#it was a stupid fucking post with them taking shit out of context like they always do because that’s the only way they can justify+

[seddair]

I pay mind to keep my Twitter feed free of 911twt and it works most of the time, but occasionally I see one of their stupid fucking posts and my blood pressure spikes

[bluegiragi]

I hate to ask this cause it feels stupid but I dont wanna do a bunch of research on whatever the recent cod mw fandom discourse is,

but I saw the reblog of someone accusing you of supporting people who write sexualized pedophilia and that really is personally my only """"moral"""" with nsfw shit, (I'm a patreon subscriber and ig I just wanna know where my money's going) is THAT true?

i used to follow an artist who, 5-6 months ago made racist art featuring gaz and soap in a slave context, which I didn't like, retweet or interact with in any way. they also made under-age art of ghost soap, which I also didn't interact with . people on twitter called me out yesterday, for retweeting (months before this incident) other art they'd made as evidence I stood by/encouraged/was an avid fan of all these tropes. The art I retweeted wasn't either of these previous examples of art, but one where ghost and soap were sleeping in a bed together, as adults, peacefully. I can't emphasise enough that I have not interacted with this artist at all, for over six months. The callout in question has framed me as a close friend of theirs when, in truth, our total timeline of interactions could probably be counted on one hand, and I haven't interacted with her in so long that I genuinely forgot I was still following her.

The crux of all is this is that I did not unfollow + block this artist earlier on when the racist art was posted months ago, and then I retweeted a fic tagged with "non-con" (ghost gets soap off in a context where he can't really properly consent, they're in front of a crowd of strangers and they have to fuck, but both parties are into each other) written by a friend as I wanted to support their writing.

The pedophile claims are because I retweeted a fandom bingo post that defended loli-con without reading all the squares properly, and then immediately un-retweeted it when I properly read it. All in all, the post was on my account for maybe a few minutes.

The zoophile claims are because people say i support someone who wrote zoophilic fic and called people slurs, and I genuinely don't know who they're talking about there.

The anti-asian racism claims come from the original accusers in the callout thread thinking that I made Horangi's eyes in the monster!AU sensitive as a way of making fun of Asian eyes. The real reason is because he's a cat hybrid in that AU and cats are sensitive to light.

I tried addressing all this in a casual way earlier on in a misguided attempt to sort things out more 'civilly', and responded to an ask talking about my "support" for the artist who drew the slave Gaz art by saying the fanart in question was tone deaf and in poor taste. It wasn't enough for some people, so I'm happy to say it clearly- yes, it was racist, and the reason why I didn't want to be more aggressive is because I didn't want to extend all this mess by throwing this artist directly to the wolves - I genuinely believed them at the time when they said that wasn't that their intention, and think they should've deleted the post at the time, but not unfollowing was a decision that I made. I know now upon reflection that it was naive of me, unwarranted and frankly irresponsible to take a stranger at face value and believe they had good intentions, when the act of not deleting the post in question was evidence of a lack in remorse. In the moment, I'd thought back to my own personal experience with a friend of mine who used an asian slur in my company, who later sincerely apologised and legitimately cleaned up his act after I gave him a second chance. It informed my choice to not unfollow at the time, but there's a difference between someone you know irl for months and a stranger on the internet you've interacted with a few times. I shouldn't have coddled them in my response, and I'm sorry for not treating it with the severity it deserved. It was callous, and stupid, and indicative of internal biases that I ever thought it was a light enough offence to "see through", and I deeply deeply apologise. I promise from the bottom of my heart to do better.

That's everything so far. I didn't unfollow an artist when I absolutely should've, which i'll always strongly regret. I also retweeted a properly-tagged fic on my clearly 18+ nsfw account. I've undone both of those actions now. I hope this can be the end of it.

[etoileee]

THINGS THAT SHOCKED ME IN MY PERCY JACKSON DR Ψ

— GREEK

listen okay I know this probably sounds stupid, but I didn't script anything to do with the greek language. It genuinely was so surprising that I could understand it to a certain extent.

My experience was similar to Percy's when he first got to the camp in lightning thief.

I don’t understand it fully of course, the closest thing I can describe it to is listening to brazilian portuguese as someone who speaks spanish, like I think I could have an entire conversation with them simply based on context clues and understanding about 40% or 50% percent.

It's almost a bit frustrating, like, ALMOST understanding it. it's a bit irritating in its way.

— TRAINING

I’m gonna make an entire image about this don’t worry it was so eventful LMAO

that shit was DIFFICULT! again to an extent it was almost instinctual, the way your body moves and having quick reflexes. it's a part of being a demigod, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have to learn.

I didn’t expect it to come as naturally as it did, but I still obviously have a lot to learn.

the prophecy is the people who trained me I had my work cut out for me

— HOW CRAMPS ARE DEALT WITH

they do have things like advil and tylenol, but those surprisingly aren’t what are the post popular painkillers at camp half blood.

there are two options for medications that help with menstrual pain;

the hara cabin make these sugar pills that dissolve in your mouth, these have the same effects as a painkiller but are a lot easier to take then regular pills for us who can’t swallow pills (ME) I honestly like these a lot more than other painkillers.

another option is more long-term, these are from the apollo cabin. they have a specific herbal blend that helps with period cramps and they’ll give it to you to make into a tea and this helps decrease the pain of the cramps over time.

— CAPTURE THE FUCKING FLAG

LISTEN OKAY WE NOW ITS SERIOUS FROM THE BOOKS BUT GODDAMN. WAS IT EVER THAT SERIOUS?

like I don’t think you can understand how serious they take it till you shift there, I wanted to giggle but I quickly stfu when I realized it was life for death for these people. (not literally but it sure felt like it)

annabeth had to pull my ass with her because I was too scared to move around at one point LOL

— FOOD

BON APPÉTIT

the food is a mix of american comfort food, cuisine from around the world, and greek/ mediterranean food.

after training one of the days I genuinely was too sore and tired to get up, while I was lying on the grass jason got up to get me a sandwich and it was literally the best sandwich I've had. I've been thinking about it since I got back from my dr!

I don’t know if I was just so hungry and exhausted that it tasted like the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth but either way, I inhaled that sandwich

after both training and capturing the flag, there were tables full of snacks and food + water that was nice

[cuubism]

Can I pressure you to work on the 'having a job sucks ass' math AU fic?

yeah 😂 i started working on it when i was annoyed with my job. which is always

here's a snippet from earlier in the fic, because i think the later part i'm working on won't make a ton of sense out of context

[ make me work on one of my fics if you want ]

-

Dream shuts his laptop as Hob approaches. Oh, yeah. He was definitely waiting for Hob, specifically. Hob is getting the sense that he’s in trouble. And he’s not stupid. It’s not hard to guess what has Dream upset.

“Look,” he starts, “don’t even—”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream interrupts. Yep, that’s the trouble tone, the one Hob used to get when he did shit like giving himself a concussion playing pick up football on the quad. “It is ten p.m.”

“I own a watch too, Dream,” Hob says tiredly. Does Dream think he wants to be working this late? He’s just trying to stay employed.

Dream’s lips press into a thin line. And Hob knows him well enough, can read him well enough to recognize that what’s underneath the annoyance is concern. But what exactly does Dream expect him to do about it?

Hob sits down—more like collapses—into the armchair diagonal to where Dream is on the couch. God, what he really wants is to just fucking face plant into bed, not deal with this.

Christ. When did he start thinking about talking to Dream as dealing with?

Then again, this is less talking to Dream and more arguing with Dream, and he fucking hates doing that.

He scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s far away, alright?” he argues, though it sounds more like a whine. “It’s not like I can teleport.”

“It is not acceptable that they keep you so late,” Dream says. Then his tone softens. “I worry over your level of exhaustion. That is not even mentioning the commute.”

“Honestly, the commute’s not the worst part,” Hob says. “Gives me more time to get stuff done. Or fall asleep.”

Dream gives him a flat look. “Precisely.”

“I don’t want to hear judgment about work ethic from you of all people,” Hob snaps. God, he hates arguing with Dream, he hates it. It’s not like when they bicker. And it’s not like arguing with anyone else. The thought that Dream is upset with him is genuinely distressing.

“I think I of all people am uniquely qualified to give it,” Dream says.

He’s not wrong. Dream is a workaholic if ever there was one. It’s something Hob’s had to talk to him about in the past. Frequently, in the past, Hob was the one who was better about it.

It’s just that having this job is a level of relentless he couldn’t possibly have anticipated.

Hob can’t just quit though, even if he is overworked. It’s a good job, career-wise, and it pays really well, and he wants Dream to be able to keep his post-doc position without worrying about the salary because Dream is just quite frankly not cut out for anything where he isn’t able to work independently at least ninety percent of the time and Hob doesn’t want to see him suffer, and he wants them to be able to buy a house someday—

“Look,” he says, before Dream can suggest that he actually quit or something, “Dream, we’re making fucking bank, okay?”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “We are?”

“Yeah, we’re married, or did you forget?”

“It’s your money.”

“The joint bank account says otherwise. Half of it is yours.”

Dream frowns, then gets a wicked look in his eye. Oh no. “Does that entitle me to half of your suffering as well? Do I get half a say in whether it continues?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Are you going to watch me suffer half your exhaustion and do nothing about it?” Dream challenges, steamrolling right over him. He’s impossible to argue with when he really gets going. And great, now he’s employing that look. That pleading look that he knows Hob can’t say no to, eyes wide and helpless. “Will you leave me to my agonies?”

“Alright,” Hob says, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Enough. Stop joking around.”

“I’m quite serious. I don’t wish to see you suffer.” He crosses the room, kneels in front of Hob’s chair, and takes Hob’s hands, bringing them down from his face. “Your unintended comparison was more apt than you realize. When you prosper, I prosper. When you suffer, so equally do I.”

“Should have been a fucking poet instead of a mathematician, Dream,” Hob says. It shouldn’t come out as bitter as it does.

Except— “Maths is poetry,” he says, echoing it just as Dream says it, too. Hob had known he would.

It makes him smile, that he can predict Dream like that.

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you guys wanna see a thing I tried writing? It's pretty unfinished and I don't think I will finish it but it was fun to play with and it might be okay as a lil snippet! I also have like no energy for drawing right now but I wanna post something lol

(The context is Cross and Killer are alone on a mission in some unspecified au when Killer goes stage 3)

“Killer?”

Cross looked over when he got no response, half expecting Killer to have wandered off in some direction as he did on these longer jobs. His loyalty to Nightmare was often at war with his attention span in the field, and you could expect a job to take longer if it was anywhere a cat was liable to appear.

What he didn’t expect was to catch sight of Killer’s wildly fluctuating soul glinting in the reflection of the knife that was coming right for him.

Cross managed to lunge back just in time for the knife to arc downwards into the snow in his place. Its wielder slowly turned his head, tracking the path to where Cross was now. His empty eye sockets gushed with more ooze than usual, stare somehow colder than the ice he was now shaking from his blade.

“Killer…” Cross began, trying to keep his tone steady and authoritative like a warning. He was ever hopeful that this was some stupid game Killer was playing out of boredom, but that hope died as he watched some of the black goop begin to drip out of the corner of the other’s mouth.

That only happened when he went stage 3.

Shit.

Cross felt his soul drop. He’d never dealt with Killer like this alone, usually they handled him as a team if Nightmare wasn’t there to take over. In the time it would take him to look down at his phone to call for help there would probably be a knife in his head.

This was fine. He could handle it. He always had more training and stamina than Killer anyway, he just had to play keepaway with his life long enough to go home with it.

Killer teleported in front of him, something that caught Cross off guard. In his right mind, Killer almost never seemed to use his magic in fights unless he wanted to fuck around with the other. 

