#it just feels like it is so hard for me to be allowed to exist sometimes

[classyrbf]

THREE'S A CROWD...OR IS IT! — GOJO + GETO

SYNOPSIS...gojo and geto don’t mind having a third, it adds to the fun of their relationship if you know what I mean

INFO...gojo x geto x fem!reader, poly(?), riding, anal, recording, fingers, squirting, reader is a complete horndog, praise, degradation, oral (m!receiving), double penetration, creampies, overstim, quite literally filthy just pure filth, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

“Look at how she’s riding you, Suguru. She’s so fucking desperate to cum,” Gojo lets out a breathy laugh, gripping the flesh of your ass while you slam your hips down on Geto’s throbbing cock. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve came already, jumping back and forth between both of them. “Come on, pretty, arch your back more and work for it.” He lands a harsh slap against your ass, humming to himself as he watches the way your pussy creams around his boyfriend’s cock.

“Such a greedy little thing aren’t you,” Geto rasps, looking up at you with a lustful gaze. “Putting on such a show—nnngh fuck.” He grits his teeth, your pussy milking his cock, fluttering around him. He’s so deep inside you, it feels like your entire body is melting, completely on fire. No matter how tired you were, you just couldn’t stop cumming.

“Mmmph, fuck I’m close! Yes, yes!” You whimper, biting down on your lower lip when you feel your orgasm building. The pressure becoming all too much to contain. “Fuckkkk!” Your body shakes above him as clear liquid leaks from your sopping cunt, soaking your thighs.

Geto lifts you from his cock, holding onto your waist as he allows Satoru to rub his slender fingers along your leaky slit. With your legs still quivering, you find it hard to hold back your whimpers as both men laugh in your ears, so satisfied with the way you were permanently slutted out for them. Gojo coos, rubbing your swollen clit in circles as a means to tease you. “More, more, please.” You grip onto Geto’s broad shoulders helpless, digging your nails into his skin. And when you feel his fingers slide into your aching hole, you let out the most lewd cry known to existence, both men’s cocks twitching greedily.

Geto’s large hands spread your ass, holding it open for Satoru as he fingers you tight pussy, creaming all over his fingers as he pushes up against your g-spot over and over at a rapid pace that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Awe, Satoru, I think you made her go stupid.” He huffs with a smile, grabs hold of your jaw and holding your face up like some trophy. “What a pretty dumb thing you are,” he whispers in your ear, his degrading yet praising words went straight to your pussy. “You like being ours?” He pressed a wet kiss to your jaw as you nodded, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re gonna make me cum again!” You squealed, breathing heavily as your gripped onto Geto’s muscular arms. “Oh my g-god!” Your entire body shivered with pleasure as you came around Satorus fingers, earning a warm giggle from him as he toyed with your soaked cunt. Before you knew you it, you went limp from the sheer amount of exhaustion, but god were still so turned on, still so hellbent on cumming more and more.

“Taste yourself on my fingers, baby. Come here.” He guided your head slightly upwards, grinning at the way you obediently stuck out your tongue and took his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. You stared up at him hazy eyes, moaning around his finger until you let them go with a pop. “You’re fucking dangerous,” he uttered under his breath. He reached his hand down, stroking his dick slowly from the base to the tip. “Spit on it for me.” You gathered all the spit you could, spit right onto his dick no matter how messy or sloppy it was. Gojo couldn’t handle himself anymore, snatching you from Suguru and pushing you down onto the floor. “Join us.” He looked at his raven haired boyfriend who had a smug look on his face.

Geto stood to his feet, grabbing his phone from off the nightstand to record the moment that was about to happen. He couldn’t believe a pretty girl like you was so excited to suck two dicks at once. You were gleaming, a cheerful smile on your face as he hit record. “That’s its, baby. Look up at the camera for me while you suck it.” You slapped Geto leaky tip on your tongue while still jerking off Gojo before switching sides and doing the same.

“She’s such a fucking tease,” Gojo groaned as he grew impatient, leading him to grab a fistful of your air and shove his dick down your throat. Your eyes immediately went wide, gagging around his thick length while he fucked your face. “Your throat feels so fucking good. Fuck.” He tosses his back, sweet moans filling the room. Your eyes grew teary before he pulled you off of his cock, strings of saliva coating your lips while you gasped for air. “Messy fucking girl.” Satoru slapped his dick on your face.

With his hand still full of your hair, he guided your mouth to Geto’s pulsing cock, watching the way you eagerly stuck your tongue out as you took him down your throat. A soft groan left the man’s lips, clenching his jaw when you wrapped your hand around his base and bobbed your head up and down. “Good girl. Keep it up.” He hissed when he hit the back of your throat. You released him from your mouth, dragging your tongue down his veiny shaft, licking and sucking on his heavy balls while Gojo bucked his hips into your hands.

Your eyes veered over towards Gojo, smiling up at him before doing the exact same thing to him. You could tell he was more sensitive on his balls than Geto was, moaning louder when he felt your tongue on his balls, his eyes rolling into the back of his when you took one then in you mouth, gently sucking on it. “God, you’re so slutty.” Even though his words may have been harsh towards others, he said it with the utmost lust and appreciation. His hands cupped your face as he bent down and kissed your lips, sloppily dragging his tongue over your bottom lip and sucking on your tongue.

He lifted you with ease, pushing you back onto the plush bed, your head falling into the messy comforter. All while Gojo was making out with your and trailing his hands over your body, Geto was setting up his phone on the nightstand, grabbing lube from the bedside drawer. You were completely unaware of what they wanted to do with you, but at this point there was no going back. “We wanna try something with you.” Gojo kissed along your jaw, licking at the skin on your neck, ghosting his fingers over your cunt.

Gojo flipped you over to you were on top of him, kneading the plush flesh of your ass your rubbed your wet pussy up and down his shaft. A little yelped escaped from your lips when you felt a cold substance on your ass, looking back to see Geto, smirking down at you with a lube bottle in his hand. “I’ve never done anal,” you said worriedly, but god the idea of it sounded so hot. You’ve always seen it in porn and always wondered how good it felt but you knew it’d take some time before the stinging stretch would dissipate.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” His fingers massaged the lube around your rim, making sure to get it nice and wet. “We’ll take good care of you.” He rubbed the lube over his dick as well, biting down on his bottom lip as the mere thought of him and gojo fucking you at the same time. He couldn’t wait to see turn into a complete mess before them.

“Yeah,” Gojo smirked, “we got you.” His hands cupped your ass, spreading it open wider for Geto as he rubbed his swollen tip against your hole. “You can take it, right, baby?” Gojo landed a swift spank on your ass causing you to jolt.

“Y-yeah, I can take it.” You nodded at both of the men, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt his fat head press against your ass. “Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping onto the sheets below you. “Fuck!” The stretch made you wince and you pulled away from Geto to get a small break.

“Take it nice and easy.” He rubbed his hand up and down your back as Gojo placed sweet kisses on your cheek. You could feel him push in again, feeling his head make it through. “Ahh, shit,” he breathed, sucking in a breath.

