#it was sad to write this so I was debating not posting

[wolfnesta]

I wrote this in an attempt to understand the archeron sisters a bit better as they grew up before poverty struck, connecting canon snippets, their behavior, and adding my own details (so this is not canon okay clear.) Since sjm never touched on the subject more in depth Im guessing she wanted to leave it up to the readers. (warning - parent abuse and how the archeron sister’s suffering might have shaped them to who they became)

The worst of Nesta’s childhood was when their grandmother was around, loosening a bit when she passed away. She was enforced a strict schedule from morning down to the later afternoon. Everything that she did she had to do it properly— from silverware etiquette down to how she walked. Disciplines were doled out harshly by her grandmother, one of her first lesson was never to plead during one. From an even younger age any love that she tried to demonstrate was scorned or criticized by her. Nesta fostered a lot of resentment towards her father, instructors, and sometimes her mother, who saw her grandmother’s mistreatment but wouldn’t step in. Because of this most of her instructors thought her prickly and didn’t enjoy their time with her, which she knew. Nesta cherished seeing the sweet nature that came naturally to Elaine and tried to protect it from her grandmother though she would sometimes feel jealous of her fathers attentions towards Elain. Because of Nesta‘s rigid schedule her and Elain didn’t often have time to spend together. As Nesta’s days went by she would sometimes think of Feyre but often felt too drained to try.

Elain a quiet, sweet child, slightly melancholic something that would cause the servants to say that she was an old soul. Thoughtful and quick to smile. As a child she would accept any scolding and immediately apologize. Due to her sweet nature other playmates of their class stature would find her easy prey to bully. Any love that she demonstrated, which was often, was also bashed and ignored which is what started Nesta feeling protective of her. Elaine was also a product of neglect. Her father was affectionate but would only give her a very small amount of time. Her best interactions were with the servants and their children which were never stable due to the high turnaround rate of those employed for the Archeron family. She was quick to forgive and wished she could understand why she couldn’t keep friends. When Feyre was born Elain regarded her as cute though she was cautious. They attempted playing when they were both a little older but eventually felt they had little in common Elain deciding to let Feyre enjoy her time herself.

From a baby Feyre’s presence was forgotten, the parents always assumed she was fine under the care of nannies constantly being hired. The small attempt invested in her academic education was lost in all the transitioning from governess to governess. Feyre thought the dismissal from her parents was normal until she slowly realized as she grew up but found it better to push the thought away from her mind. She was never taught anything about emotions so she often wore them plainly on her face. She would occasionally feel resent at the attention Nesta would get from their mother and Elain from her father while she received none but as an observant child she often felt a sense of wrongness for them in her heart. Out of both parents Feyre preferred her father who would occasionally give her attention and she saw Nesta as a replica of their mother. Nesta’s already growing anger at the world included Feyre when she would catch Feyres distaste towards her on her features. Feyre chose to forego making friends with servants as Elain had because she knew they were temporary. She, instead, would spend most of her time outside or in small quiet corners of their house where she spent her time with wax crayons which she learned to be discreet with after a very short but painful interaction with a particularly harsh governess that caught her drawing on a wall. Because she was left to her own devices Feyre would often give in to her strong desire to explore, climbing trees, the roof, appearing with scraped shins but grinning. She eventually became accustomed to the sadness she always felt at having no one to share her adventures with.

[m1d-45]

Let it be known that I love writing fluff, and I listen to character audios sometimes. SO! I came up with a cute idea for sagau imposter au. I heard somewhere that Xiao's adeptus form is a bird, so I wonder, what kind of bird? And that got me thinking. Xiao being a little song bird, or perhaps even a cardinal.

Now imagine: while looking for the imposter, Xiao stumbles upon them sitting beneath a tree, just feeding some birds. Said birds are absolutely loving the attention since the creator of Teyvat is giving them food and love!

Xiao watches, rather curious. The creator he knows hates birds, because they always dive and cause problems for them. But now... these little birds have completely abandoned any fear they may hold for human beings, happily landing on the hands and shoulders of this supposed imposter.

So he decides to test something.

Xiao turns into a small bird and approaches cautiously. In his smaller form, he's vulnerable to attack. But the person before him doesn't try to hurt him. Rather, they smile and call him "little friend" as they offer food to him. In his distrust, he bites them with his sharp beak.

His heart shatters when he sees divine blood spilling from the wound.

He's about to fly away, get as far away from here as he can. He found the true creator, and instead of worshipping them, he bit them! He caused them to bleed, he shouldn't even be near them-!

His mind stills when they pet his feathered head.

They murmur kind words to him, apologizing to him. They believed that they had startled him, that he bit to protect himself. They forgave him, they felt no hatred towards him, no anger or disappointment. Instead, they offered some chopped almonds, hoping he'd prefer that over bird seed.

He sang for them as he perched on their shoulder.

After that, he did his best to secretly protect the creator he'd harmed. He would adopt his smaller form and sing for them when they felt sad, and he'd use his human form to guard them from a distance. Yes, it made his chest ache whenever they looked at him with fear when they saw his more human form, but the yaksha only shook it off. It only made sense that you'd be scared. He was a frightening person, one that had tried to harm you before. He refused to try and change your feelings towards him. He didn't have the right.

He would be content to sing for you as a harmless bird.

-sibling anon (sorry if this is out of character for him I just like the idea)

oh….. he’s so soft…..

xiao hovering near the edge of the crowd, at first, drawing your attention since he doesn’t seem to be eating any of the seed you’d passed out.

when he finally hops within arms reach, you reach to nudge some of the food next to him closer, only to quickly whip your hand back. the birds around (on) you all flutter at the sudden movement, but you inspect your finger, the blue blood of teyvat welling up. your instinct is to stick it in your mouth, but that doesn’t seem safe considering a bird bit it, so you dab at it with a napkin.

the bird cries and flaps his wings, distraught, and your heart hurts. poor guy, you probably scared him, moving so quickly.

you pull out some chopped almonds from your pocket. the plan was to have them as a snack, but now… you put a few in your palm and close your hand around it, reaching forward to gently run two fingers over the birds back.

the other birds in the area seemed receptive to that, and this one does too, calming down considerably.

you take your hand back, opening your palm to drop the almonds on the floor, nudging them close before backing off.

“there you go,” you murmur, as the bird dips down to inspect the food. “i won’t hurt you.”

you allow yourself a silent cheer when it eats one of the almond pieces.

you see the small bird fluttering around you often, always on the edge of your vision. it’s easy to identify, the purple patch of feathers on its forehead easily standing out, and you’re always certain to push some food over to it. almonds, not birdseed.

the bird is a dark blue-teal, the underside of its wings a softer blue. it’s like no other bird you’ve seen in liyue, something that quickly catches your attention.

you brush some dirt off you as you stand, noting the way the bird immediately looks up from its food, unlike the others, to flap up into the tree you were sitting under.

you crack a smile, carefully reaching a finger for it. you’re slower this time, cautious of its skittish nature, but it lets you approach. when you carefully pet over its head, the birds eyes close.

your smile grows, and you try not to laugh at how confused the bird seems when you pull your hand away.

“i have to go,” you explain. “the millelith… they’re getting too close again. i won’t be able to see you again, little friend.”

the bird chirps, nearly indignant, and you do laugh this time. putting a small piece of almond on the branch in front of it, you wave goodbye to the other birds, seeing the blue one hadn’t touched the almond.

you frown. hopefully it’ll be alright….

xiao watches you until you’re out of sight, and even then, he stays on the branch.

you…. he’d forgotten you were being hunted by the millelith. he’d forgotten the order to look out for you. he’d forgotten the qixing called you a criminal.

who could blame him? it was easy to forget everything at your side, when you carefully ran your fingers over his feathers, scratching at his jaw with the edge of your nail. yes, he was vulnerable as a bird, but it was easy to be vulnerable with you. it was easy to be open, to sing as best he could in this form, to allow himself close enough to see the way your eyes lit up whenever another bird landed on your outstretched finger.

xiao dropped to the ground, morphing back into his human form. predictably, the birds cawed and flew away quickly. he watched them go, his mind contrasting it with how readily they flocked to you.

you…

he turned to the branch he was on, to the small almond piece left behind. the small symbol of your care, of how you recognized that he didn’t touch the birdseed and instead offered him your own food to eat. normally he wouldn’t lower himself to eating off the ground at all, let along bird food, but almonds weren’t awful and you seemed so happy when he ate..

xiao looked back to where you’d gone, to the sandbearer trees swaying in a soft wind.

he allowed his form to fall away and spread his wings, taking flight on the same breeze that urged you along.

perhaps he’d forget his orders for a little while longer, if it meant he could spend that time with you.

perhaps he’d forget his orders for a little longer, if it meant he’d get to spend that time with you.

[zeivira]

Ok so this is Zei and in this Essay i WILL explain why Regulus Corneas is a great character and should be appreciated MORE.

Nowadays there is this trend that villains can't be evil. They must have deep trauma. They must be victims. Don't get me wrong, that's super neat when we'll done (It's sucks when done wrong tho) but i like old fashioned evil villains. That doesn't mean I like them cartoonish, no, it just means i like characters written as flawed and greedy beings that crave STUFF like world domination or great power. Which is natural, honestly.

Regulus had a good family. He had parents that were poor but worked day and night so he would never go to bed with an empty stomach. Regulus knows they were like this— but he still kills them in cold blood.

“A father who despite his poor earnings was plagued with bad drinking habits and yet still occasionally buys gifts for me is scum better off dead. A mother who prattled on endlessly complaining day and night while saying obvious things like “apologies I’ve troubled you” is scum better off dead. The greedy brothers who despite ravenously eyeing the portion that rightfully belonged to me used to divide my part of their bun when my food got spilled are scum better off dead.” [1]

You might think— well, this just proves he was born insane. He is a victim too! Well— yes, but Regulus is perfectly capable of love too. Regulus loved his first wife, he loved her SO much that when she kills herself, smiling for the first time in years, he strictly prohibits his new wives from smiling.

And you may say: "But that was because he wanted her pretty face by his side and she made sure he didn't get that— therefore he lost against her! He is a greedy man, he doesn't want anyone else to smile because it reminds him of the one time he lost."

And that would be SUPER VALID if we didn't consider the fact he made a GRAVE for her. Why would you make a grave for someone you hate??? SPECIALLY considering he never makes graves for his enemies wtf.

“Somewhere down the line she committed suicide, but right before dying, she laughed for the first time. Regulus didn't take that smile all too well, swearing he'll never be alone anymore. On top of that, he forbid his future wives to show any facial emotions; a rule which would result in their deaths, if broken.

She was also the only wife who Regulus made a grave for.” [2]

Because he loved her. He truly did.

Regulus Corneas is a monster. But that's why he is my favorite villain. He isn't like Sirius or Geuse, that are more puppets than villains, he is an actual EVIL guy that is delusional yes but is still perfectly capable of love.

Quotes/Sources:

[1] arc 5 chapter 59 "Regulus Corneas"

[2] Re Zero wiki (i couldn’t find on the speech and i’m to lazy to reread all his chapters rn lol)

[buttercupshands]

So... Ch 423 spoilers huh...?

Just read them... since, yeah, they just appeared and stuff

I... don't really have much to say other than.... I guess this is over? The battle, the arc... basically everything?

I'm... glad that it is, since it was really slow from all of the breaks, but at the same time it's... a little sad, or, actually, just... nothing

I think it's time to... reflect on... whatever happened in this arc or just in general, so... a personal story tie ig

I've been following mha for almost 5 years since I first watched and read it as my first "real" anime and have been following stuff ever since ch 240-241 came out and I caught up with manga, so it was pretty obvious what characters were the most interesting ones

Ever since the volumes became available to buy in 2019 I've been collecting them all up to the very recent ones and it was fun to do even if calculating how to buy them was a challenge for 'I just graduated high school' kind of person. But it was worth it every time with how LoV appeared basically in every single volume since they used 2-in-1 way of publishing so since LoV appears ever so briefly sometimes every 2 volumes it was a win-win situation

I took a break from buying them last year after the exams and stuff and after chapters of Toga's death came out I just took a break from mha in general, focusing more on other stuff like hsr, genshin or just my life while helping with stuff

I still followed the spoilers every week they came out just to see how Horikoshi wants to end the LoV story or at least how would Izuku fight Tomura in the end

And... it's the last chapter of that. After 2 years since the Final arc started and a year since Tomura actually started fighting Izuku inst

It feels right in a way, even if I'm a bit sad how... this is it? AFO just dropped info in ch 419 for it to be irrelevant in the end just for AFO to have control for 4 chapters and Tomura yelling to say that he's still alive in there

It was odd to actually read the spoilers one by one this time since I sometimes wake up too late so I just go through them quickly and that's it

I wondered halfway into the chapter that Tomura would just die soon but I didn't expect it to happen this chapter even more so at the end of it

It's... really is over now?

Defeating LoV was literally just finding a way for them to self-destruct instead of making Class 1-A be the ones who kill them showing that they're still good in the end. It's not like I'm complaining - it's the way I wanted them to be defeated because them staying alive in the end felt unfair, especially when fans were the ones who wanted it. Just leaving them in Tartarus for a way to say that Izuku can't save villains or changing the story so the LoV is left alone is not the way this manga would deal with it, I thought

And I was right in a way, even if it took Toga's monologue to actually be more sure that this is where it's going

It felt too much like how Twice's death was done - without any regret from him

Maybe it made me a bit... off from how other people wanted it to end with heroes "getting what they deserve" or something, but it would've stopped being MHA after something like that happened, especially in a final arc when all of the LoV (except maybe Compress who is not on the battlefield) is literally wearing death signs with Dabi being the most loud one with it - and we still haven't seen him have this "alright, goodbye" moment like Twice, Toga and Tomura now had

And I don't believe that Dabi will survive this arc - he's literally too far gone with his body less alive than before and with him living only to be angry at Endeavor I guess it's a matter of time we get a goodbye from him too

With how this chapter handled it it seems that Spinner might survive this arc after all, but again - it makes it all the more sad since Horikoshi did remind us that Tomura befriended Spinner, in a way making it... a bit sad that it means that Tomura didn't expect others to make it or at least since they were more focused on their own goals Spinner was caring more for Tomura's goal than for himself.

Which is... even more sad considering that Tomura literally tells Izuku to say that he was destroying until the end instead of telling how Tomura lost everything and couldn't do anything anymore even before dying from basically decaying from the quirk that AFO gave him

And that's... Not dissapointing, no. It just makes me sad that his arc ended like that after all those chapters ever since he debuted 10 years ago.

Is you want it to be correct, since Horikoshi based Tomura off his oneshot about Tenko - it's been 17 years since the concept of his character first gained form and only now he's gone

Like... really gone. Nothing else left.

You can probably tell that I didn't take it well even if I wanted this ending to be this way not the "everyone survives way", but it still hurts to see the character that clicked ever since first watching and reading MHA and the character who is basically responsible for me even trying to check first the anime then wiki and then manga just... dying like that

Granted Kurogiri was the one who showed up in the end and I'm just glad for this because ever since ch 419 came out and even before that I just hoped for it to matter in some way and it did

I remember reading some fics that dealt with this arc in a way that was satisfying for me, but I still crried a lot and I still am crying now from thinking that Horikoshi did in fact give LoV a break instead of leaving them in jail.

I do need a break tho. Not in a "I leave and no more sketches or anything from me", no

I need a break from this manga, thankfully next volume isn't close so I'm free to not buy it right after that, especially since it's Toga's volume and I'm not ready to read it again but this time as "read every volume" way

I also can't leave Ultra Impact since I suddenly became a leader for a club I was in alone after everyone left, it's now full with 30 people appearing from s7 starting ig, but it gave me some responsibility to support the new players who decided that a weird club which name I can't even change from what last leader called it, so I might continue playing just to, at least, have all or the LoV characters fully leveled up just for fun

But in a way a need a break from Tomura. I had one or two when it was becoming unberable with how manga was going and with how things are... yeah

I have some sketches ideas but other than that... it's a bit hard to touch something LoV related right now.

I also don't think that doing something like this again is a way I want to cope with what happened - it happened and I already have two different posts about both how depressing and hopeful ch 419 is, and in the end both were true.

Nothing changed what happened in ch 419, Tomura just decided to destroy AFO when the plot wanted with Izuku and OFA together which is definetely something that people made theories of

He didn't get time to get at least something before he's gone and whatever happened with Nana was happened off-screen so we might as well see it as Tomura dying with his life never meaning anything, never actually having any purpose and only by helping to destroy AFO did he do at least something that helped others and was his own choice, but was it? Did he ever have a choice at all?

As it is now and will be for the end for MHA Tenko Shimura or Tomura Shigaraki never really had a choice in anything he did, not in a "I didn't have a choice!!!" dramatic way of how Nana Shimura left Kotaro. No. He didn't have any choices to choose from to begin with.

But with how Kurogiri still wanted to protect Tomura and reminded him of his friends at least it's not just the first part of the post that was right, in the end last words that Tomura said were connected to LoV and what he wanted to do for them, not that AFO was to blame for everything which is true still, but that LoV, even as broken as it is, is still a priority in Tomura's head after all this time of having AFO's quirk twist his mind and anything Tomura said outside of that headspace should've been carefully checked since it could've been AFO who's talking

It's not the ending for Tomura that people were hoping he'll get nor is it something that everyone will agree on, I can feel people arguing from here even if I didn't check Twitter or tags here on Tumblr to be sure. I don't need to.

So... those are my thoughts, a bit emotional in some places a bit chaotic in other, since my head is a mess right now and this was a way to say "this is it... are you happy?" to myself and answering it.

And the answer is no. I'm not happy. This arc, Tomura's personal arc and the way Izuku "helped" Tomura is still some of the worst things, even if I'm glad that this is over and I'm not obligated by myself to wait every week nervous that Tomura would suffer, and he did suffer, a lot.

From how his only way of getting his memory back was to suffer again to the fact that he had to suffer to get rid of his hate that AFO so carefully nurtured for 16 years. It wasn't great, especially since I joined after MVA was over and nothing after that was good to LoV getting worse every chapter from Twice dying and Toga learning that she'll probably die too, to Tomura never actually meeting LoV again as himself after he got AFO's quirk basically making him oblivious to the fact that Dabi is Toya or that Spinner followed what AFO wanted just to be useful, that Toga gave away her blood to save Ochako or that Dabi burned himself to death probably and Mr. Compress compressing parts of his own body. And the only person he saw before talking to Izuku was Kurogiri who was literally melting away at that very moment.

It's... a bit unfair.

Yes, villains lose at the end since we're reading a manga even if the manga itself isn't sure if it wants to go "no this is REAL" or go the way every shonen goes with the main character getting what they want. LoV lost at the end just because the manga needed them to lose, even if the way it was shown wasn't disrespectful to their character arcs, all of them making sense in the end.

