#it would never have occurred to me that so many people simply didn't know what parchment was

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

am i xkcd comicing about how much people know about . anything to do with writing materials

"the average person probably only knows the definition of 'scribe' and 'manuscript'" "and 'parchment', of course" "of course"

[actingwithportals]

I wish more people understood that not every blind person is the exact same and we do not all need the same things and also the circumstances under how you were raised and when your blindness occurred and how involved you were in a blind community all play parts into what accessibility needs you will have.

Like. I was born legally blind. My vision has been for the most part stable my whole life, and it is likely to not change (unless normal worsening with age). I was raised in a family full of sighted people and all of my friends and members of my community were sighted people. I did not start meeting other blind people and joining blind communities until my early teenage years. This shaped me in such a way that I never learned Braille until I started teaching myself when I got older, did not learn to use a cane until I started attending blind camps as a teen, did not know I had an option of asking for accessibility with videos or images or menus or shopping or cooking or ANYTHING until I met other blind people who made it clear to me that there was a way I could exist with independence as a blind person and didn't have to just. miss out on life that I couldn't see.

So a vast majority of the way I taught myself to get by is very different from someone who spent a lot more of their early years around other blind people. But I also picked up a great deal of "normal" blind accessibility tricks from my teen years of involving myself with more blind communities that other blind folks who never involve themselves in blind communities are aware of or find useful.

My vision teacher as a kid showed me JAWS and explained what it was, but never really bothered to teach me to use it because ZoomText she decided was better for me. So I grew up to use screen magnifiers and not screenreaders. She didn't teach me Braille because she could get ahold of large print books, and when she couldn't she would find me a vast array of magnifiers to use. Ones with lights, ones in different shapes, some that were actual screen devices while others were simply glass. She didn't teach me how to use a cane and instead got me monoculars and bioptics, even though those actually...were not very easily usable to me. I had to teach myself how to use a cane after my first year of camp where I was gifted one, and later expanded upon learning when I finally took Orientation and Mobility training my year before moving out to college. I wouldn't start learning Braille until around the same time when I was given a Brailler by the specific state agency that provided assistive devices to blind students during high school and college.

So now, as an adult, what I find useful is reading text on a screen so that I can adjust my own contrast and magnification, I use a cane when walking around on my own outside of my home or other familiar areas, I use Braille on my keyboard and around on my household appliances so that I don't have to bend over or squint to attempt to read any settings or buttons or keys. A different blind person who grew up with different circumstances will have a very different list of assistive technology that is useful to them. Some will hate magnifiers and prefer audiobooks. Some would rather read Braille. Some will use puff paint or color-coding for household appliances or items like on clothing tags or toothbrushes. Some will use bioptics or monoculars when going to the theater instead of sitting close to the screen, or they might do both, or neither and will just listen. Some will use canes, some will use service dogs, some will use neither, or might prefer a sighted guide.

There are...so many ways a blind person might choose to make their life accessible. And we do not always agree with each other on what is best, because we do not all have the same eyes. Nor do we have the same ears, or hands, or feet. We are varied and complex and we disagree sometimes and come together other times and we discuss amongst ourselves on how to make things better for our community and we confer with other communities on how we help ourselves and help each other. We are not all the same. We are not all the same. We are not all the same.

If you want an answer for what is the One Agreeable accessibility feature for blind people: there isn't one. So just talk to us, instead. Get to know how we vary, how we relate, how you can best help one of us and how you might best help another. I'm sure we'd be happy to tell you what works best for us individually if you ask. And if we wouldn't, then that's ok. Sometimes we gotta figure things out on our own first before we can explain it to others. Either way, never stop asking. Because accessibility is always evolving, and someone is always going to have a different answer to the same question.

You can't get accessibility wrong if you're just willing to try. So keep trying.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Make Me Feel Alive Episode 2

Gilbert von Obsidian's Birthday Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

Several decades ago, a series of unfortunate events occurred in Obsidian, involving the deaths of members of the royal family and powerful nobles.

It all began with the assassination of the crown prince, followed by incidents such as accidental falls, carriage accidents, bloodshed due to tangled love affairs, and executions.

The unfortunate events continued as if someone were orchestrating them behind the scenes, and those who had been enjoying the power desperately tried to gain favor with the surviving influential figures.

The one who caught the attention of several people was a young prince who was still a child back then.

Despite the repeated deaths within the royal family, the one-eyed boy walked through the castle with a smile.

With just a few words, he demonstrated wisdom beyond his years, and it didn't take long for people to see in him the qualities fit for a king.

The one-eyed boy would eventually become the emperor.

The rumors spread like wildfire, and people did their best to gain his favor.

Gilbert: "It was fun back then. People who never paid me any attention suddenly bowed their heads, and the grown-ups kneeled before me."

Gilbert: "I wish I could've shown you how embarrassing that scene was."

(His childhood stories are always lonely.)

Gilbert: "Ahaha! Stop making that face. We haven't even gotten to the main part yet."

Emma: "Is this even related to your birthday?"

Gilbert: "Yeah. Think about it. If you were trying to win me over, what would you do first?"

Emma: "I'd bake lots of sweets."

Walter: "Please, stop with the carbs."

Emma: "S-Sorry."

Gilbert: "Shut up if you don't want to die, Walter."

Walter: "It's my job to watch over your health."

Gilbert: "Noisy outsiders aside, your idea is correct. You're going to give me something that I would enjoy, right?"

Gilbert: "But a gift, by its nature, cannot be given without a reason. That's why many people focus on一"

Emma: "Your birthday?"

Gilbert: "Yup. At that time, people saw me as a child. And what do children love? Presents."

Gilbert: "One certain year, a useless noble threw a birthday party for me."

------------Flashback-----------

Noble: "Happy birthday, Prince Gilbert."

Noble: "I sincerely offer my congratulations to you, Your Highness. This gemstone is a gift from our family."

Gilbert: "Fufu, thank you. But I don't need that kind of thing."

Noble: "Prince Gilbert?"

Gilbert: "I'm tired and sleepy, so I'm heading back. Goodnight."

Noble: "P-Please wait!"

Gilbert: "Ahaha! Don't worry. I have plans to meet with you tomorrow."

Noble: "Plans?"

Gilbert: "Yes. Well then, let's meet again at the execution ground."

Noble: "What!?"

---------Flashback Ends--------

Gilbert: "The next day, I killed him."

Emma: "What?"

Gilbert: "I just tried to make an example out of the guy."

I was so shocked that my mind went blank.

Roderich: "He was executed for human trafficking and illegal drug possession."

Roderich: "He was an underground merchant who trained unidentified orphans with drugs and illegally traded them. Prince Gilbert had been一"

Gilbert: "Hey, did I ever say you could open your mouth?"

Under his murderous gaze, Roderich fell silent.

Gilbert: "Anyway, I killed him."

Gilbert: "How did the people react? Of course, they thought that celebrating my birthday had upset me."

Gilbert: "After that year, there weren't any more daredevils."

Gilbert: "I was able to eliminate those who celebrated my birthday. All's well that ends well."

Emma: "Why did you hate being celebrated that much?"

(His birthday is taboo for the Obsidian people.)

(But celebrating itself shouldn't be a bad thing.)

Gilbert: "I wonder why?"

Seemingly reluctant to delve into the matter, Gilbert hid his words behind a smile.

Even when I looked at Roderich and Walter, they just shook their heads.

(Maybe no one really knows the reason.)

Gilbert: "Now then, little rabbit. As you said, my birthday is approaching soon."

He suddenly stood in front of me, gently placing his hands on my neck and squeezing it lightly.

Gilbert: "Will you also celebrate my birthday at the risk of your life?"

Episode 1 ╎ Episode 2 ╎ Episode 3

[xomakara]

A Heavenly Night

SUMMARY |  In which Jaemin takes you out on a date. But as friends? Tired of being friend-zoned, you confess your feelings. Little did you know that he felt the same way. PAIRINGS | Jaemin/Fem!Reader GENRE |  Friends to lovers, romantic?, fluff, soft, smut, general perversion RATING |  Mature LENGTH | 4,170 words AUTHOR’S NOTE |  I said "fuck it, I'm writing a Jaemin oneshot." And here it is. I know it's not as smutty compared to the DIY series with Jeno but I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I need to write more soft yet smutty stories lolol.

"The boys told me that you wouldn't say no. So… Get your pretty black dress on. You're going on a date with me!"

You looked at the text message you received from your best friend of many years and grimaced. A date with him of all people.

You: You're joking right? Nana: Why would I be joking? We're going on a date. You: Seriously? Who are you and what have you done with Jaemin? Nana: I suddenly have the courage to ask you on a date and you don't want to? You: I never said that! But really, is this you? Nana: Oh c'mon Y/N. Let's just go hang out for old time sake. You: ...fine. But you better treat me to something uber fancy.

You shook your head and stared at your phone for the longest. What was up with him? Na Jaemin never, NEVER, asked you out on a date before. For as long as you have known him, he only wanted to hang out as long as your other friends were around.

You sighed and wondered what that weirdo was doing the last few months. You had been childhood friends with Jaemin for quite a long time but you both haven't seen each other lately due him being busy. You'd sometimes stop by the practice room, you being a stylist for the company, and would just hang around to watch them.

Sometimes you'd just say hi and talk to the other members of NCT.