“Mmmph!” You bit down on your knuckles, feeling Geto add more lube to help slide in easier. Slowly you could feel every inch of his enter inside of you. The stretch hurt, but damn did it feel good. “Nngh!” You cried, feeling Gojo grip onto you tighter until Geto was fully inside of you, resting for a minute. “You’re inside. I can feel it so fucking deep!”

What you didn’t expect was Gojo to lift your hips just high enough to where he could slide his cock inside of your pussy. With wide eyes you stared down at him, mouth agape as you inhaled deeply. They were both inside of you and without even moving, without even making you cum, your head was already spinning. You felt so full of them, succumbing to the feeling of how deep inside you they were.

And once they started moving, you let out the most wanton moans, falling forward on Gojo’s broad chest as Satoru thrusted his hips upward and Geto slammed his against your ass. You couldn’t even form words to express the amount of bliss and ecstasy you were feeling coursing through your entire body. “Pussy is so fucking wet. God, you feel so good. Yeah, take it like the slut you are,” Gojo grunted, harshly grabbing your ass before spanking it a few times.

Geto was mesmerized at the way you were taking both of their cocks, watching the way they slipped in and out of both of your holes while sat there and took it, body limp and staring in a fucked out haze like you were drunk on their cocks. And you were. You drunk, high, whatever it is, you were. “You like it, baby? Hm? Speak to us, pretty girl. Let and me and Satoru hear those moans,” he huffed, gritting his teeth when he pressed deeper into you.

“I love it! I love it so fucking much!” You cried. “Feels so fucking good, so deep inside of me! Fuck, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m—” Your body began quivering as a deep guttural groan escaped your lips, the orgasm being so intense that your entire body felt like it froze up.

Gojo couldn’t withstand the way your pussy was clenching around him, milking him effortlessly with each thrust. His thrusts grew sloppier and faster as he chased his orgasm, before thick ropes of cum painted your velvety walls. “Goddamn! Fuck me, baby.” He moaned, holding onto you tightly as he pushed his seed deeper inside of you, fucking you nonstop.

“Keep going! Keep going! I wanna cum again! Please!” You begged, the sloppy sounds of your squelching pussy and skin on skin bounced off the walls of the bedroom.

Geto’s hips trembled as reached the brink of his orgasm, powering through it as he came inside you, still slamming his hips deep inside until his cum was leaking out. “Fuckkkk!” Geto let out an animalistic growl.

With all three of your sweaty bodies pressed together, and the mess of all of your cum mixed together, the filthy scene and thought only made you more turned on, more desperate. “Don’t fucking stop. Oooh, I’m gonna cum again. I’m gonna cummm—ahh!” You let out a scream of pleasure as your body quivered with such intensity, your orgasm taking over completely.

“You take it so fucking well, baby.” Gojo murmured against your ear, panting heavily as he pounded his cock into you. “You want us to cum inside you again, huh? Fill up your holes?”

“Yes! Yes!” You cried, gasping for air. “Oh my god!” Your eyes crossed and rolled back before Geto pushed your head down into the mattress. You bit onto the comforter, trying to suppress your moans but it was to no avail. Geto leaned down towards his boyfriend, pressing his lips to his as they sloppily made out while simultaneously pounding you. As if on cue, both of them could feel their orgasms approaching, swallowing each others moans. Before you knew it and they knew it, they were both cumming inside of you at the same time, breathy curses and moans shared between them.

For a minute they both stayed inside of you, all three of you trying to catch your breath before Geto pulled out first, looking down as he admired the way your hole was pulsating and his thick cum spilled out. Satoru did the same, pulling you off of his cock while his cum dropped down your folds and onto his balls. Your body felt weak, but you found the strength and roll off of Gojo and onto the bed where you were still trying to catch your breath.

Both of them cuddled beside you, pressing kisses to your jaw as they meekly smiled against your skin. “You doing alright, sweetheart?” Geto asked, tracing his fingers down your abdomen.

“I just need to rest because…holy shit.” You breathlessly chuckled.

They laughed with you, sharing your exact same thought. “You did amazing,” Gojo chimed in. “I can’t r thank you enough.” He locks eyes with Geto. “We can’t thank you enough.” He pulls you for a kiss but this time is sweet and soft, not heated and sloppy like before.

Geto pulls your gaze his way, also kissing you, pressing his lips against yours longer. “I almost forgot.” He sits up and grabs his phone off the nightstand, ending the recording. “Good memory to keep.” He teases.

“Shut up!” You shyly turn away from him as he was just pounding your ass just minutes ago.

“You know I can’t resist teasing you.” His lips curl into a smile.

“Is there anything we can do make it up to you for this?” Gojo asked, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You were such a good girl we have to repay you.”

You thought about it for a second, staring at the ceiling. “Um,” you paused, “a nice hot, bubble bath with candles and some good food. Like that after sex food that hits the spot.” You smile, sharing looks between both of them.

“As you wish.”

[catatonicreality]

One of my colleagues from the day shift had 10 minutes till the end of her workday and was trying to find something to do to waste time. I told her to grab a broom and look busy. She, a petite girl said that the brooms are too big and she has a hard time sweeping with both of them at the same time. Okay, I said, then just use one. She replied that she's not allowed to do that because a low level management twerp reprimanded her many times. I was confused, and finally told her to do however it feels best for her and her abilities, as long as the job gets done it's NBD, what's the worst he could do, tell her again or get annoyed at the littlest amount of disobedience? She looked at me like I showed her the proof that god exists.

Finally learning to say no to inconsequential things felt so fucking good. My favorite thing the last week of my employment was telling my colleagues to be free to tell off people who expect them to do other people's work on top of their own.

things you need to read 100000 times per day when you're working

[goldfades]

COMFORT ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | (request: you’re injured and paige takes care of you w her knowledge from her own injuries) you tear your ACL during a pivotal time in your college basketball career, but paige makes sure you never feel alone.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | descriptions of ACL tear/recovery, hurt to comfort, sweet!paige, nothing else... just sweet hurt to comfort

The world doesn’t end the way you thought it would. It doesn’t explode into fire and chaos. It doesn’t even slow down. Instead, it keeps spinning, indifferent to your pain, while you sit in the sterile silence of the trainer’s office with your head in your hands.

You hear the trainer’s voice—calm, practiced, rehearsed in a way that’s meant to comfort but fails miserably. The words barely register. Partial tear. Complete tear. ACL. Surgery. Out for the season. Each one feels like a slap, sharp and deliberate. They echo in your head, refusing to settle.

You were supposed to be untouchable. Unstoppable. Instead, you’re here, clutching your knee and trying to keep the tears at bay. Except it’s no use, and the first one spills over, hot and unforgiving, sliding down your cheek as you bite down hard on your lip to muffle the sob threatening to break loose.

“Hey,” a voice breaks through the haze, soft but sure, and you’d know it anywhere. Paige.

