightmares were not unusual to Cassian. He had them for as long as he could remember.

He had them when he was a mere child living on the outskirts of Windhaven, blowing on his hands to try and keep himself warm.

Had them when he was a young warrior, taking part in the Blood Rite, fighting his way to find his brothers alive.

Had them when he took part in the First War and saw deaths far more gruesome than what he had experienced at the Blood Rite.

Had them pile up after each war, each battle he took part in. Dreamt about his soldiers dying, about having to give their families the news and be met with sadness, anger and resentment. That they were gone and would never return. That while they had died he, a mere bastard born nobody, an orphan, had not.

He grew used to nightmares. Usually he would wake up with silent tears and a sense of regret and failure over his heart, spending the rest of the night awake, going over reports. Those were the good nights.

And on those rare times when his mind was particularly evil and wanted to punish him deeply, on those nights he would wake up with his heart racing, the urge to throw up taking him out of his bed to leave him retching over the toilet, the need to scream at anyone and everyone consuming him. To scream in anger and despair. Those were the bad nights, the ones who made him go to the training ring and rip the punching bags, made him stay there until the sun was rising and he would pass out with tiredness, no dreams, good or bad appearing for him.

He was so used to his nightmares that he knew what to expect, knew how to recognise when it would be a bad or good night.

And then he met Nesta and his nightmares changed.

Now he dreamt of his failures with her. Not being able to stop her from being thrown into the Cauldron, not protecting her from Hybern during the War, not helping her heal sooner after the war, letting her be kidnapped again and thrown in the Blood Rite.

Nothing could have prepared him for those nightmares, nightmares that got worse after they finally got together.

Because finally being able to be with the love of his life, his Nesta, his wife and mate… that made him incredibly afraid. Afraid that the happiness he had never felt before would be stolen from him, leaving him empty, a sad and lonely youngling in the bitter snow all over again.

The first time Cassian had a nightmare after he and Nesta had wed, he had woken up in a cold sweat, heart beating so loudly on his ears that for a second he thought he was hearing the Illyrian war drums. He had dreamt of the night she had been Made, of dragging himself over the cold floor of Hybern’s throne room, the pain of his shredded and bloody wings almost non-existent at the face of Nesta’s despair. At her screams of rage as she was dragged under the cold dark waters of the Cauldron.

He had only calmed down when he realised Nesta was safely sleeping beside him, arms around him tightening and her sleepily mumbling at him.

“Where are you going?”

Cassian had considered untangling himself from his wife’s warm embrace and going over some leftover documents, silently keeping watch over her. But one look at her sleeping face had his resolve weakening.

“Nowhere, Nes” he had settled beside her, dropping a kiss on her forehead “Go back to sleep”

Whenever Cassian had a nightmare, he would try his best to not wake up Nesta. He did not want to bother her with his worries and fears. And somehow the Mother must have taken pity on him, because he was scarcely having any bad nights since they'd gotten married. Sure, he still had nightmares, but those made him want to rip his own heart out had stopped.

He took that as a small blessing. He would take the good nights over no dreams if that meant that the unbearable nightmares would be kept at bay.

However, Nesta was not oblivious that something preyed on her husband’s mind. She had noticed how worn out he was, how when he smiled at her and said nothing was wrong his smile did not reach his eyes.

But Nesta wanted Cassian himself to tell her what was happening. Wanted him to open his heart about what was making the circles beneath his eyes darker with each passing day without her having to dig it out of him. He had told her months ago during that hike at Illyria that she could be silent and he would be waiting for her to open up when she felt comfortable, as long as she did not shut him out. Now Nesta would do the same. She would wait beside him, offering her support however she could until he was ready to talk.

“You are unusually quiet today,” Nesta noted. They were resting on the sofa in front of the fireplace — Nesta reading a book and Cassian lying down, his head on her lap — having a quiet late evening after the training session with the Valkyries in the morning.

“Missing the sound of my lovely voice, Nes? Should I read out loud a paragraph from your book?” Cassian teased, opening an eye. He had slept poorly the night before, and the quiet sound of the embers crackling on the fireplace and his mate absentmindedly running her free hand through his hair had him battling sleep.