Jaemin didn't know it, but you had fallen pretty hard for him. It was as if whenever you saw someone who looked almost like him, you'd burst into a smile and bite your lip and realize that it was just someone who looked like him. Or when he would simply text you a simple good morning greeting or ask you for some advice, you would have some stupid smile on your face. You dropped your shoulders and pouted. 

Geez, what was Na Jaemin doing to make you fall for him?

After replying that he better treat you to a five star restaurant and some high class wine, you went into your closet and dug around in lace and frills to find a black dress. In your search, you managed to find only three in which you threw them on your bed and analyzed them.

"Ugh, what the hell was mom thinking getting me this monstrosity?" Wide-eyed, you poked at the frilly dress etched with tacky baubles and sequins. It looked like a vintage retro dress and was horribly made. "Does she think I live in the '80s or something? This is totally not a look."

Moving on to the next dress, you sighed. This dress had humiliating moments for you. Though it was a fashionable dress with its knee-length hugging skirt and a deep v-cut in front, you couldn't stop the embarrassing wardrobe malfunction that occurred when you were partying with the NCT members for Taeyong’s birthday last year. You ended up flashing your boobs to wide-eyed Kun and Jisung. You weren't going to have that happen again. "Nope. I don't want my tits being ogled by them. And since I have a feeling that he may bring some of the pervs along, I'm not going to take that chance."

You rummaged through your closet once more.

"When did I get this dress?" You blinked. No matter how many times you thought back, you didn't recall getting this dress. It was a sexy, strapless piece that laced up in the back. The skirt was rather short and looked liked it would hug all your curves but shorts would do no harm. 

"Hmm? What's this?"

A little note was attached to the dress:

'You seem a little lonely and tired lately. I'm sorry if I haven't been around lately. Hoping you wear this on our date!'

You rolled your eyes and smiled at the cheesiness of it. Your best friend was sure something. Jaemin actually got you a dress? When did he have the time to plant it in your closet? Putting away the other dresses apart from the third one, you got yourself ready. You couldn't debate if you wanted to wear lace underwear or cotton. 

Or a thong? You didn’t want your panty lines to show.

Maybe no panties would work in this case. But then, you didn’t really want to go commando.

"It's not like he'll see me in my underwear right?" You asked yourself looking in the mirror and telling yourself that even though your best friend was gorgeously hot, you'd never give him certain priorities. "Nah. It’s Jaemin, after all. There’s no way he’d try to get down my pants…well up my skirt."

Ding dong!

"Coming!" You called out as you ran to your front door. Opening it, you were met with the smiling face of NCT's Jaemin.

And his good-looking groupmates.

Like that wasn't a surprise.

"Oh!  You're wearing the dress that Johnny picked out?" Ten asked as he eyed you appreciatively. "It looks really good on you Y/N."

"So Johnny bought it instead. I should've known." You muttered as you smoothed out the little black dress. It definitely was fashionable and Johnny did have some great fashion sense. You gave a small turn and gave a wink to the others. "How do I look then?"

"You look nice!" Renjun gave you a thumbs up.

"It’s sexy." Jaehyun nodded, a grin on his mischievous face. "That's totally your style."

"Besides," You started as you eyed the massive membered group, as you lightly fingered the end of the dress. "How in the world did you stash this in my closet? I gave my spare to Jae— Was it you Jaemin?"

He shook his head fervently. "No...why would you think that?"

"Because you have my spare." You gave him a look that said 'duh you loser'. "Who else would have access to my apartment?"

"Well you see..." Renjun began, "Jeno took it from Jaemin's bag when he wasn't looking and then Mark and Johnny snuck in here."

"The hell, bro?" Mark exclaimed, an exasperated look on his face.

"And this is why I absolutely adore Renjun." You patted the man’s hair. You turned on the two men who came into your apartment and glared, Johnny letting out a small chuckle. " You saw my underwear, didn't you Johnny?!"

"Maybe just a little. You sure have lots of sexy underwear~"

"Oh? What kind?" Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. “Satin? Lace?”

"Really Jaehyun?" You turned on him before kicking his shin. You threw your hands in the air exasperated. "Ugh, who did I piss off in my past life to get this unfair treatment?"

"How Jaemin got her is still a mystery..." Ten whispered to Johnny, who in turn just nodded his head.

"He just got lucky. If she was my best friend..." Renjun mumbled, Mark elbowing him.

"Ugh." You frowned and looked at Jaemin. "Can we go now?"

Nodding his head, Jaemin led you to his car. The other NCT members took the other vehicle that was parked behind Jaemin, the others claiming that they feel more comfortable in the van (and Johnny’s driving) than in Jaemin's sports car. Getting in, you were just a bit disappointed that Jaemin didn't even compliment how you looked. You had more than a crush on him but Jaemin figured that you were just a friend and treated you like one.

Getting into the driver seat and starting the car, Jaemin reached towards the backseat and grabbed a small box, handing it to you. "A present."

"From who? Johnny didn't get it either, did he?"  You asked as you took the small box. You hopefully wished it was from him.

"Open it and you'll see." Jaemin shrugged as he sped off.

Opening it, your eyes widened. You looked at the trinket in the box to the man next to you. "You're kidding right?"

"It's from Taeyong." He muttered as he kept his eye on the road. You were a tad bit sad since it wasn't him who got it for you.

"Oh." Closing the jewelry box, you shifted in your seat and deeply inhaled. You didn't want a gift from Taeyong. You wanted it from Jaemin.

Glancing at you, he noticed that you looked quite down. "You alright? Y/N?"

"I'm fine, Jaemin."

Jaemin raised an eyebrow before looking back at the road. What is he supposed to say now? "You look..."

"Look what?"

"Nice. You look nice."

"Oh." You muttered. "Thank you."

Just nice? Was he really this blind? 

He got silent again and he was trying to rack his brain, thinking of something to say. "Originally, it was just supposed to be me and you going on this date."

Now that was a surprise. 

He usually brought along others since he never wanted to do stuff without them. "Really? Then the others...?"

"Renjun  thought it would've been cool to tag along. And then Mark-hyung got hungry and then the other hyungs all got this weird idea to drag themselves to our date." He said as he stopped at a red light, waiting for it to turn green. "But honestly, it was supposed to be me and you. No lie."

"Are you sure Na Jaemin?" You asked as you played with the box. You didn't want to put on the necklace. Sure it was a gift and it looked really nice but it wasn't from that special someone. "Normally you wouldn't ask me out anywhere. You're always complaining that if we were to go out, I'd be awkward without the guys."

"It wouldn’t be awkward." Jaemin let out a small laugh and you just wanted to strangle him for making your legs go weak from that simple gesture. “At least I wouldn’t think so.”

“Whatever Jaemin.” You rolled your eyes.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure you’re okay?" He asked you. You were acting a little different than usual, he noticed.

"I'm fine, Jaemin." You sighed. "I should text Taeyong a thank you for the necklace."

Jaemin gave you a look and became silent. In all honesty, he actually got you the present. And the dress. He had feelings for you but he didn't know if you saw him the same way so he just faked it. 

How did you feel? 

You looked a little disappointed about it though. Don't you like it? Was it the wrong design? Did he say the wrong member? Maybe you liked one of the other members like Mark instead of Taeyong?

Pulling into an unvacated spot in open plains, Jaemin parked the car, pulled out his phone to send a group message to his members to go on ahead to the restaurant, and looked at you. "Okay what's going on?"

"Nothing, Na Jaemin."

"Okay, something is going on if you're calling me by my full name." Unfastening his seatbelt, getting out of the car and opening the passenger door, he took your hand and pulled you along with him. The night was getting a bit chilly and you were wondering why the hell he parked in some open space with no trees and stuff in sight. His hands on your shoulder, he turned you to face him. "Y/N, what's wrong? You've been like this since I got to your apartment."

You gulped and looked away from him. You took a deep breath and calmed your nerves before looking at him. 

You were going to tell him. You were going to do it.

"I need to ask you something and I want you to be totally honest with me." You said as you looked him in the eyes. Gosh this was going to be hard. "It might be awkward with us after this but I have to know how you feel."

Jaemin looked at you, uncertain what he should say. 

Did you find out that he liked you? "Uhh..."

You ignored him, looking down at the ground instead. Why did he have to make it so hard? Sure he didn't really say anything but he was just making you a ball of emotions. "I have kept this in for a long while and it's about time I was straight up and just confronted you about it. I hope this doesn't ruin the relationship we already have. I just need to know and I can't see any other way to get over this."

"Y/N..."

"It just doesn't seem fair on me if I don't get an answer. I want you to tell me truthfully, no matter what it is. I just want your honest opinion... But... Do you have feelings for me? Even if just a little?"

"Damn..." Was his only response before he closed the distance between you both and pulled you in for a hug. He squeezes you tightly, giving you only enough air to breathe. "What if I said yes? Yes, I have feelings for you. What if I said yes, I had feelings for you for the longest?"

"Oh my god." You whispered, your heart beating awfully fast. "Jaemin, I..."

"Do you have feelings for me too?" Jaemin asked, pulling back a bit to look at you. "I'm baring my soul out to you and you can't say anything? I even bought you the dress and the necklace."

He bought the dress and necklace? Your mind clouded at that thought.

And then it clicked.

Why didn't he want to hang out with you alone.

How it must’ve been awkward with his feelings for you.

"I do. I do have feelings for you Jaemin." You cried out as you took his hand in yours. "I don't know when it all started. But I feel like I'm just in a messy puddle when I think about you and everything. Like I can't even think straight."

He chuckled, seeing you flustered was adorable. "How so?"