She’s leaning in the doorway, her face pulled tight with concern, her blue eyes scanning yours like she’s trying to piece you back together. You can tell she’s walked into this kind of scene before—hell, she’s lived it. She doesn’t wait for you to say anything. She just steps inside, closing the door behind her, as if the world outside doesn’t deserve to see you like this.

Her sneakers squeak against the floor as she moves closer, crouching down in front of you. “Talk to me,” she says quietly. Her voice is steady, but her hands are hesitant as they hover near your knee. It’s like she’s afraid touching you will hurt more than it helps.

You shake your head, throat too tight to speak, and look away because meeting her gaze feels like admitting you’re broken.

“Look at me,” Paige says, and this time there’s a firmer edge to her voice, one that doesn’t leave room for argument. “You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to cry. Just—don’t shut me out, okay?”

You sniff, dragging the sleeve of your hoodie across your face like that’s going to fix the mess you feel like. “I—” you start, and your voice cracks. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Her expression softens, and she nods. “I know,” she says simply, like she really does know. Like she’s lived through this storm and found the words she wishes someone had told her.

You don’t fight it anymore. The tears come in full force, and she’s there, catching them in the space between her hands and your shattered pride.

Paige doesn’t flinch when you finally break. She doesn’t pull back, doesn’t make any effort to shush you. Instead, she stays close, her presence steady and grounding as the sobs wrack through you. She waits, letting you cry, like she knows there’s no point trying to stop the flood. She’s been where you are—she understands that grief is messy, raw, and loud.

When you finally start to calm, your chest heaving as you pull in shaky breaths, Paige shifts. Her hands settle on either side of your chair, her fingers curling lightly against the frame. She’s close now, closer than she was before, and it forces you to meet her gaze. Her eyes are so blue it’s almost unnerving, but there’s nothing cold in them. They’re soft and warm and completely locked onto you.

“You’re going to be okay,” she says, her voice low but firm, like she’s willing it into existence. “Not right now. Not tomorrow. But you will be. I promise.”

You huff a bitter laugh, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks. “How do you know?” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “You don’t know what this feels like.”

Paige tilts her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a second, you’re afraid you’ve pissed her off, but then she shifts again, sitting back on her heels. “You’re right,” she says evenly, and you feel a flicker of guilt until she continues, her voice quiet. “I don’t know exactly what this feels like for you. But I do know what it’s like to have everything ripped away. To feel like your body betrayed you.”

Your eyes widen as the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You don’t have to ask what she’s talking about—her injuries are part of her story, the kind of thing reporters love to milk for drama. You’ve heard the whispers in the locker room, the jokes people make about her being made of glass. But hearing her say it, hearing the crack in her voice as she lays it out for you, is something entirely different.

She leans forward, resting her forearms on her knees as she looks up at you. “When I tore my ACL, I felt like my world ended. Like everything I’d worked for was gone, and I didn’t know who I was without basketball.” She pauses, glancing down at her hands. “And when it happened again? I didn’t think I’d ever come back. But I did. And you will too.”

The words land heavy between you, their weight almost too much to carry. You want to believe her, but the doubts are louder, screaming in your head like a storm. You shake your head, your voice trembling as you speak. “What if I don’t? What if I can’t—”

“You will,” Paige interrupts, her tone sharpening. She reaches out then, her hand closing gently over yours. It’s the first time she’s touched you, and the warmth of her palm against yours is enough to still your spiraling thoughts for a moment. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but this injury? It doesn’t define you. You’re so much more than just a basketball player.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard. She’s not just saying it to make you feel better—it’s like she genuinely believes it, like she sees something in you that you can’t see in yourself.

For the first time since the trainer delivered the news, you feel the tiniest flicker of something—hope, maybe. It’s faint and fragile, but it’s there, tucked beneath the layers of hurt and doubt.

You nod slowly, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared.”

Paige’s grip on your hand tightens, just enough to ground you. “I know,” she says softly. “And that’s okay. But you don’t have to do this alone, okay? I’ve got you.”

Her words settle over you like a blanket, their warmth chasing away some of the chill that’s been clinging to you all day. You don’t say anything, but the way your fingers curl around hers is enough.

In that moment, you know this won’t be easy. It won’t be quick. But with Paige by your side, maybe—just maybe—you’ll find your way through.

A week passes, but it feels like a lifetime. In some ways, the days blur together—endless stretches of ice packs, pain meds, and quiet moments spent on the couch as your knee heals, your body’s recovery slower than you ever thought possible. The swelling subsides little by little, but the emotional toll still lingers. It’s not just the injury itself; it’s everything that comes with it—the sense of being lost, of not knowing who you are without the game you’ve built your life around.

Through it all, Paige is there. Every step. Every moment.

You didn’t ask her to stay. You didn’t need to. She just… did. She’s in your apartment more than you are, rearranging the furniture to make sure it’s easier for you to move around, grabbing your crutches when you forget them, offering you soft smiles that somehow make everything feel less heavy.

At first, you thought it would be temporary. Maybe she’d check in now and then, offer a few encouraging words, and then go back to her life. But Paige doesn’t leave. She doesn’t even give you a chance to feel like a burden before she’s sitting next to you, flipping through a medical textbook she found in your living room, looking up at you with that concerned-but-gentle expression as she explains exactly what your recovery is going to look like.

“You need to ice it after every physical therapy session, okay?” she says one morning, kneeling beside you on the couch. Her face is close—too close, but you don’t mind it. “And remember, no jumping for at least three months. Even if it feels okay, you’ve got to take it slow.”

You nod, your attention drifting to the way her hair falls into her eyes, the soft blue of her UConn hoodie clinging to her frame. She’s spent the last few days talking you through every little detail, but you’re more focused on the way her presence fills the space, making the room feel less empty. Less… lonely.

She doesn’t seem to mind when you have to ask the same questions over and over, doesn’t grow frustrated when you get teary or frustrated with yourself. She just holds you—gently, quietly, as if she’s got all the time in the world to wait for you to heal.

A few days in, you wake up from a nap to find her sitting on the floor beside you, her back against the couch, her head tilted back against the armrest as she takes a short rest. You smile faintly, surprised at how natural it feels to have her here, like this.

She stirs as you move, glancing up at you with a sleepy smile. “Hey, you’re up,” she says, pushing herself into a sitting position. She doesn’t even look tired, though you know she’s been here, practically living with you. The sleep-deprived bags under her eyes tell a different story, but she never complains. She just brushes it off and makes sure you’re okay.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you murmur, your voice soft but filled with a weight you hadn’t expected to carry. “I mean, you’ve got your own stuff to do. Your recovery, your workouts—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her eyes serious. She reaches out to take your hand, her grip warm and steady. “You’re not a burden. You’re never a burden to me, okay?”

You swallow, the lump in your throat growing thicker. The truth is, you want to believe her, but you can’t shake the guilt that gnaws at you. It’s been a week, and Paige hasn’t left your side, hasn’t hesitated to show up for you in every way possible. She doesn’t even hesitate when she has to pick you up from your appointments, drive you around, carry your bags—her whole world seems to revolve around making sure you’re okay.