“No,” she closed her book, “it was merely an observation.”

Cassian closed his eyes again, smiling softly.

“Are you sure? I am certain the House would love to hear all about your newest smutty book”

The faelights flicked twice, as if agreeing with him.

“Oh hush now, you can read it after I am done with it. ” Nesta said, glaring at the ceiling “I never knew a sentient being more impatient”

Cassian laughed. At first he had been surprised when Nesta talked to the House, but he had grown used to it, even talking to It on more than one occasion.

“Do you want to move to our room?” Nesta asked, gently running her hands through his hair “it is more comfortable than the couch”

Cassian merely sighed “No, I am very comfortable like this” he turned on his side, arms circling her waist and wings dropping a little on the floor “I am afraid I will keep you hostage while I nap.”

Whatever Nesta meant to say was lost when she noticed how his breath had eased, her mate having already fallen asleep. And before she could even ask, the House flicked off the faelights, drawing shut the curtains of the room they had turned into their living room.

“Thank you,” Nesta found it quite endearing how the House had grown to care about Cassian as much as It cared about her. In the beginning, It liked to play pranks on him and even sided with Nesta whenever she and Cassian had an argument — once It locked Cassian outside and only let him in when he apologised. Over time, however, they had formed a rather close friendship.

Nesta opened her book again, turning on the small faelight that Azriel had gifted her on Solstice. She had just gotten to the juicy part and she knew that little light would not wake Cassian any time soon if the way he was softly breathing was any indication of how deeply he was sleeping.

She had read half of the book when she felt an uneasy feeling through the bond. She looked down at Cassian and saw his breathing getting uneven, his arms tightening around her waist.

“Cass?” Nesta whispered softly, setting her book aside. She could feel his fear and anguish through the bond, and it pained her that she could do nothing to ease his pain.

Cassian whimpered, and although Nesta knew better than to wake up someone having a nightmare, she could not stand to see him in such pain.

“Cassian, wake up, please” she tugged on her end of the bond, her hands cupping his face. He woke up gasping, hazel eyes huge and scared.

“A bucket,” he managed to say as he scrambled up, his breathing erratic “I need—”

No sooner had the House made a bucket appear than Cassian was on his knees, emptying his stomach. Nesta kneeled beside him, holding his hair back and rubbing his back.

“It is okay, everything is fine now” she said softly.

The House made a glass of water and a towel appear, Nesta thanking It quietly. Cassian had closed his eyes, breathing as if he had just learned how to.

“Hey,” she grabbed his face “open your eyes Cass.”

His hands came up, grabbing her wrists like he was wandering at the sea and she was his lifeline.

“That is it, just look at me” she said softly yet firmly, his scared hazel eyes meeting her blue-grey ones “Breath, Cassian.”

Nesta took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it go slowly. Cassian copied her, and after a few minutes his breathing had become normal again, his racing heart also slowing down.

“I am sorry,” that was the first thing he said, voice hoarse “I did not want you to see me like this”

“Nonsense,” Nesta dismissed, giving him the glass of water and making him drink it “you have seen me in much worse conditions”

“Are you ready to tell me what is going on?” she asked.

Cassian nodded his head, biding his time by taking another sip of water and using the towel to clean his mouth.

“For as long as I could remember I’ve had nightmares,” he began “There are the good nightmares and bad nightmares. The good ones usually wake me and leave me with a feeling of failure.”

Nesta remembered the nights in which she would wake up to an empty bed, Cassian going over reports — she would sit on his lap and give remarks as he went over them —  or just standing on their balcony. On those nights she would go over to him and bring him back to bed.

“I am cold” she would say, and he would hug her tightly and Nesta would let him think that she did not notice how he needed the hug more than she did.

She could always feel his sadness through the bond, no matter how hard he tried to close his end of that golden thread that binds them together so intrinsically.

“And the bad ones?” Nesta quietly asked.

“The bad ones leave me like this,” he said with a self deprecating laugh “A complete and utter mess, barely functioning.”

“You have been sleeping poorly for a while now. Why didn’t you talk to me?” Cassian must have seen the hurt on her eyes, felt it through the bond, because he grabbed her hands, squeezing them.