"Like... I want you to touch me. And I want to touch you." You whispered as you looked down. "Oh my god. Did I just really say that? I sound like a sexually deprived woman."

He took your cheeks in his palms and made you face him. "Geez. You're rambling now."

"I'm sorry. I'm just so... So nervous. Gosh, you're gorgeous... WHAT AM I SAYING?"

He chuckled. "You're gorgeous too, Y/N."

"You're not nervous?" You asked as your eyes widened. "I'm just a ball of emotions when you're around and I can't seem to think straight."

Jaemin gave you a sweet smile. "I am nervous. But I love you for being you."

“Did you just say…?”

“I love you?” Jaemin asked, you nodding your head slowly. “Loud and clear.”

He snaked an arm around your waist and slowly looked you in the eyes. He gave you a sheepish smile. "At least we're confessing when the guys aren't here."

Minutes passed and he still held your waist. Looking up at him, you raised an eyebrow. "So what? We're just going to stand here?"

"What do you want me to—"

"Oh Jaemin," You muttered before grabbing his collared shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. " We do not have time for this, Na Jaemin. Just kiss me."

It took but minutes for the two of you to arrive back at your apartment and Jaemin couldn't keep his hands off you. Kicking off your heels as he kick off his shoes, you took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He followed you, squeezing your hands in his. You squeezed back, confirming that it'll be okay.

"Y/N, you sure?" His voice was soft and low, that it was just sweet music to your ears.

"I'm positive, Jaemin." You nodded as you opened the door to your bedroom and pulled him in. Facing him, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck. "I want you, Na Jaemin. And I want you now."

"I don't know..." Jaemin whispered as he bit his bottom lip. "You are just so..."

"Nice? Beautiful?" You leaned up and kissed his cheek, trailing kisses to the corner of his mouth. "Or sexy?"

"Fucking sexy," He groaned out as he pulled you in closer and held your gaze. "You're making me go crazy, Y/N."

"Glad to hear that."

He closed the distance between you two and sensually placed a trail of kisses down your collarbone. You sucked in a breath, his fingers slowly tracing your bare legs as they moved up closer to the hem of your skirt. He moved his lips up to your neck, slowly giving your hot skin small kisses before reaching the edge of your lips. He gazed lovingly in your eyes, before slowly capturing your lips and running his hands up your legs.

"Jaemin..."

"Shh..." He whispered as he took your lips in his again. He kissed you deep and long, your mouth opened to his and he angled his lips over yours. His tongue teased yours and desire course through you and you just ached for him.

You never wanted a boy, no, a man, like this. 

In fact, you couldn't even remember not wanting, not needing, not aching like this before. You moved your hands to his shirt, undoing each button until his shirt hung open and you pushed it off his big shoulders. He unlaced your dress and slid it down your body, his lips going back to your neck and up back to your own. Clad in just your lacy underwear and he in just his pants, he gathered you close.

"Johnny was right." He stared down at you. "You do wear sexy underwear."

"I have to feel sexy when I feel adventurous like this.” You muttered.

"You'll look good in even cotton underwear." He chuckled as he fingered your panties. "But lace underwear makes you look even more sexy."

"Just shut up. We don't have time for this Jaemin..."

"We have plenty of time..."

Your arms slid around his neck and his naked chest pressed against yours. He ran his hands up and down your body, stopping only to peel the backless adhesive bra from your breasts and fling it somewhere around the room. The chill air hit your nipples, which hardened in an instant before Jaemin pulled you closer, skin touching skin.

"Oh my god." You moaned aloud as heat gathered in your womb and moisture dampened in between your legs. "Jaemin..."

"Y/N." He groaned your name out, as he slid your panties down your legs and proceeded to take his pants and boxers off as well.

You wanted more from him. You enjoyed that he was lovingly placing kisses over your neck, face, and lips. But you wanted more. 

You felt his arousal lay erect against your tummy and you slipped a hand between the space between your bodies to wrap it around his length. He groaned against your mouth and you stroked him, loving the sexy guttural noises he made.

He pulled you tighter against him and suddenly lifted you up where you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your most intimate place pressed against his toned stomach and suddenly throbbed. You felt his length, hot and hard, resting beneath your ass. 

You threw your head back as he rained kisses on your neck. He took a step back and you both tumbled on the bed, your legs fell opened and he laid between them, cupping your breasts.

His tongue toyed with your nipples and you moaned and gripped his shoulders. Your fingers dug into his flesh and faint mewling sounds came from the back of your throat. "Oh my god, Jaemin..."

"Shh... Entrust your body to me."

He shifted to lay beside you, wrapping one arm around you. His free hand explored your body, caressed each curve. You traced the valleys of his chest, his stomach, his fingers. His fingers traveled lower, his fingers tracing circles on your tummy. He hooked one of your legs over his, spreading them open for him, one finger sliding lower, caressing you, before sliding it into you. The pressure of his finger increased before adding another finger into you, your hips rolled into rhythm with his touch.

"Jaemin, I need you so much..." You whimpered, his fingers working wonders on you. Without warning, he withdrew his fingers and settled himself between your legs. "I need you to fuck me now Jaemin."

"Fuck, baby." Jaemin groaned. He leaned down to capture your mouth.

"Fuck me, Jaemin," You cupped his cheek. "I want this. I want us. Let's become one."

With a small nod, you felt his cock, hard and hot, nudge into you. Slowly he slid into you, filling you, completing you, and you knew how big he was and how full you felt when he made that one last push into you.

"You okay, baby?"

You nodded your head. "Fuck you’re big Jaemin."

"You feel so good, baby." He pulled back, his tip almost out before easing into you again, letting you get used to him. His strokes were slow, measured, and you felt every inch of him within you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, deeper, your body throbbing around him, his length pulsing within you. 

"Fuck…" He breathlessly moaned out as he moved. He filled you, sank into your body, sheathed himself in your heat. He increased the motion of his hips as he continued to move. You arched upward with loud moans. 

Stunning pleasures built inside you, passion gaining intensely as Jaemin continued to thrust, harder, deeper, faster, skin slapping on skin. The sweat covered your bodies, making him even more turned on. 

He moved faster, harder. You rocked your hips against his, both your movements growing faster, frantic. He thrust into you again and again and you meet his passion with your own. His need with yours. Faster and harder and hotter you both moved in a rhythm naturally.

"Jaemin... I can't hold on any longer."

"Me too... Let me—"

"No." You tightened against him before he pulled out. "Just come in me, Jaemin. Let's feel good together."

He just groaned in approval and you wondered if the intensity of pleasure tightening within you would destroy you and you didn't care. 

You wanted more, ached for more.

He pumped harder, hitting that one spot you craved until you cried out in mere pleasure.

And then release claimed you, shattered you.

"Ah!" You cried out, your body arched upward, and your body shuddered against his as waves of pleasure racked your body again and again. "Fuck, Jaemin!"

Jaemin thrust hard once more and his muscles tensed against you, releasing himself into you. He groaned and his body shook for a moment or forever.

Until he stilled and you clung to him.

For a long time, neither of you moved and you enjoyed him still buried within you. 

Still one with you.

For an eternity you laid together. Jaemin struggled to catch his breath. At last he withdrew and rolled to the side, pulling you close.

"Oh, fuck…" you murmured against him. "Jaemin... You..."

"Good?" He closed his eyes and sleepily opened them to look at you.

You let out a sigh. "Really, really good."

"Ha-ha," he chuckled as he cupped your cheek. "I just never imagined our first kiss would lead to our first night together."

"Even if we didn’t fuck and just went out on this date like you planned, how was it?"

"It's perfect." He smiled at you, as both your foreheads touched. "You are... I have never felt this way before... For anyone else but you."

"I love you, you know that?" You whispered.

"I love you too."

"What do we tell the others?"  You suddenly asked as his phone started to ring.

"That you fell sick and I took care of you?" He suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Like that will fool them. Mark is too smart for that." You playfully slapped his chest. "Probably figured out that we finally caved in to our feelings. He probably knows we fucked."

"That’s all true though. At least I don’t have to worry about sharing you with anyone." Jaemin rubbed your back as he rummaged for the covers and pulled them up over your naked bodies. "Let me just close my eyes and listen to your breathing and have you run your fingers through my hair."

"Tell me that you love me again, Jaemin."

"As long as you tell me that you love me."

"I love you, Na Jaemin."

"And I love you, Y/N."

He slipped his hand between your legs, his fingers sliding over you. You shuddered and rocked against his hand, slick with desire.

He placed his hands on your waist and drew you closer to straddle his legs.

"Jaemin," you said in a weak voice. It was more of a moan than a word.

"I know you want me again." He suggestively muttered. You giggled and burrowed your head in the crook of his neck as he hugged you closer and entered you.

Your mornings with Jaemin would be tiring and your days would be memorable. 

But your nights with Jaemin would simply be heaven.