[Put the fight part here idk pretend there was a really cool fight, it was so cool, you loved it]

Cross felt his soul drop again, but this time the rest of his body followed. Killer was using his gravity magic to hold him to the ground, and was shambling towards him ready to finish things. Cross struggled for a moment to see if he could fight his way out of the magic’s hold, but to no avail. He was pinned as his assailant now stood threateningly over him, knife raised. In a flash of desperation, he reached out both hands and grabbed Killer’s ankles, quickly moving his head to one side as a bone attack pierced up out of the snow and struck the other in the jaw.

It wasn’t his strongest attack, but it was enough to knock Killer backwards and stun him. As Cross felt his soul being released from the other’s magic, he quickly scrambled forward and sat on Killer’s chest as he lay sprawled out in the snow, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as he began to come back around. His face was leaking so much determination from every crevice that at that point it was hard to make out an expression under it all, but Cross could tell he was frustrated as he felt the rumble of bone attacks beginning to rise up out of the snow around them.

He followed suit, carefully forming a line of his own bone attacks closely around them to act as a barrier. He could feel Killer’s attacks bouncing off of his, each hit more desperate and frantic than the last like an animal clawing at the sides of its cage. He felt some magic encircling his soul again, but this time trying to raise him up rather than push him down. It was weaker than before, whether because Killer’s attention was split with still launching bone attacks or because he was beginning to tire out, but Cross managed to fight against it and stay put.

“Killer!” he barked, leaning over the other’s face. “That’s enough. You’re not going anywhere until you pull yourself together!”

The gravity magic seemed to cease at his shout, so Cross continued in the fervent hope that he was getting through to him.

“We’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m reporting back to Nightmare when this is over and I’m not leaving without you! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if I have to bring you back hogtied over my shoulder, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not gonna let you kill me!”

He didn’t realise he’d been shouting until the clinking and scraping of bone attacks had slowed and stopped altogether, and it was just the sound of his promise echoing off the bones and snow surrounding them.

And the strange gurgling sound coming from below him.

He opened his eyes again in confusion and stared down at the skeleton weakly fighting against his grasp, determination pooling and soaking into the snow from every gap in his skull. It took a second longer than he’d like to admit for Cross to realise that sound was Killer choking on it.

His bone attacks shrunk back into the ground and he shot backwards, landing ungracefully on his backside with a little curse. He hurried to pull Killer up and help him lean forward, swatting his back as he retched and spat the toxic goop up onto the ground where they’d just fought.

It was never an elegant dismount from these things, they’d found there was just no dignified way to get out a ribcage worth of black ooze. After a minute of heaving and gasping, Killer finally got a hold of himself and started glancing frantically around.

“Where’s Dust??” he managed to choke out with the urgency of a parent who’d lost their child. It always seemed to be the first thing on his mind when he came to from one of these episodes, Cross was never really sure why since any other time it seemed like they hated each other.

“He’s at home,” Cross assured, pressing one hand to Killer’s spine for support. “It’s just us, we were on a mission.”

He could see now that Killer’s soul had calmed down from the pulsating mass of spikes it was a few minutes ago and become somewhat soul shaped, still twitching nervously but a far calmer sight than before. That was a good sign that the attack was over. He wondered how much control Killer had over it, since he’d definitely seen it turn that way without having to go through a fight to the death first, but it was rare.

Cross flinched as he felt Killer grab him again, though this time instead of kicking him in the ribs he simply held on for dear life. That was another clear sign, after he was done puking up whatever goop had built up he usually cried for a while.

It was odd, especially the first few times, to see someone who always seemed so disconnected and unphased have a sobbing breakdown after trying to kill you.

“Hey,” Cross said, voice hushed as he wrapped his arms around the skeleton trembling in his lap. “It’s okay… you’re okay…”

Cross had never been the best at comforting words, but he knew Killer just needed someone to cling to while he got a hold of himself, and he was content to be that for a little while. Especially after being thrown around so much, his aching bones were more than happy for an excuse to sit in the snow for a bit. He could feel Killer’s soul being pressed against his chest as he wept silently into Cross’s shoulder, the fear and regret seemed to be radiating from it like smoke from a smothered flame.

He wondered idly if this was what Nightmare could feel all the time.

...

He also wondered just how hard it was going to be to get these black stains out of his jacket again once he pried Killer's face off of it.

[masterrainbowcat]

you keep calling me stupid but on several occassions you have misunderstood what was being written, like most semi-literate weebs you reading comprehension is below par. this isn't about him 'insulting books', you moron. dora was calling other people stupid and uninformed saying that there are ENTIRE BOOKS that proved him right. when asked in a friendly manner by me and someone else which books he was referring to he just ignored us. when i pressed him he came out w/ ad hominem attacks instead of titles and authors. he "couldn't remember" as it had been 5 years already since he'd read them. THERE ARE NO SERIOUS BOOKS THAT CLAIM FASCISM IS A LEFTWING IDEOLOGY. look it up, fool. this is a guy who made several hours worth of videos on youtube whining about how people on tumblr should learn to think critically and that their opinions lack nuance while continually posting lies and reactionary shit takes. when called out on other things by other people the pattern repeats. "i'm more literate than you" he told the chatbot account, and "i've read marx". fucking lying poser. so, maybe now you can understand why i don't have any qualms about making him my lolcow. hope this wasn't too much text for you to process otaku, have fun jerking off to cartoon girls.

So for context, this gent has been harassing @yourtoradorasextendedwarranty for months now, and this is his explanation for why. I assumed it was something to do with Tora insulting books Babi liked, since Babi has thimble-dick opinions on other mediums, but somehow Babi wrote this whole thing and didn’t think for a second that it was more embarrassing than what I assumed. “An argument didn’t go well so I’m gonna be a schoolyard bully.” That’s how you know he’s a man of character.

The reason you wouldn’t have seen these exchanges is because Babi spends most of his time spamming replies so that people can’t make fun of him as easily. Of course, considering one of the few times Babi did reblog, he admitted he didn’t graduate high school and uses AI in arguments, I can see why he’d want to avoid embarrassing himself to whatever followers he has. I suspect he also has a side blog where he LARPs as a fact checker that uses AI to write posts, but I can’t verify that beyond Tora being a target of that blog as well.

Babi also has a hate boner for anime, which with previous evidence suggests he is perpetually stuck in high school. Though I did get a chuckle out of his ad hominem about me “jacking it to cartoon girls”. Yeah, THAT’S the vibe my blog gives off.

But anyway, this is a man who:

* happily admits to harassing people like a bully

* has a weird reverence for AI and is proud to use it

* hides in the replies and potentially side blogs because he lacks the confidence to have his material show on his blog most of the time

and yet:

* is desperate to convince people his ideology is the right, good, and smart one

It’s the epitome of a comedy of errors.

[suzukiblu]

okay FINE I'll do "think pink" for tomorrow's WIP Wednesday, hah. But also now I gotta post the cONTEXT so I can continue it from there, so y'all are just gonna have to have all this content and this here read-more, oh nooooo~ 💖

Kon shifts back on the mattress and lays himself out on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his head not quite in Tim's lap, but definitely down on eye-level with his cock. His mouth feels that eager, greedy way again and he bites his tongue just to keep himself from licking his lips. He wants to do this right. He wants Tim to like this. 

He wants to be good for him. 

Tim's hand is still resting on top of his head, and he threads his fingers through Kon's hair again. Picks up his camera again too and snaps a few shots. Kon resists a stupid urge to duck his head or squirm; smirks up at him instead, and then sticks his tongue out at him. 

Tim takes a picture of that, too. 

“I realize this is a stupid thing to say given the whole nature of your creation and the fact I know you’ve been cloned yourself, but Jesus, do you have any idea what you look like right now?” Bernard says, rubbing at his own jaw and watching Kon intently. Kon feels warm and heated under that look, but also has to stifle a laugh at the thought. 

“Can’t say Match and I have ever gotten along this well, so no, not really,” he says with a wry grin, wrapping a hand around Tim’s cock again and giving it a few long, slow strokes from root to tip. Tim hisses very, very quietly and takes another picture. Kon is immediately overwhelmed with options and has, actually, no idea what to do here. Or at least no idea where to start, anyway. Tim’s cock is a warm, perfect fit in his hand and he is having a very hard time not obsessing over just where and how else it might so perfectly fit, and he just wants to make him feel good, wants to make him like it, wants to make him happy–

He really, really wants that. 

“Well, there’s a mental image,” Bernard muses consideringly. Tim’s fingers curl and his nails dig into Kon’s scalp. Kon pushes into them without really thinking it through, and Tim hisses again. 

“Pet,” he says, his voice just a little bit strangled. Kon wants to make it crack. Kon wants to make him crack. He wants to know exactly how carried away Tim can get. 

Exactly how carried away Tim wants to get. 

“Tim,” he says, and licks his lips after all. It seems like such a dumb, cliche thing to do, but Tim and Bernard’s hearts both skip a beat watching him do it, and their pupils dilate in unison. 

It’s a bit of a confidence booster, to put it mildly. 

“Tim,” Kon repeats, leaning in just enough to nuzzle Tim’s cock before pressing a kiss against the side of it. It’s a lot more than just making out with them or jacking himself off to put on a show for them, and it feels like it should feel weird, but it just makes his gut twist and flip and heat. Tim letting him touch him this intimately, Tim letting him touch him at all . . . Tim letting him do all this is . . . 

Fuck, pink kryptonite really is Kon’s new favorite thing. 

“Told you I haven’t done this before, right?” he says even though he knows he did, then flicks the flat of his tongue out against the head of Tim’s cock. It twitches against his tongue, and he feels a rush of eager heat coiling low in his gut. “You gotta tell me how to make it good for you. How to be good for you.” 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters under his breath, his fingers nearly slipping off the button of his camera. 

“C’mon, you’re the boss, Robin,” Kon coaxes, and Tim exhales. 

“Holy shit,” Bernard says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “You are a menace, you know that?” 

“Kiss me again, pet,” Tim says, his voice gratifyingly rough and his fingers tightening in Kon’s hair. There’s no possible way he could yank it hard enough to hurt him, but his grip is still so careful. 

Kon feels several fucking ways about that fact. 

He presses another kiss to Tim’s cock, obviously, just above his own loosely-circled fingers, and then mouths up the length of it as he tightens his fingers around him again. Tim grunts, flattening his hand against his hair and sliding it around to cup the back of his head. 

“Good boy,” he says. “Use your tongue.”

Kon does; ducks his mouth again and then drags his tongue back up Tim’s cock, broad and flat. Tim grits his teeth and knocks his head back against the headboard–against Kon’s jacket–and Kon feels like there’s something buzzing under his skin, like there’s something he can’t quite contain inside himself. It’s . . . been a while, he thinks. Since he felt that so much, he means. Like, it’s been a while since he fucked anyone at all, much less anyone he liked this much, but it’s been a while since he felt it like this. 

Probably since he was with Cassie, come to think, which kinda makes sense.

He slides his tongue up and around the head of Tim’s cock and Tim chokes on another grunt. His hips don’t push up, but they do just barely shift. Kon feels even more of that buzzing warmth and kisses Tim’s cock again, wet and messy this time, and Tim curses under his breath and snaps a few more pictures. Kon winks up at him, not even trying not to smirk against his dick. Bernard laughs in delight and bites his knuckles. 

“Holy shit,” he repeats reverently. Kon kind of wants him to put a hand in his hair too, maybe, or at least touch him some way or another. 