“I’m here because I want to be here,” she adds softly, her thumb running over the back of your hand. “I know what it’s like to be in your shoes, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She says it so easily, so confidently. You can see it in the way she moves, the way she holds herself around you. There’s a softness to her that’s more than just kindness. It’s her care, her understanding, her quiet insistence that you will get through this.

Later that evening, after another grueling round of physical therapy, you slump down onto the couch in exhaustion, your leg elevated with an ice pack resting on your knee. Paige sits next to you, gently brushing your hair back from your forehead. You glance at her, trying to keep your voice light. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Take care of me like this. I mean, it’s not like you don’t have your own recovery stuff going on, too. And yet, here you are—every single day.”

Paige’s smile is soft, but there’s something fierce behind it. She doesn’t look away as she answers, her voice quiet but filled with conviction. “Because I love you.”

You blink at her, the words catching you off guard. There’s a warmth in your chest that spreads like wildfire, catching you off guard, even as you try to fight it. But you can’t. Not with Paige here, not with the way she’s been by your side without hesitation, without complaint.

You pull your knee up, adjusting it so you can sit facing her. “I love you too,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.

She tilts her head, her smile gentle and soft, her eyes searching yours like she’s waiting for something more. “You don’t have to say it just because I did,” she teases lightly. But you can see the glimmer of emotion in her eyes, the way she holds your gaze a moment longer before looking away.

But then, just like that, she’s leaning over to gently press a kiss to your temple. The touch is sweet, tender, and full of love—like a promise, a reminder that, no matter what happens with your knee, she’ll be there.

In that moment, with her warmth beside you, you know that you don’t have to walk this road alone. Paige will carry you through this. And maybe—just maybe—you can find your way back to the game, to yourself, with her by your side.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-one preview

The last bed you laid in smelled like lemon mint detergent. It was the full bed in your sister's guest room. Everything was crisp and white. They rarely had guests besides you. Some of your clothes stayed in that closet, one of your toothbrushes stayed in the connected bathroom, waiting for your visits. You'd awaken that last morning not thinking you'd never sleep in bed for another five years. You left it unmade.

This bed smells like pine and warmth.

Ghost's room is small and dimly lit. The ceiling slants so that one end is not tall enough for him to fully stand. There's a dresser and a nightstand, leaving only a sliver of floorspace.

After the metal latch on the door clicks shut, Ghost lays the blanket down and grabs a pillow for himself. That leaves the bed to you. Springs creak beneath your weight as you silently slip under a heavy, rustic quilt. The years-embedded scent of him wraps around you like a drug-induced fog. For some reason, you hesitate to move, lying frozen as he flicks off the light. You wonder if he always locks the door, or if he did it for you. So you feel more certain they won't try anything.

Only after you hear his shuffling around as he lays down do you allow yourself to get comfortable. You cocoon your body under the quilt and turn to your side, closing your eyes.

A thought reopens them minutes later. You roll onto your back and speak into the swollen darkness. "Have you known about this Switzerland place?"

For a moment, you think he's already asleep. Then, from below the bed by your feet, he says, "Heard of it."

"That is what you guys talked about, isn't it?" you ask absentmindedly.

"Among other things."

You sit up so you can see him, but all that you can make out is a dark shadow. "Care to share?"

"Some things are on a need-to-know basis," is all he gives.

"And I don't need to know?"

"Precisely."

It stings; you don't know why. A hand sweeps through your hair as you audibly exhale. "Some team we make, huh? Or I guess we're only a team when you need me to do something for you."

You quickly realize how petulant you must sound. A grumbled swear, then more shuffling. The shadow sits upright. "They asked me to go with them. I said no. Too far. Too many variables that are hard to predict, and she's not ready for them. Happy?"

You bite your lip. Relief sits in place of the slight uncertainty since your conversation with Nereida. Joining them was shut down. You wouldn't tell her, but it sounds asinine, whether or not that commune exists. Risky at best, fatal at worst. You're tempted to ask him how many days he thinks they'll recoup here before continuing their journey, but opt for sleep instead. He seems done with the conversation, too, lying back down. Then, you have the best sleep you've had in years in his bed.

When the sun turns pink, you awaken to a room void of Ghost. He's gone. It should be expected, but you'd thought he might wake you up to train like normal. Though, the past twenty-four hours haven't been normal. You look around, the details of his room more visible now in the morning. On the nightstand beside you, there is a stack of books and you scan the titled spines. Mostly classics. One Hemingway. All tattered and read frequently. Beside them lays a silver chain attached to a dog tag. You gently finger the engraved metal so as not to move it out of place: Simon Riley. 

Snooping through his things is more tempting than you're willing to admit. You slip out of bed, socked feet silently padding over to the dresser. There are mostly papers. His map, a notepad with scribbled half-cursive on it, and then a faded photo beneath it. You freeze, breath hitching, as if you've done something dangerous just by stumbling upon it. Curiosity is thick in your chest, difficult to ignore. Gentle fingers reach to shift it out, revealing a picture that you know right away is of Blue and her mom. Blue is a baby. Maybe one year old. A woman with light brown hair holds her up, sitting on a bench in front of a playground. She's pretty and young. There is a sadness when you wonder if this is the only picture he has of them-before her death. Then, there is another feeling. You swallow it. 

You quickly slip the photo back just the way you found it and leave the room. 

[connielingus423]

So I read Christian’s comment and I don’t think he’s saying he doesn’t care about Vi, y’all.

I think it’s very clear from the creation of the show that Vi is loved and admired and well cared for in these writer’s hands

Everyone was

I think what he was saying explicitly was, the story overall is called arcane. It’s about the waking of arcane in PNZ. And parts of Vi’s story intersect with that. And you can only show so much in one 9 one hour episodes.

Arcane wasn’t Modern Family or Abbot Elementary - those shows are an ensemble but there’s really one or two driving the story. And they’re character pieces where we explore a single individual’s growth or experience.

I think of arcane as an environmental story.

It’s more, “here’s how this thing came to be” aka hextech AND the arcane - to build toward a runeterra that is accessible and understandable for the general public to promote a video game. I don’t think that cheapens characterization nor storytelling. But informs overall story direction WHILE giving us character moments of exploration and growth and pain and love.

Do I wish we saw every minute of Vi’s existence and Caitlyn’s growth? Yeah. Of course. But was that the full focus of the story? No. And that’s okay. That doesn’t mean vi got shafted or hated or ignored. It just means that the story served a different purpose. And recognizing what kind of story we’re being told is a hard task. And it’s a really big lift of critical thinking we as an audience gotta do.