[naeverse]

I have some news to share...😕

Hello, everyone. I have some news to tell you all, and it took me by surprise when I discovered it. Firstly, I just want to say thank you to a wonderful person on this app for telling me (don't know if you would like a shout out or not, DM me if you do, but you know who you are), but without you, I would have never known, so thank you so much!! ❤❤

But onto the news, like I stated previously, a wonderful person sent me a post that someone had published a story here on Tumblr that was literally copied and pasted from my own story, "Lapdog," with a simple change of the characters, and some dialogue that contained Spanish was reverted to English. I never gave this person authorization to use my work, and they literally took complete ownership of it, even stating: "It took me 5 hours to make." When, in reality, "Lapdog" took me 2 days and even more to edit and write. 🤧😅

I was greatly upset when I saw this; honestly, I was shocked for a good while before getting advice from my sis, @powerful-niya, on how to handle this situation. I had completely forgotten that plagiarism and the stealing of one's work could even happen, so when this occurred, it really took me by surprise. 😔

What further hurt me was the sight of this person fully claiming my work as theirs. They received many asks and comments about how good "their" story was and when a part 2 would be posted, and they responded saying: "Hii!! So a ton of people have been asking me about a part 2, and I mentioned that I would think about making the part two." And this one really got to me: "So some wise words would be to stick around for a bit, to see if it gets uploaded or not, but don't take this as a definite yes, because I'm still not sure."

It literally sounded like they were waiting on my second part of Lapdog to be uploaded to simply steal that one as well. I held very conflicting emotions: hurt, anger, sadness, and possibly even a little fear. However, with the help of some great besties here on Tumblr and from home, I was able to get through it. Here's a shoutout to those wonderful individuals, and I'm so thankful for you, girlies. I really appreciate the support! ❤😊

@serpentineaerodynamics, @grumpypixistix, @powerful-niya, @luvrxbunny, @amariiyagurl

(Also, thank you once again to the person who initially told me about this; I'm extremely grateful!) ❤

Lastly, I didn't make this post to spread hate to this person; that's the last thing I want. I uploaded this to spread awareness of my situation and how wrong it is to steal someone's work, who've poured every ounce of themselves into it, to simply get attention. 😕

Despite having little to no time to write, I still try to do a small amount on the weekends or in my free time (which is rare), but I try even still because I really enjoy writing, particularly writing about Miguel. So, that's why this incident greatly hurt me.

It's why I'm also thankful that I was able to take care of it, as the post has been removed; but I just wanted to notify my followers and anyone from their page who was deceived about what happened and why "their" story was removed from their blog.

Thank you, and I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day/night. Do not spread hate and steal others' work; it'll only bring harm to yourself in the end. Love you all and stay safe! ❤🤓👋🏽

[inconveniently-discorporated]

I saw the Barbie movie.

One thing I did not expect was to have Feelings about what it is like to be a neurodivergent woman.

This wasn't even really addressed in the movie directly at all (aside I guess from having "weird Barbie" who lives separately from everyone else and takes in the "broken Barbies", and all of the super-positive and "uplifting" Barbies who were supportive of each other were OPENLY rejecting her because of things that were beyond her control and didn't even make her harmful to their society, just not entirely Like Them...)(okay I guess I lied, I guess they did address it and it didn't really click for me until now). (I'm still leaving that sentence in because I'm so shocked at how the point of this post is how minimized I have felt as a woman, TO THE POINT I APPEAR TO HAVE MINIMIZED THE WOMAN I CAN ENTIRELY EMPATHIZE WITH.)

Anyway. It was made EXTREMELY clear by my peers from literally day one that I was Different. I mean, I'd had one-off interactions with kids before kindergarten, but going to school was the first time I was seeing the same group of children every day.

I remember being utterly baffled. Many kids seemed to understand what to do already. Most kids were friends with someone by the end of the first day. One of my most vivid memories was from the first day almost 30 years ago, when I turned to one of the girls -- her name was Sofia, she had waist-length black hair, and her name card was a laminated piece of letter practice paper. I asked her, "How does everyone know this already?"

Her answer was that she went to preschool, and for the longest time I thought that was it. I thought that was the only reason why I didn't Get It, and never Got It from then until I graduated and from then until after I got and quit my first job and moved onto my second job (where there happens to be A LOT of neurodivergent people and I seem to get it a lot better now). It didn't occur to me that there were other kids who admittedly didn't go to preschool, who didn't have the same problem as me, and other kids who did go to preschool (because believe me, I was asking) who DID have the same problem as me (and looking back I remember at least one point where the teacher had to address the class about bullying people who were "different").

Moving from childhood into adolescence, it was made EXCEEDINGLY clear to me that I wasn't simply a Different Person, but moreso a Different Woman. It was made apparent that I was NOT an object of desire, and I did NOT deserve to think of myself as such in any way, shape, or form.

I didn't simply ignore makeup because it was expensive, and a little confusing, and somewhat of a sensory difficulty. I ignored it because I didn't think it was for me. I wasn't allowed to be one of those girls. I didn't only ignore fashion because clothes shopping was overwhelming and I couldn't spend that kind of energy in the morning putting together an outfit (not that I had a cohesive closet anyway). I ignored it because of the giggles I heard behind my back when I DID try to camouflage as A Normal Girl, because of the comments like, "Look at her wearing that belt like she thinks she's cute."

It affected me so much that I frankly didn't see myself as a "real woman" until I was in my (LATE) twenties. It's not that I didn't want to be a woman, it's that I didn't think I was allowed to feel like one. I was absolutely convinced that my husband would someday discover this "secret" about me -- that I wasn't a "real woman" -- and leave me. I literally thought he was lying to me about being attracted to me.

This did eventually change with work on my self-esteem, but one of the results is something that still persists to this day -- I feel simultaneously constrained by the societal views of women, while being almost entirely unable to relate. I went into that movie and left, today, realizing that I STILL feel like I'm Not Allowed to feel like I have some of these problems.

I've never been cat-called (though I have been screamed at by people on the street for not being desirable enough of a woman in public). But I HAVE been dismissed as an overdramatic woman by medical professionals, when my husband wouldn't get the same treatment. I've never been harassed for my number, but I HAVE had men harass and belittle me at the mechanic for saying "no" to them, who then promptly stopped the moment my husband walked into the shop and came up beside me. I've never been told I'm too pretty to be smart, but I HAVE had men refuse to talk to me and seek out my less-experienced male coworkers for answers instead.

So I drove away realizing that this dichotomy still exists for me. I couldn't relate to Barbie crying because she didn't feel pretty enough, because I've never felt like that pressure actually applied to me -- it was just always made apparent by my childhood peers that I wasn't, and didn't deserve to even worry about whether I was attractive enough. And I realized that these other pressures were the same way -- I didn't feel the pressure to be the perfect leader, because of course I couldn't be that. I didn't feel the pressure to fit in perfectly, because of course I just already couldn't.

I want to do extraordinary things, not because people expect that of me as a woman, but because people think I CAN'T as someone who is Different and Not Like Them. People are SHOCKED when I eventually adapt to a social situation (like a new job), and show that I can contribute at the same level as other people once I learn what I'm doing.

Kind of like how the Kens didn't even bother with Weird Barbie, she was just forgotten in her weird house, and she ended up being the one to help them all. And then at the end, when the Barbies realize what they've done to her, they apologize and she just sort of goes, "Eh, that's how it is."

I don't know. It's just a very weird place to be. And it can all probably be summed up by the fact that I didn't even register her experience as something I could entirely relate to, until I went to write this post about the experience that I entirely relate to.

[notmorbid]

grey dog.

dialogue prompts from grey dog by elliott gish.

to my future self: my apologies, and godspeed.

i do not travel well, at the best of times.

i was raised in a small town. they suit me very well.

let's get a bit of supper in you.

happiness is an act of will.

there are two gods: the god of inside, and the god of outside.

who are you?

you frightened me. i thought i was alone.

you're never alone out here.

more hands make less work.

every day it gets better. you just mind that.

i feel wrung out as an old rag.

the fiercest tigers make the best mothers.

what a mess i've made of you.

i was about to put the kettle on.

i like you as you are.

rumors fly faster and further than the truth.

you deserve a chance to let your hair down.

certain things are not to be discussed.

is there anything more tiresome than a sunday school picnic?

there's no such thing as witches.

i thought it would be a dreadful trial, but you made it easy.

you are a perfect strawberry.

it will get worse before it gets better.

every town needs its witch, doesn't it? someone to whisper about in the dark?

i thought of ___ as a friend.

a young girl's reputation is as fragile as ice on a water bucket.

i don't want you to be alone in the dark.

i'm glad you came here.

you're the last thing i expected to find here.

a child may know that there are no monsters under the bed, but he will take a running leap onto the mattress, anyway. just in case.

nothing occurs in the natural world that cannot be understood through patient observation.

you can always follow me out of the dark.

if i am to drink hemlock, then let it be in good company.

you're going to run out of exclamation points, if you don't use them more sparingly.

don't you quote scripture at me.

did you think i materialized fully formed in this house?

i have a past, just as you do. just as everyone does.

widowhood has much to recommend it.

you must be going mad with boredom.

it does not become you, this passion for tragedy.

if that happened to me, i would hate god.

how have you been keeping?

you spoke the truth, and shamed the devil every time.

you have never loved anything but your own blessed reputation.

it was ordinary, in the beginning. i must remember that.

there are always eyes in the dark.

it isn't in the bible, but that doesn't mean it isn't so.

you are many things to me, but a mother is not one of them.

i can't imagine you crying.

a holiday might do you good.

my nerves are raw as meat.

i want to fend off sleep and dreams as long as i can.

it's funny, isn't it, the things that frighten us as children.

a monster seen is a monster that can be dealt with.

the shine is off the world.

you can come in, you know.

pretty is as pretty does.

what has happened to you?

whatever happened, god didn't stop it. doesn't that make it his will?

it will be alright, won't it?

you should've told me. i would have made you a cake.

did you never have birthday parties when you were a child?