“Good boy,” Tim repeats himself too, though in his case he has to do it through still-gritted teeth. Kon thinks about the fact he’s making Tim react this much, controlled and collected and always-prepared Tim, and the thought is one he really fucking likes. If he can affect Tim this much, if Tim likes what he’s doing this much . . . 

Yeah, he definitely likes that.

“You listen so well. And you’re so eager,” Tim murmurs, his tone low and approving and spine-melting as he strokes through Kon’s hair again even more spine-meltingly. “Show me how much of me you can take.”

Kon doesn’t hesitate; doesn’t even wait long enough to crack a dirty joke or make a flirty comment. He just opens his mouth and drops it down over Tim, around Tim, letting Tim inside him, and . . . 

And fuck, Kon thinks fleetingly, and then wraps his mouth fully around Tim’s cock and presses his tongue up against the underside as he slides down, and Tim’s hand tightens in his hair again, and–

Kon doesn’t really have a gag reflex, either because of the half-Kryptonian thing or because of the whole “weaned on a feeding tube” thing when he was initially being developed–who knows which–and he doesn’t really need to breathe all that much anymore either, so if Tim’s telling him to show him how much of him he can take . . . 

Well. The logical thing to do is to really commit, isn’t it? 

It feels–weird, a little, and kind of awkward and strange, but . . . 

“Tilt your head back a bit and relax your throat,” Bernard advises, reaching over to tap a couple of fingers gently against the corner of Kon’s jaw, and Kon just–does. Because again, not much of a gag reflex, and also he can sort of just use his TTK to ease the whole process, so–yeah. He tilts his head and relaxes his throat, and pulls Tim’s cock into his throat. 

It really does feel like a perfect fit, he thinks a little bit hazily, and then he swallows around him. Tim curses. Loudly. 

“Okay, so Kryptonians can deepthroat on the first try,” Bernard observes conversationally, his fingers curling against Kon’s jaw. “Good to know. Useful information. Also, oh my god.” 

“Good boy,” Tim says roughly, stroking a heavy hand through Kon’s hair, and Kon feels warm and buzzed and a little bit dazed, and just . . . rolls his tongue up tighter against the weight of his cock and swallows around him again. He should bob his head, he knows, but he kind of doesn’t want to. Just having Tim in his mouth like this, in his throat like this . . . “Fuck, pet. Look at me.” 

Kon flicks his eyes up to Tim’s face again, though they’re heavy and unfocused-feeling, and finds himself looking into his camera lens again. Tim takes a few pictures. 

Maybe a lot of pictures, actually, Kon’s vaguely aware, but he’s a little bit distracted right now. Just–Tim’s cock is a warm, solid weight in his mouth and on his tongue, hard and throbbing for him, and Tim told him he was good and told him to look at him and that’s . . . really all he’s worried about right now, yeah. 

He sucks, obviously. Swallows around him; rolls his tongue up and tries to swallow him down farther, even though his nose is already practically pressing into Tim’s stomach. It’s just a reflex, more than anything else. Bernard’s fingertips are still on his jaw. He likes them there. 

It’s a lot different from going down on a girl, obviously, but it gives him that same heady rush and feeling of usefulness he always gets from pleasing someone, which–well yeah, of course it does. The pink K is changing what he’s attracted to, not what he likes to do. So like, of course he’d still like giving oral and getting told he was doing a good job and all that stuff. It’d be weird if he didn’t. 

Kon can’t really focus on Tim’s face past the camera, but Tim’s free hand is still in his hair and he can feel him through his TTK–him and Bernard both–and hear both of their accelerated heartbeats and quickened breathing. Tim's are more-so than Bernard, but Bernard isn't currently getting his dick sucked, so Kon figures that’s understandable. 

He wants to touch him too, and considers reaching into his lap or just using his TTK to feel him up a bit, but he also wants to concentrate on this and make it as good as he can, do it as right as he can. He wants Tim to really, really love this. To think he’s doing well. To be pleased with and proud of him. 

If he can make this good for Tim, be good for Tim–

Kon really wants to do that. 

He makes himself bob his head; sucks tightly and doesn’t even pretend not to be using his TTK too, mimicking the same licking he’s already doing with a phantom tongue working in counterpoint to his own, and he cups and rolls Tim’s balls in his hand and lets another little tendril of TTK press up behind them and rub in along his taint. 

Tim curses. 

“That into it already, babe?” Bernard teases, sounding amused. Kon glances towards him a little muzzily and feels even warmer at the sight of the heated look on his face, but for obvious reasons keeps most of his attention on what he’s doing to Tim. 

What he’s doing for Tim, more like. 

“TTK,” Tim grits out, his voice a little strangled and fingers twisting just a little bit tighter in Kon’s hair. 

“Oh,” Bernard says, his eyes widening. “Ohhhhh. Well, okay, that’s incredibly distracting. Jesus.”

“You're doing so good for your first time, pet,” Tim says, tight and tender, and Kon feels that heady rush again and lets out a stifled moan around his cock. Tim hisses, his hips twitching against the mattress, but the fingers he has twisted tight in Kon's hair stay careful. Stay gentle. 

Kon would be perfectly fine with Tim yanking his hair as hard as he wants right now, but honestly, the fact he's keeping the totally unnecessary promise of being gentle with him is really doing it for him.

Like. Really. 

He moans again; swallows Tim back down as far as he can and flexes his tongue and his TTK around him, and Tim makes a choked noise in the back of his throat and drags his fingers through his hair very, very gently. Kon is pretty sure he'd let Tim hold a kryptonite razor to his throat at this point in their lives and just assume if he decided to slash it, it was for the best. 

So that's . . . definitely a way to feel about the guy whose dick is currently down his throat. 

Fuck. 

Kon squirms, just a little, and presses his hips down into the sheets as his own dick decides it's getting a bit more interested in the current proceedings. His refractory period is quick enough that he's surprised it took it this long to, frankly, because the whole experience of having Tim like this is more than a little overwhelming. 

“So good, pet,” Tim grunts, and Kon's dick is definitely interested in that. “Don't stop. You look so pretty like this.” 

“I feel like you could go with a much stronger descriptor than ‘pretty’ here,” Bernard says, trailing his fingers down under Kon's jaw and pressing his thumb in against the stretched-open corner of his mouth. “I don't know, ‘mind-meltingly hot’ or ‘fucking gorgeous’. ‘Probably illegal in half the sector and should be if you're not’, maybe.” 

“Perfect,” Tim says, which is stronger enough that Kon nearly chokes before the bastard starts elaborating. “Always just what I need. Always so good for me. Always my boy. I can trust you with anything.” 

Kon doesn't moan around him this time; he whines. Tim strokes his hair back off his face and he's vaguely aware of the camera shutter going off, or maybe having been going off this whole time, but all he can actually think about or do is suck Tim off. He digs his fingers into Tim's thighs and swallows around his cock and makes more near-pleading whining noises, and doesn't even care if it makes him sound stupid. Tim said he was doing good. Tim said he was perfect. 

Yeah, no, Kon really doesn't give a fuck about anything else right now. 

He really does wish they could've skipped the condom, though. The idea of Tim very literally coming in his mouth is–is a lot. And Tim said he wanted him to taste him. 

Kon would absolutely do that for him, if it weren't like, a health issue or whatever. 

His jaw doesn't ache, because he's too Kryptonian for that, and his mouth isn't going to look like he's been sucking cock because again, he's too Kryptonian for that. But they both feel used and sensitive in a new and unfamiliar way, and the tight slide of Tim’s cock along his tongue is weirdly hypnotic, and the hands they both have in his hair and on his jaw make him feel restless and eager and needy, and everything Tim says just sounds so, so good right now. 

Kon wants him to keep talking as bad as he thinks he’s ever wanted anything in bed, so he puts in the fucking effort and does his best imitation of all the best blowjobs of his life; doesn’t hesitate or hold back or shy away, goes in hard and puts in the work, doesn’t half-ass any of it. 

Lets himself be as eager as he feels. 

But also takes his time, just a little, and savors. 

“Fuck,” Tim chokes, and his head hits the headboard hard. His cock twitches in Kon’s mouth and gets even harder, and Kon feels–feels–“Good boy.” 

Like that, yeah. He feels like a good boy. 

Like Tim’s good boy, specifically. 

That is actually doing even more for him than it usually would be. Like–Cassie-levels of “doing it for him”, again. Which still makes sense, obviously, but is just a lot. Kon should’ve expected it, probably, just . . .

“Oh, pet,” Tim breathes out roughly, petting his hair so gently, and Kon stops caring about anything else. Tim’s petting his hair and letting him touch him and putting up with him crashing his weekend, and that’s all that Kon gives a fuck about right now. 

That and the way Bernard keeps tracing his fingers up his jaw and down his throat, anyway. 

“You are an unfairly quick learner,” Bernard says, all delighted admiration and approval, and Kon tries to figure out if he can swallow Tim down any farther. Obviously no, because he’s already got every inch of him it’s possible to in his mouth and throat, but he really tries. Tim curses a few more times. Kon . . . 

Kon doesn’t quite do it on purpose, but his TTK starts to sort of . . . wander, a little. Or–reach out a little, more like, and wrap itself around Tim and Bernard both and just sort of . . . hold on, maybe. 

“Oh,” Bernard says, sounding breathless, and digs his nails in against Kon’s impenetrable skin. Kon can feel every inch of him; every inch of him and Tim both. “You really are a flirt, huh. And a real multi-tasker, too.” 

Kon would do something to live up to the “flirt” rep, maybe, but it is just so much more important to suck Tim’s cock right now. 

Like much, much more important. 

He wonders how long Tim’s going to let him do this. Wonders how long he’s going to last, wonders if he likes it as much as he wants him to, wonders if–

Tim strokes the hand in his hair down the side of his face to cup his jaw and snaps another picture or five. Kon feels warm and heavy and electric. Tim likes it. Tim likes him. Tim’s petting him and taking pictures and–and he’s–

“Such a good boy for me,” Tim says, his voice a low, heated rasp, and Kon feels the kind of buzzing bliss he usually only gets when he’s way deep into a scene with somebody who’s really, really put the work in. Cassie got him there this easy, the handful of times they’d tried this kind of play, but . . . “So sweet. So obedient. Just what I want you to be.” 

Kon definitely whines around Tim’s cock again, and definitely does his best to live up to that compliment. He’s dizzy and warm and his mouth is too full to talk past and his throat is too full to talk past, and Tim’s cupping his jaw and taking pictures of him and Bernard is drawing his fingers along the other side of his face and pressing the pad of his thumb in against his lower lip. It’s wet and slick with spit and Kon wishes it were wet and slick with Tim. Wishes Bernard were touching him more. Wishes Tim would fuck his mouth as gently as he’s petting his face right now. 

“Just perfect,” Tim murmurs, and Kon swallows around his dick and grinds his own down into the mattress without really meaning to, because how could he ever listen to Tim talking to him like this and not do that? He wants touched more. He wants back between the two of them. He wants–

He grinds his hips down again, swallows Tim down again with a lingering shudder, and Tim–pauses.

“Pet,” he asks very, very carefully, his voice still a low rasp. “Are you . . . getting off on doing this?” 

It’s not really a question Kon understands, because of course he’s doing that. Obviously he is. But he’s being good for Tim, being good for Tim is all he wants to do, so he just purrs in reply and bobs his head and works his mouth around him until Tim’s hand tightens against his jaw and his heartbeat is doing things Kon’s never heard it do before. 

“Babe, I love you, but you are asking questions with very obvious answers right now,” Bernard says wryly. 

“Pet,” Tim says tightly, back to breathing like the doors are gonna blow in and smoothing a hand back through Kon’s hair again. It feels so, so good. “Can you come like this for me? For my cock in your mouth like this?” 