“I am not good with words, I am sure you have noticed that,” he smiled weakly “I wish I was half as eloquent as you are.”

“You managed just fine in our wedding” she said with an arched eyebrow, and that got a real laugh out of him.

“I was inspired that day, I will admit.” he got serious again “But I think that maybe spending a lot of time being alone and angry did not help with my inability to find the right words to express what I am feeling. And to share my problems with others.”

Nesta had noticed this particular trait of Cassian, especially after she had stopped keeping him at arms lengths and had finally allowed herself to admit what she felt for him. He loved his family deeply, would put himself at risk for others in a heartbeat, would always have a happy face and joke to lighten the mood.

He cared for and about everyone, but what about him? Who did the same to him?

Nesta wanted to be the one with whom he could discard his happy mask and show a range of emotions.

“You can always talk to me Cassian,” she said “Anytime, no matter what.”

“I don't want to burden you. You already went through so much that to further worry you with something as silly as a nightmare—”

“I cannot believe you are saying this,” Nesta said, and Cassian could feel her anger and disappointment through the bond “You could never burden me and for you to even suggest otherwise—”

“I am your wife, Cassian. Your mate. If I don’t care and worry about you, who will?” she continued after taking a deep breath to calm herself “Besides, it is not a silly nightmare if it affected you this way”

Cassian stayed a few minutes quiet, mindlessly playing with her wedding band, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Another reason I was hesitant to talk to you about the nightmares is because— because now I have nightmares about you, Nes” he avoided her eyes while he talked, still focused on her hands “The good nightmares are the ones about my failures with you. Not stopping Hybern, not helping you sooner…”

Nesta’s heart almost broke when he said that. How could he think that about himself when he had been the one to tell her months ago when they visited the old shabby cottage she had lived with her family in poverty that there was nothing she could have done to stop Hybern and save her father?

“And the bad?” she asked, wishing he would look at her.

“The bad ones are about you dying in my arms. About you realising I am nothing more than a bastard born nobody, who is not deserving  of even the air you breathe and then leaving to go travel the world, to marry a king from the continent or from other fae lands.” his voice got quieter, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of telling her what he saw on those nights “Of you simply leaving me and never looking back.”

“Tonight— tonight was a bad one,” he finally looked at her and his face was so utterly wrecked with pain and desperation that Nesta wanted to tell him that she would stop his nightmares, that she would bargain with the Mother and even that blasted Cauldron to leave him alone.

“I dreamt that when Briallyn ordered me to kill I could not turn the knife on myself. So I killed you. And she got the Mask and kept reviving you so I had to kill you over and over and over again” silent tears started running down his face and her heart truly shattered.

She hugged him tight, Cassian burying his head on her shoulder.

“Shh xe nhia, I am here,” Nesta knew a few words in Illyrian, and she hoped that the use of them, the familiarity that they brought, would help Cassian “I am not leaving you. Not now and not ever”

“However, if you keep trying to spoil my books I might become Ems’ newest house mate” she joked, making Cassian laugh.

“I would be completely lost without you Nes,” he said with a weak smile.

“I know,” she tenderly brushed his cheeks, drying his tears “Promise me something?”

“Anything you desire”

“Promise me you will wake me up when you have another nightmare, be it ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Promise me you will talk to me and let me be beside you when you are in need.” she pleaded.

“I promise” Cassian kissed her cheek, gathering her in his arms and walking towards their bedroom. Reluctantly setting her down, he went to their bathroom to freshen up while Nesta changed out of her dress.

Cassian walked back in to find her wearing one his favourite sweaters.

“I had been looking for that sweater”

“You were? Funny how it ended up in my drawer. Maybe the House put it there by mistake” Nesta shrugged, knowing very well that she had been the one to steal it. She was constantly stealing Cassian’s clothes.

“You do look better on it than me, so I think I can forgive that small mishap” he said, getting under the covers and hugging Nesta close.

“I love you, Nes” he whispered in her ear “And thank you”

“I love you too, Cass,” she replied, snuggling closer to him.

And that night, for the first time in a long while, Cassian had no nightmares.