so many unhappy memories. we must make a better one.

what is happening to me?

perhaps you could read to me?

i know it's a bit childish, but i like being read to when i'm not well.

there was a knock. surely you heard it.

watch me from the shadows, will you? whisper my name? come out and look me in the eye.

why are you laughing? what is it that you find so very funny?

get out of here right now, or you will catch it.

you and i know how much more there is out there in the wide, wild world.

not enraged. outraged.

what do you have to cry about?

i don't want to hear. i don't want to see.

i may be doomed, but i am not mad.

no one has ever wanted me so much.

an older sister can fix anything.

i really thought i would be able to simply carry on.

idle hands are the devil's playthings.

i need to speak to you about that night.

you are my friend. the truest friend i have.

i want to understand what happened. and to help, if i can.

a hurt animal will bite, even when someone is trying to dress its wounds.

i don't care about inconvenience, or what people think. i care about you.

you're solicitous as an angel.

i can scarcely remember the last time i wasn't nervous.

your voice is not your own, nor your expression.

i am well used to lying by omission.

it does not do for a woman to be too clever.

isn't that strange? to hate someone you have never met?

it spoke to me. it knew my name.

i don't want to be in the dark.

you know, don't you? you know for certain.

i tried to turn back, but i couldn't.

when you say 'it', what do you mean?

it's worse than not having it at all: having it, and then not having it.

is the truth something i owed you?

if i owe you my past, do you owe me yours?

every woman is full of tragedies. she is obliged to share them with no one but god.

i have nothing but questions, and no answers.

i am like a lost handkerchief: i turn up when i'm least expected.

i only did what you asked of me.

fear makes you ugly.

you are such an innocent, in spite of everything.

can you not recognize when you are being wooed?

no one has ever wooed me before.

people avoid me now.

a woman laughing is always a disturbing thing for a man to witness.

the value of knowledge does not need to be justified by utility.

you have never thought of what is best for me. only what is best for you.

what power have you over me now?

it pains me to see you so changed.

i am more myself than i have ever been before.

i am not a thing that you can shape. not anymore.

the prospect of being hanged sharpens the mind most wonderfully.

your heart is cold. beneath that skin of yours is only ice, not blood.

i have so little patience left.

you must take this to your grave.

there are a lot of stories about you.

you get to where you can recognize it. that look someone has.

intentions and prayers are useless to me.

[viviennevermillion]

Beauty and the Beast

notes: this came to me in a dream....well, sorta. listen to this beautiful version of the song "Beauty and the Beast" by Karliene!

contains: capitano x gn!reader

warnings: none!

The Captain was feared by many. From his current homeland of Snezhnaya to the far edges of Teyvat, he was known to be a menace on the battlefield. Mysterious, never revealing his face or true identity and never leaving any traces that could have you guessing at who the man was behind the mask truly was. If there were more witnesses to his missions aside from the loyal Fatui soldiers, the Captain mused he surely would have become some sort of boogeyman by now; a story to tell your children to make sure they don't just go running off on their own or; considering the creative liberties some of their parents might take making up stories about the fearsome warrior; dont leave the house at all for at least three weeks.

Everyone was always wary of the Captain. They kept their distance from him unless they were called closer. After all, wasn't it better to be safe than sorry? Granted, a lot of the commonfolk would fear the harbingers given their position in the Tsaritsa's court. But even among those who were regarded as brave by their peers, few would be mad enough to willingly get closer to any of the high-ranking ones. Such was the path fate seemed to have laid out for Capitano and he was sure that he was meant to walk it alone. To do his duty, follow his principles; even when others were quick to disregard them and believe the tall man had no such thing as values or a sense of kindness in his heart.

It was easy to brush off the unknown and the powerful as monsters and killing machines. It was a familiar response to that which people struggled to grasp, even when Capitano handed out soup for all his subordinates in the cold dead of winter nights, when they had been sent on a mission. Even when he sent the injured home rather than using them as cannon fodder on the battlefield. Even when some of the Fatui soldiers walked by to see Capitano tend to the palace garden, trying to give some life back to the soils of Teyvat after all the deaths that had occured in the wars and conflict he led his subordinates into. One could always find an explanation for his behavior without having to jump to the conclusion that the Captain was capable of caring and nurturing life other than his own.

And then there was you. You, who caught him off-guard by simply approaching him as if he was just one of the many souls you met in your day-to-day life. You showed no sign of fear towards him. He'd have brushed you off as naive if he didn't know better. But then again, what was so bad about giving a chance to someone like him?

Capitano always tried to appear less intimidating when he was around you; scared of losing something he never even noticed he was lacking. Kindness and attention from another. Someone who genuinely wanted to get to know him. And so, how could he not indulge you? Over the passing of days and months you learnt many things about him he hadn't shown to anyone in a long time. Maybe he would have, if someone had only dared to ask.

You learnt that he liked taking care of Zapolyarny Palace's vibrant garden a little once in a while; although he admitted that sometimes he messed up and destroyed some of the flowers on accident because of his sheer physical strength.

You learnt that he liked collecting trinkets from his travels; the walls of his room being ornated with several ships in bottles, ancient maps, trophies and photographs of places he had been to. Death seemed to follow a man like Capitano like a shadow at his heels; his shoes seemed to be made to pound the pavement and trample everything in their wake. The objects he brought home with him reminded him that life was also all around him. That almost every place he went to had been touched by humans and their unwavering curiosity and relentlessness. He quite enjoyed telling some of the stories behind them to you. Relaying what he had learnt and observed about civilization to someone he hoped considered him a kindred soul.

You learnt that he made some crafts in his freetime and enjoyed reading biographies of famous travelers.

You learnt that behind that mask; behind his power and status, Capitano was just a man. From the first time you saw him, Capitano felt like that was the only thing you ever looked at. The man behind the mask. Like you beckoned him to come closer and tell you his story; to rest his weary bones from battle and enjoy the moments you were able to spend together.

Ever since he became a harbinger, Capitano had never seen much reason to take off his mask in the presence of another person. For what were they to see, but another face of evil?

Besides, it protected his identity and gave him an additional aura of authority; not that he particularly needed it.

But when he took that mask off before you for the first time; when he showed you the raw emotion his face never had to hide for as long as he was wearing his helmet; showed you the battle scars that lined his features and the face so many had theorized about and feared despite never having caught a glimpse of it; all you did was call him beautiful. Accepted him as he was and affirmed to him that you liked what you saw.

When you cupped his face for the first time; the first touch he had received like that in many, many years; Capitano melted into your touch as if you were his salvation.

Now, after years of fighting and wandering the earth, he had finally arrived at a place he could call home.

He chuckled at how you handled him as if he was the one needing protection.

It's something different, he mused, I needed something different.

He readily accepted your love and affection with open arms; from the featherlight kisses you blessed his face with to the way you'd cherish the flowers he had grown himself in the garden and the stories he told you about the world.

Now, even in his hardest battles, death was nothing but a distant voice; for life resided in the heart you had given him to protect and he was reminded of you a little by almost everything around him. Of the nights you spent resting in his arms, the evenings you had danced with him through the empty ballrooms of the castle; teasing him with a reminder to not step on your feet; and of the taste of your lips.

One day, he knew, he'd bring a ring home to you to ask him to stay by his side forever.

"Thank you", he told you as he pressed a warm, soft kiss to your cheek, "for not seeing me as a monster. For taking the time and patience to get to know me. For loving me as I am, just as lost as anyone, really." And you had taken his hand and sworn that you would always love him. Even in this ever-changing world, when the sun has set and risen again a million times, the storms had raged across the land and the sky had shifted; still your love lived on.

[batchilla]

Most Married Divorced couple timeline and other fun stuff.

This post will be updated as it needs to be updated.

I recently received some feedback that the third chapter of The Most Married Divorced couple caused some minor confusion, and so! a timeline to help make it clear what happens when is now being created! I also included fun facts about the series and my writing quirks because I am desperate for people to talk to meeee.

I have the full version, but this post will reflect the currently released works, or works that I can fit in spoiler free, such as the flashbacks, which are of course all prior to the main fic and can be read as stand alone if you so choose to just ignore their doomed future haha.

Purple titles are linked - let me know if I forget to link any of them!

Five times Robin rescued you and one time he didn't. (no link as not yet out)

This was a confusing one to fit in, as I would say that technically complicated exists somewhere in the middle of the many rescues, but I settled on first as it includes you meeting Jason.

the five as of this stage of development are:

the first time

the creation of your desert arrangement

the first time he drops you off at home

Complicated would occur loosely here

followed by the remaining rescues which I am keeping close to my chest.

Complicated

This could be read as a stand alone, but it is intended as the first kiss of this particular reader and Jason. It takes place shortly before Jason's death, maybe a year or two prior. While I never set an age in stone for the reader, I would imagine them to be mid to early teens.

We then experience a time-skip of several years.

Chapter one of The most married divorced couple

Till death do us part.

This fic occurs with no set age in mind for the reader or Jason, but you are settled into a apartment, and your daughter Mary is three years old, so I had imagined her as mid to late twenties or so, but you do not have to of course!

Chapter two of The most married divorced couple

Four years later

We skip forward four years into your divorce. Those of you with your smartie pants on will know this puts Mary as around seven years of age. This, for the majority of the time, is considered the 'main' time period, with anything before being a flashback. While I tried to make this clear, I will say it more plainly here because I am talking as me and it is easier to communicate this more bluntly out of the story:

Jason had zero contact post divorce with the reader or Mary until the events of chapter three; two years of utter silence. After the events of chapter three, while officially no changes in the custody arrangement were made, during the two years between three and two, Jason has come over as we see him do in 'four years later', or been present at places he could plausibly ran into you.