It's still unfair that their only choice was to die and in a way bring everyone with them if they can, it was the way Dabi almost did it, it was the way both Toga and Tomura did, only for their respective Heroes - Shouto (and Todoroki family as whole), Ochako and Izuku being saved from dying from something that would've worked ONLY there and then. While the villains are not in the My Villain Academia version of manga anymore, so they don't have a way to survive anything like they did in MVA. For Toga, Twice and Tomura it was the only way to survive, if they weren't the main characters of that arc they would've died.

So, in the end it's miracle that we even had that arc in the first place with how Horikoshi wasn't planning for the villains to become the sympathetic characters for the fans - they were supposed to be just scary, and it's clear when you read stuff before volume 23 comes with MVA - they were always just evil and scary without any hope for us to get something out of it. You may say that the chapter with Toga helping Twice and having Tomura talk to them after the conversation with Overhaul was the first sign of Horikoshi not just showing them as those evil villains, and in a way it's true.

Nothing from before that arc actually helped LoV aside from showing some poins of "Dabi might me Toya" or first points of AFO and Tomura talking face to face. In the end everything important was in Overhaul arc and MVA tightly connected to each other.

I'm glad that for the 5 years of my life I've been analysing LoV and took my time getting every volume, I'll still hold them dearly. But aside from couple of chapters at the end showing us what happened to others... it's really the end of it.

With how long this post is I don't expect for people to read everything, since it was mostly just me talking about the new chapter for an hour and a half, sharing my thoughts, feelings and... whatever else there might be.

Because it was important thing in my life for a long enough time that I would miss it.

I can talk for hours more and just loop around this topic, but this is long enough post and I'm tired, but thanks for reading

I'm happy that this is over

[kitten4sannie]

sleepover

pairing: perverted bsf! wooyoung x fem! reader feat. a comatose mingi (he’s asleep on the bed lmao…or is he…)

summary: wooyoung is more than willing to hold you when you’re afraid during your horror movie marathon, and even more willing to help distract you like a good friend does.

wc: 1.4k

warnings: perverted dom! wooyoung, subby innocent! reader, bro is convincing and manipulative okay, cnc/dubcon-ish vibes (if that’s not your thing feel free to skip!!), coercion/corruption, exhibitionism (all of the following is done right next to mingi), brief kissing, groping, fingering, initial orgasm denial,, tit play + spit, rough unprotected sex, creampie, this is a wild one idkidkkkkk

a/n: wooyo has been haunting my brain lately so i had no choice but to write this >~< i hope you enjoy <33 alsoo i’ll be posting one more corruption themed fic very soon that feats frat boy san and minyunhwa~

song rec: if you think i’m pretty - artemas

“I told you not to put this movie on, Woo. It’s way too scary,” you complained whinily into your best friend’s shoulder, shielding your eyes from the suspenseful scene playing out on the laptop sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Mingi was the one who wanted to watch it, you know,” Wooyoung chided, causally wrapping his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your bare arm up and down in a comforting manner.

“Well, Mingi’s passed out.” Pouting, you pointed to your other friend that was curled up underneath the comforter beside you, his eyes shut. “He’s not even watching, so what’s the point?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t be a pussy.” His cold fingers made their way down to your waist to squeeze at it, making you jump from the sudden contact. “Oh, I see….Do you think the monster’s gonna get ya?”

“Shut up, Wooyoung!” you whisper-shouted, as to not wake up Mingi. You pushed on his chest, feeling his heart beat quickly against your hand. Was it racing like yours was? And, when did he get so close to you? His hand was already running up and down the bare skin of your thigh, causing your thin shorts to ride up more and more, but you didn’t have the nerve to confront him about it. Your pout grew. “I’m really scared, okay?”

“Oh, you poor baby,” Wooyoung cooed softly into your ear, his words laced with faux pity, his sharpened gaze focused solely on your blushing face. “Do you want me to help you, Y/N? Distract you from the scary movie?”

“Y-yes, please…”

You didn’t know what you were getting into, but you trusted that Wooyoung had your best interest in mind. It was then that he gently coaxed you further into his arms, lying comfortably against him as you faced the laptop screen once again. Goosebumps began to spread across your limbs from underneath the warm comforter, but it wasn’t from the frightening movie — it was from Wooyoung’s hand slipping underneath your shorts, his slender fingers rubbing at your pulsing cunt through your panties.

“W-Wooyoung…” you croaked weakly, your face and body growing so hot, you could pass out. Friends didn’t do this sort of thing, did they?

“Shhhh, baby, just look at the screen…yeah, just like that…” he sighed softly, his warm breath fanning over your neck, now concentrating on the way your tank top clung to your softness of your tits, how your nipples grew hard enough to poke through the thin material, groaning when he found your clit through your panties, rubbing at it in slow, small circles.

“B-but we’re friends, Woo…” You made a sad attempt at pushing his hand away, the moral debate you were having internally slowly fizzling away the longer Wooyoung touched you.

“Isn’t this what friends are for?” Wooyoung persisted, pulling your panties to the side just in time for his fingers to dip in between your soaked folds. “And, fuck, you’re so wet right now, Y/N. It feels good, doesn’t it? What’s so wrong with that, baby?”

“But, nnngh…Mingi’s right next to us…” You began to melt into Wooyoung’s arms and the soft mattress below you, unable to resist spreading your legs out for him, your thigh even resting against Mingi’s, not noticing when it shifted just as two of Wooyoung’s digits slipped inside you.

Licking at his lips, Wooyoung then pressed them onto your cheek, egging you on in a low voice, “Then, tell me to stop, baby.” He began to fuck his fingers into you at a fast pace, your walls clenching around them. “Right now. Say it.” Now, he was relentlessly rubbing his thumb into your clit with his free hand, still working your cunt, hooking his digits against the spot that made you spasm, your body growing warmer and heavier. When you pouted up at him and whined, he simply mirrored your helpless expression. “What’s the matter, baby? Hm?”

“Oh– fuck, right there…” you moaned out, not even attempting to look at the laptop screen in front of you, instead solely focused on your best friend beside you, so desperate to cum, you began to roll your hips down every time his fingers plunged into you.

“Yeah? You’re feeling really good now, aren’t you, Y/N? Now that you’re nice and full? Just look at you, baby…You can’t help but fuck yourself dumb on my fingers, huh?” Wooyoung looked like the monster from the movie now, eyes full of hunger, like he was ready to eat you up.

“Uh-huh, uh-huhhh…” Just as your sounds of pleasure began to crescendo, your mind growing cloudier by the second, pulling at the sheets below you because you were right there, Wooyoung ceased his movement completely, leaving you high and dry. “No, please, don’t stop, please…!”

Wooyoung gave you a look of indifference, much like a cat that suddenly wasn’t interested in playtime anymore. “Show me your tits. Maybe then I’ll make you cum.”

Desperate for your best friend’s attention and touch, you slowly rolled your tank top up until your tits spilled out, tears pricking at your eyes. How did you get here? Why did Wooyoung’s deliciously dark gaze successfully distract you from the paralyzing shame you felt? Or is that what made you wet? The way you were slutting yourself out for your best friend while the other was sleeping right next to you? “Please make me cum, Y-Youngie…”

“Fuck, you’re so cute, come here.” Now, Wooyoung was on top of you, leaving as much of his saliva on your tits as possible, squeezing one when he was noisily sucking on the other, his dilated eyes never leaving your teary ones. “Can I fuck you, Y/N? I’ll make you cum, I promise…I need to be inside you, baby, please, you’re so fucking hot…” Desperate for release, Wooyoung lowered his sweatpants until his heavy cock dropped onto your bare cunt, rubbing himself along it, making your mind grow that much more empty. “Just the tip, okay? That’s okay, yeah?”

Before you knew it, you were nodding, and just like that, he was inside you, your best friend, using you like a cocksleeve. Wooyoung was ramming his cock into your cunt like he was trying to knock you up. “That’s a good slut, fuckkk, taking me so well…” You tried to moan, to speak, to say anything, but you couldn’t, not with the way his tongue suddenly went down your throat.

All you could do was cling onto Wooyoung, your nails digging into his skin when it felt like the tip of his cock was pounding into your cervix, almost growing dizzy. When you heard your best friend groaning about how he was getting ready to fuck you full of his cum, you gasped, unable to talk, short, broken moans being punched out of you each time Wooyoung slammed himself into you, your thighs hooking around his waist once his hot load began to pour into you. It was then that you turned your head just in time to realize Mingi was watching you intently, his plush lips parted just enough to let drool slip past, catching onto the way that something was moving rapidly underneath the comforter somewhere near his abdomen.

“Told you she would put out, didn’t I, Min?” Wooyoung mused smugly, fucking you through the orgasm that tore through your used body, using your bruised hips like handlebars as he did so.

“You were so right, Woo, so, so right,” Mingi sighed out, tossing his head back into the pillow behind him, leaving a few watery cumshots on the inside of your comforter and his hand.

You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to cum again, instead just trying to catch your breath, hiding your face underneath one of your wrists, at least until Wooyoung pulled it down and made you look at the both of them.

“You’ll let Mingi have a turn, won’t you, Y/N? It’s only fair, right?”

Mingi nodded in agreement, before leaning in, licking across his teeth. “Having my cock inside your little used cunt next will make another good ‘distraction’, don’t you think?”

Even though the credits were rolling on the laptop behind them, the monsters hadn’t left. They were right there in front of you, waiting for your permission to ravage you. You couldn’t help but nod. They were your best friends, after all.

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[imbecominggayer]

How To Scare Your Readers

tw: mentions of murder and other horror media, its not specific or gorey but I just wanted to mention it

Today is one my hardest asks as it is a highly individual process to freaking out your audience with @differentnighttale asking: "How do you write horror, and how do you write it good nail biting and very unsettling type of horror."

Specifically, we are focusing on supernatural horror and dark fantasy. Due to the fact that there are numerous ways of scaring an audience, I'm going to focus on more diverse and interesting ways to freak out the readers. There are obvious tricks like "focus on the tactile senses" and stuff like that but let's cover something not as cliche!

Again, there are many ways to instill horror.

One: Combine Beauty And The Macabre

While this is a common trick seen in visual horror such as the works of Junji Ito or Midsommar, it's also an important and useful element in other beloved horror media.

This can be useful for a myriad of reasons.

The ability to combine the fantastical beauty of the scenery with death or the lovingly detailed imagery of a victimized body might be just the thing to elevate the scenery and visuals.

It also works to surprise your readers. If you are reading horror, you expect the murder and terror to appear in dark hospitals and obviously disgusting places. But what if the horror was in a cherry blossom field? In the church? In the character's childhood bedroom during the sunset?

It follows the perversion of the familiar. Most people internalize certain environments are seperated from society which might assist you if you are going for that specific type of horror. BUT! If you have horror in the supermarket, in the coziest little cottage, in the beauty.

TWO: Focus On A Specific Brand Of Horror

This is especially important for horror that is based off of pop culture spooks such as ghosts, ghouls, witches, zombies, and werewolfs.

Doing some research into why these monsters have survived in the public mind and what exactly is frightening abou them can influence your settings, characters, and horror.

There is horror about isolation.

There is horror about losing yourself.

There is horror about the female body.

There is horror about puberty.

There is horror about gender dysphoria.

There is horror about everything.

Decide what is the core fear you are proding at.

THREE: Be Ambiguous

Readers are comforted by linear stories with a beginning, clearly laid out morality, and a clear cut ending which provides either a happy ending or a sad ending.

Messing up any one of these things can lead to your story haunting the minds of your audience for a long time.

Midsommar is constantly debated about over if the ending is happy or sad.

Joker(2019), a thriller but not a horror, is infamous for it's amazing usage of hallucination and delusion to tell a non-linear story with a confusing ending.

Leaving the ending, villain, characters, or plot ambiguous and not clearly detailed might elevate your horror :)

FOUR: Use Your Own Fears

When you write about what scares you, that natural fear tends to radiate into your writing more naturally :)

This fear can be a lot of things from the specific phobia of bugs to the fear of being mistreated by a loved one.

Conclusion:

I hope I gave you some interesting advice that you haven't heard before @differentnighttale

p.s: at what point does something become "Mature"? I did mention "murder" throughout my post somewhat frequently but I never went into specific detail so I can't tell if it's "Mature" or not?

If it is mature and I mislabeled it then I can edit it to be "Mature"

[forzalando]

hi! can you do "kisses. on. the. tip. of. the. nose." + charles please please please 🙏 tysm <3

hi hi hi! i hope you like it😊💛 thank you so much for your request, i had so much fun writing this one!!! charles + kisses on the tip of the nose 631 words, no tw!

Adopting Leo was the most wonderful decision that you and Charles had ever made – he was the sweetest puppy, even if he could be a menace at times, and had so much love in his tiny little body for the two of you.

He was exceptionally clingy, especially with you since he spent more time with you, which prompted Charles to overcompensate a bit for his absence.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of your dog, per se, but as you sat on the couch and watched Charles give his undivided attention to Leo while completely ignoring your existence, you felt a bit slighted.

His puppy voice and the sound of him leaving kisses all over Leo’s face, particularly his adorable nose, had your frown growing deeper. You’d never been great at controlling your facial expressions but Charles had yet to notice until you sighed involuntary.

“Mon amour, what’s wrong?” Charles asked sweetly, cradling Leo delicately to his chest in order to move closer to you.

“Nothing,” you pouted, stealing Leo from his arms to hopefully quell the loneliness in your chest.

“It’s not nothing, you are sad. Talk to me, my love.”

“I just – gosh, it’s so stupid.”

“Your feelings are not stupid, I promise. Did something happen while I was away? If someone hurt you I will – ”

“No, Charles,” you interrupted, debating the best way to tell him. “I…I know you miss Leo a lot and you feel guilty because you’re away so often but you’ve been home for four hours and after a quick ‘hello, I love you, I missed you”, you haven’t paid attention to me at all. I’m just feeling a little left out.”

It was silent for a moment except for Leo’s soft pants and the sound of him licking your chin – you couldn’t help but smile at the affection from him, the affection you were craving from your partner as well.

“Mon amour,” Charles cooed. “Are you jealous of little Leo?”

“I’m not jealous, but you’ve kissed him 81 times and I’m feeling neglected.”

Charles smiled softly at you, “I’m sorry, Leo is new to me being gone so often, I’ve been so wrapped up in making sure he knows I love him that I forgot for a moment it never gets any easier for you.”

“I understand, Charlie, it’s ok. I’ve just missed you a lot,” you whispered shyly. He moved even closer to you, cupping your face with his hands, leaning in. You closed your eyes and waited patiently, eager to lose yourself in Charles.

Your eyes flew open in shock when you felt his lips upon the tip of your nose repeatedly – over and over again while Charles giggled and pressed himself as close as he could without crushing your fur child.

“Charles!” you squealed, laughing along with him as his kisses moved to your cheek, chin, and right back to your nose.

“You said you were jealous of Leo’s nose kisses!”

“I said kisses in general,” you gasped between laughs. “And it looks and sounds like I’m not the only jealous one in this family.”

Leo was yapping away in your arms – his little paws trying and failing to push Charles away while he snuggled closer to you. “Leo, let me love on your Mama, no?” Charles lightly scolded, ruffling the fur on his head. As if Leo understood, he huffed out a sigh and relaxed in your arms, quickly falling asleep.

Charles leaned back against the edge of the couch and beckoned you to sit between his legs, cocooning his arms around you as you leaned back into him.

Your head nestled in the crook of his neck and Leo snoring softly in your arms – you wouldn’t trade your perfect, little family for anything in the world.

if you'd like to request a short drabble/blurb, please see this post!!

[azzibuckets]

now that we don’t talk part 1 [paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige break up and neither of you know how to move on properly with your life

a/n: decided to go for some angst again…didn’t really have an aim or a direction when writing this so not sure if i should turn this into a series or not ? lmk what yall think

word count: 1.5k

masterlist | next

The First Week

In the first week, Paige had fallen into her daily routine. Her moments of forgetfulness were instinctual; she’d laid a dollop of minty Crest toothpaste on her blue toothbrush before doing the same thing to your red one, leaving it hanging over the edge of the counter.

The first time she did it, she’d hadn’t even noticed. It was only when she’d turned her mouth to catch the water under the faucet that she’d spotted your toothbrush that she’d set up, ready with Crest, as if you’d pop in any moment to stick it in your mouth and start scrubbing. Paige had almost choked on the water she’d been gurgling, grief worming its way up her throat and making it hard to breathe.

Heaving, she’d stood over the sink, hand gripping both sides of the counter to support herself until her knuckles turned white. It took all her strength not to buckle over from the precipitous wave of agony that had collided into her with gut-wrenching speed.

But for some reason, Paige had stuck your toothbrush under the stream of water then placed it carefully back in its cup. And so she’d made the same mistake the day after. This time, when she realized what she’d done, it wasn’t the weight of sadness that compressed her lungs, but a brewing storm of fury. Her vision had gone red, and she’d grabbed the toothbrush and hurled it against the wall as hard as she could, with a strength that she didn’t even know that she’d still had. And this time, when Paige stared at the toothpaste dripping slowly down the wall, mocking her as it made a mess on the floor, the counter couldn’t save her. She’d succumbed to the force of her fury dragging her down, and had crumpled to the floor, sobs racking her body.

The First Month

Your room was dark, in almost sub-freezing temperatures with the windows wide open to welcome in the frosty, bone-chilling winter air that Connecticut was known for. The only light in the room came from the dim glow of your laptop screen, opened live to the UConn women’s basketball game playing live on ESPN.

At first, you’d attempted to be nonchalant whenever Paige sunk yet another basket with ease, making the crowd and commentators going feral as she celebrated with her signature moves. But as the game between UConn and Stanford got closer and closer, you couldn’t help but smile when Paige crossed over her defense, sending them flying to the floor and leaving her wide open to score yet another 3. It reminded you all too well of the Paige you’d met and fallen in love with, whose confidence on the court had made you start viewing her as more than just your teammate.

But any trace of smile on your face quickly vanished once you watched Paige’s post-game interview during the livestream. “You’ve had quite a run this season despite being out for most of your sophomore and junior year due to injury. Who would you like to thank for your unpredented comeback?”

“I’d like to thank God. He’s been with me through everything, given me trials to test my resilience. In fact, he’s made me stronger than ever.” Paige had paused. You’d recognized her hesitance; the way she nibbled her bottom lip, her mouth half open as she debated a response, the uncertainty in her eyes as they flickered. But she seemed to recover from any reluctance, and what she said next made your heart drop. “I’d also like to thank my girlfriend, Leslie.” She motioned to someone off camera, and soon the frame was filled with tousled brown hair and soft green eyes.