•

tag list: @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @katekatpattywack @nestaarcheron @imagine-me @sv0430 @starryblueskies7 @live-the-fangirl-life @valkyriewarriors @readskk @wannawriteyouabook @imwritingthesewords @rainbowcheetah512 @moodymelanist @castielspelvis

[Reblogs/likes/comments are always welcomed!!]

[sleepingdeath-light]

what kind of dad he’d be hcs ; zeke yeager

requested by ; anonymous (10/10/23)

fandom(s) ; attack on titan

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; zeke yeager

outline ; “Hello! Can I request a dad headcanons (as in reader is his kid) about Reiner or Zeke [you can do both of them if you feel like it] (AoT)? What kind of father would he be and how would he deal with being a single parent. Those dudes have some issues, so I'm curious how that would impact their parenting styles. Have a nice day or night!”

note ; very shaky characterisation as i haven’t written for reiner before — also this spans from pre-rumbling to just before his death

warning(s) ; canon typical references to violence and angst, but mostly fluff!

though he is a notably ruthless and cunning tactician on the battlefield, when it comes to his role as your father zeke does his best to be just about everything his own father wasn’t — sometimes this translates to his patience when helping you learn about the history of your world or another fundamental skill, and other times this means him greeting you with warmth and affection after a successful mission with his fellow soldiers (giving you all of the attention he was denied growing up… or, well, as much of it as he can afford to give due to how all consuming his role can be)

when he’s out on missions or training it’s his grandparents that take care of you, making sure that you’re well loved and supported as you learn and grow as a person — they’re also the ones that keep track of any milestones you reach in his absence so that he’s able to quickly get back up to speed whenever he comes home

every second that he has to spare is spent doting on you: playing games together, helping you with your homework, helping you read that new book he bought you, eating together as a family, and giving you every little gift he collected on his missions away — it’s hard to find something that’s not charred and broken after he’s attacked a town, but he somehow always manages because in zeke’s mind you only deserve the best

he deals with an immense amount of guilt for bringing you into a world where you’re seen as a threat for your heritage and while he does go through a period of deliberation just after your birth, in the end he still decides to go through with his plan of sterilising all eldians — he loves you, adores you even, but he’s well and truly set on doing what he perceives to be the right thing for all of humanity… even if it means negatively impacting you in the process

zeke is all too aware that his time on this earth has been massively shortened by his adoption of the beast titan form, and naturally he started putting in measures from your infancy to ensure that you’d be well taken care of after his inevitable death — he arranged for his grandparents to formally adopt you and take you in, starts writing letters to you in his free time for all of those milestones he’s going to miss, sets aside some clothing and other items of his for you to keep as reminders of him, and even goes and gets a formal family picture done when you’re old enough to remember it

he doesn’t talk to you much about your grandparents, diana and grisha, but you learn the basics from your great grandparents — who they were, what happened to them, and what their relationship with your father was like (of course zeke leaves you a letter with a full explanation about your heritage to read once you’re old enough, and he’s long dead, but for now all you need to know is the ‘who’ and that they died a long time before you were born)

of course he isn’t perfect and, as much as he tries to emulate the positive example set by his grandparents, there are times when he makes mistakes and lashes out at you for something you’ve done (usually interrupting him when he’s in a meeting or doing something dangerous without realising just how risky your behaviour was) — in those moments he’ll scream so harshly that you can’t help but be terrified, and the moment you start crying and he notices it you’ll see him freeze as he snaps out of his anger before he goes to comfort you and apologise

he refuses to be like grisha

he’s extremely protective and secretive about you and isn’t above threatening or killing people that try to leverage your existence against him — in fact he’s so keen on keeping your existence as his child as much of a secret as possible that there are only a small handful of people that know about you (namely your family — including eren when zeke was trying to get him to sympathise with his cause — and a few of his most trusted fellow warriors)

[lokischocolatefountain]

Hiiii!

I have a request for you. Can you write something about their wedding? You have mentioned it alot of time and I am curious how their day was.

Chucho’s Boy

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 2.1k words

Summary: Chucho Peña’s boy finds love and nobody could be happier about it but him.