Chapter three of The Most married divorced couple

Jason comes home.

Despite what I just said about the main timeline, chapter three is an immediate flashback to the first time Jason returned after two years of total silence. Simply put this is two years AFTER till death do us part and two years BEFORE four years later. Or, for those of us keeping track by Mary's age, when she is five.

Chapter four of The Most married divorced couple

Churros, Coffee, hard Conversations, and Custody. (no link at this time because it isn't out yet)

a sneak peak of the unreleased chapter? in this economy? more likely then you think.

Jason wakes up on your couch, the morning after the events of Four Years Later, and after spending the morning as close as your heart can take to as a proper family would, with Mary, (once again aged seven for those keeping up that way) off to school, a very important, very sad, rather heated discussion must be had.

FUN FACTS

I, when writing x readers, try to avoid having the reader described as walking or running anywhere as I am a wheelchair user irl, and it often breaks immersion for me. No hate to writers who don't, its not a failing on your part, but I hope my fellow wheelchair girlies feel seen! I don't have her explicitly in a wheelchair, because I feel that it wouldn't represent most of my readers, but I have made a conscious effort that it could be read that way.

Jason's hoodie in chapter two, while never canonically described and therefore whatever you imagine it to be, in my own heart, is the 'I am kenough' hoodie. I had it as that in a draft, but I felt it changed the vibe too much to make it canon.

works I am considering writing for this series in addition to the main timeline:

meeting the resurrected Jason as Red Hood

The proposal

A series of dabbles or at least short, short, segments on what it's like to be pregnant in a family of the worlds greatest detectives

a short story about how Damian was impacted by the divorce

A far into the future mainly crack fic with the many bat uncles and aunts, Jason, and Grandpa Bruce all trying to convince a teen Mary to come join THEIR super team / to be their sidekick.

Let me know in the replies if any of these particularly excite you! I make no promises of writing them but they are rattling around in my mind.

[lorei-writes]

You seem genuinely nice in your curiosity, so I thought I'd share my thoughts. Maybe this is not the right approach to how to go about interacting on tumblr, but if I notice that there's a blog that I've interacted with somewhat frequently (whether it be liking/reblogging their posts, sending requests when requests are open, etc) and then I notice that interaction is one-sided (either they don't follow me back, they never ever like or reblog my posts and I see them interacting with many others in fandom so I know they are active), I dunno, but I get the feeling they don't like me or my posts, maybe I post too many spoilers, maybe I flood the tags and my posts are annoying or some other third unknown option - and then it snowballs and I worry I'm annoying others with my comments or reblogs or whatever. And I slow my interaction with others out of fear of not being liked or just plain shyness. And sometimes I have unfollowed them. Because, again, I dunno, but I feel like if they don't want to interact with me, perhaps I should not interact with them? When those posts come across my feed because reblogged by a mutual, I will sometimes read/look at if a suitor I like, but when I see who the op is, I become hesitant with interacting, and end up not interacting at all.

I know, devil's advocate - what if this blogger who didn't interact with me has never seen my blog or any of my posts. That might fly in Genshin or HSR fandoms, but not Ikemen. I think by now most everyone knows each other around here (at least those who have been posting for a while and post regularly/frequently). And I'm not the only one who has experienced this...

Thank you for listening to my rambling.

Thank you for sharing your experience!

Hmm... I must admit, Anon, what you've said has left me somewhat conflicted. I can agree that reaching out to a person repeatedly and the effort not being reciprocated can be disheartening. I do think that in this situation it is reasonable to adjust either your expectations ("I know they may not say anything back, but I did enjoy their work regardless, so I will share it." // no expectations of friendship, interacting with posts for the sake of posts alone) or the amount you give out ("I want to have some relationship with this person and they do not reciprocate, therefore I will decrease the amount of effort I put into this." // expectations of friendship, interactions as means of building relationships).

I can tell you that I do not know of a blogger who hasn't appreciated familiar faces in their notification. (Which isn't to devalue your experience. Maybe you met an outlier, maybe this person simply couldn't show it due to their personal circumstances, maybe they thought they showed it and a mismatch in terms of expectations occurred). I can tell you they shouldn't be taken for granted. But I also can tell you that, in some cases, which I do not know whether they are relevant to you, it is simply impossible to give back to everybody.

My experience is what I know best, so allow me to use that as an example. There's over a thousand people following this blog. I do not know all of you. More than this, I do not know all of the creators in the Ikemen Fandom. When I was primarily into Sen, I had no idea who was creating for Pri and was rather surprised to find out that some of those people were considered "big", as I went entirely without ever seeing their names. Even now that I have been invested into Pri for a year, I still find people I have never heard about before... And I still meet people who have no clue who I am or what I do. Likewise, Villains is a fog for me... As I would suspect the "old fandom" may be for you. So, I don't agree with the "most everyone knows each other around here (at least those who have been posting for a while and post regularly/frequently)" statement.

That aside, sometimes it is unfortunate, but it is simply impossible to give back to everybody. And it does suck. Just, hm... I suppose I'd like you to see me now, as it's something I've been struggling with and had to make my peace about? There is only one me. If "just" a hundred of people appear at any given time, or "just" fifty, it is still more than I can reasonably handle. My friendships with people who moved fandoms haven't dissolved and there are only so many relationships I can support. Reliably replying to everything here? I try. But I know I generally can't give back as much as I've received, or at least not in a personal enough manner. It is just too much for a single me. Due to my health issues I am chronically online -- what about people who have more robust offline lives?

Again, I do not know whether that is relevant for your case. It is only that I think it isn't you, as in it isn't about you being a certain way. The situation may just be a result of those mundane circumstances surrounding us. For me personally, a lot of luck is required to expand my circles in a meaningful manner. Of course, it still does suck in the end! Just maybe in a slightly different flavour.

Thank you for listening to my rambles and best of luck <3

[fangirlfrom-hell]

Marigolds: A Day of the Dead Story || Jay Halstead x Halstead sister

It could have turned out better, but many inconveniences occurred that made me finish writing hastily. Anyway, I wanted to share it. Might end up delating it, though.

You'll find some songs to armonize this story at the end of the post.

"So, what's the name of this girl, again?" Jay asked from the kitchen while he was cooking dinner.

Sitting on the living room floor, her eyes fixed on the papers and books scattered across the coffee table, Becca replied slowly and deliberately, trying to pronounce each sound correctly, "Ca-ta-li-na."

"Catalina," he muttered to himself, then turned back to his sister. "I don't remember her."

"Yeah, that's because she's new at school. I think her family just moved to Chicago."

"Hmm," Jay hesitated, "Don't you prefer to invite them over here?"

"No."

"I can bring paperwork home. Your friends have been here before," he continued, trying to persuade her.

"Nope. We decided to go to her house because her mom still doesn't know how to move around the city."

Becca left the pen she was writing with, turned to face her brother, and asked, "Is there a problem?"

"Well, kind of. I don't know her or her family at all. Where does she live, again?"

Becca smiled. "I guess you never stop being a cop."

"Hey!" the detective shot back, "I'm just looking out for you. Any other parent, or big brother in this case, would do the same," he winked.

"Yeah, yeah," she went back to her homework.

The siblings sat comfortably in front of the TV: Jay with his feet on the coffee table, and Becca with her legs crossed on the sofa. Both had their plates on their laps, having dinner while catching up with their favorite crime show.

"That would never happen!" Jay would exclaim from time to time, to which Becca would simply roll her eyes.

This was a typical evening for them, unless Will was there to scold them for not eating at the table "like civilized people," as he would say.

"Okay, you can go to your friend's house, only because it's for homework," Jay said as the ending credits of the show rolled.

"Thanks, I guess?"

"...but I'll drive you there."

"Fine."

"...and I will walk you to the door. I want to meet her mom and take a look at the place where you're staying."

"Jay–"

"Don't you dare make that face at me, Becca Marie!" He pointed at her with his finger.

"Ugh, whatever you want. It's your time to waste, anyway."

The next day after school, Becca had to spend some time at the 21st district before her brother could take her to Catalina's home.

"This should be the house," Jay called his sister before she got out of the truk. "Hey, if anything happens, if you just feel uncomfortable, give me a call, and I'll pick you up, okay? Anything, even if you think it's nonsense."

"Yes, detective," Becca turned her eyes, mocking him.

But Jay was serious. "I mean it." As he had warned, he got out of the car to walk her to the entrance.

After a few knocks, a girl about the same age as Becca opened the door, and a delicious smell wafted out of the house, something they had never smelled before.

At the same time, a voice came from the back part of the house, "Cata, who is it?" But before the girl could answer, a woman hurriedly approached the entrance, drying her hands with a kitchen towel, making it obvious that she had interrupted something because of their arrival. That's how Jay met Mrs. Aragón, Catalina's mother, and as both adults stayed there talking, the girls ran upstairs.

"It smells delicious," Becca couldn't help but point out.

"Yes," Catalina answered proudly, "My mom is baking…", but suddenly she seemed to be ashamed of something.

"What?"

"Nothing," she ended the conversation by opening the door to her room, where two other girls were already working on their school assignment.