Paige pulled her in close, and your world spun as you watched Paige, your Paige, press her lips against the brunette. Your hands had reached up to tear your headphones off your head, unable to further listen to the claps and hoots of the crowd along with the cooing of the commentators without feeling the need to throw up. But before you could, Paige had started speaking again. Your hands froze. You hated yourself for it, but you had to listen.

“She’s been with me through everything, from freshman year to now. She was my number one supporter when I got injured.” She wrapped her arm around Leslie’s waist, staring intently at the camera, and never before had you been this sickened staring at the blue eyes you’d once adored, could’ve spent hours getting lost in. “But even outside of my injury, Les has been on my side. Especially with all the immature drama that happened on the court last year, she was really a clear voice in all of that. So I’m pretty grateful for her.”

Leslie’s mouth split into a grin, and she turned to pull Paige in for another kiss, and that was when you slammed your laptop so hard that when you opened it the next morning, you were surprised to see that the screen hadn’t shattered.

You were not someone who cried. Your family members, your friends, Paige could all attest to that. But the torment that was clawing its way through your body, threatening to suffocate you, finally exploded. Tears had surged from your eyes, seemingly never ending, and you’d cried so much that night that it suddenly made sense why you’d almost never cried before; it was like all the tears in your life had been pent up, waiting for this moment, for when the pin fell.

That night was the lowest you’d ever felt in your life, and possibly even the lowest you’ve ever acted - blinded by a jealous rage over the girl that Paige had always promised you not to worry about, the girl Paige was basically making out with on live television just one month after you guys had broken up (and when it’d taken her two years to show PDA with you), you’d gone on all your social media accounts and blocked Paige on every single one of them.

Then an idea came to you. An act of retaliation that would hurt Paige as much as she hurt you. So you’d reopened Twitter, unblocked Paige. You’d scrolled until you found the perfect tweet. Your thumb had hovered for a split second over the like button, haunted by images of Paige’s hand trailing your stomach, her hair brushing your eyes, her mouth on your neck, before it was violently replaced by the image of Paige locking lips with the brunette flooding your mind, causing you to jam your thumb down with ferocity on the like button. You’d slammed the final nail in the coffin by deleting the app so that you couldn’t go back and undo your action before word got around to Paige.

The First Year

You thought you knew grief. You thought you’d familiarized yourself with every aspect of mourning: the realization in the morning, when your eyes open and you lose the blissful state of dreaming and you’re confronted with the harsh truths of the world. Or the late nights, when you’re restless and can’t sleep because of jealousy plaguing your mind. Even the deep longing of missing someone’s touch so bad that you swear that you can almost almost smell their perfume.

So you thought you knew grief - until your grandma died. It had been a matter of time. She’d had breast cancer, and for years now the doctors had been saying any time. But that still didn’t prepare you for the overwhelming pain that consumed all your senses, making it hard to think or eat or sleep or even breathe.

The first few nights after you received the news, you stared at the ceiling, unblinking until the early hours of the morning when the sun started creeping up through your windows. But you couldn’t even cry; you felt like a broken faucet. What the fuck was wrong with you? Sobbing over your stupid ex that you’d broken up with an entire year ago, but unable to shed a tear for your grandma, the woman who had single-handedly raised you. You were exhausted to the point of no return. When would everything stop hurting?

You’d only torn your eyes from your ceiling when your phone had lit up. It was 4 AM, and you wondered who it could be. You checked your phone, and every part of your body froze when you read the notifications.

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I’m so sorry

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

I just heard the news

TWITTER

From: paigebueckers1

Don’t know if you’re even active on here anymore but it’s the only way I could reach you. If you see this, I just want to ask you to not keep your grief to yourself. Isolating yourself won’t make the pain go away. Make sure to talk to someone

Your heart had ached, your phone trembling in your hand. Because Paige had cared enough to send you a message, on the same app where you’d given the tabloids a wet dream and caused the UConn fandom to go into a spiral by liking a hate tweet about Paige. She’d cared enough to disregard all that to make sure you were okay. But she still hadn’t cared enough to offer to be that someone that she wanted you to talk to so bad.

So you’d left her on read, without responding. Had slipped back into your sheets, your head pounding and your lungs aching. This time the tears fell out easily.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

well, it worked

fuck the sadness out of me 3racha - written part 2

part 1 • masterlist • credit to op

genre: smut! smut with feelings, angst for han

word count: ~4.7k

warnings: crying, praise, pet names, daddy kink, size kink if you squint, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced han, han’s is very sad (this is your warning. not a happy ending.)

an: this is for @httpdwaekki 💕 and because i really wanted to write the chan one. hehe i debated on posting this after the whole anon debacle but i really like how it turned out and i wanted to share it. (sorry chans is so long 😬 that’s my mans yk?)

♡ chan ♡

he was driving as quickly and as safely as he could to your place. he finally had the chance to be with you. though it were under less than ideal circumstances, he didn’t care. it wouldn’t matter. one night with him and you would see. and he didn’t mean that in a ‘oh my dick is so good you’ll fall in love with me’ type of way. he just meant that he knows how to treat you right. to make you feel beautiful and small and fragile. to make you see yourself in the same way that he sees you. he had been waiting for this chance for years now. “i can not fuck this up.” he said to himself, pulling into a parking spot and getting out of his car, the fluorescent lights softly humming overhead.

he was already hard in his pants from the texts, and he tried to hide it as best he could as he walked from his car to your door. but the thought of you asking to call him daddy had his cock pressing painfully into his zipper. he took a deep breath and knocked gently on your door.

after a few moments he could hear your soft footsteps patting to the door. the lock turned, the door cracked open, and your cute face peered around the door frame. once you confirmed it was chan, you opened the door all the way and let him in. he shut the door behind himself before turning to you. you were looking everywhere but at him, embarrassed of the situation you were in, but not wanting to change it. your cheeks were red and tear stained, your eyes puffy. chan leaned down slightly to take your face in his hands.

“oh princess, look at your pretty face.” he said softly. your eyes finally met his, so full of love and a little bit of worry. “all stained with tears.. i hate to see you like this.” he said.

your hands found their way up to his, gently wrapping around his wrists. you already felt better with just him being here, looking at you like this, acknowledging your pain. you weren’t sure if this was the best decision, but you needed him. you knew he would make the ache in your chest go away, if only for a little while. and you hoped that it wouldn’t be replaced with a new ache. the ache of loosing a best friend. your eyes welled up again, tears threatening to spill over.

“hey hey hey..” he shushed, rubbing your cheeks gently. “baby don’t cry. i’m here to help, yeah?”

you nodded weakly, sniffling softly. “i just— i just don’t want to loose y-you.”

“sweet girl i’m not going anywhere.” he reassured you. “even if you decide you want me to leave right now. even if i stay and we do this and then you decide you never want to do it again. i will always be here for you. okay? don’t worry baby.”

“okay..” you agreed. “can you kiss me, daddy?” you asked, your big, innocent, glassy eyes looking up at him.

his body tensed, his hands that were still cradling your face, tightened their grip ever so slightly. he closed his eyes for just a moment, and took a deep breath. like a vampire who is doing his best to hold himself back from biting you.

“are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his eyes begging you to not turn him away now. you nodded, a smile already threatening your cheeks. “we can stop at any time. okay? you just tell me and i’ll stop.” you nodded again.

he leaned in, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. his breath fanned across your skin, your breath hitching in anticipation. “oh, princess..” he whispered before his lips pressed gently to yours. his lips were plush and pillowy against your own. the kisses just gentle pecks at first until he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. a small gasp escaped you and he smiled before slipping his tongue into your mouth. your back hit the wall of your apartment, while his tongue danced against yours. your hands balled in his black t-shirt, wanting to pull him closer. needing him closer. but the only way for him to be closer, was to be inside you. his body was pressed snugly against yours, your sensitive breasts pressing against his chest, his erection pressing against your hip.

he reached down and scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. he knew your apartment like the back of his hand, having spent countless nights here over the course of your friendship, though never a night like this. he expertly maneuvered his way into your bedroom, gently laying you on your bed. his kisses traveled down to your jaw now, his tongue licking at your skin. you were a panting mess underneath him, his brown eyes peeking up at you from under his mess of curls.

his fingers grazed your tummy under your pajamas as he gently lifted your shirt up and off, discarding it on the floor. your nipples pebbled with the sudden coolness of the air. his thumbs quickly found them, flicking gently back and forth.

“you’re so beautiful, baby.” he whispered against your skin, kissing your sternum. “been dreaming of this for so long.” he used his hand to guide your left nipple into his mouth. his tongue circling and his teeth nibbling. you couldn’t control the soft noises falling past your lips, you fists gripping onto your sheets. “oh your little whimpers..” he kissed across your chest to your other nipple. “you sound so pretty..” his tongue pressing flatly against your nipple before swirling around it. while his tongue was busy, so were his fingers. they danced up and down your sides, and down to the waistband of your pajama shorts. he alternated between teasing with his fingertips across your skin, to squeezing your hips firmly, in a way that made you feel so small under him.

he detached himself from your nipple, his mouth moving down your tummy, leaving a damp trail. he looked up at you as his fingers hooked your pajama shorts, pulled them down, and threw them carelessly onto the floor. he kissed down over your mound, his fingertips rubbing down the skin of your thighs. he gently gripped and nudged your legs apart. sitting back on his heels, kneeling in between your legs, his grip on your thighs tightened as he saw your pussy for the first time, your arousal glistening in the dim light.

“princess..” he exhaled. “do you have any idea how stunning you are?” he asked. though he wasn’t expecting an answer. your cheeks flushed with color. “do you have any idea what you do to me?” he palmed his painful erection through his jeans.

his fingers moved to slowly graze up and down your labia, sending goosebumps all over your body. his index finger dipped into your wetness, gathering some and swirling it around your clit. you writhed underneath him, silently begging for some relief. “my squirmy little baby.” he teased. “are you needy?” you nodded, your whimpers morphing into soft moans which turned into louder moans as he slipped a finger inside you. “what do you want, baby? tell me.”

“w-wa- want you..” you managed to choke out. your brain foggy.

“want me?” his voice had a teasing lilt to it, a smirk on his face. “but you already have me. i’m right here.” he said. he knew exactly what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it. but you couldn’t. you wanted to scream at him to fuck you. but the connection between your mouth and your brain just wasn’t working properly.

“daddy…” you whined, rolling your hips in search of friction.

he groaned, his eyes briefly falling shut again. he pulled his finger out of you and brought it to his lips. he used his tongue to clean all trace of you from his skin. “fuck, baby. i was going to eat your little pussy but i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“please.. daddy..” you begged.

he pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them off. he knelt before you, his hair a mess of curls, his cheeks slightly pink, a thin layer of sweat clinging to his chest and abs. you had never seen your best friend in this light before. and holy shit did you like what you saw. you thought your eyes may bulge out of your head. you blinked slowly, trying to contain your reaction. you double checked for drool on your chin.

he brought his hand to his cock, pumping it softly. “do you see this baby? look what you do to me.” his fingers brushed over the precum beading at his tip. “you’re so sexy baby. so tiny and fragile compared to me..” he slapped the head of his cock against your clit, causing you to yelp. he ran it up and down between your lips, gathering your arousal and rubbing it into his skin. “are you ready, sweet girl?” he asked. all you could do was nod, biting your lip in anticipation.

he slowly pushed into you, giving you time to adjust to his size. you both groaned at the feeling, needing more. slowly, inch by inch he seated himself inside you. once he was all the way in, he leaned down and kissed you gently. “is that okay, baby? are you feeling good?” he asked.

“yes..” you breathed. “yes daddy. so good.” you could feel your wetness leaking onto the sheets below you, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your butt.

he threaded his fingers with yours, placing your joined hands above your head. he kissed your jaw and then your neck. “i’m going to start moving now.” he warned.

and he slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. you squeezed his hand, moaning into his ear. “there you go, baby. squeeze daddy’s hand. you’re doing so good.” he started moving a little faster, the wet sounds filling the room. “so tight, baby.. fuck.”

you could feel that familiar feeling, your walls fluttering around him. “are you gonna cum baby?” he asked. “you can do it. taking me so well.. gonna cum all over my cock, huh baby? can you do that for me?”

fuck you were so close. right on the edge about to fall over. “you’re so perfect, baby. fu-fuck.” he was getting close too. you squeezed his hand, and the thought of him feeling so good because of you, was what pushed you over.

“daddy..” you mewled, your pussy clamping down on him, your body convulsing.

he continued pumping into you, helping you through it but also chasing his own high. his lips pressed to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“shit..” he whined. his hips stuttering. “you feel so good. you take my c-cock so g-good. been dreaming about this.. fuck”

“daddy are you gonna cum too?” you asked. your voice slowly returning after finding your release.

“fuck i love it when you call me that.”

“daddy please can i have your cum?” you were teasing him to help him finish but also, you really desperately wanted it. to know that you were the one doing this to him. that you were good enough to make a man like chan feel this way.

“fuck, i love you.” he said. and your heart swelled. your eyes filled with tears, the words hanging on your lips, wanting to say them. i love you too. but you couldn’t. your feelings were heightened in this moment and you wanted to make sure you meant them before you said them. but in this moment, you felt like you meant them. a tear made it over your waterline and down to your cheek.

he suddenly pulled out of you, spilling his seed onto your tummy. he looked so beautiful, pumping himself above you to get every last drop. when he finally came down he leaned in, taking your face in his hands again and kissing you gently. he could feel the dampness under his palm. “princess, are you crying?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. “what did i do? did i hurt you?”

you shook your head no. searching for a way to tell him they were good tears. that you felt so incredibly warm and loved in that moment that you couldn’t help it.

“is this because of what i said..? baby im sorry it just slipped out.”

you shushed him, pulling his lips back to yours. you kissed him softly. “it’s okay.” you told him. “i just feel.. good.” he smiled at that. “i feel so loved and.. cherished.”

he kissed you again. “so it worked.” he said, standing up and going to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean you up.

you were confused. “what worked?”

he gently wiped at your skin with the damp cloth. “i fucked the sadness out you.” he chuckled.

•••

♡ changbin ♡

he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, nodding bye to the guys as he opened the door. they had asked if he wanted to go get something to eat and were shocked when he said no. changbin, saying no to food? what’s gotten into him they had asked. but what they didn’t know is he had asked you to go for food and you had denied him. instead telling him how down you felt. and all thoughts of food left his mind. because you needed him. you were sad. and you may have suggested something else, joking or not, he wasn’t passing up this opportunity with you to go get food with the guys instead. they would understand.

he made his way across town, which wasn’t too difficult at this hour. it was early in the morning and there was little to no traffic. now that he thought about it, he was surprised that you were awake. he hoped that you weren’t feeling too sad to sleep. just the thought of that broke his heart. he was determined to make it better for you. he would do anything he could to make you smile.

your apartment complex was quiet. he tiptoed up the stairs, doing his best to not disturb your neighbors, knocking quietly on your door. you opened it cautiously. but upon seeing who was at your door, you flung it wide open, excited to see him. but not nearly as excited as he was to see you. stepping inside, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground. the door softly closed and latched shut behind him as he gently spun you in a circle, burying his face in your hair.

“my little bunny..” he said, a hint of worry in his voice as he sat you down. he looked down at you, your eyes puffy and bloodshot, cute little sniffles coming from your nose. he petted your head. “are you doing okay today, baby?”

you shook your head no, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you tried to hold back more tears. all you had done today was cry and you didn’t want to do it anymore. especially not in front of him.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asked, playfully tapping your pouty lip with his finger. again you shook your head no. he brushed your hair over your ear, not so subtly admiring your neck and collarbones. he leaned down, kissing you cheek softly. “do… you want to kiss about it?” he whispered.

this time, you nodded. and just like the first time he ever kissed you, your stomach filled with butterflies, suddenly feeling nauseous. but all of that faded away once his lips were pressed against yours. his kisses were light. a quick succession of pecks against your mouth, giving you time to change your mind and push him away. but you didn’t, instead grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss.

his tongue found its way past your teeth as he slowly led you to your bedroom. the backs of your thighs grazing the bed frame as your back hit the mattress. his hands were all over you, pulling at your clothes, squeezing your flesh. he was getting needy, and that’s just the way you liked him. “fuck, bun.” he exhaled, moving his kisses down the length of your neck. his fingertips tickled against the skin of your tummy as they searched for a path to your breasts. they finally found purchase against your nipples, soft whimpers bubbling up from your throat. he lifted your shirt, bunching it up around your collar, exposing your chest to him. he kissed his way down, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

“wanna eat you.” he mumbled against your tummy. “would that make bunny feel better? having my tongue on her little pussy?”

he didn’t wait for an answer as he continued kissing down, slowly sinking to his knees on your bedroom floor, your panty covered core level with his face. he ran his index finger up and down the soaked fabric. “is that what you want, bunny? can i do that for you?” he asked.

“yes please, bin.” you panted. he hooked his fingers over the elastic of your panties and pulled them down your legs.

“there she is..” he said, almost in awe of you laid bare before him. “so wet.. so pretty.” his finger rubbed soft circles around your clit before he used his hands to spread you open. he licked his lips once before he leaned down and flattened his tongue against you, licking a stripe from the bottom to the top. he hummed in delight before dipping his tongue inside you. you writhed beneath him, unable to keep still with the pleasure he was giving you. he replaced his tongue with his fingers, slowly pumping in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot over and over. his tongue moved to your clit, flicking quickly back and forth.

you could feel it building. it never seemed to take you long when binnie was between your legs. he could tell by the sounds you were making that you were close. “binnie..” you moaned, your body shaking.

“i know, baby.” he said between licks. “feels so good, huh?”

he looked up at you, his eyes hidden behind his glasses, his curly hair falling in his eyes. “are you going to cum, bunny?” he whispered against your clit, his warm breath hitting the dampness of your pussy, sending shivers through your body. you plummeted over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. your hands threaded in his hair, your legs clamping down around his head, grinding yourself against his face. he loved this. it was his favorite part. seeing you come undone, in such a state of bliss. he loved it. loved you.

and when you slowly came down, he kissed your thighs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at you with the biggest heart eyes you had ever seen on a man. he almost looked post orgasm even though he was the one delivering the pleasure and not receiving. you couldn’t blame him. you couldn’t wipe this stupid grin off your face, your pussy practically vibrating from the stimulation. he hovered over you, sliding his forearm under your neck, his large bicep next to your face. you turned your head and placed a kiss against the muscle.

“thank you, binnie.” you said, smiling up at him.

“it worked.” he laughed. “look at you smiling.”

you nodded, reaching for him. “now it’s your turn.”