Some folks decided we were getting a character piece and they were wrong. Not their fault. Expectations being set for multiplayer games vs single player games will do that to us. (We as an audience tend to hyperfixate on individuals rather than the overarching story. It’s why folks remember the odyssey, but not Jason and the argonauts as much. The odyssey is about Odysseus. Jason and the argonauts - it can be argued - is about the journey and ensemble)

All this is to say, I don’t think these writers hated vi or ignored vi or sacrificed vi for the story. I truly don’t. I’m so very satisfied with the growth we got of vi. The butch who loves too hard. Who tries every time to do the right thing. Who fails. But gets back up and loves again. Loves some more. Who really is just a traumatized kid in a grown up suit still trying to deal with that using her fists, her street smarts, and her big. Giant FUKKIN. Heart.

I don’t think the arcane team hated Vi AT ALL. On the contrary, I think they loved her so much, they made conscious choices to not depict certain things SO THAT the fandom could engage. Could fill in the gaps. Could interact.

Fan art and fan content is such a strong nexus for iteration in complicated lore like this, I would bet money on the fact that they decided not to show specific things so that we could create it for us. (Ekko and jinx decorating for battle, CaitVi reconnecting immediately after Cait looses her eye, Tobias apologizing to Vi for snapping in his grief. Etc. etc. etc.)

And one could argue that is lazy and exculpatory and not how stories should be told.

But I disagree vehemently. I think stories serve a purpose. It’s why they have a title that tells you what it is and what you’re gonna get.

And this title was Arcane. The arcane woke up. PNZ are forever changed. Machine Herald was formed. Champions rose. And fell. That was the story of this show. The rest is up to us. 🫂

And I for one, think that’s really neat. And a triumph. In storytelling, characterization, and world building. 🥰

But that’s just me.

All that said, I think you’re allowed to be disappointed and sad you didn’t get what you expected! But being a jerk about a misunderstanding isn’t something Vi would do (or at least she’d feel really bad about the misunderstanding after and apologize. Big time).

But let’s not twist words and be cruel to a storyteller (or any storyteller) who clearly has so much love for this story and these characters in their hearts.

Give good faith, get good faith, y’all. Let’s be like Vi, big Hearts, let’s be like Vi and build to the next moment. Love big. Love hard. And do our best to be kind. C’ept for when folks don’t deserve it. 💞

[dollyonm0lly]

Hi, I love your things to much💕💕

So I was thinking maybe Lucius has also an niece, the daughter of commodus

No one knows of your existence, you are a concubine for the emperors. They have more but your their favorite. Then one day Lucius wanted to help you escape, you did not and told the emperors of it. Normally they are never soft doms, but this time they are and you are praised for what a good girl you are to them

Soo, soft stuff for you guys!! Or I tried at least, lolol, im still very sick, so this did wonders to me. <3 The reader in this one is kinda pathetic tho, not sorry.

“Love you, my Emperor… Love you so much…” – Both Emperors hear you say in your meek voice, like a song to their ears, you can feel Geta's warm hand on your cheek, caressing the soft skin of your face, which subconsciously seeks more of his affection, rubbing itself against his palm like an abandoned kitten would, your tongue obediently sticking out of your mouth, which he wastes no time in placing his thumb on top of, letting you explore it with your lips passionately. You close your eyes, feeling the pleasurable sensation of fingers running through your hair, combing your strands, untangling them, massaging your scalp. You try to sharpen your senses, focusing on their sweet aroma, Caracalla's hand massaging your head, urging you to lean even more towards Geta's hand, making you lose yourself more in their caresses, it's delicate. It's special, you feel special in this moment. You were good today, very good indeed.

“Nooo…” – You meow in disappointment when you feel Geta's hand start to move away from your face, instantly following it with your head so as not to lose its warmth, surprisingly Geta allows you to do so, on normal days, he would have brushed you away and slapped you across the face for your incessant neediness. You smile at today's change in attitude, just as you feel like purring when Caracalla starts spreading kisses in your uncovered cheek. You feel so loved by both of them, you wish that every day would be like this from now on, even if as an unattainable dream, you know why they are acting like this, you're not getting all of this good treatment on a silver platter, you earned it, deserved it, even though you had to sacrifice some things for others, you are content with your choice.

This feels good, you did good, you think to yourself, you don't feel guilty. You swallow hard, an audible gulp, you try to push that look of hurt and betrayal to the back of your mind. His look of hurt and betrayal. He seems like a ghost in your life now, you can feel the weight of guilt on your back, making you have to shake your head from side to side to shake off the negative feelings. It was worth it, it was worth it, it was worth it, it was worth it… You repeat in your head, until everything becomes clear again, until you can again feel the comforting caresses on your body, welcoming you. Finally, you are welcomed.

“We plan to make love to you today, my dear” – Geta says, taking your mind off other matters and focusing on both Emperors again, you open your eyes to admire him, he has what you would say is the closest to a sweet smile on his features than you will ever see from him. You can feel your heart skip a beat, turning to jelly in Caracalla's arms, who now holds you a little more firmly against his body, almost placing you on his lap.

“Make love?” – You question curiously, your voice dreamy with false expectations, never in the many years you have served them have you ever heard of this lovemaking thing.

“Don't you love us?” – You hear Caracalla questioning in your ear, pretending to be hurt by your question, his head rubbing against your neck, his hair tickling your face, like a puppy.

“I do…!” – You respond instantly, surprised that they would even ask you that, oblivious to the manipulative tone behind it. You did everything you did out of love for them, and out of love for the attention and affection they can provide you, in times like these, they are the only ones who could provide the minimum of security for you and your well-being, they make sure you know that, the certainty that nothing would happen to you as long as you are in their favor.

Silence falls, you can feel the words you want to say on the tip of your tongue, but uncertainty makes you hold them back for minutes longer.

“Do you love me…?” – You ask both Geta and Caracalla, you can't contain the anticipation in your voice, even if it's weak and hesitant. You are met with laughter from the twins, they laugh at your question, they think you're such a box of surprises, you really were born to be an entertainer just for them!

“You are so cute” – Caracalla says, it sounds mocking, just like their laugh, and it wasn't the answer you were hoping to receive, but even so, it makes your heart warm inside your chest. They think you're cute. They think something of you, you are something. Your happy little smile earns you a pat on the head from Geta.

“Cute indeed…” – Geta responds in agreement, both twins exchange glances, Geta licks his lips before smiling at you – "Why don't you get more comfortable for us, dear?” – He gestures to the bed, encouraging you sneak further back.

Caracalla helps you with that, taking the initiative to crawl to the headboard of the bed himself, resting his back against it, his pale legs spread wide to create the perfect space for you. He calls you over, patting his thigh twice, and you are drawn to him like a moth to light. You shyly walk over to him, turning to lay your back against his chest, with the two of you sitting in this position, he wraps his arms around your body, hugging you close, the easy access allowing him to bury his nose in your neck, laying his forehead on your shoulder. – "Help me get these off” – He says in a controlled tone, trying to be loving, you appreciate that, normally he would have impatiently instructed you, as if you were the fool for not knowing what he wanted before he even asked, or he would have pushed you and taken them off himself. You lift your hips off the bed a little, making it easier for him to remove your panties, doing so delicately with the tips of his fingers on the elastic, letting you feel the fabric slide over your skin until it is completely removed, earning you a little kiss of thanks on your exposed shoulder.