It didn't take them long to finish their homework, and as they were waiting for their moms to pick them up, they chatted and laughed. Becca sent a text to let Jay know she was done, to which he immediately answered with "Give me five minutes," and she knew very well that those 5 minutes could turn into 5 hours. Everything was going well until all the other girls had left, and Becca remained alone.

"Becc, do you need a ride?" one of the moms offered, "I can take you, that's all right, honey."

"Thank you! But my brother will come for me," she replied. She didn't like it when that happened, and it was quite often. She knew all the other moms looked at her with pity, as if she was abandoned, which wasn't true. It was just that she didn't have a full-time mom to drive her around whenever it was needed. Jay did his best to take care of her.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Mrs. Aragón asked Becca.

"Uh, I don't think so. My brother should be here any minute," she instinctively checked her phone.

"Don't worry," her smile was warm, and her voice soothing, "You can stay here as long as you need, no pasa nada," the woman continued when she noticed the girl looking at the clock. "It's getting late, so I'll prepare a plate for you, just in case."

Then, she received a call from Jay, whose tone was anguished.

"I'm so sorry, Becc. I got stuck at the district; I can't leave right now. Ask your friend if you can stay a little bit longer," he said the sentence, but then regretted it, knowing how nervous his sister was. He knew she must be uncomfortable being alone in a new house with new people. He also thought about how the other moms would have seen her being left behind, a thing that he also hated.

"Okay, let me just ask…" The truth was that she was feeling pretty welcome and cozy with the Aragóns.

"No, you know what? I'll send a patrol to pick you up and bring you here."

"A patro–? Jay, no way, don't you dare. It's alright, I can stay here a bit more. They invited me to have dinner, so…" She turned to see her new friend, who nodded in approval.

There was a bit of silence on the other side of the line, then a deep sigh, "Do you want to?" Becca didn't like eating in other places or in front of strangers; it made her anxious, so it was odd how she was managing the situation.

"I'm fine."

With one last "sorry," the call ended.

"We can wait in my room," Catalina invited her as she walked to the stairs. When they were passing by the living room, something caught Becca's attention, and she stopped to peek her head, as if she were drawn to it.

"Wait, what is that?" She was looking at a tall structure covered with white and black tablecloths, decorated with colorful skulls, pictures, and a lot of orange flowers.

"Ah, that's our altar for Day of the Dead," her friend answered as if it were the most natural thing, then took her hand, feeling a little bit rushed to take her out of there. "Come on."

Her attempt was useless, for Becca couldn't take her eyes off it. "May I see it closer?"

"Uh, sure! If that's what you want." It was a strange request. "It's still in progress, but it's almost done," she explained as they approached.

"We're only missing the food," Mrs. Aragón entered the room with a tray of bread, "But that's for the actual day they are coming."

"Who's coming?" Becca frowned.

"The deceased," the woman said simply. Catalina turned to meet her guest's gaze a bit embarrassed, trying to read Becca's thoughts on the matter. As she had learned in her short life, you couldn't give an explanation like that to people, as they usually got scared. To her surprise, Becca was not like every other person.

"Oh, how does that work?" The girl asked nervously.

"Well, Day of the Dead is the day when the deceased come back to Earth to visit their loved ones, the ones they left behind, us the living. That's why we build these offerings for them. It's filled with their favorite foods and beverages so they can have what they used to enjoy when they were alive."

Feeling a bit more secure, Catalina continued, "Also, because they come from a place far away and it's a tiring trip, so they rest here before going back."

"That's right," her mom said proudly.

"It's beautiful, so colorful. I really love it," Becca commented.

"Thank you. We're doing what we can with what we have. Now…" she placed the tray on the altar, "Take one and tell me if it's good" she offered both girls.

"So, this is why it smelled so delicious," Becca said as she inspected the piece of bread, "I've never seen this type of bread before." It was light and fluffy, glazed with sugar and some stange shapes on top of it.

"It's pan de muerto," Catalina said with her mouth half full. "I won't translate it or explain the meaning of it because you might refuse to eat it. Just taste it." She took another bite.

"Oh, this is really delicious."

"I couldn't find any good pan de muerto in the city, so I had to bake it myself."

"Are these your grandparents?" Becca pointed to the pictures.

"Yeah. We put their pictures so they know we still remember them. As we say "Solamente muere el que ha sido olvidado."

"Only those who had been forgotten die" Catalina translated.

Becca kept silent, thinking about her mom, and she mentally ran through Jay's apartment, realizing there were no pictures of her around.

"But isn't it a bit scary? The idea of dead people visiting you?"

Catalina reacted with a smile, "Oh, no. What I would give to hug my granny one more time."

Becca connected that idea to her own mother, and her eyes became watery. A wave of emotions washed over her, and the atmosphere in the room intensified her sensitivity. She had felt empty spaces in her chest before, but never like this – it was like a black hole that opened up within her. Catalina noticed her distress and became concerned that they might have shared too much information and made her feel uncomfortable.

But Mrs. Aragón knew better and warmly smirked, "You're thinking of someone, right?"

"My mommy," Becca answered simply, her voice trembling and a lump forming in her throat. She couldn't hold back the silent tears that welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. The gaze of four concerned eyes bore into her, and she despised being the center of attention. So she wiped away her tears, acting as if everything was normal.

"I'm so sorry," Mrs. Aragón said as she hugged her by the shoulder. That gesture eased the girl's emotions.

"Oh, but it's okay, don't worry. It happened a few years ago."

"You know what? If you feel like it, you can bring your mommy's photograph to our altar..."

"Mamá..." Catalina scolded her, not knowing how the other girl would react.

"We can make some space for her," she said, pointing to a spot on the offering, imagining how she could rearrange everything to make room for the newly invited one.

"Mom!" She was concerned that she might scare Becca.

"...We'd be glad to have her here.”

Becca hesitated, she was pulled into the idea, but at the same time she felt as an intruder, "But I'm not even Mexican, and I don't want to be a bother, everything is already settled."

"Doesn't matter,” the woman put her hands on her waist, “Everybody's welcome to join if they want to, regardless of their nationality or religion. And you are not a bother, we would only have to move one or two things.”

“Besides, I’m pretty sure my grandparents would love to have a new friend around,” Catalina added, still with a bit of embarrasement in her voice.

Becca bit her lip and, after a few seconds, she nodded, “Yeah, I would like to.” Her words hinted at the deep need to keep her mother's memory alive.

As soon as they arrived home, Becca opened each drawer on the living room furniture and took out every album, looking for the picture.

"What are you looking for?" Jay asked, noticing how stressed she was getting.

“Don’t we have a picture of Mom?” There was a hint of anger in her tone. Her brother felt his blood run cold, for their mother was still a sensitive topic to discuss. He had been the one to deal with her throughout her illness and had to witness her during her worst moments.

“Of course, we have,” he managed to keep calmed as he approached to open one specific drawer, and take a cardboard box from it. “There should be some here.”

Catalina’s mom's words came to Becca’s mind: Only those who are forgotten die. A wave of unease washed over her, causing her stomach to churn with a mix of anxiety and contemplation.

“Why are Mom’s pictures inside of a box inside of a drawer?”

Jay shrugged, not really understanding what was going on. “I keep them here. They are safe in this place.”

“There are no reminders of Mom around in any place in this apartment. Not even at Will’s house". She exploded, "It’s as if we never think about her anymore. Only Dad has framed photos, but he never wants to even mention her.”

"What are you talking about? We always talk about Mom."

"No, that's not true," she said with a calmer tone, but her eyes welled up with tears once more. "You rarely speak about her. Whenever someone mentions her, you change the subject. I understand that her memory brings you pain, which is why I avoid talking about her. But sometimes, I wish I could ask about her, to learn things about her that I never got the chance to know." For a long time, she had managed to keep all these feelings locked inside of her, but the experience of this afternoon had stirred everything within her.

Jay stood still with the box in his hands, silent and carefully listening to his little sister’s words. A bit more relaxed, she sat on the sofa.

“I’ve never said this before, but it really makes me angry that I didn’t get to really know her. It’s not fair that I didn’t get to spend as much time with her as you and Will. Sometimes I get scared I might forget her face, her voice.”

Jay sat by her side and stayed silent for a couple of minutes, trying to organize his thoughts before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “You are right. I won’t explain anything to you, but Mom hurts me in a way you wouldn’t understand, and before you say something, I know you are carrying your own pain, a pain you shouldn’t know of. Believe me when I tell you I’ve done everything in my power to try to protect you from it, but it looks like I’ve failed. It’s hard for me to deal with these emotions, and I probably dragged you into my own turmoil. Even when I was aware that our pain was different, I never thought you felt like this. It never crossed my mind how much you wished, how much you needed to construct mom in your mind. And I’m really sorry.” His words were heavy with the weight of his own grief, understanding the depth of Becca's longing for their mother.

“I don’t want to forget her. I’m so scared I’m gonna forget her.”

“You won't, and I’ll make sure of that.”

“Promise me we can talk about her.”

“Anytime you want, I'll work it out,” He hugged her tightly, the box still on his lap. It was only when they separated that Becca noticed her brother was crying too.

“Where did all this come from, anyway?” Jay inquired. “Why do you need the picture?”

Becca settled on the sofa, turning her face and body towards her brother. “Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“Never.”

“Okay. Today I saw an offering for Day of the Dead at Cata’s home. It was beautiful, Jay, so colorful and full of…life. They explained to me about the tradition, that the spirits of your loved ones come down to visit you on Earth for a day, and her mother invited me to put Mom’s picture on their altar. She said she’s very welcome to join them.”