Kon definitely can. 

And it’s not going to be much longer ‘til he definitely does, the way he feels right now. 

Kon sucks harder, swallows tighter, works his mouth more and uses his TTK to help it out, and Tim hisses under his breath and still doesn’t yank his hair. Kon likes that so much. 

Likes him so much. 

He can’t keep himself from grinding his hips down into the sheets, it feels like, but Tim asked him if he could get off like this, so it’s not like he’s trying to stop or be patient. Not like he’s trying to hold anything back or behave. Tim wants him to do it, right? Wants him to get off like this. For this. So he’s–behaving, by doing this. 

Being good by doing this. 

Kon makes a noise. A tight, strangled one that he doesn’t quite know how to define. Tim trails his fingers along his temple and then back down to his jaw, soft and gentle, and this time Kon whimpers. He digs his fingers into Tim’s thighs again; drags them down and swallows him down. Tim curses. His camera goes off, though the lens isn’t aimed as carefully as before. Kon whimpers again and wants Tim to yank his hair, fuck his mouth, come in his mouth; use him like a thing and treat him however he wants and tell him how good he is for it. 

If he’s a pet or an animal or just some stupid idiot humping the sheets while Tim and Bernard pet him and Tim’s cock fills up his mouth and throat–if he’s good, a good boy, Tim’s good boy–if he’s doing what Tim wants him to be doing–

If Tim is still, still, still being so gentle, just like he promised . . . 

Well–then Kon is going to absolutely lose his fucking mind and melt into this fucking mattress, is what’s going to happen here. 

But not before he makes Tim come. 

He wants to make Tim come. He wants to see what he looks like after he does; wants to hear how he sounds, find out what he’ll do and say and–

“I need you to know, I am going to go actually insane before we’re done here,” Bernard informs Tim, shifting into his side and pressing a kiss in behind his ear as he curls his fingers in behind Kon’s ear. Kon feels weirdly, weirdly obsessed with that particular little parallel. “Like I’m feeling about a hop, skip, and a jump away from getting a gimmick and going full rogue here, that’s what’s happening in my head right now.” 

“The only reason I haven’t lost my mind yet is because we had to use condoms,” Tim says very, very evenly. 

“Really?” Bernard asks, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Because I’d have thought having to use condoms while thinking about how your boy didn’t want to would’ve shoved you right over the edge there, babe.” 

“. . . ngh,” Tim mutters, tightening his grip in Kon’s hair as Kon shudders. 

“Seriously,” Bernard says, biting his lip for a moment. “Like, the fact that if we were all less responsible people he’d be letting you come in him is really making me–” 

“Ngh,” Tim says, screwing his eyes shut, and Kon thinks about how that might feel, about the idea of Tim coming in his mouth or maybe–

He muffles a heated groan around Tim’s cock, and Tim hisses through his teeth and knocks his head back against the headboard again. Back against Kon’s jacket again. 

Kon really wants to ask him to wear it for a little while, and not because of any practical reasons like keeping the pink kryptonite in its pocket in close and doing its radioactive magic or anything like that. 

“Just saying,” Bernard says, and Kon wants to feel him up and kinda wishes he could get both their cocks in his mouth right now or maybe–maybe–

If he'd waited, maybe they would've been up for trying out a spitroast kind of setup. Maybe they'll be up for trying that out later. Maybe–

Fuck, he wants more. Wants everything they've both got. 

If he does this good enough, maybe they’ll give it to him. 

“You look so good like this. I wish I could see my come on your face,” Tim murmurs lowly, trailing his fingers along the arc of Kon's cheekbone. “Wish I could make you drip with it.” 

Kon and his total lack of gag reflex somehow actually choke. Tim's eyes flare. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, pet,” Tim says as he strokes Kon’s face again, all tender and gentle like that’s actually something Kon could ever do this easily. It makes him feel–weird. Several kinds of weird. 

It makes him feel like something that maybe could get hurt that easily, or maybe just something Tim doesn’t want to risk getting hurt no matter what, which is . . . a weird way to feel, honestly. 

But he doesn’t–mind it, or anything. Doesn’t mind feeling like something that Tim wants to be careful with, something he wants to make sure not to break; not to hurt. 

Yeah. No, he definitely doesn’t mind that at all. 

“Fuck, you look good like this,” Bernard mutters. “I am definitely going to lose my mind and die over this, I need a rogue gimmick, like, yesterday. What’s one nobody’s done yet, I don’t wanna be derivative or whatever.” 

“Good luck finding that,” Tim snorts breathlessly, shaking his head. His thumb slides back along the arch of Kon’s cheekbone and it’s such a little touch, but it feels so–so sweet, for lack of a better word. Feels like Tim’s still being so careful.

Makes Kon feel like . . . 

He grabs Tim’s hips and tugs hopefully at them, not sure if he wants the other to fuck his mouth or just wants to make sure he isn’t going to pull back or pull away. He bobs his head faster and swallows around his cock again and again, and Tim hisses sharp little curses under his breath, and Kon can’t help grinding his own cock down harder into the mattress. 

“Fuck,” Bernard muses, pressing the pad of his thumb in against the corner of Kon’s stretched-open mouth again. “You’re really into this, huh.” 

“That was a question?” Tim huffs, and Kon feels warm and good and warm. 

“I was talking to Kon, babe,” Bernard says, and Tim hisses through his teeth and covers his face with a hand. “At this rate I think he’s gonna come before you do.” 

He might be right, the way Kon feels right now. He doesn’t know if he even needs to worry about his cock to get himself off, if Tim’s gonna keep acting like this about everything. 

“Pet,” Tim rasps, sliding a hand over the back of Kon’s neck and splaying his fingers across it. “Do you want to come like this? Do you like it?”

Kon would actually have to pull back to say anything in answer to that question, obviously, but he really doesn’t want to. He makes the most eager, encouraging noise he can figure out how to with his mouth full and swallows Tim down to the root and swallows around him, and Tim chokes roughly and knocks his head back against the headboard again. 

Kon still can’t get over the fact that Tim doing that means he’s leaning back against his jacket. 

Tim’s hips roll up into his mouth, stuttering and barely-controlled, but still gentle. Still careful. Still–

Tim’s fingers curl in Kon’s hair, and Kon’s whole fucking brain shorts out and he comes into the sheets with a choked, gasping moan, and has no idea why having Tim’s cock filling up his mouth for it feels so good. It all feels so good, though, and he doesn’t really . . . he’s not . . . 

“Shit, Kon, did you just–” Bernard starts while Kon’s still shuddering his way through it and kind of forgetting how to think, sounding delighted, and– 

“Fuck!” Tim groans, and comes too. 

Comes in Kon’s mouth. Because of him. Because of how he’s touching him and how he’s using his mouth and how he’s being good for him. 

Kon whines around his mouthful of cock and lets Tim ride out his orgasm completely before he lets his cock slip out of his throat and wipes the spit off his face. Tim is panting. 

Kon . . . nuzzles him. 

His dick, he means. He nuzzles that. 

“Jesus fucking fuck, Kon, I . . .” Tim trails off with a groan, putting a hand over his eyes. Bernard was very right about how good he looks after coming. Like, if anything, he undersold it. Kon presses a careful little kiss against the root of Tim’s softening cock before nuzzling it again, feeling blurry and buzzed and so, so good. He doesn’t want to stop. He wants to make Tim come until the other kicks him off, and then he wants to see if making Bernard come will feel even half this good.

He bets he could make sure it would, he thinks, and licks his lips. 

Tim groans. 

“Maybe I should’ve told Supergirl to expect you next Monday,” Bernard says, openly staring. Kon still feels too buzzed to properly preen under the attention, but it makes him feel warm anyway. 

“Mmmkay,” he hums, feeling just a little . . . floaty, maybe. Like, in a good way, just . . . floaty, yeah. “Whenever y'want. Just keep me 'til y'get bored or whatever.” 

“I dunno, dude, you already said you weren't the marrying kind,” Bernard says wryly, reaching out to pet his hair again. 

Kon feels warm. 

“Mmmmm, alright, then just tell me when you need that party favor for your bachelor party, 'kay?” he murmurs, nuzzling into Bernard’s hand with a little shiver before returning his attention to Tim’s cock. “Bet Superman'll gimme pink K for that.” 

“Ngh,” Tim says.

Kon’s kinda starting to like that sound, he thinks. 

He kisses the base of Tim’s cock again, then lifts his head to drag his tongue over the tip, where his come is trapped inside the condom. Wonders what Tim’s refractory period is like. Wonders if–

“Stop,” Tim rasps, and Kon would feel disappointed, but being good for Tim is just as good as getting him off. “Just–c’mere, pet. Head in my lap, and roll over on your back.” 

Kon doesn’t know why Tim wants him to do that, but he’s not really worried about it. Tim always has the best ideas, after all. So he shifts up a bit as Tim strips off the condom and tosses it before tucking his cock away again, which seems like a shame, and then Kon rolls over and ends up stretched out across the bed with his head in Tim’s lap, just like he asked. Tim wraps his arms around him, which is nice, and smoothes his hands down his chest. 

“Color?” Tim asks. Kon doesn’t understand what he’s–oh, right. 

“Green,” he hums contentedly, pressing up into Tim’s hands and tipping his head back against Tim’s stomach. Tim sighs. He sounds a little relieved, for some reason. Kon’s not sure why. There’s no way he’d be anything but green right now. 

“Good,” Tim says. “Bernard, can you grab the–oh, thanks. Pet, Bernard’s going to clean you up a little, alright?” 

Kon wonders what Tim wanted, but then Bernard’s leaning over him and it doesn’t seem important anymore, so he just hums again and lets his eyes half-close as he hears a little ripping sound and then Bernard is running a wet wipe over the mess of come he got all over himself.

He’d be embarrassed that he wasn’t handling his own mess, maybe, but it feels nice. He was kind of sticky, he guesses, especially after coming in the sheets while grinding in them. So . . . the bed’s also kind of sticky, he guesses. And he’s pretty sure he’s still at least halfway lying in his own come, considering. 

He doesn’t really care. Tim’s hands are on his chest and Bernard’s being nice enough to clean him up and he just feels warm and good and like he’s being good and . . . and it’s nice. Really nice. 

So yeah, he doesn’t care. 

Actually, he doesn’t care about much of anything right now, except for how nice this is. 

“Good boy,” Tim says, smoothing one of his hands up Kon’s chest and throat and then stroking his hair again. Kon feels even nicer, and hums softly in response. He assumes Tim wants a response, anyway. Probably. Maybe. “How do you feel, pet?” 

“M’good,” Kon sighs contentedly, though he only bothers with saying anything at all because he wants to be good for him. It feels really good and really nice and Tim is just . . . he really likes this. So much. 

He never gets treated this nice. Or at least, hasn’t in a really long time. 

Well . . . he hasn’t been dating much, he guesses, so . . . like really, he’s pretty sure the last time he went out with anybody was before Tim and Bernard even started dating, so . . .

. . . actually, huh. It was, wasn’t it.

Kon frowns, very briefly, and thinks . . . did he actually . . . stop dating people right when Tim got a boyfriend? Like . . . what, as an actual triggering event? Why would he . . . ? 

“I cannot believe how good you are at being good for me,” Tim mutters, stroking his hair again, and Kon forgets what he was thinking about and tips his head back again to peer up at him as Bernard tosses out the used wet wipe with a snigger. “Shut up, Bernard, you don’t know how many goddamn problems this could’ve solved for Young Justice back in the day. You have no idea.” 