A/N: Hiii! I’m so late with this so I’m sorry about that first of all. I’ve tried something new with the wedding thing and I hope you enjoy it 🥰

Chucho Peña waited on the road in front of his farm, all the work for that morning done and his family gathered in the living room in front of the TV. He hadn’t scheduled much for that day anyways. He worked hard, instilled the same values in his son— perhaps a bit too much. But he knew to separate work from the rest of life. He knew to make time for leisure, make time for family. Perhaps he should’ve drilled that into Javier’s head a little more when he was growing up and still eager to listen to his old man.

“It’s here!” The postman yelled from a distance, still pedaling towards his destination on his old bicycle Chucho knew he’d owned since he took up the job nearly a decade ago.

His lips stretched into a smile as the package he’d been waiting on got closer and closer, yet not fast enough for his impatient heart. He made a quick trip to his front door and peeked in at the gathered family.

“It’s here!” He said, the news causing them to erupt into cheers. He ran back to the road and took the package from the postman.

“Congrats, Chucho! You finally got the tape,” he said, pulling out the notepad with a form for him to sign to confirm he’d received the package that came all the way from Colombia. Ever since Javier said he’d handed the package off to the mailroom at his job, Chucho had been waiting like Javier used to wait for his Christmas presents— impatient, bursting with excitement and counting the days until he could get his hands on it. Now all of Laredo knew that he was waiting for a package from his son.

He thanked the postman for bringing the precious cargo before rushing into his living room. One of his nieces who was much better with technology ripped the package open and set up the VCR to play the cassette. A piece of paper fell out of the package, one he bent down and picked up. He loved letters from his son— phone calls were always cut short by his work and Chucho felt that Javier was more honest with his pen than he was with his lips. But the letter would have to wait.

The TV screen filled with the colors of the office room in the embassy in Colombia, showing him a glimpse of where his son spent all his days and nights when he wasn’t facing danger on the streets. Javier shuffled into the frame, hair combed neatly and wearing the only tuxedo he owned. He adjusted his tie and tugged at the cuffs of his shirt to have them peeking outside his jacket sleeves.

Weddings in Laredo didn’t need such a nice suit. They also had family, he thought bitterly about the job that kept his only child so far away from him. But if it weren’t for the job, he wouldn’t have found the woman he was happy to settle down with. Behind the TV was a picture taken decades ago, back when Javi was only three quarters his current height and when he smiled easily. Back when the farm had Mama, Papa and Javi instead of just Papa and the animals. Carmela had her arm around their boy and Chucho had her hand in his. Oh how much Javier had grown from the little boy in the picture to the man on the television, all dressed up to marry the woman he loves. His heart ached for Carmela as he watched Javier’s features brighten— that was when he knew his daughter-in-law had walked into the room.

That was a smile he saw on his son too long ago, sometime before they lost his mother. Grief had consumed both father and son and while he was able to smile again now, his son had jumped headfirst into a job that took that particular smile away. The one that reached his eyes, one that wasn’t weighed down by the burden on his shoulders at all times. The first time he’d seen it in years was when he brought the girl home to introduce her as the woman he was marrying.

She wasn’t in a big wedding dress. It was white, but nothing grand. Javi leaned forward and whispered something to her, the smile on his lips stretching wider. She whispered something back to him before the officiant walked up and took his position.

“Javier Peña,” the officiant drawled as he looked at the bride and groom. “They weren’t joking, huh? You really are getting married.”

The family laughed at that and he joined. While he married Carmela early, Javier was something of a perpetual bachelor. Long ago, he locked away the part of his heart that wished for grandchildren. Now, he was beginning to hope again as he watched Javier’s smile turn a little shy before it turned cocky. “She couldn’t help but say yes,” he said, smirking at his bride.

“Well I could still say I don’t instead of I do, Peña,” she teased, making them laugh just like the people in the video recording. He took his left hand in his right and thumbed the ring on her finger.

“Is this why people throw big weddings? So the bride feels bad for the expenses and doesn’t leave at the last minute?”

“Maybe,” she answered, laughing with the room. The room fell into silence when the officiant cleared his throat. He pulled a piece of paper from his suit jacket and unfolded it.