You miss the way the twins look at each other or how Caracalla hands your panties to Geta, who puts them in a place on the bed that he can remember later on. But one thing you don't miss is how Geta now also approaches your body, trapping you, his hands resting on the headboard that Caracalla leans on, trapping both your head and his between his arms. On Caracalla's lap, you open your legs, inviting Geta to settle between them, something that he gladly accepts.

“Let's get you all prepped and ready, dear” – Geta says as he admires your face, his hands going down to the bottom of your robe, lifting it to give him a better view of your body and intimacy, meanwhile, Caracalla does the same, letting your robe slide down over your shoulders, leaving kisses on the new free skin, your bust now exposed to the cold air of the room, your robe becoming a mess that only covers your torso and nothing more. You watch the way Geta takes his two fingers, the index and the middle one, between his lips, sucking them with intent, his eyes never straying from yours, Caracalla's own fingers already at work, moving down your body until they reach your lower lips, opening you for his brother, the cold air hitting your pussy.

Geta and Caracalla prepare you carefully, both watching attentively as your entrance slowly gets used to the intrusion of Geta's fingers, Caracalla stimulating your clitoris with his, every now and then you watch as he spits on his own hand before stimulating you again, they love the way you are always so tight, you crush their cock in the most perfect way possible. – "Must take good care of this cunt, it's my favorite one" – Caracalla growls, licking a drop of sweat that previously ran down your face, you giggle happily in the midst of pleasure, yours is the favorite, no other.

“She liked what she heard, she almost cut off the blood circulation in my fingers” – Geta jokes, referencing to the way you clenched and squeezed his fingers when you heard the compliments, you love it when they compliment you, you wish they would do it more often. – "How would you like to be taken today, dear?” – He questions, letting you make some of the choices, tonight will be about you and what you want, that's what they agreed between themselves.

“Want to be hugged…” – Embarrassed, you confess, you didn't expect such a needy response from yourself, however, this is a unique chance, unfortunately, you recognize that, you can't let the shyness of being so emotionally dependent on them take over. You need their embrace like you need air, you hate to be truthful to yourself.

“Awfully romantic, huh” – Caracalla chuckles, Geta arches his eyebrows in agreement, neither daring to question or stand against your decision. Geta helps you sit more precisely on his brother's lap, Caracalla's cock now rubbing at your entrance, you hold him by the base of his penis, slowly introducing him inside you, earning a moan from both of you when he reaches the end, you can feel it almost hitting your cervix, reaching all the perfect places in your pussy. You rest your head on Geta's chest, getting used to the feeling of his brother inside of you, as does Caracalla, who tries to control himself by resting his head on your back, it is a difficult task for both of them, being so patient with your body, normally they wouldn't prepare you or at least wait for you to get used to the feeling of intrusion.

A few minutes pass, your breathing gradually regulates, your pussy starts to want more instead of trying to repudiate what's in it, you look at Geta, and that's all he needs for confirmation, getting closer to you, you do the same to him that you did to his twin, holding him at his base, your delicate fingers feeling his pubic hair rise in goosebumps with the touch, and you bring him to your entrance, he lets you do everything in your own time, watching as you slowly insert him too in your pussy. It's a tight fit, you feel like you're being torn in half, and as tears stream down your face, a groan is heard from Geta and Caracalla, oh, how they love the feeling of being milked alive by you and your fucking perfect cunt, you can feel Caracalla's nails digging into your arm unconsciously, something he tries to alleviate by distributing kisses on your back. They hurt you so lovingly that you can almost pretend it never hurt.

As agreed, they embrace you, Geta wraps his arms around your waist, while Caracalla's make your hips their home, both pressing you against their own bodies, making you become inseparable from each other. You let one of your arms fall over Geta's shoulder, resting there, while the other wraps itself around Caracalla's head, playing with the strands of hair on the back of his neck, pulling him into a fervent kiss, his tongue tasting your mouth as if there was nothing more delicious, his moans being straight sinful on your lips. You rub your lower body against Geta's, seeking to stimulate your clit against his pubic mound, his hair there becoming sticky with your fluids, he mercifully helps you, letting a globule of saliva come out of his lips into the middle of your bodies, lubricating your movements more, earning him an animalistic moan from you and the separation of your kiss with Caracalla, starting one with Geta as naked and raw as the past, the carnal desire speaking for itself. Your minimal movements still do a lot to stimulate the cocks inside you, earning a unanimous moan with every rub you make or every adjustment, soon, you find yourself seeking more of that exciting feeling with the taste of heaven, moving your waist so that you start to ride them gradually.

It's almost too much, the way they let you make your own rhythm, your own dance, just helping you stand on shaky knees ready to give up, but you can't, you can't stop, you need that release that's so far away but so close that you can take it in your hands. You can barely see them anymore, your eyes close, you let yourself drown in the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sticky feeling of sweat, the profanities and compliments, the kisses, caresses and wounds, if you try hard, you can almost focus on the various I love yous that come out of Caracalla's mouth, who barely realizes who he really is when the pleasure is too much, and they would accuse you of being the romantic one, you laugh in your head.

You hear Geta's moan of pleasure mixed with pain as the hand on his shoulder begin to scratch and tear at it, drops of blood running down his bare, pale back. But he barely protests, being a good girl really does have its perks, huh. If being a good girl is always going to result in you having the affection of your Emperors and a free pass to do things without being punished, maybe you should rat people out more often, you let your mind wander as you reach your climax, writhing between their bodies, both of them letting their cocks impale you inside to your heart's content, you would have them forever in you if you could, their cocks are just made for you, a gift from God just for you.

“I love your smell.”

“I love your eyes.”

“I love your body.”

“I love your voice.”

"I love your breasts.”

“I love your curves.”

“I love this fucking pussy.”

You hear them say, one after the other cumming inside you, painting your walls white, and your body red with each touch. You feel disgusting. You feel loved.

“Do you love me?” – You ask again, between gasps, just like them, you feel your vision start to darken, you feel so safe that you could fall asleep right now, a groan of discontent as they disconnect from inside you. Everything is almost like a pitch black, you feel them cleaning you, you being gently laid on the bed, something clothing fabric like cleaning your pussy and everything that runs out of it.

They open your lips, shoving the fabric into your mouth. Oh, it must be your panties, you assume even with your clouded mind. It tastes like your fluids mixed with their divine cum. You suck on it like a pacifier, bodies intertwining with yours on the bed.

“Yes.”

“Very much so.”

[eva-does-her-best]

We get assigned a gender/sex at birth, and then that is reinforced positively and negatively throughout childhood and teenage years (and beyond) by those around us.

It's what makes raising your kid neutraly so hard, other people around them will try to gender them either by accident or on purpose, specially on countries with gendered language, and while that is not the agab exactly, it is still an assignation based on external factors that don't determine one's gender or sex, just like when you were assigned at birth.