“Oh, could it have, babe?” Bernard asks, and cackles. Tim scowls at him. Kon . . . Kon has some slightly inappropriate thoughts about the idea of Tim ordering him around in the Robin suit in possibly inappropriate ways and places and times back in the day and . . . and, uh . . .

“Yeah, guess that would’ve been a good way to shut me up when I got too mouthy, huh?” he tries to joke, feeling a little–weird, maybe, and Tim’s fingers curl gently behind his ears. 

“I was more thinking the team would've had a mutually enjoyable way to reward you for good behavior,” he replies matter-of-factly. 

“. . . oh,” Kon manages, and feels his face burn. And then he has a lot more thoughts that are a lot more inappropriate about . . . about maybe just . . . about what that might’ve been like, maybe, if he’d been good and earned a reward for “good behavior” and then Tim had–Robin, because they hadn’t even known his name then, actually–and then Robin had just . . . let him be good for everybody else too, maybe. Like, they’d had enough of those team sleepovers, they could’ve just . . .

He’d have been so good, he thinks. He’d have taken care of all the girls just how they wanted and done anything Robin told him to and–well, maybe it would’ve been a little weird with Bart, he’s not sure how that would’ve worked, but Robin could’ve just told him what to do, again, and . . . 

Like–he could’ve, that’s all. 

Kon’s pretty sure he could’ve done that without the pink kryptonite, if he was just, like–doing what Robin told him to do for Cissie or Cassie or “Suzie”. Like . . . even if it might’ve been a little weird and he couldn’t have gotten to touch him, that would’ve been . . . 

That’s just–a thought, kind of.

Well, he guesses his next sex dream’s gonna involve getting to play the starring role in a team gangbang. Good to know, he guesses. 

Or mortifying, maybe. But . . . 

“Real missed opportunity, there,” Tim says, and Kon bites his lip to repress the urge to squirm. He thinks about the idea of Robin telling him how to kiss Suzie or go down on Cissie or fuck Cassie, and it’s . . . 

Fuck, it’s a thought, isn’t it. 

He wonders if Robin would’ve told him what to do for Bart, too. Like–if that would’ve been a thing, if it’d ever come up. He wonders how that would’ve felt. Just . . . doing whatever Robin told him to, pink kryptonite or not, and . . . 

That is a very weird thought, Kon recognizes, and then Bernard leans forward a little and he remembers–shit, Bernard’s been waiting all this time, he needs to–

Tim strokes a hand through his hair, and Kon–hesitates. Settles, slowly. Bernard grins at Tim, and Tim smiles back at him. Kon watches them. 

He likes how they look at each other. He’s never gotten to see it, except in the sense of seeing Tim smile at his phone sometimes when he’s texting Bernard. Finally seeing Bernard’s half of the equation is . . . affecting, kind of. 

And really nice.

Tim deserves to get a grin like that directed at him, so–yeah. Definitely nice, Kon thinks, and settles a little more. 

“Pet,” Tim murmurs, his voice all soft and gentle as he strokes Kon’s collarbones. “Do you want to stay in my lap like this while Bernard gets you ready for our cocks? Does that sound nice?” 

Kon nearly bites his tongue. 

“Yeah,” he manages to croak, reaching up to wrap his hands around Tim’s wrists and half-reflexively spreading his thighs as he does. “I–yeah. That sounds–yeah, I wanna do that.” 

He really wants to do that, actually. 

“Fuck,” Tim and Bernard mutter in unison. Kon would laugh, but the way they both say it is just really, really fucking flattering.

[cosmicjoke]

Some people are really out here claiming that Isayama having the alliance become the champions of peace at the end is pushing a colonialist agenda, lol. I saw a post recently talking about how all the members of the alliance should all be in prison for their "war crimes", and how everyone should hate them for being the "instigators" of the Rumbling. You can't make this kind of stupid up. Do they mean Eren? Because he's the ONLY instigator of the Rumbling. If they're talking about Reiner, Annie, Pieck, Levi, Hange, Connie, Jean, or Mikasa, then they're fucking moronic, because all of them were doing their best to STOP the Rumbling. And it's always the same bullshit, 'oh, boohoo, only evil white colonial oppressors think AoT is good'. How do these people not get that Annie, Reiner and Pieck were all victims of Marley's propaganda and were all CHILD soldiers? Do they not understand that children literally can't be held responsible for this stuff? They can't consent. They were Eldian's being used as weapons for Marley's imperial agenda. How is that their fault? Are we really supposed to sit in judgement of the only people who risked their lives to try and save a world that had done pretty much nothing but treat them like shit? It's Marley's government that's at fault, and THEY paid the ultimate price by getting themselves and everyone else flattened for their imperialism. That's the entire point. The Rumbling happens because of imperialism and oppression and prejudice and hate. It's a direct result of colonialism! "Attack on Titan", through this outcome, expresses the ultimate condemnation of war, imperialism, oppression, prejudice and hate. It drive me fucking crazy that so many people don't get this. They're so stupid.

And if I see one more asshole call the main cast of AoT "war criminals", I think I'll kill myself. How are Hange, Levi, Armin, Connie, Jean, Mikasa, and Sasha war criminals? They didn't attack or target any civilians. They didn't instigate hostilities or attack any other nation unprompted. If these people are going to cite the attack on Liberio as evidence that they did, then that's just disingenuous and a bad faith argument, because it, like so many bad takes on AoT, completely ignores context and the fact that Eren literally forced them into having to attack Liberio in order to get the only defensive weapon they had back. They very literally didn't have a choice, because Eren's attack was going to happen, whether they went to rescue him or not, and Marley, in turn, was going to attack Paradis in retaliation. That was literally Eren's and Zeke's plan. The both of them knew the SC wouldn't have any choice unless they were willing to just let everyone die. If the Survey Corps hadn't gone to retrieve Eren then, they and everyone else on the island would have been left as sitting ducks, waiting to be exterminated by Marley's and the rest of the world's forces, which were absolutely coming, again, because Zeke had convinced Marley's higher ups to declare war and they used Eren's attack to rope the rest of the world into joining them. It was all a set up. How do people not get this?

I think what these people are actually angry at is the alliance for condemning the Rumbling, because they stupidly think Isayama is saying that you shouldn't fight back against your oppressors through the alliance's attempt to stop a mass genocide. That isn't what Isayama is saying at all. He's saying that oppressing people leads to tragedy. That's what he's saying, but instead they choose to interpret it in the dumbest, most asinine way possible. They think any and all actions taken by Paradis against the world should be framed as correct and good, as retribution for Marley's actions. They're angry at the alliance being framed as heroes for attempting and eventually succeeding in stopping the Rumbling because they think it's the Yeagerists who should be framed as the heroes, that their actions should be justified by the narrative, that the narrative should suggest that any and all action taken to fight back against an oppressor is justified, because otherwise the audience might come away with the impression that the story is claiming oppressed people deserve to be oppressed. But only a genuine moron would come away with that impression after reading AoT. It's the same bullshit take we've seen before from these people, claiming that the narrative is sending the "wrong message" by showing both sides of the story, wanting instead this black and white "good guys vs bad guys" narrative, with Paradis' actions framed as wholly justified and positive. They want the people of Paradis' to be portrayed as wholly good, and for Marley and the rest of the world to be portrayed as wholly evil. They don't like and can't handle the moral complexity of AoT, despite the ways in which it so perfectly reflects the reality of the world we live in. They think it's "dangerous" to show that an oppressed people can resort to unjustified extremism in their quest to free themselves from their oppressors, despite the fact this is a very real consequence of oppression in real life. It's so twisted, and so wholly misses the entire point of the story. The condemnation of Marley's oppression lies in the fact that, through it, they drive Paradis to extreme and unjustified actions which end up negatively impacting people who had nothing to do with the oppression of the Eldians to begin with. It's meant to show the cyclical nature of violence and the tragedy that occurs with the kind of oppression and prejudice that Marley was engaging in. In the end, everybody loses, and that's the point. Nothing good can ever come from oppression. Somebody always ends up as an innocent victim and both sides end up becoming monsters. The Eldians oppressed the Marleyans, and the Marleyans in turn oppressed the Eldians, and then the Eldians, again, attempt to oppress the Marleyans, and in between all of this, countless innocent people end up paying the price.

[lawofangie]

I need some advice

Our 3D is just a reflection of our assumption and I have proven it to myself and have seen few evidence of it too like I yesterday manifested brownies

But I couldn't manifest being in void from past 3 months almost and this is frustrating me a lot now I don't know why but I am like yeah I will be in void but whenever I assume that I am going to get in it on this day or like that I just couldn't belive myself that it is happening or will happen and I just need some genuine advice

I ha,ve manifested shit even after reacting to 3D in 4 days but this is getting on my nerves and I need some advice

By The way read your story and it is inspiring and the things happen to you were not what you deserved but am happy for you still

Bye

i've never understood why you guys care so much about that stupid void stuff. it's not the end all be all of manifestation, it's just a fucking method, like affirming, visualizing, scripting, SATS, etc. it means nothing. i truly do not understand the craze, the hype, watching people post about it and people try their hardest to get in such a state feels like watching the blind lead the blind.

if the void state isn't working for you, then just give up? no method has more significance than another, no matter what you do, the end goal is assuming you have something and it materializing. what does the void state have to do with any of that? why do you care so much?

what does the void state have to do with you achieving your dream body, your sp, money, clear skin, your dream house, dream job, what does the void state itself have to do with any of that? what is the law of assumption even about? do you even remember at this point?

the reason why you can't get into that void thing is because manifesting is about assuming, which is believing something to be true before seeing it with your own eyes (which is similar to a prediction). if you wait expectantly for something to happen, you aren't making an assumption. plain and simple. waiting for something to happen every night for 3 months defeats the purpose of making an assumption.. because waiting for something to be true, again, isn't assuming. you're supposed to already decide that it is.

i really don't know how else to put it. it just gets to a point where you guys don't even understand what you're doing anymore. if a method (a way of doing something) isn't working for you, then simply try something else? i honestly don't understand why this thought hasn't crossed your mind on your own.

in any other context, would this make any sense? you keep doing something that obviously isn't working for you until it somehow works for you, even though you already know it doesn't or it's taking too long? wouldn't it make more sense to just find another way?

this is the issue. you guys put this thing on a pedestal as if it means something, when just like any other method, it's just a way of doing something. that's all a method is, a way of doing something in order to achieve something. the purpose of using a method is to help you achieve something. so i truly don't understand why you've been trying and failing to use a method for 3 entire months. what significance does the void state truly have to occupy so much of your time? how is this more special than any other method?

and once you reach the void, what then? is it really worth stressing yourself out every night when people are literally manifesting their desires overnight by simply deciding they have them? while you've been waiting for a stupid method to work for you for the past 3 months? you are TRULY wasting your time.

you clearly are already understanding the law and proving it to yourself, so why not just keep doing that? if you've already found what works, then why are you changing? i don't get it. what do you gain in the end?

[namwool]

The difference between SJ apologists and LBH's fans is that we know how fucked up Shen Jiu was, and we recognize his misdeeds, meanwhile the others don't.

Back in those ancient times, corporeal punishments were the norm. It was something teachers were expected to deliver. But you don't see us SJ stans using that argument to excuse the abuse he inflicted on LBH.

Critical thinking and objective analysis of human behavior along with historical context seems to be a skill many in the svsss fandom lack.

Not long ago I've seen a post saying that they understand LBH going bat-shit crazy because one guy (Shen Jiu) rejected him, and that they would have done the same.

Like what the fuck--???

By your logic, can we excuse serial killers going on a rampage because the person they liked refused them?

Would you be OK with a crazy bastard taking it out on someone you cherish because of such stupid reason???