•••

♡ han ♡

he could hear you through the wall, moaning his name. he couldn’t help but think that you sounded so pretty. which made sense, you were so pretty. han had always thought so. but he had accepted his fate as your best friend and nothing more. but was that the case still? he was unsure. he felt in his gut that this was wrong. you literally had been dumped only hours before and now you wanted han to sleep with you. it was not a good idea, that’s for sure. but did han care? right now the only thing he could focus on was his cock straining his pants and your muffled moans. he stood up, nervously rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants. his cock softened a little with the nervousness of what was about to happen. but then you said his name again. “hannie..”

he put one foot in front of the other, exiting his room and walking the two steps it took to get to your door. he knocked gently but then felt stupid. you obviously knew he was coming, why did he knock? “hannieeeee” you whined. fuck. his hands were shaking as he turned the doorknob, your door creaking open. he peered inside and his mouth fell open at what he saw. you were on your bed, completely nude, laying on your back, with two fingers pumping slowly in and out of your pussy. the wet sounds of your arousal filled his ears now that he was in the same room as you.

he didn’t know what to do. he just stood there awkwardly, involuntarily grabbing himself through his pants. han wasn’t a virgin, but he was inexperienced and you knew that. it always kind of turned you on. the thought of teaching him exactly what you wanted, what you liked. and helping him find what he likes. you removed your hand from your pussy and brought it to your lips, licking yourself clean.

“are you just going to stand there?” you asked.

han swallowed the lump in his throat before cautiously making his way to your bed. you got up on your knees, bringing yourself to his eye level and reached out to grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him closer. you gently took his round cheeks in the palms of your hands and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his mouth. he melted under the touch of your lips, his knees almost buckling under him. your tongue entered his mouth, he tasted like sour candy. your hands started exploring his body, sliding up under his shirt to feel his tummy and chest, and then moving down to palm his erection. he sighed into your mouth.

you moved to pull his sweatpants down, but before they could make it over his hips, he stopped you. his eyes are huge and glassy, his lips slightly swollen from kissing. “are you sure about this?” he asks.

you move to kiss him again. “of course i’m sure, hannie” you whisper against his mouth. you pull his pants down, freeing his cock. you take it in your hand and slowly start pumping him. he groans.

“it just- fuck- it’s just, i really like you yn” he says, breathless.

“i really like you too.” you say, kissing down his neck, before pulling his shirt up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. his skin was soft, his muscles delicately defined. you kissed down his chest, over his tattoo and down to his tummy.

“yn.. i mean..” he groans and throws his head back as you lick at the little patch of hair under his belly button. you lay on your stomach, his cock in your face. you look up at him.

“what is it, sungie?” you ask, pumping him slowly, teasing.

“this means something to me.. you know?” he says. “it’s more than sex for me.”

“i know.” you say, before you take him into your mouth. and he’s forgotten what words are. as you take him down your throat, he forgets where he is. his hands thread into your hair, holding it back so it doesn’t get in your way and so he can see your pretty face more clearly. you look up at him as you choke on him, spit running down your chin. it’s all so.. dirty. and he can feel the heat in his cheeks, his skin blushing a furious pink.

“baby.. i’m not going to last if you keep doing that.” he warns you.

you release him with a pop and pull him down to kiss you. his heart is beating a million times a minute as you get on your back again and pull him on top of you. his arms either side of your head, supporting his weight. he kisses you softly, slowly, a juxtaposition to how you were kissing him. your kisses were fevered and rushed and clashing teeth whereas his are soft and slow, little brushes of his tongue against yours, almost like he’s savoring you. his heart swells as he looks down at you. he wants to remember this moment. the moment that he finally gets to be with you. he wants to memorize every detail of your face and your body. wants to memorize every feeling in his body, the way you feel under his hands. but you interrupt him.

“fuck me hannie.” you say, your voice pleading and desperate.

and well, he couldn’t argue with that.

he wrapped his hand around his cock and lined himself up. he slowly pushed in, taking his time, savoring you and honestly, trying not to bust. you pulled him close in another blazing kiss as you started to rock your hips back and forth, encouraging him to go faster. he was trying to focus on your eyes, your pout, and not focus on the way he could feel your arousal coating his thighs, his balls. no, he couldn’t focus on that or he was definitely going to cum.

you pushed him over, finally deciding he wasn’t going fast enough. now on his back, you straddled him, sinking down on him. he groaned and then you began to bounce on him. riding him as hard as you could, as fast as you could.

“fuck. yn.” he whined. “i’m not going to last. you feel too good.”

you smile. “that’s okay, hannie. you can cum.” he grabs your hips in his hands, squeezing the flesh as he gets closer and closer. “cum for me.” you tell him. and he does. high pitched whines falling past his lips as you feel him twitching inside you, filling you up. his eyes are scrunched shut, his face and lips are pink. you continue to ride him through his orgasm, chasing your own.

he was getting overstimulated now, it was becoming too much but he wanted to hold out for you. you needed to cum too. “are you close baby?” he asked, gently grabbing at your breasts. “are you gonna cum on my cock?”

you close your eyes and throw your head back, moaning as you continue to bounce on him. and that’s when he hears it. he freezes, his eyes go wide and his heart shatters. you don’t notice your mistake, and you keep going. “fuck- i’m close.” you moan. but he can’t do this. he pushes you off of him as gently as he can and he stands, searching for his clothes in the dark room. he’s embarrassed, his soft cock in his hand, he was surrounded by you and he needed to get out of there. your scent was everywhere, coating his skin. tears pricked at his eyes.

“han? what the fuck? i was about to cum.” you scold him.

he turned around quickly, his clothes in one hand, his cock in the other, shielding it from your view. tears were streaming down his cheeks now. “i don’t care.” he said. “you didn’t even notice, did you?”

“notice what?” you ask, confused.

“you moaned his name while you were fucking me.” he spat. “clear as day, unmistakably his name.” he turned to walk toward the door. “i’m such a fucking idiot.” he muttered.

“han, wait!” you called, but he didn’t stop. not even a slight stutter in his stride as he slammed your door behind him, followed a minute later by the bathroom door shutting and the shower turning on.

[spaceysoupy]

So apparently it’s that time of year again where I have to post about this.

On lesbianism, white queerness, and 2S identity

Text below readmore

I am a two-spirit. My identity is specific to my Tribe and Clan, and even more specific to my family. I am not a man, I am not a woman, and I am not nonbinary; I am not defined by what I am not.

I am a two-spirit and I am a lesbian. That's not debatable.

But I am not a non-man.

There's an idea of two-spirits that we are just the ethnic version of non-binary

We're not. The reason you're so comfortable calling us nonbinary is because your idea of queerness is centered around the binary&what you are not: you're not cishet, you're not the oppressor, etc

White queers like to speak about 2S identities constantly as if we are monolith. "It's just a gender" "it's not a gender"

"they're not trans" "they're not queer" "they don't belong here"

The community tries to decide for the individual and that's so weird to me.

So much of white queerness is inherently about exclusion.

You need strict labels to exclude the people you fear. You write your definitions around your fear of intruders and by consequence you exclude the people that need your support the most.

You need people to "prove" they are queer before you let them in. You're like a fortress and you let vulnerable people drown in the moat; ignoring that the real oppressors don't need to be a Trojan horse to do damage, ignoring they are actively burning down the castle.

It's very sad to me, because it's ultimately tearing the community apart even further.

I've never felt very welcome in white lesbian circles and they've never understood my experience of gender, but it's gotten worse in the past 5 or so years.

As TERFs start to revive gold star lesbianism and center hatred of men as their definition of lesbianism, you start to get these younger lesbians that don't know history that start to parrot the rhetoric. First it's "non-men loving non-men" then it's "you're too close to Man™"

For many two-spirit lesbians like myself, this is very concerning. White lesbians are historically not the ones targeted by radfems.

Now we've gotten to the point that there are people denying that lesbian is an spec (multispec) identity while including (white) nonbinary people

White nonbinary people (usually AFAB nonbinary people) are seen as woman lite and are welcome in white lesbian spaces while queer Indigenous people are considered dangerous because white lesbians can't understand their gender.

When did understanding become a requirement?

We're getting very dangerously close to "lesbianism is ONLY attraction to women" and very close to "lesbianism is only attraction to *a very specific type of (white) woman*" and I really need young white lesbians to read about political lesbianism so they can see this

I don't want to hear "not all lesbians" or "well then they aren't welcome" because every time this rhetoric goes unchallenged you are actively welcoming these people to continue it and make it more and more extreme. Yes, even the kind that seems to have nothing to do with racism

Almost all of your exclusionary rhetoric is based on the racist ideas of political lesbianism and I do not know why you all cannot see that they want to move goalposts. It wasn't just bi lesbians, it wasn't just he/him lesbians, it wasn't just nonbinary lesbians. It's a tactic.

It really feels like young lesbians are not only letting us go backwards, but encouraging it. And that's thanks in part to the historical racism of political lesbianism, but many of these people ARE old enough to think critically and talk to people who've been through this.

So far I've seen this in younger lesbian spaces; the ones with older generations (the ones that don't welcome TERFs) have been pretty welcoming even if not totally understanding, because they at least recognize that you don't need to understand someone's experience to validate it.

But I'm really concerned for the young Indigenous lesbians who don't feel comfortable around older people and are going to these younger lesbian spaces only to be indoctrinated with thinly veiled TERF rhetoric. It makes me very concerned for our spaces as well.

So I'll say again

I am not a non-man and I am not a non-woman. I'm not defined by what I am not. I do not ascribe to your binary-centric definitions of queerness. I experience queer attraction to women. I'm a lesbian. You do not get to use community to decide my individuality.

Thread by ~Alitsanosga

Pronouns: hi'a/vsgina/utseli/uwasa

[mxrecg]

True Love vs Infatuation | Gojo x Reader

Summary: Gojo loves nothing more than spending time with you, even if it only consists of doing the most mundane of things. It wasn't until today, you realized just how much Gojo Satoru loves you.

Pairing: High School Gojo x YN

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2.4k

A/n: Imma be so honest idk wtf this is but I wrote it a hellaaa long time ago. So bc JJK s2 is out I thought why not post this drabble I wrote a long ass time ago. I also genuinely think this prolly isn't how canon Gojo would act but bruh I tried!! Anyways enjoy

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

Incandescent fireflies painted the dark sky with small flakes of light, creating an enriched serene atmosphere for reading. 

So there you sat cross-legged, outside your balcony, fully engrossed by the book you were reading. 

You slowly became hypnotised by the words allocated within the pages of the novel you were reading.

As your eyes further loomed through the pages and comprehended the context, your eyebrows furrowed in irritation and cuss words occasionally left your lips. 

Lost and captivated by the words decorating the interior pages of the book, you paid no mind to the snoring boy who laid down on your lap. 

You continued reading the story. Book in your dominant hand; whereas, the other one gently massaged the scalp of the teenage boy on your lap. 

Page after page began to turn, and soon enough you’ve reached the final page… to say you were disappointed was an understatement. 

Angered at the ending, you immediately slammed the book down on a coffee table and debated on whether or not you should ignite it on fire for illustrating such a realistic yet heartbreaking ending. 

Your sudden outburst lured the teenage boy out of his sleep, and he groaned, carelessly rubbing his eyes during his tired state. 

“Did one of your favourite manga boys die again?” he asked, now fully sitting up and stretching his arms. 

“You’re not entirely wrong,” you aggravatedly muttered. 

“Then tell me what’s aggravating your pretty self and giving you wrinkles,” he stated and you didn’t even bother showing your irritation to the latter comment. 

You took a deep breath, turned your head and he watched as your eyes became livid as you recited the vast difference of each character’s milieu and how their fate perfectly intertwined with one another. 

Your hands doing all sorts of motions, in an attempt to exemplify your extreme dislike and sadness of the poetic story you read. 

A story involving two individuals who unconsciously were ameliorating each other’s lives.

“It’s infuriating Satoru!! Did these two airheads even love each other?? It hasn’t even been like 24 hours and the girl is already marrying the man who was bawling his eyes over another girl- love of my life my ass,”

Satoru listened to your outburst intently, smiling at the sounds of your melodic voice. 

You let out a small huff of frustration, before finally ending your rant and the tears suddenly cascaded down your pale skin, “That being said, the author is able to write damn well.” 

Satoru only laughed quietly, wiping away your stray tears with his right hand, “I thought you hated sad romantic books? Why would you willingly choose to read Shakespere? At least watch the movie instead,” he replied and began playing with your hair. 

His reply caught you off guard and you tilted your head in confusion, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You know what book I’m talking about?” you asked incredulously.  

“Yes… why do you look so shocked?” he asked, continuing to brush the threads of your h/l h/c hair, “It’s Romeo and Juliet, how could I not know? I swear Shoto was straight up fangirling about the movie actor-Da Vinci!!” 

“Da Vinci?” you replied, flicking his forehead and trying to hide your growing amusement, causing the man to pout his lips, “How the hell would a painter act? A dead painter at that.”

“No- no Leonardo Da Vinci the actor-”

It took every fibre in you to not burst out laughing at the moron in front of you, “My love, listen to me carefully- it's Di Caprio. Da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa.” 

The man in front of you scoffed at your reply. 

“Da Vinci. Di Caprio, who cares. They’re both Leo’s involved in the art industry of the world. You must admit though, neither of them compare to me!” he said proudly. 

“I don’t know…. Leonardo Di Caprio does seem to have a lot of fangirls right now…. I mean have you seen him in Romeo and Juliet? Or better yet, Titanic?”

The man only poked the interior of his cheek with his tongue, scowling at you as you laughed. 

“The real question is though- did you read the book?”

“Yes,” he let out, not missing a beat. 

“The Satoru Gojo reads? The world must be ending,” you teased, clasping one of his hands and using your other hand to caress his cheek. 

Satoru didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned into your hand and softly smiled. 

His eyes soon twinkled into amusement, as an idea struck him. 

Noticing the change of his behaviour, you lifted an eyebrow to display your confusion. Satoru remained silent and instead flipped you over, so that your back was pressed against the couch. 

He smirked, straddling your hips and began tickling your sides. 

Squirming under his touch, you burst into fits of laughter, “T-toru…. S-stop….” you tried to breathe out, “Gojo- p-please hahahaha.”

Your pleas only encouraged him to tickle you faster, and you soon began to kick your feet, thrashing beneath the man as if your strength could overpower his. 

“Say Gojo Satoru is the strongest person in the world,” he smiled, continuing his attack. 

“I’d rather die,” you said in between heaps of laughter.

The man poked the interior of his cheek before smirking at you, a playful smile adorning his face as he continued with his attack. 

“Being tickled to death. Hm that seems new, I’ll discard your body so don’t worry, suit yourself,” he replied and grazed his fingers at your newly exposed skin, since your shirt slowly began to ride up above your navel. 

“Ok ok… Gojo… is the… strongest person….” 

“Go on, continue,” he encouraged. 

Despite the laughter escaping your lips, forcing your eyes shut, you already sensed the cockiness behind his words and you immediately laughed harder when you thought of something that would catch him off guard. 

“Gojo- i-is… the… strongest….” you stuttered out. 

“Altogether, now, state the full name,” he stated. Although, it seemed more like a command than a request. 

“OK!! Gojo Y/n is the strongest person in the world,” you spurred out in one quick breath. 

Impressed with the turn of events and his lack of words, you could not help but smirk- considering you made this cocky guy lose his demeanour. 

His tickling immediately ceased, his irises resembling a deer caught in the headlights, and his mouth slowly falling open. 

Gojo was in disbelief, as he tried to ensure his hearing wasn’t deteriorating and the words that escaped your mouth not too long ago were not a part of his mere illusive imagination.

Before he could recover and say some snide snarky remark, you grabbed Satoru’s shirt, pulling him down with you against the cushions of the couch you resided on. 

The action took him by surprise, but he didn't refuse and instead grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him, with his arms eventually caging you beneath him. 

He licked your bottom lip, and you found yourself parting your mouth slightly, both your tongues intertwining with one another. 

Caressing your cheek, he then began to angle your head more towards the left, and did not hesitate to bite your bottom lip shortly after. 

You hissed at the new sensation, and Gojo immediately attempted to alleviate the now burning sensation on your lips by running his lips over the new forming bruise. 

You were the first to pull back to breathe. As the both of you attempted to even out your breathing, one of your hands caressed his dusted pink cheeks, while the other one removed his sunglasses, revealing those piercing icy blue eyes you fell in love with. 

He looked at you with such love and adoration that you could not help but feel butterflies swarming around your stomach. 

Your e/c eyes looked up at his illuminating bright blue ones and you smiled, “I’m the strongest person in the world, Toru.”

“That you are,” he replied, kissing your nose. 

“You’re not even going to rebuttal and be the cocky bastard you usually are?” You questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re the strongest… The strongest doesn’t necessarily mean having the most power. It’s your character. Plus you got me… not just anyone could make me fall in love with them. You have my tall ass whipped around your finger.” 

You stared at your boyfriend, in awe and bursted out laughing. “We’re both strong. How about that?” 

“Mhm. We’re the top two strongest special grade sorcerers to exist, and for the next century to come” he muttered and buried himself into your neck, as he was now fully lying down on you. 

You laughed at his reply, “Your best friend might not like that statement so much,” 

“... I mean you’re also my best friend and technically you’re stronger than him, not by a longshot but still stronger nonetheless… and I couldn’t be more proud of you,” he mumbled and kissed your neck. 

You quietly hummed in reply, and began to softly hymn the songs of a soft lullaby.

Satoru was still lying on top of you, and as the melody escaped your lips, your fingers threaded his soft white hair. 

Gojo Satoru was at peace. This cocky bastard was like putty in your hands, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

To others his exterior forecasted a childish, arrogant and conceited individual. One who would blatantly show his dislike to those who he did not give an ounce of care for. 

And to the shaman and other sorcerers who only knew his name, he was a force to be reckoned with and feared. 

But to you, he was only Gojo Satoru. 

“Y/n?” he called out softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know, I love you, right?” his face may have been hiding in your neck, but you could feel him smiling. 

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden comment, but even you couldn’t stop the smile threatening to form, “I know. And I love you too, forever and always,” 

“You didn’t lie though earlier,” he randomly stated, “One day, your new name will become Gojo Y/n.”

“Satoru…” you whispered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“One day, I’ll marry you… and when we’re older you'll become the mother of our children.”

“One day Satoru, one day,” you replied, kissing his temple. “By the way, since when did you even read- romance books?” 

You felt his breathing hitch and he slowly pried himself off of you, aimlessly scratching the back of his head. 

“Uhm… like two years ago?” 

“Why though?”