“I see many men and women leave our homes behind to serve our country, to fight for a cause. Far away from home, I see so many grow lonely, tie themselves to their desks. In the groom’s case, his jeep. Going back and forth between Bogota and Medellin, facing the worst of humanity in this beautiful country. We get nice apartments here, but most never turn into homes as we cannot bring our families here. I’m happy to see that amidst all this, the two of you have found love and have made a home together,” he spoke, his expressions sincere and radiating warmth towards the couple. “Now for the vows.”

“Do you want to go first or…?” Javier asked his bride, ever the polite boy.

“I want to,” she said softly, taking his hands in hers.

The act reassured Chucho. They had a big extended family but Javier was still an only child. They tried. For years and years. But God had decided that they would have one little boy to raise. As an only child, he grew accustomed to doing everything alone- playing, chores, Mother’s Day cards. Javier would never have ended up in his lonesome- his cousins wouldn’t have let that happen. But he’d spread his wings out, flown far far away from family. He put himself in a place where it was difficult to get hold of him.

When she took his hands, it was as though they were telling him that neither of them would be alone from now. They would have each other. His boy would have someone to live for, instead of great big causes to die for.

“At first, I smiled at you at the restaurant only because I wanted to keep the free snacks coming,” she began, making Javi chuckle. “And then I agreed to a date and then another date and then you went and got on one knee at the same restaurant. That was when I knew my ploy for free snacks had gone too far.”

Javier’s laugh was distinct in the room. Chucho would always place it in a sea of people, and find his sweet face in a crowd.

“We’d just had dinner there and as tradition dictates, you paid for it. So I decided to stretch the free food out further and said yes. And now here we are, at the embassy, getting married,” she said, the mirth in her eyes softening to something more earnest.

“It wasn’t my first choice of venue when I thought of a wedding, but you are my first choice of groom. The only choice. I have never wanted to spend my entire life with anyone— that shit scared me. And I know it scared you too. What scares me more now is a life without you. I cannot imagine a life without being cared for the way you care for me, the way you care about everyone you come across in life. I can no longer go without your smile and your warm hugs and the way you can make me feel safe no matter what is going on around us. I promise to give you at least a shred of that safety in my arms when you come home.”

His son’s eyes glinted in the light and his nose turned pink. Telltale signs of approaching tears. His prediction came true as Javi lifted a hand to wipe his tears away. Chucho felt himself tear up as well. All a parent wanted was to see their children be happy. Not many had that blessing.

Oh how Carmela would’ve loved to see their boy get married… She would not have allowed a wedding at an embassy, of course. She would’ve flown herself to Colombia if she had to and gotten their boy to a church.

“I will stand by you in the hard times and the good times. I promise I will care for you the way you care for me. I promise to be your sanctuary, to cherish you when you’re home and miss you when you’re not. I promise you, Javier, the rest of my life, whatever it may look like.”

Javi leapt forward and pulled his bride into a kiss, his hands on either side of her face. He pulled back to look at her, his eyes softening and his smile honest.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice inaudible in the recording but his lips moving the right way to convey exactly what he’d said. He placed a kiss on her forehead when the officiant interrupted saying, “I didn’t say you could kiss.”

Bride and groom laughed and all the way here in Laredo, they too laughed at how eager he was to kiss his now wife. Defying the officiant, he pecked her lips once again before taking a step back.

“This embassy had become my life by the time I met you. My life revolved around work, criminals, cigarettes and bottles of whiskey, all of them mired in a darkness that I didn’t even know existed before I came here. In sunny Colombia, there was hardly any light for me. Until you. I still work too much, smoke too much, drink a little less than I used to— but still, too much. Because of you, I want to do a lot less of that. Because I have you, I want to come home.”

Chucho’s sister cooed at the confession, hand on her chest over her heart as she watched the pair marry. It wasn’t what he wanted, witnessing his only son’s wedding in his living room weeks after it happened. But it was what he had and it was sweet nevertheless.

“But the darkness can no longer consume me the way it used to because you shine brighter than the darkness I bring to our lives. To the woman who does that for me, I promise everything. All that I am and all that I have, though it’s very little, is yours until I die. I promise you all of me, the good and the bad and the darkness only you have embraced. I promise I will protect you with my life. I promise a better life when this is all over, to be a better husband than I have been a boyfriend. I promise to love you and respect you and cherish you the way you deserve to be.”