What the fuck is wrong with people?

It's not that hard to acknowledge the fucked up side of your favorite character.

Historically speaking, which I am quite passionated about, Shen Jiu as a teacher was entitled to do with his disciples however he pleased.

Liu Qingge beat up (still does btw) his students on a regular basis, but so far I haven't seen one comment condemning Liu Qingge for his actions, saying that this is how Bai Zhan functioned. Instead he is painted as this righteous cultivator who does no wrong, in both Canon and fanfiction.

Please, grow a braincell.

[alfredojesta]

i've never given LJ / Candy Pop a proper post on their own, so here's my scrambled thoughts about them ^o^

they aren't dating in my canon for. A Multitude of Reasons. but i do have a lot of things to say about their friendship as a whole.

LJ was initially uninterested in Candy Pop. he believed jesters were inferior to clowns. and, honestly, this flashy guy looked like he was trying too hard! his bright colours hurt LJ's eyes!

their first encounter with each other wasn't pleasant. LJ made him go into a magic box and spun him to a foreign land. hours later, Candy Pop came out and sputtered insults at them, out of confusion more than anything.

LJ laughed, amused, seeing Candy Pop as just another victim for them to torment at the mansion.

Candy Pop stormed off and immediately forgot about LJ's existence because his memory's gen so shit he can only retain one thing at a time.

the moment they actually became friends was when LJ saw Candy Pop's AMAZING MAGIC POWERS! what! he never knew a jester could perform like that!? Candy Pop could make objects, even people, explode into a gazillion candies!—oh, that must be where he gets the name from!

so while LJ didn't give Candy Pop a chance at first, he was practically all up in his face after seeing what he could do. questioning him, requesting they hang out, asking him for free candy, and the such. it was out of wonder. LJ had never met someone of his calibre before.

Candy Pop was more than willing to show off his tricks. LJ's curiosity and enthusiasm made Candy Pop feel at home. not many people in this age have an appreciation for Candy Pop's tricks. plus, he could learn a few from LJ. he was a bit rusty.

it was no shock they gained an affinity for one another. they shared a similar passion, and the same love of performance.

OKAY NOW THAT THE INTRODUCTORY SHIT IS OUT OF THE WAY

circus duo time :)

Candy Pop and Laughing Jack love each other in a way that isn't platonic, nor romantic, but a secret third, more sinister thing.

they comfort each other by just being around. no need to share personal details. that's not what they go to each other for.

LJ, especially, doesn't want to burden Candy Pop with their problems. they'd feel horrible! that's their bestie not their therapist! :(

on Candy Pop's side, he doesn't actually think LJ is... erm. intelligent or. sensitive enough to learn about his past. it's a definite lack of trust in LJ's emotional understanding—but, can he really be blamed? the way LJ behaves shows he may not be ready for deep conversations.

yet, Candy Pop knows LJ has a mature side, or at least, a troubling past of his own. he can tell when LJ isn't feeling his best—when his laugh sounds forced, when it fades too fast, and he's looking off in a daze. he'll be there to help LJ make it through the day, not be too annoying with questions, and cheer him up by getting him back into the hang of things.

the first time LJ saw Candy Pop sad, LJ was confused as fuck. LJ usually HATES when ppl cry. he thinks it's so annoying—but with Candy Pop, he just felt BAD!!! LITTLE JESTER WHY ARE YOU CRYING??? LJ would do everything in his power to see Candy Pop smile. he does not care who he has to kill actually.

n e way. Candy Pop and LJ looove doing circus acts in LJ's room. they're just two bouncy guys running around and being stupid! besides that, they do other things such as: go on walks, take baths together, have little dinner dates, indulge in other peoples' horror, and have sleepovers!!!

also they kiss sometimes ^_^ YAY!!! there's 0 romantic intent behind them. LJ thinks it feels nice and Candy Pop sees it as an affectionate exchange (aka he's a whore and he'll kiss any living adult with pretty lips). :3

in the least sexual context: LJ likes the way Candy Pop tastes. he's sweet, literally candy. that's why LJ will often chew on Candy Pop's hair, or his arm, or his hand, or anything really. Candy Pop is the one that initiates any kisses, though, because LJ gets flustered quickly. but. i must say. LJ does love those kisses very much. he's a bit too shy to ask for them, that's all.

on walks, LJ likes carrying Candy Pop!!! just holding him in their arms while they wander the forest. bridal style so Candy Pop can lean up and pepper their face with kisses. they'll maybe visit the forest's tavern, find a nice table to sit at and yap while their food gets cold.

they're both so physically affectionate. LJ will hold Candy Pop's hands whenever he has the chance. squeezing his fingers. idly tracing his wrists. being gentle with him so his claws don't pierce the skin. Candy Pop's hands are much smaller than LJ's, and he tends to just hold two or three of LJ's claws THEY'RE SO CUTE I HATE MY LIFE Candy Pop loves hugs!!! he is a huge fan of just sitting on LJ's lap and hugging him while they talk. this works for cuddling too. hehe. Candy Pop is most likely to tackle LJ to the ground when they hug, while LJ is most likely to squish him to death.

LJ doesn't need to sleep, but Candy Pop does. Candy Pop tries to keep up with their energy, but he can't all the time... so if he ever ends up passing out, LJ makes sure to find a nice place for Candy Pop to sleep! they'll even sit next to him. playing with his hair, watching him sleep (admiring), and maybe toying with his dreams for fun. Candy Pop wakes up, and gestures for LJ to lie with him. just a few minutes together, and then he'll leave bed...

sleepovers are fun for this reason—LJ's always wanting to do stupid shit, even when it's 5 AM and they've already annoyed everyone in the mansion with god knows what. Candy Pop is tired at this point. being more mellowed out, he suggests calmer things to do. like taking a bath together!

baths with them are. not chaotic at all actually. baths are one of the most peaceful things for both of them. Candy Pop got LJ into taking them, because LJ would normally just shower. they use fizzy bath–bombs. LOTS AND LOTS OF BUBBLES. THE ENTIRE BATHROOM WILL SMELL LIKE A BAKERY IT'S SO SWEET. they could be in there for hours, honestly. yapping like they always do. when LJ massages Candy Pop's hair with shampoo, he's VEEERY careful as to not hurt him with the claws. Candy Pop loves the scratchy feel though.

sometimes Candy Pop will leave lipstick marks over LJ's face, or his collar—depending on how comfy LJ is at the moment. and then they can just wash it off in the bath!!! it's the only time LJ has any colour on him. little purple marks :)

i'd say they even get dressed together. picking outfits for each other and whatnot. Candy Pop tries on LJ's wardrobe and LJ laughs at how tiny he looks. they do each other's makeup—or well, LJ does Candy Pop's makeup (LJ likes doing his own makeup for personal reasons, and Candy Pop respects that). Candy Pop has a go at attaching bells to LJ's hair, and now they're both running around, jingle jangling.

one day i have to make an AU where they are canon because i love them... unfortunately, my LJ and Candy Pop could never date because erm. LJ eats children and Candy Pop is still not that comfy with knowing that. bro stays blissfully oblivious. if he can't see LJ eating kids then it never happens. on the otherhand, LJ would lose his mind over being in love and it will not go well i fear.

IF ANYONE ASKS ME TO ELABORATE ON THIS ASPECT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP, I WILL! there's DEFINITELY a lot more to go in-depth on. Just didn't yap abt it on this post bc Idk i want them to be cute not angsty

teehee ^o^

see i committed to my turn @seas1mping

[moonchild-in-blue]

Massive thank you to you and everyone else who calls out how shitty it is to get mad at peoples interpretations. Sleep tokens music is romantic. Its also toxic. These statements can coexist. Its not your business if someone plays bloodsport or vore or hell even atlantic at their wedding. Youre not them, you dont know what the music means to them. If you see a weird take just roll your eyes and move on, its not a big deal. Absolutely sick and fucking tired of all these "why are you calling this romantic/sexy? Youre stupid and a terrible person!" takes like fucking relax. Media literacy is important yes. Respecting that this music is dark and personal to vessel is also important. Same goes for respecting how people relate to the music in dark ways. But as long as people are not saying things directly to vessel or fans about how their individual trauma is sexy then just chill out and respect peoples different interpretations. It sucks that i cant talk about how i view certain songs without being called horrible things and having really fucked up vitriol aimed at me. Yall need to grow the fuck up and get over yourselves. Im not thinking of your personal shit when i call a certain song romantic/sexy, i dont even know you, sometimes im thinking of my own trauma actually lol. Lets all discuss this music maturely where we respect each other and what each of us as individuals bring to the table for interpretation, stop making this fandom toxic as hell for anyone who doesnt agree 100% with your own interpretation. (Also the whole "youre not allowed to say this song is romantic/sexy" thing is very dismissive of some peoples trauma in itself, it ignores how messy someones feelings toward their abusers/toxic partners can be. Pretty fucked up to call a trauma survivor stupid or a terrible person because a song reminds them of their positive feelings towards someone who hurt them) Anyways yeah, just tired of people being so harsh because they refuse to see other peoples perspectives. I genuinely think one of the most toxic aspects of this fandom is the vitriol over different interpretations, people act like outright children at times with it im ngl, especially with more sexual discussions. It also feels infantilizing towards vessel at times, hes a grown adult who put romantic/sexy elements in his music and he doesnt need people trying to protect him from those themes. Im rambling but this stuff pisses me off so much, this fandom needs to do better

Context post for the clueless ones - regarding my tags/replies

Here's the thing - I've been in fandoms for many, many, MANY years. This type of discussion isn't anything new nor unique to Sleep Token, but it sure does make a comeback quite often. It's tiring to keep repeating the same things over and over, but that's what fandom is all about isn't it?

Someone needs to say something, and I am not one to shy away from uncomfortable conversations like these. Something something, build your own community, be the change you wanna see, etc etc.

I've said pretty much everything I wanna say already under that post, but for the sake of clarity, and because I can't keep my mouth shut apparently -

Under the cut for length - you know the drill:

Music is art. And art is subjective. Meaning, each individual will have their own personal connection and interpretation of a given piece of art, which in this case is Sleep Token's music.

Did Vessel write the songs with a certain intent or meaning? Most likely yes! It's not hard to connect the dots and guess what events/emotions might've transpired and served as inspiration for them (accuracy to personal life is irrelevant and none of our business, but it's also no rocket science to understand what's been said).

Can we establish a base meaning for any given song, or better, can we have a general consensus of what a song is about based on its lyrics and themes? Absolutely! Not every song is like that, but we can all agree there's a lot of recurring themes of past relationships and mental health struggles.

Is it wrong to diminish the songs to one basic element (eg. the sexual undertones) and/or completely disregard the bigger, more important theme? I'd say it is.

Giving Atlantic as an example (which as a lot of you know, is my most favourite song of them and very dear to me): this one has some very blatant references to suicide and depression. Regardless of whether it is based on irl events or not (none of our business!!!), it is extremely heavy and emotionally charged. I find it incredibly disrespectful when people say random stuff during the rituals when he plays this one.

Or for example, how certain people reduce Sleep Token to "baby making metal", instead of acknowledging the insane (insane!) variety of genres and the profound lyricism they present.

Should we limit our views, and by extension, those of others, to surface-level interpretation, without allowing room for different views and interpretations, either fictional lore based or not? ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Vessel himself said to "not restrict ourselves to labels or genres because music transcends it all" (paraphrasing here). It's literally their whole thing. It's very hypocritical to be shouting from the rooftops about "media literacy" and assuming people are stupid or idiots for not understanding the basic, surface-level meaning of a song, when Vessel himself constantly writes in metaphors and half-truths.