“About two years ago,  there was a new transfer student. I noticed she was eloquently spoken, especially in English-”

“Eloquently spoken??” You asked, trying to suppress your laughter. 

“Shut up and let me finish,”

You covered your mouth and smiled. 

“Anyways, I was coming back from a mission and stuffing my face with an assortment of sweets. Then I heard you and Shoko talking about romance novels, and how you liked guys that read… so the first book I picked up was some corny romance manga and then I read Romeo and Juliet. Shitty book that I barely understood but happy ending I guess.” 

“So you only started reading because you overheard me talk about it?” you pinched his cheeks, “Aw, first year Gojo Satoru was so whipped and in love, how sweet” 

Satoru only rolled his eyes at your statement, and you bursted out laughing as you remembered his attempts to woo you back in your first year. 

“I thought you barely had any hobbies?” you asked. 

“I don’t. Because I’m good at everything.” 

“Yet you still chose to pick up reading of all things?” you slightly laughed. 

“I would pick up any hobby if you asked me to, honestly.”

“No offence, but if that is where you got your romance from you did a shitty job, love.” you giggled. 

“Ouch,” he replied,  “But hey it went pretty well, you’re mine now anyways.” 

 “That you are,” You replied, kissing his nose. “So if you read the book and I assume you also watched the movie, do you understand my pain?” 

“100% Romeo is an airhead. He was probably just horny and infatuated with the first female he saw,” he bluntly stated and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, Satoru joining in on your laughter. 

As your laughs began to die down he continued, “On a serious note though… Whether or not it was love, their actions prove that they did love each other. I guess love really does make you blind, their suicide only proved that.”

“Tragic ending?” 

“Not really… in a way, I believe it’s a happy ending- that is, assuming those two airheads were actually in love with each other.”

“Did you not hear me muttering cuss words when reading and slamming the book? If you asked me, that book was nothing but aggravating and sad.” 

“Sad as their death was, it was a happy ending. They claimed to have met their soulmate and the love of their life before they died. Not everyone gets that luxury you know?” 

You looked at your boyfriend with both amazement and confusion, “Since when were you so wise?” 

“I don’t even know, love. But I’m not wrong…. Our story would be much happier though, because neither of us are gonna die.”

“You spoke nothing but the truth,” you quietly replied and the two of you began leaning into each other once again. 

“Who knew Satoru could be such a wise lil baby,” said a voice, laughing. 

The two of you immediately pulled away, and looked up to see no one other than Geto Suguru, the poor third wheeler of your relationship. 

“Suguru… how long have you been there for?” you asked. 

“Enough to know that this man loves you way too much… to the point where he knows his feelings for you aren’t infatuation but solid feelings.” 

While you were a blushing mess, Gojo only smiled and smacked his best friend on his back, “Okay enough chit chat, why don’t we all get something to eat, yeah? I suggest-” 

“Steak. We’re eating steak tonight at that new restaurant. You both are paying. It’s the least you could do for making me witness such crap.” 

“You’re just mad because you’re single, bro”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you agreed. 

“Shut the actual fuck, both of you lovebirds.”

The three of you then laughed and made your way to the restaurant of Suguru’s choice.

A/n: So any thoughts? I hope you all liked it <3 Ngl, this does have another part to it, but idk if I'll ever post it tbh. Follow me on my ao3 account I have other ffs there too @idekmxre

[sister-lucifer]

Genre: Smut 

Summary: Reader finds an antique Jack-In-The-Box at a yard sale, unaware that by purchasing it they would also be taking home an unwanted guest. 

Content/Warnings: Dubcon elements, horror elements, LJ being a stalker creep (so some non con voyeurism), LJ is just fucking weird in this one, clown fucking shenanigans, big stripey clown dick and also long stripey clown tongue, comically large clown penis, LJ eats ass, LJ is massive so big size difference, tummy bulge, that dick should NOT be able to fit in you but it’s my story i can bend the laws of anatomy however i wish, LJ is very mean in this one and doesn’t really care if he hurts you, some degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is kind of a slut boy (same), there’s a lot of build up but please it’s worth it i prommy (but also feel free to skip to the porn that’s totally fair)

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Jack is british just fyi so if you’re like me and you read with accents there you go!

The antique jack-in-the-box was certainly an odd find at a garage sale, but there was no denying that it caught your eye the moment you saw it. It was incredibly ornate, clearly hand painted in all black and white and decorated with balloons and candy, not to mention it was preserved wonderfully for a piece that had, presumably, been stored in an attic for who knows how long. You could run your fingers over the edges and feel every detail of the tediously carved borders. You carefully turned the wooden box over in your hands, looking over the large, carefully painted words on the front:

“Laughing Jack In The Box!”, surrounded by all sorts of patterns and shapes.

Your face immediately lit up. Everything about this box screamed one of a kind. You could already see it sitting on your collectors shelf, safe behind the glass for you to keep and observe. You absolutely had to have it. 

“Excuse me miss?” You called, looking around for the old woman who was running the garage sale. She got up from her lawn chair and made her way over about as fast as you’d expect from one as antique as some of the items currently being sold. 

“Could you tell me about this jack-in-the-box?” You asked, trying to hide your elation. 

“Oh, this old thing…” She began, looking at you over her comically oversized glasses. “It belonged to my great, great grandfather, Isaac, and was handmade by his father. It was given to me as a young girl, and I was keeping it in the hopes I could pass it on to my own children.” 

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the comment, but it seems the woman had no qualms about selling it. 

“Well, it may please you to know that I’m an antique collector,” You explained in an effort to reassure her. “This is a beautiful piece. If you’ll sell it to me, I can promise you it’ll be safe on my shelf.” 

“Oh, I have no worries about that. No one would pick this old thing up unless they knew what they were buying. So, what’s your offer young man?” 

You thought for a few moments, weighing the box in your hands. You didn’t want to completely rip her off, but a one of a kind antique like this could go for thousands in the right place, and you weren’t looking to break the bank for this thing. Besides, who else would possibly buy it if you didn’t? 

You pulled your wallet out and flipped through it, debating with yourself. 

“How about…a clean fifty?” 

And with that, a deal was made. Before you knew it you were proudly walking back to your car with the box tucked under your arm. You placed it carefully in the front passenger seat where you could watch over it, glancing back one last time to the now empty place on the table where the box once sat before driving away. 

Immediately upon getting home you rushed to your room and swung open your shelf, eyes scanning over every row as you tried to find the best place for your newest treasure. It took a bit of rearranging to keep the shelf organized to your liking, but eventually you were able to place the box neatly right in the middle. You carefully closed the glass door and took a few steps back to admire your work. It was absolute perfection, and you couldn’t stop yourself from happily clapping your hands together. You deserved to applaud yourself a bit, after all. 

You flopped down on your bed and grabbed your phone, eager to share your find with anyone who would listen, giddy with excitement. You really couldn’t believe how lucky you were! No one else would ever lay hands on a jack-in-the-box like this one, and now it was all yours. 

As the hours of the afternoon dissolved into the night, you found yourself peeking into your room just about every time you walked past. You smiled wide whenever you saw the pristine box sitting on your shelf. It was especially beautiful when the sun hit it just right and made it shine. Your chest was still swelling with pride even as you climbed into bed for the night, able to peacefully fall asleep knowing that you’d filled another spot on your shelf today. 

Unbeknownst to you, you had just given up the privilege of peaceful sleep. 

That night you had one of the worst, most vivid nightmares you could remember. 

You were standing in your room late at night, and everything seemed deathly silent, as if all the birds and insects that would normally be chirping outside had up and died off. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked around in confusion. You tried to turn on your lamp, but it wouldn’t come on. Trying the light switch yielded the same distressing result. You moved to open the door, but the moment you reached out for the knob it disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. When you turned back, your bedroom window was gone too. Both of your escape routes had dissolved into thin air without so much as a sound. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your eyes slowly wandered to the jack-in-the-box. It was the only object left on your now open collectors shelf, but it seemed to take up so much more space than before. It had captured your gaze in an iron grip, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t look away. A terrible feeling began to bubble in the pit of your stomach, becoming heavier and heavier until you felt as though you may collapse from the weight, but nothing was happening. Something about the box itself felt so…malicious, so threatening, but it was simply sitting dormant on your shelf. 

What were you so scared of? 

That was the question replaying in your mind when you woke with a start, nearly falling out of your bed in your disoriented state. You shot straight up as you fought to catch your breath, taking a look around just to make sure your window and door were still there. Fortunately, they were. It really was just a nightmare. 

A wave of relief washed over you as you slowly laid back down. You took an extra minute to catch your breath, silently scolding yourself for being so easily scared. You turned your head to look out the window, now noticing the very first little shreds of the dawn coming up over the horizon. 

However, you noticed something else as well. Something that set off just a bit of unease in you. 

The glass door of your shelf was open. 

Not wide open, or broken, just slightly cracked as if it hadn’t been closed all the way and was now just barely ajar. You could’ve sworn you shut it all the way, you could even remember hearing the little click.

But we all make mistakes, don’t we?

That seemed enough of an explanation to calm you as you slipped out of bed to close the shelf once more. This time you double checked, just to be sure. When you were satisfied you went back to bed, finding sleep rather easily and this time without incident. 

When you awoke some hours later you couldn’t help but question which parts of the night were a dream and which were reality. The memories of when you had woken up the first time were hazy, not to mention you were still shaken up from the nightmare. You tried to push it out of your mind, though, when you found your shelf securely closed and seemingly untouched. That was really all that mattered. 

It seems you had the green light to go about your day as usual. 

First thing’s first: you need to change out of your nightclothes. The stained band tee and baggy sweats would not cut it for running errands. You decided on something that would be comfortable for the day, but still made you feel confident and happy with yourself. 

As you undressed you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate yourself in the mirror, standing there in just your boxer briefs. You ran a hand over your sides, turning around halfway as you admired your own figure. It was a silly habit to have, really, but what was it hurting? After all, you were one handsome man. You deserved to be seen. 

You weren’t the only one who thought this, and you certainly weren’t the only one who enjoyed admiring you. 

Completely hidden out of your view, just how he liked, two achromatic pinwheel eyes spun manically behind the shadows of the jack-in-the-box. He only had to lift the box just slightly, so little that you would never notice, and even if you did you would likely brush it off as your imagination. Jack was skilled like that, able to slowly lure his victims into madness in such a way that they wouldn’t notice until it was too late. 

You, though, had caught his attention in a slightly different manner. 

You had piqued his interest the moment you picked up his box, handling it with a curious yet careful manner. For generations he had been packed away in dusty attics and grimy basements and long forgotten storage units, completely disgraced by the family line that was supposed to cherish him. But you had plucked him from that miserable cycle, dusted him off, and placed him carefully on your shelf in a secure little spot where you could see each other every day. 

This was certainly unusual behavior. 

That ache of contempt that he felt for nearly everyone else somehow had yet to creep in. On some level, Jack was just as curious about you has you had been about him, and now he was safe behind the glass to keep and observe you as he saw fit. Human bodies in particular had always been an odd interest of his seeing as they looked so different from his own. Seeing you flaunt yours so proudly with no one else around was honestly a bit amusing. 

He watched silently as you slipped on your day clothes, turning around a couple more times in the mirror and adjusting your outfit a bit before finally deciding you were happy. He didn’t slip back down into his box until he heard your car pulling out of the driveway. 

He sat there with himself for some few hours while you were gone. He had lost any sense of time at this point, used to spending his days alone in his box. Although, this time, there was one reoccurring theme that all his thoughts seemed to circle back to: 

You. 

What made exactly you so interesting, hm? He could venture a vague guess, but something was just…different. His affinity for humans had long since waned to nothing nearly two centuries ago, and yet a small part of it was beginning to stir in him once more. 

It seemed this would require further observation, which was certainly no issue to him. 

You, on the other hand, were blissfully unaware that you were currently sharing your humble abode. There were a few times when the events of the earlier night managed to worm its way back into your mind, but you always managed to push it away. You were simply being silly, that was all. It was a random occurrence with absolutely no significance. 

Yeah, sure, that made enough sense. 

By the time you were unlocking your front door, you had been lucky enough to truly forget about your nightmare. It seemed that you had finally calmed yourself and managed to stay grounded. 

At least you had until you stepped through the door. 

The second you had both feet in the doorway, the nightmare came rushing back in vivid flashes. It felt like your grocery bags were filled with cement, your limbs suddenly going weak. Your entire body had gone stiff, paralyzed with an indescribable sense of anxiety, the feeling that something was terribly, deeply wrong in your home. 

You swept through the whole house and found not a single thing out of place, though every time you turned a corner you were sure you’d see something you didn’t want to.

No smashed in windows, no kicked in doors, nothing taken or broken, no other sign of an intruder. Nothing that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.

Then why was your stomach churning with the same heavy dread you’d felt in the nightmare? 

You wracked your brain as you tried to figure out what could possibly be making you feel so uneasy in your own home, but nothing came to mind. Even as you put away your groceries you were mumbling and muttering to yourself, attempting to fetch any semblance of an explanation. 

Nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

Jack was more than happy to watch you spin yourself into a tizzy over his little tricks. He giggled to himself when you paced back and forth where he could see you outside the doorway of your room, proud to see he hadn’t lost his mischievous touch. 

You felt absolutely exhausted by the time you were trudging your way to your room, the subtle thrum of an oncoming headache already threatening to floor you for the rest of the day. You were so drained, in fact, that you had to do a double take to realize that your collector’s shelf had been completely opened. 

Not just creaked open like last time, completely opened. If it had been pushed any farther, the hinges would’ve snapped. 

You stared in disbelief, mouth hanging half open. You couldn’t even will yourself to move. It felt someone had just lit a match to the pile of questions that had been accumulating in the back of your mind. As if on autopilot, you walked over numbly and shut the glass door of the shelf. This time, you triple checked that it was shut. 

Of course, this time you weren’t satisfied with that. 

The first thing you did once you had thrown on sweats and laid down was go to order a lock for the shelf online. You even paid extra to make sure it would be delivered the next day. After all, the last thing you needed was one of your prized possessions falling out and breaking. 

Yes, that was the very normal, rational reason why you needed a lock. 

You sighed with exhaustion as you struggled to get comfortable in your bed, figuring maybe a nap would help you recharge a bit. By some miracle you actually managed to fall asleep, and by another you slept peacefully for a full hour uninterrupted. 

Damn, you needed that. You actually felt better when you woke up, stretching and cracking your back a few times before getting up. 

Suddenly your fearful reaction earlier seemed so silly! Why were you so upset anyways? Because of a bad dream and a dingy old shelf? How stupid. Really, you were lucky you lived alone. If anyone had seen you like that they’d think you were crazy, irrational, completely out of your—

The shelf is open again. 

The fucking shelf is open again, and the box has moved an entire shelf down on its own. 

The box has moved on its own. 

You were suddenly feeling light headed. 

You sat back down on your bed, your head already beginning to ache once more. You were dizzy, confused, struggling to find your bearings in reality. You held your head in your hands as you tried to take a breather. Part of you hoped that if you simply looked away then back up, maybe the problem would fix itself.

No such luck. 

You groaned with frustration, practically stomping over to your shelf. You moved the box back to its original place in a quick and jumpy manner, as if it was burning hot and it would hurt to hold onto it for too long. This time you quadruple checked that it had been closed properly, and even threw a blanket over the shelf to cover it. 

It wasn’t a fix, but it could at least give you some semblance of security. 

“Stupid broken thing…” You muttered to yourself, speed walking out of your room to head to the kitchen where hopefully a snack could distract you. 

Jack was giddy with excitement, unable to stop himself from snickering with smug self-satisfaction. It had been so long since he had someone to play with, and you were so fun to scare it almost felt too easy. 

He would have to play his next cards perfectly, though, if he wanted to keep this up. 

He didn’t mess with you at all the rest of the day, even when he really, really wanted to. You peaked into your room every time you walked by, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the shelf was exactly as you’d left it every time. 

Maybe, you thought for the umpteenth time, you really were just being irrational. You didn’t even have another nightmare that night, and when you awoke the shelf was still closed with the blanket untouched on top of it. 

When the lock came in that day you wondered for a bit if you really needed it, but ultimately decided it was better to be over-prepared than under. You could finally remove the blanket cover on the shelf, feeling much better now that you could properly shut and lock it. You stored the key away in the drawer of your nightstand where you knew it would be safe. 

For you, it seemed like everything was finally back to normal again. 

For Jack, this was the perfect opportunity to increase his antics tenfold. He was becoming more and more impatient, wanting to badly to properly greet you, and with each scare he only felt himself grow stronger. He was feeding on your anguish, allowing it to fuel him until eventually he would be ready to come out and play. 

For the next few weeks, Jack made you sure you found absolutely no peace. He was relentless and cruel, even by his standards. He broke your stupid little lock, and the two others you ordered after that. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d made you shut the glass door to the shelf again. Whenever you tried to cover him with the blanket, he let you know he was particularly upset with you by not only swinging the shelf door wide open, but moving his box right to your bedside table. That way, he got to see your terror up close when you jolted awake, nearly tripping over yourself to get away when you saw the box a mere couple of feet from your face. He made the house creak and jump every time you got a moment of quiet. Hell, he was petty enough to mess with the thermostat when you were out, meaning you got to return home to a freezing cold or blistering heat that was surely running up your bill. Speaking of running up your bills, it wasn’t unusual for Jack to leave the water running either. 

The thing that got to you the most, though, was the incessant nightmares.

God, they never stopped. 

They were almost all the same: 

You’d be trapped somewhere familiar, like your room or a store you’d been at that day. You’d be completely alone and no lights would work, and when you tried to leave all the doors and windows would disappear. And every time, every goddamn time, that jack-in-the-box would be sitting there to greet you when you turned around. That was by far the worst part. Just looking at it would make you weak and nauseous, but you always woke up just before you’d collapse. Whenever you awoke from your nightmares you tried to take comfort in the sunrise beginning to slowly come up over the horizon, but deep down you knew the daylight could no longer save you. 

Each day you woke up more exhausted than the last, too tired to go anywhere but not able to stand being in your house with whatever entity was making your life hell. 

On the contrary, Jack was merely becoming more and more energetic every day. He hadn’t felt this eager in a long, long time. He was even feeling a bit bold, working up the courage once or twice to open the shelf while you were in the room. That scared you the most, making you jump with fear and scramble out of the room as fast as you could. 

He knew you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. You could leave for the day, sure, but sooner or later you’d have to come back home. The stars must’ve aligned for him to find you, the perfect little plaything that could never really escape and gave him endless entertainment. You were certainly a funny one. 

Although, there were times he enjoyed simply watching you just as much as tormenting you. 