Having an agab did not cause me the same magnitude of problems that most intersex people face, but it was not harmless in the slightest, there are a lot of individual factors to take into account, for example my disabilities made me "fail at my agab" and thus caused me plenty of social problems and marginalization from a young age.

But just the fact that as a child you're just trying to have fun and play and just exist and the world is meanwhile trying to push you to become a predetermined set of characteristics that will be celebrated if met and punished if failed, regardless of whether you want them or not, is problematic.

It becomes more than problematic when the person grows to want or feel something different, be it being trans, homosexual, gnc, etc. and so the person gets even more punished than before for that, completely blocked from trying or faces consequences even when allowed.

Agab hurts everyone.

hi hope you're well !! um so I was thinking, perisex people aren't really ?? assigned anything, are they ?? like afab / amab, they're obviously intersex terms that've been taken and continuously misused, I know that. But it got me thinking that like, when you're born and a doctor " assigns " you a gender, if you're perisex they're more of js observing what you are and adding that to your birth certificate, it's not assigning you one gender or the other it's just .. giving you Male or Female based on you physically ?? so, I as a perisex person, was not AFAB or AMAB, I was js .. observed and written accordingly .. ?

whereas intersex people are assigned one or the other, because they don't fit one or the other clearly, and have to actively be assigned one ?? am I understanding this right ?? I'm trying to like, unlearn and relearn lots of stuff rn lol, so js asking for clarification on this ..

good question. everyone is assigned a gender at birth, it's not just intersex people. perisex people would not have a gender marker if that were not the case. no matter if you're perisex or intersex, you're still forced to be assigned male or female at birth. i would say that there's not really a lot of difference between the two experiences, especially considering that a baby can be born looking perisex, but then grow up to develop intersex conditions down the road.

we're all assigned a gender at birth and that's the core issue. it's an assumption made by a doctor. if we weren't assigned genders at birth, our medical records would read something to the effect of instead of saying female, saying things like "has a vagina and uterus" or instead of saying male "has a penis and testes", or whatever. there would be transparency about that person's actual situation instead of obscuring it behind an arbitrary assigned gender

plus, perisex trans people still fit into and benefit from this term because they were assigned a gender at birth but it doesn't mean it lines up with theirs. i hope that makes some sense- while this definitely affects intersex people in a very bad way, it affects us all. perisex trans people are heavily affected by this, and even some cishet people are. it's a practice that needs to be removed altogether given how strongly it affects us all

i hope that makes some sense! take care

[benebxmbina]

Something Beautiful !¡ Sirius Black x reader

Warnings !¡ you read the image 🧍‍♀️ female!reader, suggested virginity loss (you losing it), vaginal penetration. Not proofread in the slightest.

A/N !¡ don’t expect this kind of content out of me often, and I do not take requests for it either.

Sirius had shut off the light in an attempt to make you feel better.

He started with a kiss. Simple, soothing, soft. Despite his usual public display of antics, in private, he was gentle, tender.

His fingers ghosted up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A hand cupping your cheek, another around your waist, and suddenly you were flush against him.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, bringing him even closer, and he smiles into your lips. “Pretty girl,” he whispers.

The butterflies in your stomach flutter, sending chills down your spine, and you wonder if this is what heaven feels like.

It has to be, right? His lips were so soft, his hands so gentle, and his voice as angelic as ever. He was warm— his body was warm— and you’ve never craved something so bad before. His existence, his every being, surrounding you, and yet it wasn’t enough.

As if sensing this, Sirius moves a hand down your chest, his lips now on your neck. His fingers were cold against your nipples, but it felt good. He squeezed just as he bit, and you thought you saw stars for a moment.

You let out a moan on instinct, and he chuckles under your ear. “Already feel that good, huh?” He teases.

But you still needed more. His hand moves further down, and you relax against him as his thumb finds your clit. Soft, slow, circles at first, then rougher as you begin to squirm. A familiar pressure pools in your belly— you were so close, and he could tell.

A few more strokes, and the wave came crashing down. You moan out, eyes shutting as the euphoria washes over you.

Pure euphoria, you thought. This was so much stronger than when you did it yourself. He held you as it passed, and before you knew it, you felt cock pressed against you. “Ready, baby?” He asks.

You nod, and he shushes your whines as he slowly bottoms out inside you. This feeling was new. It was strong, it was euphoric, and it was beautiful. This wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like lust. Your eyes met his, and you knew this was love.

He was caring, making sure you were okay through it all. Gentle kisses to your forehead, holding your body as close to his as he could. Slow, deep, thrusts. In and out, and in and out. Pressing against places you never knew existed. Stretching you so beautifully over and over.

Your whines and sighs against his ear nearly pushed him over the edge at the very beginning. To him, in this moment, you were the most gorgeous being in the world, and you were his.

Sirius gives a hard thrust, testing the waters, and as you moan, he quickens the pace. Steady, hard, captivating. The pressure returns, harder than before, getting stronger and stronger with every move he makes. Small tears pool in your eyes, it felt so good.

He felt so good.

Every inch of you clings to him as you cum, crying out as it happens. Sirius only holds you tighter, quickening his pace as he nears his own end. And just as you begin to relax back into him, he presses as deep as he can into you, over and over, as he cums himself.

It’s almost as if you can feel it. He bites your shoulder in an attempt to stay quiet, but a groan still escapes his lips as you tighten around him in return.

Sirius stays on you for a moment, collecting himself, and allowing you to do the same. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You can only nod, and he laughs. “Good.”

[relaxxattack]

old ass homestuck here (been reading since 2013, read with it all the way until the end of act 7 but i consider that the true end and never plan to read the epilogues) but i gotta agree i didn’t care for the squared sprites when they first appeared late in act 6 and i really don’t like them much more years later. i found davepeta slightly interesting but at the end of the day they’re the only one who even stood out enough to even pay attention to and unfortunately looking at them was visually very unpleasant due to the constant color flashing.

random disclaimerrrr this is really just my personal feelings, i'm not trying to make a statement about what is "true" or moral or whatever. i want to stress that i'm not against people making meaningful interpretations of davepeta... i understand the appeal of a trans/plural character. it's just hard to feel like any of that was intentional?

power to hussie for making jokes; but it's kind of confusing sometimes to frequently see davepeta - what felt like a really obvious joke made at the expense of the audience - touted like they're the most genius, intentional, meaningful, well-thought-out character ending or trans representation

especially with nepeta in particular... i guess it's left pretty up to the viewer to decide whether or not she was really done dirty at the end, but. personally i still think she was done fucking dirty. the death -> fefeta -> davepeta pipeline was not very rewarding in my opinion. she also never had a choice in any of these? it was not a consensual fate. she wasnt allowed to explore her own identity or choose this, her identity was simply shafted once again after a long pattern of it being shafted and mocked

davesprite is a suicidal character who gets made to end himself. and i guess thats empowering as a metaphor for some trans people but for me it was like ??? physically absorbing another person and then ceasing to exist didn't relate to me heavily but maybe it does for others! i've heard some talk about it being plural too, which i can also see, but they don't act like that's at all intentional in the story. i've heard a lot of "dave struggles with not being the alpha dave so he gets to stop being dave! :)" but why does he have to? he was dave first and longer, shouldn't the meteor dave change his name? 'dave gets to finally stop being a boy and embrace being a trans girl' does she do that? or is her individualism taken from her and regifted to a catgirlboy that is not actually trans at all but textually stated to be identifying as half of one cis girl and half of one cis boy?