Chucho sniffled and wiped his tears off, his soul finally at peace to see his son promise himself to a woman, to a life that was more than just chasing criminals. He looked up at the picture of Carmela and spoke to her the way he’d been speaking to her since he buried her. Our boy is happy. Our boy is loved. He has found a home.

Along with the family, he watched the couple say I do. He wiped off more tears as he thought of his own wedding day and the life he shared with his wife, the baby boy they raised to be a good man.

They exchanged rings, smiling at each other and Chucho saw their entire future ahead of them— the parts he would see and the parts he wouldn’t. The children they would have and the love they would share, just like he did with his Carmela.

[epickiya722]

I know that the hatred for Megumi started from him summoning Mahoraga in Shibuya and yeah, it was an irrational decision but...

It's not like Megumi actually took delight in it and even stated he was a part of what happened to Shibuya. The "It's our fault" bit in 144.

But also, let's not act like some other characters are still loved even though they have done equally terrible and even worse things.

In fact, if anyone deserves hate and constantly bashed for the shit they have done it should be the Higher-Ups. If there are a group of people that I hate the most in JJK it's going to be them.

They sent three children on a mission they knew was too ranked high for them just to kill one of them. Who, mind, was doing relatively good.

"But they had a point to kill Yuji because he's Sukuna's vessel."

More like cage. The plan had been for Yuji to be executed AFTER he consumed ALL THE CURSED FINGERS. At the time of that mission, he had only consumed 2. (And if you know, it's actually 3.)

2 out of 20 fingers... THAT WAS 18 MORE LEFT.

Keep in mind, Yuji was able to hold his control over Sukuna. Someone else consuming a finger meant Sukuna easily taking over their body. See how that's a problem?

If anything, the Higher-Ups should have been lucky for someone like Yuji to exist.

But no. It got worse because guess what?

Gakuganji, Principal of the Kyoto school and A HIGHER-UP, assigned his students to assassinate Yuji... DURING AN EVENT.

What was the rational reason? What was it?

"Well, did Yuji let Sukuna out--"

Ah! He wouldn't have had to do that because of who did what? The Higher-Ups sending children on a mission that possibly would have gotten them killed. He was a child who made a bad decision like that because he didn't know what else to do.

Megumi did the same thing. He made a bad decision because he didn't know what else to do.

Yes, people died because of it but let's not act if Megumi didn't do it things would be better.

The time Sukuna spent fighting Mahoraga would still enough time for him to still kill people and cause more destruction even if Mahoraga wasn't summoned. What, was it like Sukuna going to stand there after killing Jogo?

Uh, no. You know damn well he would have went to do some damage to Shibuya because he would have wanted to and still would have taunted Yuji about it.

Even if he didn't, let's not act that Megumi is the sole guilty party because he isn't.

Back to Sukuna, you can not tell me some people didn't already die during that fight against Jogo. I have seen people praise Jogo for holding his own against Sukuna (props to him) but he did still kill people. That big ass meteor definitely did!!

Mahito was still running around, wasn't he? He and the other Disaster Curses along with Choso and Kenjaku were the reason for the whole incident starting in the first place!

So why is Megumi getting the most hate and continously bashed on like he's the one who started the whole thing and was the only one who did damage?

And I know that people also hate Megumi because he's "being a little bitch" right now in the manga... but that is so hard to believe that people really think he's a bitch because HIS BODY AND TECHNIQUE WAS USED TO KILL PEOPLE HE CARES ABOUT AND HIS SOUL IS SINKING INTO AN ABYSS DUE TO SUKUNA'S TOM-FUCKING-FOOLERY.

No way people are actually using that.

I feel some people just want to continue to be on the Megumi hate train and now just throwing any reason to hate him.

"I like being a hater of things."

But all the time though? All the time? That don't sound like a fun time to me. I hate sometimes, but not to be like "oh, let me follow everyone else because this is the new thing we're doing" and I don't feel like I have to express that hate all the time. Sometimes, I do like people who say things like that are just trying to hide the fact they're a part of the crowd that wants to be jerks in a fandom.

But that's just me.