Countless times he’d find himself occupied with quietly observing you as if you were a completely foreign creature. He’d peak out of his box to watch you toss and turn at night, to watch you dress in the morning, and he even got to see you walk back from your showers a few times. You looked so soft, even from this far away, with so many places for him to grab and squeeze and wrap his massive claws around. 

It was shameful, really. Or it should’ve been at least. Jack didn’t know the meaning of the word. All he knew was that the urge to reach out and grab you in his claws was growing stronger, and fast. His already minimal patience was beginning to thin, and he knew that soon it would run out completely. Watching you from afar wouldn’t be enough. 

But that was okay. 

He was finally ready to properly greet you, and he knew exactly how he’d do it. 

That night you experienced one of the usual terrors, but this time you couldn’t recognize the room. It looked to be the bedroom of a victorian mansion with tall wooden walls decorated with dusty paintings that seemed to go up forever, closing you in on all sides. A child’s toys were scattered around the room, and the blankets on the bed had been tussled and pushed around. It was clear someone had been living here, but who? And why were you in a room you had never seen before? 

And why, God— 

Why was that jack-in-the-box still sitting on the shelf? And why was the crank turning on its own, playing the quiet, foreboding tune of “Pop Goes The Weasel?” 

The feeling of dread that filled you was nothing new, but what you didn’t expect was to see the box slowly open as the crank continued to turn.

The movement wasn’t sudden, but it was absolutely shocking, so much so that you fell back onto your hands. You tried to scoot backwards, to somehow get away, but you couldn’t move. All you could do was watch as the lid of the box clicked into its open place, and a dark shape began to emerge. 

It took a moment for you to figure out what you were looking at. The shape had sharp edges and moved slowly, in a controlled manner. It wrapped around the edge of the box and tapped against it. 

It was a hand. 

A massive hand with pitch black claws, each nearly as large as your palm, much too big to belong to something that should’ve been able to fit in that box. 

A second clawed hand reached up, grabbing onto the opposite side of the box. They looked to be pulling up the rest of the body. 

You watched, mouth agape in silent horror as the claws were followed by long striped sleeves, then a head and face covered by long black hair that fell past broad shoulders, until eventually the entire body had dragged itself out of the box. The creature sat there limply with its limbs bent unnaturally as if its own body was too heavy for it to move. There was one thing about it, though, that made your blood run cold: 

Above a sharp toothed smile that was stretched impossibly wide were two achromatic pinwheel eyes, spinning manically behind a curtain of dark hair. They pierced your soul with their stare, almost seeming to glow in the dark.

There was a split second where you knew you were about to wake up, but the sight before you when you forced your eyes open was so similar to your nightmare that you weren’t sure it had worked. 

That…thing from your dream was hovering over you. 

Its visage was completely clear to you now, hair falling around its face and on either side of your head as it peered down at you. A single glance towards its body showed it was even bigger up close, easily twice your size. It resembled some sort of clown, in line with the theme of the jack-in-the-box, but nothing about it seemed comforting or humorous. 

Your first instinct was to thrash, but you couldn’t move. The clown had pinned your arms down with its massive claws, not even flinching when you tried to fight it off. It took no effort to hold you down. 

Its razor-toothed mouth began to crack open, and for a second you expected it to lunge forward and end it all with one fatal snap of its jaws. 

But that didn’t happen.

No, instead… 

It laughed.

The laugh itself didn’t even sound malicious or evil. In any other context it could easily be mistaken as an innocent giggle, a sound you might make when you saw something particularly cute. 

That was what you were to Jack: 

Cute. 

But not in the way you’d think. 

You were cute in the way a helpless, injured animal is cute. 

Cute in the way that something you could hold in the palm of your hand is cute. 

Cute in the way that something you knew you had complete control over is cute. 

Cute in a pathetic, pitiful way that Jack loved. 

He had waited so long to have his fun with you, he was trembling with excitement. 

“Oooh, there you are!” Jack spoke in a lighthearted tone, drawing out his words in a playful manner. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to sound like, but it definitely wasn’t that. You couldn’t decide if his oddly happy demeanor and sing-song tone with the cartoonish lilt of his accent was more or less frightening than the classic demonic voice of a supernatural killer.

Suddenly something uncomfortably wet slid from your shoulder to your cheek, and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you realized it was his tongue. 

It was impossibly long and had the same striped pattern as his sleeves, moving in a much too articulated manner, as if it was another limb. You watched with wide eyes at it slowly retracted back into his mouth with a sickening wet sound. You could imagine it coiled up in there like a snake; after all, that was the only feasible way it should’ve been able to fit back in his mouth. 

“You taste even better than I imagined…” The clown continued, taking no notice of (or at least not caring about) your discomfort. “You’ve been teasing ol’ Jack, haven’t you?” 

“J…Jack?” You echoed in a whisper. You could hardly hear your own meek voice. 

He only chuckled in response, taking great delight in hearing you say his name. 

One of his hands released your arm, though you didn’t dare move either way. It slowly slid its way under your oversized nightshirt, pushing it above your chest and exposing your entire midriff. Both of his hands ran along your sides slowly, two claw-tipped thumbs barely scraping over your skin. Just a bit more pressure could’ve drawn blood, and it wouldn’t even take much effort on Jack’s part. 

You tried not to move, to not even breathe, terrified that one wrong move would get you torn to shreds. You could imagine one razor sharp talon digging into your chest and dragging to your stomach, slicing you open in a mess of gore and intestines and oh, God—

You winced when Jack’s tongue unfurled once more, this time running from your navel all the way to your chest. It left a cold trail of saliva that made you shiver. You had to turn your head away, unable to look at Jack any longer, only to yelp in pain when you felt the sharp sting of a bite.

When you looked down again you were greeted with Jack’s smug grin. 

“Pay attention to me and I won’t have to do that again.” He ordered, unblinking stare piercing through you. The tone of the demand was almost whiny, like he would throw a tantrum if he didn’t get his way.

“Wh…What the hell do you want?” You choked out. 

Jack didn’t answer. It would be more fun to watch you figure it out on your own. 

He adjusted you in his hold, allowing him to sit up as he moved to grasp your thighs. It was then you realized you’d neglected to put on any actual pants before bed, your lower half clad only in your boxer briefs which were doing very little to keep you modest, especially as Jack lifted your clothed bulge closer to his eager mouth. 

“W-Wait—!”

But your plea came a moment too late, and any other attempt at words died in your throat when you felt Jack’s tongue run over your cock through your boxers. 

“Shit—! Jesus Christ…” You huffed, “What the fuck…are you doing…?” 

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip and watched helplessly as Jack’s tongue ran over you once more, making you tense as you felt your cock twitch. Damn, that felt good…

You really shouldn’t have been enjoying this. Especially not this much. You expected to be much more disgusted, and yet you weren’t. In fact, there was a little voice in the back of your head that was eager to take much more. 

But what choice did you have, really? 

Jack certainly had no intention of stopping, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere. Besides, for all you knew you’d wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a shameful wet dream.

You tried to relax a bit in his grip, which proved difficult when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you alive. 

Before you could blink Jack had suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, making quick work of your boxers with one swipe of his claws. The sound of ripping fabric caught you off guard, and everything happened so fast you weren’t sure what had happened until you felt Jack’s tongue run over the bare back of your thighs. 

“Oh my God—!” You cried out, barely managing to muffle yourself with a pillow. You held it tight against your face, and even had to bite down on it in an attempt to stop yourself from screaming when Jack slipped his tongue inside of you.

It felt even longer than it looked, squirming inside of you and leaving absolutely no spot untouched. Every time you thought he couldn’t possibly go any deeper, he somehow did, filling you with his tongue until you couldn’t fit anymore. A shame, really; he had lots more to offer, but he couldn’t expect much from such a little human. 

His hands were easily large enough to grasp your waist and hold you against his mouth. You had no way of knowing, but Jack was more than aware of his own strength, even taking care to make sure he didn’t pierce you with his nails. You’d be much for fun alive, after all. Although, this didn’t mean he didn’t have a bit of fun scaring you, occasionally giving a rough squeeze just to feel you flinch. He was thoroughly invested in tasting every inch of you, but that didn’t mean he’d stop toying with you at every opportunity. 

Despite his hold on you, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing desperately in his hands. You weren’t trying to fight him, but the sensation of his tongue wriggling around so deep inside of you was certainly an odd one. Your cock was already throbbing between your legs and dripping precum onto your sheets. There was a nagging urge to reach down and give your needy member some much needed attention, but you couldn’t force yourself to release your painful grip on your blanket. It was the only thing providing you any sort of purchase. 

Jack was making quite the show of eating you out as well, moaning and slurping in a rather dramatic manner. He certainly wasn’t afraid of being noisy, though he made sure to stay quiet enough to listen to your encouraging noises. You sounded so desperate and needy, he just couldn’t get enough. You became especially loud when he began to slowly move his tongue in and out. He could even feel you squeeze around it, and it made his cock ache as he imagined what it would feel like to finally be inside of you. 

You shuddered when Jack finally retracted his tongue, his saliva completely soaking your hole and beginning to run down your legs, leaving you now feeling thoroughly stretched but unpleasantly empty. He only let you rest as long as it took for him to close and wipe his mouth before he was manhandling you once more, this time flipping you into your previous position on your back. It happened so fast that just the impact of your head on the pillow made you dizzy. 

When you looked up again Jack had leaned back a bit, looking down at his hands as he unbuckled his suspenders and soon after his pants. You followed his gaze just in time to see his own massive length spring free from his trousers. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was bigger than anything you’d ever even imagined, and suddenly you felt embarrassingly inadequate. It too was striped, and shaped in such a way that you could easily tell it was a cock but definitely not a human one. He laid it over your stomach and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size. It was thick and heavy too, throbbing eagerly against your skin. 

“W-Woah, wait, no way—“ You stuttered, attempting to crawl backwards and away from Jack. “That’s fucking giant, holy shit…You can’t— T-That won’t—“ 

“Shhhhh!” Jack interrupted as he roughly pulled you back to him, “Calm down, you whiny little thing. You’ll be fine.” 

You only whimpered in reply, watching with bated breath as he spread your legs wide to make room for his cock. He groaned with delight when his leaking tip brushed against your waiting hole.

“A-At least be careful…!” You pleaded in a last-ditch effort to earn yourself some mercy. 

“I make no promises.” Jack replied shortly, as if he was annoyed with your request. Maybe it was a bit cruel to be so careless, but surely you were being dramatic. Humans were meant to stretch, right? Surely you weren’t that fragile.

The noise that struggled out of your mouth when he forced himself into you was downright inhuman, followed by a string of curses and other equally nasty exclamations of the sort that could’ve barred you from getting you into heaven all on their own. Not that you were going either way at this point. 

When Jack had finally filled you as much as he could, only about two thirds of his cock had managed to disappear inside of you. That was still rather impressive, all things considered, and it’s not like he could complain. Your tight hole squeezed around him in all the right places. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You repeated under your breath as you tried to adjust to Jack’s size, a borderline impossible task. 

“Foul mouthed one, aren’t you?” He scolded, grabbing your chin roughly. “Behave, or I’ll have to wash your mouth out.” 

He seemed to find that hilarious, laughing to himself as if he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life. 

“You…fuckin’ freak…” You spat back at him half-heartedly. It was hard to sound angry when you were trying to catch your breath after being filled to your limit. Jack feigned a gasp of disbelief at your lackluster insult. 

“Naughty, naughty thing you are! Someone simply must teach you to behave!” 

He squeezed you in his grip, testing his hold one last time before he began to pull back. You thought he’d stop halfway or at least start slow, but you were left speechless as he pulled out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip still nestled inside of you. You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for what was sure to be a brutal impact.

“Brutal” was an understatement.

Shit, it felt like he fucking impaled you. You choked on what would’ve been a shriek when he pushed into you again, nails digging into his shoulder so hard it would’ve drawn blood if he had any. You felt unbearably full as his cock bullied its way back inside of you until it was laying heavy in your stomach. 

Jack let out a shuddering moan that dissolved into a breathy laugh as he watched you struggle to keep it together. Your mouth hanging open in a silent scream and eyes going wide with panic was exactly what he wanted to see. 

“Aww, did that hurt?” He asked, and honestly the condescending tone stung a bit. You only glared in reply. 

He pulled back again, slamming into you with even more force than the first time. You could feel the bed swaying beneath you from the sheer strength. You could only hope he didn’t wind up breaking it after he broke you. 

Jack was never one to take things slow, and as soon as he had gotten the hang of his thrusts he set a brutal pace. Each movement made your head spin with the impact. You really weren’t built to take something so massive, you shouldn’t have been able to, but you were taking it despite your body’s protests. You didn’t want to look down, unable to even stand the thought of seeing his gigantic cock disappear inside of you. 

Desperate, animalistic noises spilled through your gritted teeth and out of your mouth. Each thrust hit deeper than the last and there were times you swore he was literally rearranging your guts. Of course you would eventually adjust to Jack’s size and strength, but that didn’t shake the fear that this encounter could land you in the hospital. This fear would fade as he continued though, the overwhelming fullness and ache soon melting into a pleasure like you’d never felt before. You grasped at anything you could, whether it be your sheets or Jack’s sleeves or hair, hopelessly clawing at anything you could get your shaky hands on. 

Jack’s tongue laid limp out of his mouth as he panted, shamelessly rutting into you like a toy. You were nothing but a rag doll in his clutches for him to hold and use to his black heart’s content, and then some. While you couldn’t bring yourself to look down, he was more than happy to watch his cock thrust in and out of you. The wet squelching sounds made by each little movement were like music to his ears. 

He knew he must’ve been hitting deep when he noticed the bulge he was making in your stomach. 

Oh, you simply had to see this! 

He grabbed your hair roughly and forced you to look down. 

“Ahah! Do you see that? Do you?” He asked eagerly. He took your choked noise as a ‘yes.’ 

“You’re so small, ahah…I wonder how deep I can go before you break in two!” 

He tugged on your hair once more, this time pulling it back to expose your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he dragged his tongue slowly up your neck before pulling you into a messy kiss. It only took one second of your surprise to allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, and it quickly found its way down your throat. You were caught off guard and nearly choked, which only made Jack laugh against your lips. You could feel every little twitch or jerk it made as it explored your throat with no regard for your comfort. 

Jack didn’t pull away until he could tell you were struggling for air, retracting his tongue incredibly quickly. You were coughing and heaving to catch your breath, which he apparently found very amusing. It seemed to send him into a giggling fit every time he scared you half to death. 

Suddenly Jack came to an abrupt stop. You looked up at him in confusion, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was focused on something else. You felt yourself being jostled around as he shifted his position, sitting up on his knees and lifting you from the bed with one hand still around your waist and the other under your back. You were entirely supported by his hands now. 

What the hell is he thinking?!

You felt him retracting once more, but this time he wasn’t moving his hips. He was moving you. 

He showed no signs of struggle or even the slightest strain as he began to thrust into you again, your weight practically nothing to him. He was using you like a goddamn fleshlight, nothing more than a sleeve for his cock. 

And honestly…It wasn’t so bad. 

That seemed to be your breaking point, any sense of dignity you had before completely going out the window as you gave into him fully. If he was going to use you like a toy, you could at least put in the effort to be a good one. 

“F-Fuck! Ah—! Jack, m-more…!” You begged, and for a moment a look of surprise flashed across his face. The last thing he was expecting was to hear you pleading for him so shamelessly, but it was a welcome surprise. His signature grin returned quickly, stretching from one pointed ear to the other. 

“Oh, more he says?!” He replied, “More, more!  What happened to ‘wait, Jack!’ and ‘you can’t, Jack!’, huh? Sudden change of heart?” 

He was mocking your voice, degrading you so blatantly that he expected you to recoil at his nasty words, but instead you tightened around him. 

Oh…you liked that. 

He was more than happy to keep going. 

“What is it then, hm? Or have you already gone too stupid to answer me? Aha, you really do love this!” 

You nodded quickly in response, managing to push out a slurred reply that sounded vaguely like an agreement. 

“Fine then,” he conceded, “I can give you more…” 

And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly go any faster or shove in any deeper or make you cry out for him even more. 

He fucked you like his current life and the next depended on it, each thrust slamming the headboard into the wall so hard it left a mark. Your legs trembled as you began to get lost in the pleasure. It all felt like a blur, a wonderful blur only broken up by the realization that you were much closer to your orgasm than you realized.

“Jack, J-Jack—! I’m close, I…I’m…” You couldn’t even choke out a single sentence of warning. Jack was more than aware of what you were trying to tell him, but he was content to let you pathetically struggle for words. 

“Go on, why don’t you? If you need it so bad I won’t stop you.” 

His attempt at an impartial tone was greatly hindered by his obvious excitement, a result of how close he was to his own peak and how much he desired to see you cum. He wanted so badly to see you make a mess for him, to feel you spasm around him and know that he was the one who brought you to that. 

“Oh, please—!” You whined, “Please, please, please…” 

You had no idea what you were begging for. You didn’t have to, though, because it seems like your pleas worked anyways. Every muscle in your body tensed on instinct, your back arching up into Jack and one last high pitched cry managing to leave your throat as you came. The force of your orgasm hit you like a truck, more intense and prolonged than any other you’d had, helpfully hastened by Jack’s increasingly erratic thrusts. 

“Ahah, you squeezed so tight!” He gushed, “You feel so, so good…” 

Faster, faster, faster, he had to go faster. He was so close, so close. He had to fill you, he had to. He had to see his cum dripping out of you and to know that he’d filled you with all he had and you had to be filled. 

He went silent for a split second, and you knew what you were in for when his hips stuttered before going still, but you weren’t ready for the sheer amount of cum he pumped into you. He held you on his cock until he was completely done, continuing to make small ruts with his hips until he’d ridden out his orgasm to the end. There simply wasn’t room for it all inside of you, but even as it flowed out of you and down your legs and onto your sheets he continued to spill into you. You’d gone limp in his hands by the time he was done. 

You barely processed the feeling of being laid back down on your bed, but you definitely winced when Jack pulled out of you. Damn, you were already sore. Not to mention your forehead was drenched with a thick layer of sweat and your thighs were soaked with a multitude of bodily fluids that you were trying not to think about right now. 

You managed to crack an eye open when you heard Jack snickering. 

“Tired already? A shame. I had fun.” He said casually, as if the both of you had just returned from an outing and he hadn’t practically jumped you in your own home. Your only answer was an exhausted sigh. 

Jack cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. Were you really so worn out already? He wasn’t tired at all! Then again, “tired” wasn’t really something he felt…

Humans are so strange. 

He laid down beside you and draped an arm over you. When he leaned in you expected him to lick you again, but instead he brought you into a kiss. An actual kiss, the first real gesture of affection he’d given you, even if it was rather brief. He pulled away to nestle his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his laughter against your skin. 