guh i am trying so hard to not sound invalidating to how other people feel empowered by this character. while also explaining how its Not for me. once again disclaimer i LIKE what people have done with davepeta it just feels like, strangely un-empowering to me for these two characters to have their agency taken away in such a manner.

rose's dead corpse who literally just watched the love of her life die in front of her face gets dug out of her final resting place and immediately starts throwing herself at every women in the vicinity

arquius in particular is one i see get completely nostalgia goggled too because every moment they were on screen was painful dialogue-wise; but these days arquius is thought of like a vehicle for hal and equius gender thoughts. which is a concept with merit because of course both hal and equius have stuff going on gender wise and it makes sense to combine those but like. the character wasn't like that in canon and it never felt like they were meant to be like that. most of the time they were.. jokes. insulting jokes.

i get WHY its read a trans or plural narrative. just as a trans and plural person i did not read it that way or think that was what the author intended... and i find it a little uncomfortable in that regard

[stump-salsa]

Adding onto this because I have a lot of thoughts about this topic. This might come out as a bit scrambled because I’m not thinking too hard as I type I just need to get it all out.

First of all, no, defectiveness is not an allegory for autism.

Not only would this be extremely problematic due to the nature of how defectives are treated (executed via electrocution, being seen as highly unstable and dangerous monsters), but you’re also humanising irkens too much. Irkens and humans… not the same! I’m not saying they CAN’T be autistic, I’m just saying that defectiveness and autism are NOT THE SAME THING. This is something that REALLY irks me. (Pun intended). It genuinely makes me very uncomfortable and I know people are going to disagree with me and tell me things like “but the irken empire is messed up! That’s the point!” Okay, well I’m not finished.

“You’re a monster, Zim! Everything you touch gets destroyed!”

Defectiveness isn’t a problem with the irken itself, with the organic brain. Defectiveness is an issue with the PAK. A lot of issues in Zim’s case. The PAK is broken. It literally says this in The Trial:

“Irken Zim’s ID PAK is damaged, and has led to a corrupt data path. He is… a defective.”

His PAK is so broken that it corrupts the Control Brains! Almost like a computer virus, I guess.

Defectives are unpredictable, unstable, and dangerous because their PAKs are damaged. It’s hard to keep them in line which is why they need to be terminated. Zim is an active threat to the entire empire, which would be impressive if they learned how to utilise him. But they can’t. He’s too unpredictable. He could end up annihilating his own race by accident (which has almost happened before). He could be set off in a way that makes him WANT to destroy the empire. No matter what he does, something gets destroyed. And the empire doesn’t want it to be them because they KNOW he’s an actual threat. He’s proved that multiple times. It’s safer to just banish him to a planet so far away that it’s practically impossible for them to cross paths again, all while he’s under the impression he’s been sent on a top secret mission. He’ll direct all his destructive energy towards that and not mess up things for the empire anymore. And they need to keep up the illusion so they don’t set him off because they can’t keep him under control like they can everyone else. THAT is what defectiveness is.

Zim was doomed from the second his broken PAK was attached.

Also, defectives aren’t common either. That’s why it’s such a big deal when they’re discovered with this huge existence evaluation. They’re a flaw in the empire’s perfect code and need to be scrubbed from existence and everyone needs to pretend it never happened. That such an irken never existed.

“Irken Zim's data is not allowed into the collective. His PAK will be removed, and erased.”

Also, I know I said it in the original post, but no, irkens who show emotion are not defective. Sure, maybe it’s seen as weak to show emotions like sadness, but it’s literally impossible to prevent that. They very clearly show other emotions like anger, happiness, frustration… sadness is just another one. It’s not defective to be sad, it���s just funny.

And no, I don’t think Skoodge and Tak are defective. I don’t really have a coherent explanation for this. I know it’s a popular headcanon, I just don’t see it.

I don’t really care if you disagree with me on that, it’s your headcanon. I’m just saying that I personally don’t see it. You do you. What I’m actually passionate about is everything I said before that.

I don’t really know how to tie this all together, but I want to share my thoughts on this topic because I feel like it’s important - ESPECIALLY the first part. I’ll come back to this if I have any more thoughts about it because I’m very passionate about defectiveness as a concept.

The term ‘defective’ is thrown around way too loosely in this fandom. Having emotions does not make an irken defective.

[mueritos]

its my bday today so heres a new meet the artist :3

[crownedwille]

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[moe-broey]

The only thing that's stopping me from making one for Sharena is the fact that I think I hit a limit to how many blogs you can have??? Huh. Whoops! Also paranoid about deleting anything. So I'd just have to strip an existing one and tbh I don't know how committed I am to that. We'll see.

[professionaljester]

love my bad mental health, love being suicidal all the time

[autisticlee]

sometimes people who struggle like to make jokes or find positives about their condition that causes them to struggle so they can escape the constant negative and struggle. sometimes autistic people will say things like "the 'tism" or use the "autism creature" or say their autism helped them have a *positive trait* to feel better about their struggles. because living your life only focusing on the struggles and negatives is depressing and makes it hard to want to live, even if those struggle take up 100% of your life and you can't actually escape them. sometimes any little seemingly positive thing can help a lot.

but there's so many other autistic people that hate when we do that and call it "reducing autism to a cute trendy thing" and say it takes away from *their* struggles and is bad and shouldn't be used. maybe *you* want to only focus on your struggles, but some people can't live in constant negative and need some positive or to find ways to make their condition more positive so they can feel better about living with their struggles. life is hard. I take anything I can get.

I cant get jobs. I can't make and keep friends. I can't get help and support for doing "normal" things so sometimes I go weeks without being able to shower and without eating more than a bowl of cereal a day. most times can't even do things I like. struggle to communicate. have meltdowns. i'll never be able to live independently. I struggle a lot. but instead of sitting here always depressed and having no motivation to live, i'd rather try to joke about "my 'tism is acting up again" when i'm struggling (just an example. don't think I ever actually used the 'tism thing but i saw others use it) or say "i'm just being a creature" when I need to stay in my dark room because everything is too much and I personally find it cute to be a little creature meant in a positive way. i'm not actually downplaying mine or anyone else's struggles. I still acknowledge them and that silly jokes dont make them go away. i'm not trying to be trendy. i'm not doing any of the things people say we do by making silly little jokes. i'm using the silly little jokes to convince myself life can be a little more than pointless, painful garbage all the time.

(continue in tags)

[itspileofgoodthings]

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