I've touched on this a lifetime ago on one of my analysis, but if you *actually* look at the lyrics, you'll realise Vessel hardly ever says what he means. There's always something else behind his words, something he purposefully keeps hidden. It really sneaks upon you sometimes! I'm over a year in and I still find something new everyday on their music. That man has a way to weave in a hundred and one statements under a single sentence, that is just truly beautiful to study.

Is, say, The Love You Want, about a man (Vessel) mourning the fact that his love isn't reciprocated? Yeah! Is it about someone who, despite knowing they can never receive from their lover the attention and affection and care they want, will stay by their side anyways? It is!

Is it about bitterness, spiteful accusations aimed at the one person who should love you fully? Or a reflection of how little self-regard the singer has, so much that they are willingly and actively choosing to stay in a sinking one-sided relationship, because the alternative is too painful to bare? Can you flip the switch and see it as someone who is obsessively pursuing another person, and painting themselves as a victim? All of this, yes!

You can even eliminate the romantic aspect all together and apply it to a relationship with the self (past or future, or an alter ego), or a parental figure. The options are endless. There isn't one universal truth when it comes to music, and as such, all of these takes are 100% correct.

Many statements can be true at the same time - it doesn't make one more true or correct than the other. Simply different. The way we connect with music is very much dictated by our own life experiences, and no two people have lived the exact same life.

Can you prefer a certain way to look at a song, or completely disagree with certain takes? Absolutely! I know I sure as hell do! That's normal and expected and part of the fun in being in a community such as ours. More people means more ways to look at a song - isn't that just wonderful?!

Now, this is very obvious for most of us, but some people, especially in the younger rage, have been taught to look at things in a very black and white way. Not to be that person, but the truth is that the rise in awareness of social issues and "pc-ness", is slowly starting to eliminate the possibility of things being flawed and nuanced.

If you're wrong, you're awful. If you're right, you're obnoxious. Made a mistake? Get cancelled. Grow from your mistakes, but not like that. Learn from your actions, but change your whole personality in a day otherwise you're problematic.

You know what I mean.

Life isn't black and white. Art isn't black and white. Music isn't black and white. What may seem like a toxic, dark, obsessive depiction of a relationship to you, might translate to the deepest and most truest of loves to me. I can acknowledge something is Not Right, while still drawing my own conclusions.

Is Blood Sport a sad af song? Yeah! Definitely not the first thing I'd think of when in a happy relationship. But maybe that's the point. And maybe I do. And that's okay, and none of anyone's business. "Okay but The Apparition isn't a good example of a healthy and romantic-" TO YOU! Maybe that's what love looks like to me! Maybe I just happen to be into it! And what about it?

Maybe to me love comes with all the ugly sides too. The violence, the despair, the self-doubt. Who are you to dictate what I can or can't think? I highly doubt Vessel would go 🗣️ "WRONG! NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! >:::(", so why would you?

You can, and should, discuss the songs with others! Maybe some people do genuinely need a fresh pair of eyes to help them get to the juicy core of the songs - that's why we're here! To discuss, and exchange ideas! You can, and should, call people out when their engagement with the music is being harmful to others (joking and laughing during Missing Limbs? No bueno. Speculating about Vessel's personal life? VERY no bueno. Choosing a potentially weird song to walk down the aisle? None of your business + not your wedding + you weren't even invited + none of your business. Notice how I've been repeating that. Notice again).

You shouldn't, however, shame and ridicule others for having different views from you.

I think, rather than engaging in pointless discussions and start accusing people of being this or that, we should all exercise a little "don't like? scroll past". Is it harming you or others? No? Then scroll past! Is it an awful, truly horrendous take about something you're really passionate about? Okay! Disgusting! Scroll past! Good for them! 👍

Also - keep an open mind. We're all doing this living businesse for the first time, no one holds all the answers to everything. It's okay to change your mind. It's okay to say the wrong thing and backtrack. It's okay to make a mistake and learn and grow.

You know what's not okay? Being a dick to others because the thing you like is being misinterpreted. It's hard, I know!!! You can block people! You can scroll past! You can look at pictures of your favourite vessel and cleanse your brain!!!! I know I do!!!!!

And this is a last afterthought but - you don't get to complain about the fandom you're in if you're doing nothing to change that. I see many, maaaaany of you bitch about this and that, while having 0 engagement aside from the bitching. Like?? Maybe if you spent more time reblogging cool art or gifs and less time whining about literally everything, this would be a much more pleasant space!! And I DO get to be a little petty here because I sure do try my best to make this a fun and nice community. I am allowed a little bitching 😌

Anyways, tl/dr: don't be a dick; don't like - don't engage; keep an open mind; gaze upon the vessels. Peace and love yall 💙💫

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 7

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

A new day a new chapter! Today we get into the Water Prison. The real question: will Shen Qingqiu actually make it out?

No Charlie pics today, I have been abandoned at my reading/writing station, but I do have tea! Tea today is a blueberry jasmine.

Let's get into it!!!!

What the fuck?! Is this an acid lake? p89

Dang it really is crazy how after two accusations with zero evidence or proof that Shen Qingqiu actually did anything, he get's locked up in maximum security prison. p89

Right now I'm having war flashbacks from MDZS -> another protagonist out here doing their best with the rest of the world just making shit up about them for fun. RE: Little Palace mistress and her delusions of what SQQ did. She literally even says- he didnt say you did anything but I have a vibe. Like what? p91

We are gathered here today to all witness how Shen Qingqiu is once again refusing to acknowledge that he is indeed the Love Interest. Honestly, does anyone ever tell him? I live for the day the system changes his classification from villain to Love interest and actually tells him this. Idk if it happens, but now I need it to happen. Re: "what fit even less was the fact, in the original work, the Little Palace Mistress's refined iron whip had only been used for attacking love rivals" p93

Luo Binghe to the rescue!! p94 just catching that whip

Okay but when SQQ states that something is wrong with the script- is he actually on the path to understanding? or still clueless? I hope he sort of realizes what's happening, because dang this guy has 0 idea Luo Binghe would kill for him p95

OOP. "There is no need for Shizun to be so wary. If I wished to do something to you, I wouldn't need to touch you at all" p96

Re: point above about "is he understanding?" *deep sigh * SQQ has not learned at all and refuses to actively listen. He is still trying to follow the old script p.97. Okay but I do love how this guy is accidentally getting himself (in a weird way) romanced.

I honestly am pretty sure this is a dating sim XD "*to the system* Do you think we're playing a dating sim?!" p99

omg torture via demon blood is horrible. Like this is a worst nightmare, having little bugs in your organs NO THANKS. p101

I'm crying LOOOOOL two options; 1. the fake jade guanyin. 2. [Activate Small Scene Pusher] and gets his CLOTHES ripped off. Bro is now the lead in a period bodice ripper XD p102

*face palm* "Does it just take advantage of Luo Binghe's physiological disgust upon seeing a man's half-naked body?" p104. no my man, it is not disgust

oh no, giving him his outer robe made it more scandalous p104

RIP confirmed that that is the previous canon's sex robe p106

literally everyone has a feeling about what's up. Gongyi Xiao is eyeing SQQ, see's the robe and does indeed assume things about SQQ and Luo Binghe. How stupid is SQQ??? p107

Re: the note from Shang Qinghua to SQQ. Shang Qinghua is also an idiot, this guy had 1 job and that was to not fuck up the mushrooms. he goofed this exponentially. RIP those mushrooms. p109

Welp. Gongyi Xiao is realizing that Luo BInghe may not be as pure of heart as he thought p112

it's so much worse though- he really thinks that Luo Binghe assaulted SQQ and is now helping SQQ escape. p113

meanwhile SQQ is living in his own universe LOL no idea these are the assumptions. Also, IDK what's going to happen when Luo Binghe inevitably see's SQQ in Gongyi Xiao's robe. RIP GYX p115

Okay but SQQ I too would freak the fuck out if I had a walking/wake dream. Meng Mo's realm is no joke. p120-121

Dang Luo Binghe has become so strong. This dreamscape is insane. pp 124-126

again with the clothes ripping. I hope one day they enjoy this consensually. p127 (blessed be this canon for the fanfics)

in which SQQ does not realize that the fight in the dreamscape is indeed not a fight- it is most definitely foreplay. p128

I fucking KNEW IT Luo Binghe was NOT pleased with SQQ wearing Gongyi Xiao's robe. LOOOL. p130

but also I don't know what became of GYX but let's take a moment to remember him, I am sure he did not make it.

oh gosh more tragic SQQ backstory :( p132

I am glad I clocked it in the last chapter. Something was so fishy about the family that took him in and his "betrothal" my heart for SQQ :( :( :( p134

Okay get it Ning YinYing!!!! Re: her talking shit to and about Little Palace Mistress to her face! p138

yes she got slapped but still she did a pretty good job! and her sect siblings have her back.

That is it for today!!

Oh god. ofc we leave on a cliffhanger with a shady guy ready to super saiyan AND the next chapter is ominously titled "Death". I am not prepared for this!

[voxofthevoid]

Yo, it's Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #16—first WIP Wednesday of the year, technically, since the last week ended up being excerpt games.

I still don't have any straight-up porn to post (only two such scenes left in the whole fic, and the next two chapters should cover those), but I did write two interlinked scenes featuring Yuuji, Gojou, and Tōji that should be entertaining on their own—and maybe tease some of the missing context 👀

“So he did come,” Satoru murmurs. “We have a guest, Yuuji.”

Yuuji drags his mind to the present—and the man lounging on Satoru’s front steps. “Tōji-san?”

A lazy wave. “Yo. Playing favorites, Six Eyes?”

“H-huh?”

“Not you, kid.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Satoru says pleasantly. “I’m perfectly willing to involve Megumi. Are you?”

Tōji continues to stare up at them, his eyes narrow slits despite the angle. When Yuuji looks at Satoru, he finds a bland smile that gives nothing away.

“Involve Fushiguro in what?” Yuuji asks. “Guys?”

“Training.” Satoru’s the one who replies, and it’s the same tone as before but…different somehow. “Tōji here would make a better teacher for you than for Megumi, but I’m far more versatile. There’s a lot I could teach your cute little son—isn’t that right, Papa-san?”

“Don’t push it, you little shit.”

Satoru’s grin widens unsettlingly. “Is that a no?”

“You know damn well you’re not touching that brat for three more years. Or did you get fucked so hard you forgot to count?”

Heat rushes to Yuuji’s face, but Satoru only laughs.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says.

“What the hell is going on?” Yuuji grits out.

Two pairs of unfairly intense eyes snap to him. Yuuji holds Tōji’s gaze and ignores Satoru’s. Both these men are intimidating, but Yuuji’s been surviving Sukuna and his freakshow for fucking months.

“Heh.” Tōji stands up—and up and up, unfolding his entire immense bulk. He finishes it off with a leisurely stretch of his arms above his head; the fabric around his biceps cries for help. “At least you’ll be more fun than all this grunt work. Don’t disappoint me too much, pinkie.”

“Careful,” Satoru chimes in. His hand comes to rest on Yuuji’s shoulder, the touch light but the weight heavy. “You’re not allowed to break Yuuji.”

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“Stupid?” Satoru tilts his head, the movement oddly liquid. “Not at all. You do, however, have a track record of trying to kill hapless teenagers.”

Tōji snorts. “Hapless my ass. You and your dead boyfriend were monsters.”

Satoru’s hand flexes on Yuuji’s shoulder, tightening briefly before relaxing with a deliberation that makes Yuuji’s own knuckles ache. “Takes one to know one.”

“Sure does.” Tōji’s eyes sweep back to Yuuji. “Let’s see where you fall on the spectrum. Training wheels are off, kiddo. You’re playing with the big boys now.”