“You’re a funny one, do you know that? I hope I get to play with you a lot more…” 

Oh, fuck. 

He wasn’t leaving, was he?

mdni & reblog banners by cafekitsune

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: happy birthday to me! when this posts i'll officially be older, and celebrating by being cringe (writing this). i also love that picture of misha. it's him at my birthday party for real. he told me himself (lying)

↳ warnings: none!

↳ song: rock your body—justin timberlake

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• Special occasions like this are few and far between

• The Winchester family hadn't had a proper birthday in decades. While Dean clung to memories of gas station twinkies in replacement of a birthday cake, Sam remembered most of his birthdays with a sort of sad animosity. Up until walking out on his dad for Stanford and spending his birthday that year with Jessica, he hadn't had a single enjoyable birthday party. Maybe that was part of the reason he refused to let you feel the same way about your own birthday—even if none of you were kids anymore

• Worst case scenario, the world is ending again and you all have little time for delicacies. If that's the case, you'd get a quick pat on the shoulder from Dean, one excited bear hug from Sam, and very confused Cas wishing you the best of births before being told to continue packing the shotguns with salt rounds

• "With age comes responsibility, so keep loading those guns. Spider-Man said that."

• "For someone that watches so much trash tv, you know so little about media, Dean." You snorted at your friend, fingers nimmbly crushing salt into a line of rigid red shells before moving onto the next group

• "Shut up before I decide to give you your birthday noogies." He pointed a finger at you from across the room with a single raised eyebrow. Off to the side you saw Cas ask Dean what birthday noogies were not-so-quietly, and you struggled to hold back a laugh

• Even in the worst situations, they could always manage to make you smile

• Best case scenario, however, it's a free day. Nothing to do, no devils to fight, no ghouls to stop—nothing. Just you, the guys, and time on your hands that you all normally never have. So what better way to utilize it than with a little surprise party?

• Sam would be the most into the whole birthday party shtick. He'd insist that it was the least they could do for you after all the years on the hunt together, and even got Dean to budge after a few minutes of petty debating

• "It's stupid and cheesy, Sammy. We're grown adults. We've fought the devil beforr for christ's sake." Dean gave his brother the stink eye from his spot in the drivers seat. Groceries stores and Mom & Pop stores passed them by as they ventured into the nearest town, but neither of them paid attention to their blurred surroundings

• "Come on Dean." Sam twisted his torso and turned to face him fully. "Don't tell me you don't remember the look on their face last month when we brought them back a souvenir from our hunting trip in Alabama. You would have thought we brought them a new car. Besides, this is the one chance we've had in a while to actually celebrate something." Sam's eyebrows tilted up as he recalled the memory, shooting a knowing look at Dean's side-profile

• "So what? I say we just tell them happy birthday like a regular person and call it a day." Dean grumbled

• "Is that why you're driving in the nearest direction of the bakery here?"

• Dean didn't respond

• "That's what I thought."

• "Shut your pie-hole or I'm kicking you to the curb."

• Once the boys get back to whatever new place you all are holed up for that week, a couple of crinkled bags in hand, they call on Cas to help out with setting up whatever decorations Sam had forced Dean to throw in the cart

• Cas didn't take nearly as much convincing to partake in the setting up of festivities, but he certainly did need a lot of it explained

• "I thought angels were familiar with the concept of birthdays?" Dean asked at one point while watching Sam pull part of a cake out of the oven. His hand was slapped away when he went to grab at it, and he glared at his younger brother momentarily

• "We are." Castiel's gruff answer came shortly. "But we stopped keeping count after the first couple thousand years. And it was never done like—" He flicked the party hat atop his head curiously, "—this."

• "What did you guys do to celebrate?" Sam asked while popping the lid to a can of store bough frosting open

• "Pray."

• "Naturally." Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically. A blanket of silence fell over the room after that as Sam set out to frost the first part of the cake. Then—

• "Hey. How come none of you are wearing paper hats?"

• "Oh, trust me Cas. It'll mean a lot more to them if you were the one wearing it." Dean's grin was borderline evil as he looked at the angel

• It's safe to say that you laughed the hardest you had in a while once seeing Cas looking so hesitant in a mini cone hat

• Overall, it's the best birthday— the best day —that you've had in a long time

• You didn't need much, and as a hunter you'd come to expect almost nothing. But knowing that your friends— the short tempered, college dropout, otherworldly friends that they were —took it upon themselves to set all this up for you was the emotional equivalent to a punch in the gut. A lovely emotional punch in the gut

• "If you start crying, I'll leave." Dean snapped at you when you eventuallyvoiced how much this meant to you. But the threat was empty, and you all knew it

• Sometime during the party, you had managed to wrestle a paper hat of his own onto his head, and how it sat on the side of his head like a crooked unicorn horn. Occasionally he'd reach for it as if to take it off, then lower his hand with a small smile

• "Shut the fuck up and give me a group hug, Dean." You grinned with teeth, gesturing at him to stand up

• "Wait, no, I take it back that's worse."

• "I will kill you, Winchester. I swear I'll do it."

• You ended up getting your group hug that day, even if it took Castiel trapping Dean between you and him to get him to stand still

• "I hate it here." He griped with a groan. Sam could only laugh as be watched his brother struggle in Cas's iron grip, and said angel was smiling a bit to himself. You felt your heart swell; even if the look on Dean's face was downright murderous

• "Smile or I'm egging Baby on my birthday night." You said before setting the camera's timer and holding it up above you all

• "You wouldn't—"

• "Watch me."

• All four of you have your own copy of the photo from that night, kept in your seperate pockets and bedside table drawers. To this day you find yourself smiling when you look at it, and even if you'd never know it, so do they

[asgardian--angels]

Izzy Discourse Masterpost

Hey all, given the amount of awful splintering and wank happening in ofmd fandom rn regarding Izzy's death, including the flat-out immature and unacceptable harassment of David Jenkins and Co, I wanted to just make this one all-encompassing post to address the various grievances and complaints I've seen (almost entirely on Twitter). If I've missed anything, please feel free to add on. I'm putting most of this under a read-more for length.

Please be aware, I say all of this as an Izzy fan. I've loved his character since season 1, and while I was sad to see him go, I completely understand and support David & Co's reasons for concluding his arc, and I think it was done respectfully in a way fitting to his character. So let's break down some of the takes I've seen. I am not referencing specific posts or people here, I just want to address the general themes that I keep seeing about why some people are upset.

Izzy's death served no narrative purpose.

Look, this is one that I'm sure fans will debate for the rest of the hiatus. It's completely within your right to disagree with this writing choice, but Izzy's death did serve a narrative purpose in the story that David Jenkins is telling - and he has spoken to this end in several interviews already. I can only summarize here, and fans may find other perspectives in time as well. What we need to remember is that Our Flag Means Death is, at the end of the day, Ed and Stede's love story. That has been made abundantly, explicitly clear. The show has been fantastic at fleshing out the other supporting characters, but that's what they are - supporting characters. They often have their own subplots but ultimately the narrative seeks to move Ed and Stede's story forward and they are tools to spur Ed and Stede's growth or mirror their struggles. Izzy has been a wonderfully complex, multifaceted character but we must remember that all characters are vessels through which stories are told, lessons are imparted, and metaphors are established. He's not a real person who 'deserves' any particular fate. David said he's always intended for Izzy to die at the end of his arc.

Firstly, Izzy (now canonically, through his own dying words) represents part of Blackbeard. He enabled and encouraged Ed's darker side, they were mutually toxic forces to each other. Ed is attempting to cope with and move on from this phase of his life, and like Stede in season 1, set out a free man, unshackled by expectations and loose ends of those he's hurt and been hurt by (though we realize this is an ongoing process that takes time). This lovely gifset sums it up nicely, with Izzy being the Mary parallel, and making s2 mirror s1. Blackbeard is both Ed and Izzy; Ed cannot be free of Blackbeard while Izzy is in his life, and when Izzy is gone he will never truly be Blackbeard again. They are each other's rotting leg!! Yet, they love each other - and David has said that for Ed, this has developed into a mentor and father relationship, and where Ed has previously despised his father figures (his actual father, Hornigold) he does not want to lose Izzy. This time, Izzy brings out Ed, not Blackbeard - and that's where we get the callback to 'there he is', bringing their impact on each other full circle, freeing Ed, getting approval of sorts that he never had, to be soft, to be loved (and there are parallels to Zheng and Auntie here as well that others have made) from that force that drove him to stay in line all this time. David has said in multiple interviews now that he was going for the idea of the mentor/father figure dying and the hero living on and trying to do justice to them.

From Izzy's side, Izzy cannot be free while Edward remains either (Mary cannot find peace while Stede remains). The scar never truly healed, the leg will always be a reminder. At this point the argument becomes 'yes, but why did he have to die? Why not just sail off with the crew of the Revenge?' David has stated that he feels they've done everything they can with, and for, Izzy; he's come leagues from season 1, he's found community, he's found hope, he's found new parts of himself, and he's made good memories. He's found worth outside of what he can be to others. That's more than most pirates could hope for. Where would his character go from there, when the Golden Age of Piracy he belongs to has burned to the ground? Would he stay around and whittle on the Revenge? If he were a real person, yes, that would be lovely, and he'd deserve all the quiet peaceful happiness in the world. But as I explain several points below, he's not interested in being a captain. He's not up for the hard physical labor of regular crew, and he's extremely overqualified for that besides. He has served his narrative purpose, and symbolically, to enter a new age, everything must go. He's connected to the old age of piracy, to the Republic of Pirates, that is now demolished. To him, fighting for what he believes in, for the family he's found, bringing down an army of British twats in the process, is how he should go. It's a pirate's death, and as Izzy's said, he's a pirate - unlike Blackbeard who's succeeding in breaking away from piracy, Izzy never wanted to stop being a pirate, throughout his arc. To me, that's why Izzy remains trapped in the narrative, trapped in history, whereas Ed and Stede will escape history. They leave piracy, and canon, behind, while Izzy was content to remain a pirate and face a pirate's fate.

Burying him on land, right next to Ed and Stede's beach house, shows that his sacrifice was not in vain - they start this new life together, thanks to Izzy's mentorship, his role in their lives that sometimes for worse, sometimes for better, made their love what it was and made their breakaway possible. The new age is built on the foundations of the old age, and is stronger for it.

As we're well aware by now, David tweeted that there's no version of ofmd without Izzy. Whether that's literal or not, symbolically it's true. Izzy's arc of growth affected everyone on the Revenge. Jim fondly remembered fighting for a time when life meant something on that ship; the crew helped give Izzy new meaning in life, and he helped them in return. When he dies, they mourn and have a funeral; that wouldn't have happened under Blackbeard's watch in episode 2. His life meant something to them. He influenced Ed and Stede immensely, and they will take that with them. As David's said, they're all a family, and Izzy was a part of that family, and his loss unites them and brings them closer to continue to fight for that family they've built. It's a tragic, sudden death of someone they've all grown to care for, and that steels their reserve to keep the torch lit. They literally sail off into the sunset to hunt down Ricky to avenge Izzy; he will always be a part of this show. And, of course, with the brief appearance of seagull Buttons, the door is left open for anything.

If this was The Izzy Show, then sure, we'd be content to see him simply engaged in shenanigans every episode. But the plot, and therefore the characters, need to keep moving forward, and Izzy got his growth and development. He got what he needed for his character to have closure, and he served his symbolic narrative purpose in Ed's (and Stede's) story. You may have your own ideas and perspectives, and that's great - that's what fandom is for. But we cannot say his death was pointless when David Jenkins and the writers clearly had a well-defined motive for pushing the narrative in this direction. I actually think the narrative around Ed and Izzy is the most well-developed in the entire show. I for one am so happy we got such an interesting and complex character, and had the brilliant Con O'Neill to portray him.

Izzy's growth & healing arc was rendered pointless by his death.

As this post so eloquently puts it, it's pretty bleak to have the outlook that taking steps to heal and find meaning in life is worthless if it's later lost. Seeking happiness and self-actualization is worthwhile for its own sake; no one knows what's down the road, and we all die eventually. Find meaning in life now. Would you rather have had Izzy not miss with his bullet in ep2? He was given the chance to experience joy, freedom, and hope for the first time in potentially a long time, and when he died he did so with those happy memories. As mentioned, Izzy's death was decided long beforehand given the narrative, and the point of storytelling is to make you feel emotions. We were given impetus to connect and relate to Izzy's character through his process of healing, so when he did die, we felt it keenly. That's how stories work actually! We felt what Ed felt. It moved us. It's not a bad thing that Izzy's arc made him more likeable to fans before his death. It's not a bad thing to lose a beloved character - guess what, it happens constantly in stories - and it's not bad to grieve over it either, but to say that it made his journey pointless is just not true. People saying that Con must be upset that they snatched his character away from him after getting to develop him so much - again I say, would you rather him have died in ep 2 before he had the chance to grow? Or how about in s1, when the crew tried to mutiny? How'd you feel when Stede killed him in his dream, in the very first scene of the season? I think Con's probably glad for the opportunity to have explored this character so much in season 2. Ask him if he thinks it was pointless.

Killing off Izzy was bad for queer rep/burying your gays/"Izzy was the queer heart of the show"

I'm putting 'bury your gays' on the top shelf so people can't use it when it doesn't actually apply. Most of the main cast of characters in this show are queer, and it's a show about pirates with a good amount of violence. Ergo, chances are a queer character will die in the course of Things Happening In Stories. Izzy didn't die because he was queer, and he wasn't the token queer rep. Please turn your attention to the boatloads (literally) of queer characters that are happy and thriving (how about the LuPete wedding immediately afterwards??). As for Izzy being the "queer heart of the show," this is literally the Ed and Stede show. You know, the two queer leads whose queer love the show revolves around, per David Jenkins himself. I'm glad folks connected with and derived joy from Izzy's growth and especially his performance in Calypso's birthday, but he is not the main character of the show. The queer heart of the show is in fact, the entire show, all of their characters and the community & found family they create aboard the Revenge. Not to mention the fan community as well. Izzy was never carrying the show's representation on his back, and frankly that's an absurdly wild take to have (esp when he spent most of s1 actively working against the main queer relationships in the show, attempting to maintain the oppressive status quo of pirate society).

It was bad and irresponsible to have a suicidal character die

Are we forgetting the entire first half of the season where Ed, who was suicidal, kept trying to passively kill himself because he felt he was an unlovable monster, only to be shown that he is in fact loved unconditionally and it gives him the strength to fight for life and triumph against his own self-doubt? The show has spent quite a lot of effort telling viewers that despite feeling damaged or broken you are worthy of love and that you are loved even if it may be hard to see it when you're in a bad place. That you don't need to be fully healed to deserve love and care, and that love and support will help you along your journey. It's incredibly wild to disregard this major plot point and fundamental message of s2 to try and spin this the opposite way for Izzy's character.

Secondly, where are people getting 'Izzy is suicidal' from? Are we going back all the way to episode 2, when he's at his lowest point and fails at his suicide attempt, only to be figuratively reborn after removing the metaphorical rotten leg? By the time of the finale he's shown to be in a good place, thanks to the arc of healing and growth he's gotten, through the support of the Revenge crew and his 'breakup' with Blackbeard allowing him to find his own way in life, realizing he doesn't need a purpose to have value and enjoying his time on the Revenge and the bonds he's made with Stede and the crew. He is, in the words of Ivan, "the most open and available I've ever seen him" by the finale. To take episode 2 as evidence he's suicidal is to erase his whole season of growth, which is an ironic thing to do in the context of these arguments. There's no canon evidence Izzy Hands was suicidal post-'Fun and Games'.

As for 'irresponsible,' once again I say, David Jenkins is not your therapist, he's not 'Dad,' and has no responsibility to tell his story any other way than he intended to tell it. Please find media that gives you what you want or need, and if the death of a fictional character causes you this much distress please seek help. I mean this kindly but seriously.

Killing off Izzy was ableist/bad for disability rep.

I point once again to the rest of the characters, several of which are disabled in varied ways. There are literally multiple other amputee characters specifically. It's not good storytelling to wholly avoid killing off any character that is disabled/queer/poc/female or [insert marginalized group here], especially when a) it makes sense narratively, and b) there's plenty of representation of these groups in the media in question. The answer isn't making such characters invincible and immortal, it's increasing the number of these characters in shows so it's not devastating when some do die in the course of natural storytelling.

OFMD was my comfort show/safe space show, now it's ruined for me

I am not trying to be insensitive here when I say that's a problem that is yours and nobody else's. David Jenkins created this show with a three-season vision and a story in mind, and he is telling that story to the best of his ability the way he wants to. It's already been said that he and the crew did not anticipate the fandom becoming as large and passionate as it has. The plot of the show was never intended to be 'fan service,' and it's ironic that there were people complaining this season that there's been too many fanservice tropes, up until David and the rest of the writers room made a narrative decision they did not like, then the complaints changed to not coddling the fans enough.

We as viewers can derive joy from this show, it can be a comfort to us, it can be important to us. But it was not designed specifically for that purpose, therefore it cannot fail in that respect. We do not have the right to harass writers for not steering the ship in the direction we want - it's their work of art, and we can choose to either come along for the ride or not. It's rare to see creators actually given the chance to tell their story the way they intend (budget cuts aside), so let him do that. He should not cater to fans, or cave and change the story to appease us. Respect his right to create his art, and remember you have the right to create your own. That's what fanfiction is for - write fix-its to your heart's content, but keep these realms separate. David Jenkins and Co hold zero, and I mean zero, responsibility to you. He could not please everyone no matter what he did, it would be fruitless to try, and it would certainly compromise the quality of the story he set out to tell.

You are absolutely allowed to dislike choices made in any show. Curate your media experience. If this show no longer brings you joy, stop watching. But it was never David's purpose nor responsibility to juggle the mental health of millions of fans. Trying to put that on him will only make him less enthusiastic about interacting with fans or continuing to make this show. This isn't rocket science. You're responsible for yourself, not this guy you call 'Dad' that you've developed a parasocial-therapist relationship with.

Izzy should have become captain of the Revenge.

Really?? Firstly, we did actually get that already in s1. He was tyrannical and the crew mutinied. But even if you think 'well after his character arc he'd be better suited to it,' it goes against the point of this arc. He's found value in not having a distinct role or purpose on the ship, decoupling his worth from the job he's expected to perform. He's found his place amongst the crew, not commanding it. There's no narrative reason to put him in charge when he's expressed no further interest in slotting himself back into a role full of pressure and expectations.

Con O'Neill was only told halfway through filming, it's cruel to just kill off the character he loves so much.