“Uh…” Yuuji looks between the two of them; Satoru’s smile tells him as much as Tōji’s sneer does—absolutely nothing. “I have no idea what you two are talking about.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Tōji’s here to train your body. I’ll take over later to hone your spiritual senses. Ideally, I’d do both, but I have a demon to corral—and you two get along well enough. Still, don’t let him bully you, Yuuji.”

“You’re one to talk,” Tōji drawls. “The kid looks like he’d crawl out of his skin to get away from you.”

Yuuji freezes.

At his side, Satoru does too. Then the hand on Yuuji’s shoulder falls away.

Yuuji doesn’t miss it; he doesn’t.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Satoru says blandly, stepping back and out of Yuuji’s peripheral vision. “Yuuji has a key. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

There’s a soft, strange noise—displaced air, with an electric crackle. Yuuji’s heard it exactly once before, in that deserted road in front of Sukuna’s church a second before Satoru showed him it wasn’t so deserted after all.

When he turns around, Satoru’s gone.

“Idiot,” Tōji scoffs behind him. “Come on, pinkie. Let’s beat you into shape.”

-

The spar with Tōji ends very predictably.

There was a moment there at the start when Yuuji thought he might be able to put up a better fight. Sukuna is a lot more formidable than the high school bullies and yakuza wannabes who had been the extent of Yuuji’s fighting experience the last time he’d tangled with Tōji, and Yuuji’s never once won against Sukuna either, but he’s learned a lot.

He’s changed, in ways he can sometimes feel like stains in his soul.

But one second was all it took for Yuuji to realize just how much Tōji had been holding back the first and no-longer-only time they’d done this, and then he was getting real closely acquainted with the bark of a tree.

That first and no-longer-only fight feels like a joke now. It must have felt like one to Tōji. And it’s not like Yuuji had walked away from that either, but he’d felt all warm about Tōji’s appraisal afterward, and there’d been a fun thrill to the way Fushiguro had looked at him, his expression grudgingly impressed despite how he’d warned Yuuji away from his dad’s antics.

What just happened feels more like utter slaughter. Yuuji’s bones are unbroken and there are no holes in his body, but even the worst Sukuna had done to him hadn’t been so one-sided.

A pair of feet enter his peripheral vision.

Tōji’s dark eyes peer down at him. His expression is…no different than what he wears when he greets Yuuji at the door. Boredom, mostly, but with an edge to it that warrants straightened spines and ready hands.

He says, “You fight differently.”

Yuuji tries to ask a question, but all that comes out is a weak croak.

Tōji lets out an amused huff and raises a hand. It’s clutching a bottle of water. When did he—

“Ack—” Yuuji gasps and sputters as the water is poured onto his hot, swollen face, and some of it goes inside, soothing his throat almost by accident. It’s a miracle none of it ends up in his windpipe. “Tōji-san! Cut it out!”

“Look at that, you’re alive,” Tōji drawls, but the stream of water cuts off. “Just watering you. Hydration is important.”

Yuuji glares up at him. “I’m not a plant.”

“You’re about as useless as one right now.” Tōji crouches down, and Yuuji tries to brace himself, an instinct violently obtained in the last handful of minutes, but those hands don’t reach for him with the intent to hurt, just dangle between Tōji’s spread legs while he surveys Yuuji with unreadable eyes. “Eh, I guess you’ll do.”

“What did you mean?” Yuuji asks, blinking hard to make his eyes stop stinging from the water assault. The cuts all over his face and neck burn, but that’s easy enough to ignore. The rest of his body feels like one big bruise. “How am I fighting differently?”

“You’ve learned what real pain feels like.” Tōji’s voice is low, his eyes unblinking. “And it doesn’t bother you much. It shows. It always does.”

“…Oh.”

“Don’t let it get to your head. You’ve still got a ways to go.” Tōji cracks his neck, veins bulging along the thick column of it. “At least training you won’t be a total waste.”

Yuuji bites his lip, reminded of something he’d thought of in scattered bursts in the couple of minutes between Satoru leaving and Tōji laying into him. “Tōji-san, is it really alright to leave Fushiguro out of this?”

“Out of what? This ain’t some super cool club, pinkie. You’re here to get beaten up till you’re a little less likely to shit yourself and die if one of those fuckers that go bump in the night looks at you wrong. What, you want company in your misery?”

“No, that’s not—” Yuuji takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what he does want to say. “It’s nothing like that. I’m just worried. Sukuna knows him, he’s—sorry, it’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“Can it.” Tōji pulls a face, blowing out an explosive breath. “Kids these days. You didn’t do shit. This is just the ugly, festering face of reality. Most people just can’t see it. Sometimes, they’re lucky for it. Sometimes, they’re just dumb cattle. That’s the way it is.”

Yuuji can’t help thinking of what Satoru said yesterday about monsters and people—about food and feasting.

“Won’t he be safer,” he asks quietly, “if he can protect himself better?”

Tōji blinks, a languid motion that leaves his eyes heavy-lidded. “Is that what you think he’s doing with you?”

“H-huh?”

“Gojou,” Tōji clarifies, except it doesn’t explain anything at all.

“I don’t—”

“Make no mistake, kid—this is a farce. I don’t know why he’s bothering. I can guess, but I don’t really give a fuck. Just take what you’re given and hope you’ll live long enough to use it. It won’t be here. It won’t even be this year. I know too well what it takes to make a hunter worth the air they waste.” The base of the plastic bottle, still heavy with water, is brought to rest against Yuuji’s stomach. It taps idly, once. Then it presses unerringly into a bruise, and Yuuji’s left breathing slow and soft past the burst of pain. “At least you’ve got a good body. You even know how to use it. It’s still not enough. Megumi? He’d need to eat the thing in the church to even taste his own damn power. Now call that a fucking birthright.”

Yuuji swallows, tasting blood, and that’s just the cut inside his mouth from when a punch shoved his flesh against his own canine, but the undertone of rot is something else, isn’t it?

“Tōji-san…”

“You’re just brats who’d be useless in this fight.” Tōji rises to his feet in one fluid motion, turning away from Yuuji. “So stay brats.”

Yuuji breathlessly watches him take a few steps toward the open back door of Gojou’s house.

Then— “Satoru said you tried to kill him.”

Tōji pauses, doesn’t look back. “Sure did.”

And Yuuji’s not surprised, not really. He heard what these two said. But it was a lot, and he still doesn’t know what to feel about hapless teenagers and dead boyfriends and monsters.

He can still see the shape of a story; it’s not a good one.

“Was he my age then?”

“Who knows.”

“He was still young.”

“He was a brat too, if that’s what you’re getting at. Should’ve been an easy kill. Would’ve saved us all some trouble if I’d finished the damn job.” Tōji sticks a finger in his ear, giving it a violent shake. “Whatever. This pays better.”

[fandom-rants-here]

I'm kind of stupid and slow on things and have only in the past few months started getting into D&D, so bare with me on this. Also, correct me if I fuck anything up.

I'm starting with Mike because I'm looking into paladins right now and recently saw a post that the paladin description reminded me of.

In the post, op talked about how, to Mike, promises were a really big thing. Something people don't break. Ever.

He, as far as I remember and based off of the only two moments mentioned in the post, only makes two promises. Both to El and both of which he is visibly hesitant about making. He knows what promises mean to himself and how he explain them to Eleven. No matter how his feelings change, he does not break his promises.

Now, this ties into his character as a paladin as they are described like this, "Paladins are united by their oaths to stand against the forces of annihilation and corruption. Whether sworn before a god’s altar, in a sacred glade before nature spirits, or in a moment of desperation and grief with the dead as the only witnesses, a Paladin’s oath is a powerful bond. It is a source of power that turns a devout warrior into a blessed champion." (D&D and Beyond)

An oath and a promise are practically the same thing, especially given the context. I think that this is another reason Mike's character was chosen to be a paladin. Yes, he's a leader and yes, he defends people, but there also the oath aspect of his character. These three things delve into so much of Mike's actions throughout the show.

Will calling Mike "The Heart" isn't just because he's super fucking gay for him, but Mike is one of the main connectors and leaders of The Party. Lucas and Will met because Mike befriended them both. El met The Party because Mike hid her in the basement. Jonathan and Nancy got close because their brothers were close. Mike is the first of the main Party to have any connection with Steve (even if it isn't the strongest literally ever). He, especially in seasons 1 and 2 (before he has a major fucking identity crisis and all that good shit) is a major leader and strategist.

He physically defends the people around him at his own expense all the fucking time. Season 1 when he jumps off the cliff (that needs to be brought up omg). Season 2 when Dart dares to even look in Will's direction and Mike tries to kill the fucker immediately. Season 3 when he tries to fight Billy multiple times in hand to hand combat. Season 4 where he activley puts himself between Will and the bullets as much as he can. He fucking defends the people around him. (There's more, but I'm clearly not good at being brief.)

And the whole thing with one fucking promise when he was like 13 dictating his whole damn life for well over a year. He promised El to take her to the Snowball. A simple promise that he thought would help her, and it did. But then that led to them dating. And it was fine because they'd kiss and hang out at Hopper's cabin but at least he can hang out with everyone else outside of that. And then Hopper makes him lie to El, which leads to the break up. Sure, Mike's a bit bummed and a hell of a lot confused, but he's ranting to his friends and it's fine.

And amidst his whole "They're conspiring" bullshit, he says he loves El. Looking at his and everyone else's face, ain't nobody expect that, especially not Mike himself. But El hears say that, and she says she loves him too before kissing him goodbye. Most people would be fucking thrilled. Not Mike though. He looks confused and sad. but El is in Cali so he's fucking fine.

But it just got worse and now he won't let himself back out. Now he has to be her boyfriend, now he has to keep her happy, now he has to do all these things even though he doesn't anymore. By the end of season 4, El doesn't need him anymore. But he doesn't kmow that, so he lies to her (something he really does not like doing). And, again, he can't get out.

Mike dictates his whole damn life around promises. Paladin fucking behavior.

[nekropsii]

I am so sorry your completely true and honest takes not rotted with fanon because you actually read the comic seem to attract so many lunatics. You are a lighthouse amidst a storm of insanity

Thank you. Sincerely. It's really appreciated, especially now. People should be required to pay me $500 before saying mean, out of pocket shit to me. Like, sure, I'm absolutely wrong sometimes, I accept that. But nothing I do warrants this shit. Honestly, no one deserves this. Sexual Violence isn't something you can wish upon anybody in a way that makes you hinged and morally upright. You can say you hope someone dies and have that be fine, but... You can't do this. You can't sexualize someone against their will, or make any comment about fantasizing about assaulting them or generally hoping they get assaulted. It's just sick, no matter the context. There's no point in which that becomes acceptable to do.

I don't even know what's provoking this. As I've said, I don't really leave my corner. I just talk about things that happen in the damn comic, and if people like my posts, that's their business. I don't go in the tags. I don't really interact with the fandom. I just wanna post whatever current thoughts I have about Homestuck and work on my webcomic. It feels like I could post the simplest thing with extensive citations and get sent some weird, vile nonsense because some individuals can't seem to help but take everything so goddamn personally that they've been rendered too stupid to just filter my username out about it and have to resort to saying dehumanizing bullshit that could easily get them banned... And apparently already has before. Fun!

You Know What? Here's a Tutorial:

Step 1: Go to Settings. Step 2: Scroll down until you hit the Content You See section. Step 3: Type whatever the hell you want into the Filtered Post Content section. Step 4: Have some fucking decorum, Jesus shitting Christ, this isn't a hard ask. Step 5: Profit!