Guys, he's an actor. More than that, an actor with a theater background. I think he's used to characters dying. You don't need to look out for him. Con and David spoke one on one about it at length so they were on the same page, and David even said that Con took it well. I'm sure Con had input, just as other members of the cast have influenced their characters' stories, costumes, backstories, etc. Do you really think David Jenkins hurt Con's feelings or something? The writers (remember, it's not just David, it's a whole team of hard-working people coming up with these ideas) gave Con such a chance to shine this season, really developing Izzy beyond what he was given in s1 and letting Con show off his full acting range. Why are you only focusing on the destination rather than the journey? Sure, Con's probably sad to see Izzy go, but please do not project your distress onto him or try and accuse David & Co of being 'cruel' to their cast. That's really ridiculous. It's constantly evident how close they all are.

More importantly, do you actually, seriously think that Con O'Neill would want fans to harass each other or the writers over his character? The man who preaches being kind above all? There is no better way to make an actor uncomfortable about a show and its fanbase than to start treating fictional characters like they're more important than real people. He would not want you to bully people over Izzy Hands, and it's mind-boggling that some of you have convinced yourself otherwise.

Lastly, I just want to talk about the fact that some people are holding OFMD to absurdly high expectations.

Our Flag Means Death has been a pioneer series for its diverse representation, earnest storytelling, and themes of hope, community, and love. It's fine to discuss aspects of the show with a critical eye, but so much of the discourse has truly felt like folks are trying to find fault in a show that is leagues ahead of the average tv series that we still enjoy. How many fan favorites are killed off all the time? How many plotlines are scrapped, or drawn out without closure, or contradicted the very next season? How many shows are indifferent or actively hostile towards their fanbase? How many have any queer characters, or actually do bury them? The bar's so low, and OFMD has risen above to give us so much. Some are holding the show to astronomical expectations, waiting for it to fall from the pedestal it's been placed on. If something you don't like happens in the show, it's not suddenly ruined or demoted to being ~just as bad as those other shows~. Give them some breathing room, have some perspective on how progressive the show is, and that perfection is impossible, especially meeting every single viewer's idea of it. This is basically a repeat of the recent Good Omens drama, with an absurd number of people harassing Neil Gaiman for breaking up Aziraphale and Crowley and leaving the second of three acts on a very predictable cliffhanger. Let stories be told, let them unfold as they may, and you are free to leave anytime. It's so wonderful that more queer love stories are becoming popular and even mainstream, but let's not shoot ourselves in the foot by tearing them down when they don't go exactly the way you want it, which often seems to mean no drama, no character deaths, and therefore no conflict or even plot!

Just, please be civil human beings, and while this seems to be a difficult thing for so many fandoms to do, just keep your fan opinions in the fan space. Never bring your grievances to the writers, never bully them and persecute them for telling a story that you opted into viewing. That's something that goes entirely against everything this show, and this cast and crew, have imparted onto us - the importance of kindness, support, community, and love. I'll say it again because it bears repeating: the fate of a fictional character is never more important than how you treat real people. Just be kind in real life, which includes the internet. Thanks.

Now please, let's work together to ensure we get a season 3. There's so much more story to be told, and if you want to see Izzy back, whether that's as flashbacks, as a ghost haunting the inn, or in the gravy basket, we'll need more episodes! #RenewAsACrew

[whumpinggrounds]

Overused Disability Tropes

Woohoo here we go. I expect this one to be a bit more controversial because I am using specific media as examples. I would really prefer if, when critiquing this post, you avoid defending specific media, and focus instead on what’s actually being said/represented about disabled communities. If you feel I’ve done a really grave injustice, you can come into my askbox/DMs/replies to talk to me about it, but I might not answer.

One more time: I am not interested in getting into a debate about whether something is a good show/movie/book/whatever. I’m not telling you it’s bad, or that you shouldn’t enjoy it! People can like whatever they want; I am only here to critique messaging. Do not yell at me about this.

Newest caveat aside, let’s get into it!

Inspiration Porn

Without a doubt, our biggest category! Term coined in 2012 by badass activist Stella Young, but the trope has been around for literal centuries. There are a few different kinds that I will talk about.

Disabled character/person is automatically noble/good because of their disability. A very early example would be A Christmas Carol’s Tiny Tim, or, arguably, Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Real life examples include the Jerry Lewis MDA telethon, or children’s hospital ads that exploit sad-eyed kids with visible illness or disability.

Having a disability does not automatically make you a kind/angelic/noble person. This many not seem harmful, and may even seem positive, but in reality, it is condescending, inaccurate, and sets bizarre standards for how disabled people should behave.

This portrayal is often intended to elicit pity from abled audiences, which is also problematic.

In these portrayals, disability is not something to be proud of or identify with, only something to be suffered through.

Disabled character person does something relatively mundane and we all need to celebrate that. This is less common in writing, but happens in the real world when people do things like post pictures of disabled people at the gym captioned “What’s your excuse?”

This is condescending, and implies that anything disabled people are capable of, abled people are automatically capable of.

Makes it seem like it’s an incredible feat for a disabled person to accomplish tasks.

Uses people’s actual lives and actual disabilities as a reminder of “how good abled life is.”

The “Supercrip” stereotype is a specific kind of inspiration porn in which disabled people are shown to be capable of amazing things, “in spite of” their disability.

The Paralympics have been criticized for this, with people saying that advertisements and understandings of the Paralympics frame the athletes as inspiring not because they are talented or accomplished, but because their talents and accomplishments are seen as “so unlikely.”

Other examples include the way we discuss famous figures like Stephen Hawking, Alan Turing, or even Beethoven. Movies like The Theory of Everything and The Imitation Game frame the subjects’ diagnoses, whether actual or posited, as limitations that they had to miraculously break through in order to accomplish what they did. Discussions of Beethoven’s deafness focus on how incredible it was that he was able to overcome it and be a musician despite what is framed as a tragic acquisition of deafness.

The pity/heroism trap is a concise way of defining inspiration porn. If the media you’re creating or consuming inspires these emotions, and only these emotions, around disability, that is a representation that is centered on the feelings and perceptions of abled people. It’s reductive, it’s ableist, and it’s massively overdone.

Disabled Villains

To be clear, disabled people can and should be villains in fiction. The problem comes when disabled people are either objects of pity/saintly heroes, or villains, and there is no complexity to those representations. When there is so little disabled rep out there (less than 3.5% of characters in current media), having a disabled villain contributes to the othering of disability, as well as the idea that disability can make someone evil. There are also a few circumstances in which particular disabilities are used to represent evil, and I’ll talk about how that’s problematic. 

Mentally ill villains are colossally overdone, particularly given that mentally ill people are more likely to be the victims of violence than perpetrators of it.  This is true of all mental illness, including “””scary””” things like personality disorders or disorders on the schizoaffective spectrum. Mental illness is stigmatized enough without media framing mentally ill people as inherently bad or more suspectible to evil. This prejudice is known as sanism.

Explicit fictional examples of this include the Joker, or Kevin Wendell Crumb in Split.

People can also be coded as mentally ill without it being explicitly stated, and that’s also problematic and sanist. In the Marvel movie Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness, Wanda’s appearance and behavior are coded as mentally ill. This is used to make her “creepy.” Horror movies do this a lot - mental illness does not render someone creepy, and should not be used as a tool in this way.

Visible disability or difference to indicate evil is another common, incredibly offensive, and way overdone trope. This is mostly commonly done through facial difference, and the examples are endless. These portrayals equate disability or disfigurement with ugliness, and that ugliness with evil. It renders the disabled villain in question an outcast, undesirable, and uses their disability or difference to dehumanize these characters and separate them from others. This is incredibly prevalent and incredibly painful for people with visible disability or facial difference.

An example of visible disability indicating evil is Darth Vader’s prosthetics and vastly changed physical appearance that happen exactly in time with his switch to the dark side. In contrast, when Luke needs a prosthetic, it is lifelike and does not visually separate him from the rest of humanity/the light.

Dr. Who’s John Lumic is another example of the “Evil Cripple” trope.

Examples of facial difference indicating evil range from just about every James Bond movie, to Scar in the Lion King, Dr. Isabel Maru in Wonder Woman, Taskmaster in Black Widow, Captain Hook in Peter Pan, and even Doofenschmirtz-2 in Phineas and Ferb the Movie. Just because some of the portrayals are silly (looking at you, Phineas and Ferb) doesn’t make the coding of facially scarred villains any less hurtful.  

A slightly different, but related phenomenon I’ll include here is the idea of the disability con. This is when a character fakes a disability for personal gain. This represents disabled people as potential fakers, and advances the idea that disabled people get special privileges that abled people can and should co-opt for their own reasons. 

In The Usual Suspects, criminal mastermind Verbal Clint fakes disability to avoid suspicion and take advantage of others. In Arrested Development, a lawyer fakes blindness in order to gain the sympathy and pity of the jury.

In much more complex examples such as Sharp Objects, a mother with Munchausen by proxy fakes her daughter’s illness in order to receive attention and pity. Portrayals like this make Munchausen or MBP seem more common than it is, and introduce the idea that parents may be lying or coaching their children to lie about necessary medical treatment.

Disability as Morality

Sometimes, the disabled character themselves is a moral lesson, like Auggie in Wonder. Sheerly through existing, Auggie “teaches” his classmates about kindness, the evils of bullying, and not judging a book by its cover. This also fits well under inspiration porn. This is problematic, because the disabled character is defined in terms of how they advance the other characters’ morality and depth.

In the “Disabled for a Day” trope, an otherwise abled character experiences a temporary disability, learns a moral lesson, and is restored to full ability by the end of the episode/book/movie. Once again, disability is used as a plot device, rather than a complex experience, along with more permanent disability being rejected as impossible for heroes or main characters.

Examples include an episode of M*A*S*H where Hawkeye is temporarily blinded, an episode of Law and Order: SVU where Elliott Stabler is temporarily blinded, and an episode of Criminal Minds where Agent Hotchner experiences temporary hearing loss.

Real life examples include sensitivity trainings where participants are asked to wear a blindfold, headphones, or use a wheelchair for a given amount of time. This does not impart the lived experience of disability. It should not be used as a teaching tool. 

Disabled people as inherently pure. This is related to inspiration porn and disabled people as noble, but is different in that it is usually appears in combination with developmental, cognitive, or intellectual disabilities. These characters are framed as sweet, “simple,” and a reminder to other characters to be cheerful, happy, or grateful.

Examples include Forrest Gump, Rain Man, I Am Sam, and What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.

No matter what the stereotypes of a given diagnosis are (yes, I’m thinking of the automatic cheerfulness associated with Down Syndrome), disabled people have personalities. They are capable of being sad, angry, sarcastic, irritable, annoying - any number of things beyond good/sweet/pure. It is reductive to act otherwise.

Disability as Surreal

Less common than some of the others, but still worth thinking about!

Disabled characters are framed as mystical, magical, or other than human, a condition that is either created by or indicated through their disability status. This is especially common with little people.

“Disability superpower” is when a character compensates for, or is uniquely able to have a superpower because of, their disability. Common tropes include the Blind Seer, Blind Weapon Master, Genius Cripple and Super Wheel Chair.

Examples include Pam from Supernatural, Charles Xavier from X-Men, or the grandpa in Spy Kids.

Disability as Undesirable

Last and least favorite category here. Let’s go.

Disabled people as asexual or not sexually desirable. Disabled people can be asexual, obviously. When every portrayal is asexual, that’s a big problem. It frames disabled people as sexually undesirable or implies that it is impossible for people with disabilities to have rewarding, mutually satisfying sexual relationships.

Examples include The Fault in Our Stars or Artie in Glee.

Abandoned due to disability. Hate this trope. Often equates disability with weakness. Don’t want to talk about it. It’s all right there in the title. Don’t do it.

Examples: Quasimodo in Hunchback of Notre Dame, several kittens in the Warrior Cat series, several episodes of Law and Order: SVU, Bojack Horseman, and Vikings.

Discussed in 300 and Wolf of Wall Street.

Ancient cultures and animal nature are often cited as reasoning for this trope/practice. This is not founded in fact. Many ancient civilizations, including Sparta, cared for disabled people. Many animals care for disabled young. These examples should not be used to justify modern human society.

Disabled characters are ostracized for disability. Whether they act “““normal”““ or odd, characters with visible or merely detectable disabilities are treated differently.

Examples include pretty much every piece of media I’ve said so far. This is particularly prevalent for people with visible physical disabilities or neurodivergence. Also particularly prevalent for characters with albinism.

This is not necessarily an inaccurate portrayal - disabled people face a lot of discrimination and ableism. It is, however, very, very common.

Bury your disabled. What it says on the label.

Examples: Animorphs, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, American Horror Story, Criminal Minds, Dr. Who, Star Trek, The Wire.

Mercy killing is a subtrope of the above but disgusting enough that it deserves its own aside. I may make a separate post about this at some point because this post is kind of exhausting and depressing me.

Examples: Me Before You, Killing Eve, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Of Mice and Men, and Million Dollar Baby.

Disability-negating superpowers imply that disability is undesirable by solving it supernaturally instead of actually portraying it, and giving their character powers instead.

Examples include (arguably) Toph from Avatar: the Last Airbender, Captain America: The First Avenger, The Legend of Korra, Dr. Strange, and Daredevil.

Overcoming disability portrays disability as a hindrance and something that can be defeated through technology and/or willpower.

Fictional examples include WALL-E, Kill Bill, The Goonies, The Dark Knight Trilogy, Heidi, The Secret Garden, The Inheritance Cycle, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, The Big Bang Theory, Dr. Strangelove, Sherlock, The Witcher.

Real life examples include videos of wheelchair users standing from their chair to walk down the aisle at a wedding, or d/Deaf children “hearing” for the first time through cochlear implants.

What Does This Mean for Your Writing?

First of all, congratulations for making it this far!

Now, as I have said again and again, I’m not going to tell you what to write. I’ll ask some questions to hopefully help guide your process.

What tropes might you be playing into when writing disabled characters? Why do you find these tropes compelling, or worth writing about? How prevalent are these tropes? How harmful are they? What messages do they send to actual disabled people?

Just because they are common tropes does not mean they are universally awful. Cool fantasy or futuristic workarounds are not necessarily bad rep. Showing the ugly realities of ableism is not necessarily bad rep. It’s just a very, very common representation of disability, and it’s worth thinking about why it’s so common, and why you’re writing it.

As always, conduct your own research, know your own characters and story, and make your own decisions. If you have questions, concerns, or comments, please hit me up! Add your own information! This is not monolithic whatsoever.

Happy writing!

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

Okay, so I've seen a lot of posts on the "should Morro have stayed dead or should he have been given a redemption arc" and all that and I just kind of wanted to share my thoughts on the topic. I don't think his canon ending is bad, in fact there's a lot I like about it. It's a tragedy and a very good one at that. The way it ends with him and Wu, and with the whole "you can only save those who wish to be saved" quote? That's poignant, that has narrative weight. I think to say that it's bad is to ignore a lot of what makes Morro a good character. He's a reflection of Wu as a teacher, his teachings, and he's a foil to Kai specifically. He shows us why Wu works better now, and why he teaches the way he does. A large component of what makes his story have depth isn't just that he died young and was traumatized it's that he continued a cycle of trauma on with Lloyd (and Cole, if you considered that he dies indirectly due to Morro's actions but that's another topic). He's a bad person, he did really bad things, that's part of who he is. But, I think it's a misstep to call him irredeemable. I think that misses the point of his character entirely actually, like severely. Morro isn't irredeemable, he shows that he's capable of growth in the very scene he dies in! That's part of the tragedy too! It's not a 'hot-take' to miss the point of a character because it's the cool fandom opinion of the month actually. I know people are frustrated at the fandom misogyny in how people talk about Morro vs. Harumi and I agree, it is frustrating, but y'all are just spreading around just plain bad takes and that's getting frustrating.

On the topic of missteps, as much as I do like it, I also think it was a misstep in how DOTD handled Morro. In general DOTD has some interesting ideas and concepts but is overall flat and under-cooked. Morro's part in it isn't excluded from that. DOTD brings him back, it shows that he is extremely capable of change and growth, and understanding (which is something you guys like to ignore too, actually). Then, it has him just leave again, die and I understand why but I think it's very genuinely sad in a way I don't think was intended, or well done. I think it backtracks on the narrative weight his conclusion in Possessed had. Possessions' ending for him is sad but it has depth and weight. DOTD just brings him back for fan service, and again, just has him die, and it's because he wants to. I understand they were going for a "at peace" kind of approach with him but it just falls flat in my opinion. If they were going to bring him back, and I know this is kind of a debated topic, I think they should've just kept him. And everyone who says that he wouldn't be capable of change for that is dead-wrong, the show proves it, and just because you don't like it doesn't make it bad. In terms of how it's handled in fanon, I think it's a mixed bag. Some people do it really well, faithful to his character but other times I think he just gets hit with the fanonization beam really hard. Sometimes you see his woobification of him based on the trauma and death he went through, and that erases what makes him and any sort of possible redemption or relationships with him interesting. I think people tend to miss the idea that a redemption is both not something a character has to 'deserve' (because redemption doesn't equal forgiveness) and also something a character has to work towards. The idea a redemption has to be deserved (as a moral concept not a narrative concept), instead of something worked towards by the character presents in people downplaying his actions and effects, but also in people acting like redemption is inherently reductive to his character because he's bad guys, he's a bad guy guys. Bad guys don't deserve redemption guys (/sarcastic). To be entirely real, I do think redemption can and does have a place in his writing. You can't look at how he acted at the end of possession and DOTD and tell me otherwise. Redemption in fiction at the end of the day is a narrative device and trope, and how a character is written informs their development. Additionally, I think some of you guys take his "you can only save those who want to be saved" way way too literally. That, too, is tragic and it's not because it's right. When characters speak, nine times out of ten, you're not supposed to baselessly accept and internalize what they say as correct and true. Was it true when Cole said he wasn't a ninja after dying in the same season? Was it true when Kai said he deserves to be the green ninja, just because he said it? Come on. Also, just, I think sometimes this fandom needs to accept different people find different things appealing and cathartic. It's okay to prefer a tragedy, but it's also okay to prefer the idea of him redeeming himself (because it takes work) and healing. There's this whole argument about whether or not saying he should've gotten a redemption arc (kind of a stupid question to begin with, in my opinion) but at the end of the day, it's already done. Also, both ends of the spectrum can have the most frustrating takes on him, and yeah I'm going to be annoyed and salty about it if you couldn't already tell. Anyways, there's no proper point to this because it's really just be ranting about several things I find really frustrating about how people handle this topic, so take it as you will. You can disagree, but I'm not saying his ending is bad nor that his tragedy is bad. In fact if you disagree I encourage that this fandom is way too prone to just parroting each others (mostly bigger blogs) opinions and not their own personal ones, so yeah.