“Beccs…”

“No, sssh, wait! Catalina said something that stayed in my mind. She said that, whether it's true or not that they come back, however you see it, this day is a good opportunity to remember and honor the ones that are gone.”

Jay hesitated, “I admit this sounds like a beautiful tradition, but...do you really want to do it?”

“I have no doubt.”

"Fine. In that case…" he finally opened the box, "I think I have the perfect picture," he searched for a specific one among the others and finally took it out, "Here."

Becca got as close as she could to her brother, hugging his arm. They stayed in that position for a while, looking at their mother.

“She was beautiful,” Becca muttered, “You were right, this one’s perfect.”

“We can go out to find a frame tomorrow.”

“I like that. There’s something else we need.”

Jay raised a brow, looking at his sister, “What?”

“What was Mom's favorite food?”

It was November 1st, already evening when the two Halstead siblings arrived at the Aragón's house. Somehow, Becca had managed to convince Jay to accompany her, not just drop her off. He agreed after all her insistence, thinking it might end up being something good for his sister. Anyway, he could deal with his own demons later.

“Here we are,” he said. “You sure you want to do this?”

The girl just nodded, noticeably nervous.

“You know, it’s alright if you don’t like it in the end, if you feel uncomfortable, tell me, and I’ll find a way for us to leave.”

“Yeah, you too,” she told him back. “I don’t want us to stay long, anyway. I wouldn’t like to interfere so much with their customs.”

When Mrs. Aragón opened the door, she saw Jay holding a small food dish and Becca hugging a frame that was facing backward, hiding her mother’s picture from the sight of the others around. She greeted them.

“I’m so glad you came,” her words were full of sincerity. She gave the girl a long and tender hug, which Jay noted to be very maternal. He liked the way they treated her.

“Is this the offering for your mother?” The woman asked, taking the dish from Jay’s hands.

“I guess it is,” the detective answered as they entered.

“Perfect, let’s go put it in its place, then,” her smile was so warm it could melt the poles.

As they entered the living room, a very particular smell became stronger, and they found Catalina lighting all of the incense around the altar.

“It is copal,” Mrs. Aragón explained when she noticed Jay sniffing. “It’s used to cleanse the place of evil spirits so that the souls can enter without any danger.”

The Halstead siblings instinctively turned to see each other.

“Ma, you are going to scare them,” Cata said, “It’s all safe, don’t worry,” she reassured them before greeting them.

“We made this space especially for your mommy,” the girl continued, taking her friend to show her the spot. “We thought it was good for her to be surrounded by marigolds since this would represent her first time coming down. You can place the photograph whenever you feel ready.”

Jay moved unconsciously, with a lot of doubts and questions swirling around his mind. He also noted how Becca was holding the frame tighter and tighter around her arms. He didn’t know how to act; she was being hard to read, so he was thankful for Catalina’s mom's intervention.

“But if you change your mind and don’t feel like putting her there, that’s also perfectly fine, honey,” she then turned to the brother, “I know this is new to you two, and you might find it a little bit strange.”

“...or scary. It’s understandable,” Cata completed.

“No,” Becca finally stated, “I want to do it.” Slowly and with a lot of delicacy and love, she placed the frame with her mother’s picture in its place on the altar. Jay approached her and squeezed both of her shoulders, letting her know he was there for her.

The food they had brought was placed near her, “So she can easily find her dish,” Mrs. Aragón remarked. When everything was settled, Jay and Becca stayed there, staring at their mom. It was a beautiful scene to witness how the photograph had taken on another tone, surrounded by so many colors, illuminated by the candles, the smoke that the incense created, and the orange marigold petals.

“Now we wait for them,” Mrs. Aragón said in a very low voice.

Becca couldn’t help but cry, but she wasn't sad or grieving; actually, she was somehow relieved, the hole in her chest disappeared. Suddenly she didn’t feel so lonely, she didn’t feel like she was missing her mom. Jay wrapped his arm around her, and she hugged him back, surrounding his waist with her arms. He kissed her hair and asked, “You good?”

“Sure, I’m just happy we did this.”

“It is sad to lose a loved one, especially if it's someone very close,” Mrs. Aragón spoke, looking at her own family pictures at the altar. “But at the end of the day, this celebration is a party for them, to remember them and celebrate the lives they had and thank them for the time they stayed by our sides. Of course we are allowed to cry for them, but we should end the evening with a smile.”

The Halsteads didn’t stay much time there, but it was long enough to eat tamales, under the insistence of their host, “because there’s no real party without tamales,” the woman would say.

Becca and Catalina were sitting separated from the adults while having dinner. The atmosphere was very peaceful, and cheerful music was already playing in the background.

“Do you really think this is real?” Becca asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Cat was looking into the horizon, reflexively. “You know, it is supposed that souls arrive at midnight, during the first moments of November 2nd. When I was a child, by 10 o'clock at night, my grandma would say, 'They should be close by now,' and I would get very excited about the idea. As the clock ticked away, my mom would playfully ask us, 'Where do you think they are at this very moment?' and I took it very seriously, imagining their entire process of coming back home. During the early morning, when I was already in my bed, I pictured them eating their offerings, and I would close my eyes, trying to hear their footsteps in the hallway. For me, it represented the idea of seeing again the relatives I missed and meeting others who had passed away before I was even born, those whom I only knew through stories,” She bit her lip a bit, at this point her eyes were watery, “I don’t know if it’s true, but I really want to believe it is. Ugh, I just want to see my granny one more time and tell her how much I miss her, how much I need her. I’ve been praying all day long to dream with her tonight, that’s all I ask.”

Almost an hour before their arrival, Jay announced their departure. When Becca was about to get into the car, she heard Catalina calling her, so she went back to meet her in the middle of her front yard.

“Here,” She handed her a small bunch of marigolds, “We call this flower cempasúchil, it is used to guide the spirits, show them the way to their offerings, so they don’t get lost. That's why we put so many petals for your mom, to help her. I thought about giving you some, I mean, your mom’s on my altar, but you are not here,” she shrugged, “I don’t think this is the place where she would want to be. I thought you might find it useful,” she winked at her friend and ran back inside.

“It was…something different,” Jay stated on their way back to his apartment.

“Yeah, but I think I liked it.”

That night, Becca waited for Jay to fall asleep and she sneaked into his room to place a couple of marigolds over his nightstand. She did it with a sense of deep emotion. Then, she put the rest in a small glass of water next to her bed, thinking about how much she wished both of them dream with their mommy that night.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a like, comment or share. ��♡

🎶

Cempasúchil

Natalia Lafourcade - Recuérdame (Solo)

Silvana Estrada — Amor Eterno (Candlelight Original Session)

[velvetvexations]

RE: Lovecraft's racism

I don't have anything meaningful to add, just some personal anecdotes.

I started reading Lovecraft from some selected works books, and I didn't see any issue for most of it. I didn't know his reputation, and also I am European so race is not something that I am actively aware about (because POC here are extremely rare and mostly are rich tourists and exchange students rather than minorities). Up until he described Inuits as "dwarfish creatures who call themselves Eskimos".

Later I have read complete collections of his works and saw some absolutely horrific racist sentiments, and also now that I am tumblr-level socialist I can see all problematic innuendos in selected works as well, so it's in no way defense of Lovecraft. Just my addition.

P.S.: I also think that people calling Lovecraft exceptionally racist just didn't read a lot of popular USAmerican fiction of the time. Burroughs is IMO worse, or at least more obvious about it.

P.P.S.: There was a popular joke some time ago like "Lovecraft would go insane if he met me" that was made by white neurodivergent queer people, and I feel that it's weirdly tone deaf. We don't know Lovecraft's opinion on homosexuality or transgenderism, at all. He probably was at least somewhat homophobic considering times, but we just can't prove that he wouldn't have changed his mind if presented with science-based arguments, and autism is definitely not what he considered scary mental illnesses. His entire deal was being racist, not just generally bad person.

P.P.P.S. (wow): Also, not enough people talk about him describing political system of Great Race of Yig (or whatever they are called) as "a mix of socialism and fascism"

Actually, we DO know how he felt about queer people!

From a letter to J. Vernon Shea:

I guess it is true that homosexuality is a rare theme for novels—partly because public attention was seldom called to it (except briefly during the Wilde period) until a decade ago, & partly because any literary use of it always incurs the peril of legal censorship. As a matter of fact—although of course I always knew that paederasty was a disgusting custom of many ancient nations—I never heard of homosexuality as an actual instinct till I was over thirty…which beats your record! It is possible, I think that this perversion occurs more frequently in some periods than in others—owing to obscure biological & psychological causes. Decadent ages—when psychology is unsettled—seem to favour it. Of course—in ancient times the extent of the practice of paederasty (as a custom which most simply accepted blindly, without any special inclination) cannot be taken as any measure of the extent of actual psychological perversion. Another thing—many nowadays overlook the fact that there are always distinctly effeminate types which are most distinctly not homosexual. I don’t know how psychology explains them, but we all know the sort of damned sissy who plays with girls & who—when he grows up—is a chronic “cake-eater”, hanging around girls, doting on dances, acquiring certain feminine mannerisms, intonations, & tastes, & yet never having even the slightest perversion of erotic inclinations.

Even worse, from a letter to James F. Morton:

Have you seen that precious sissy that I met in Cleveland? Belknap says he’s hit the big town, and that he’s had some conversation with him. When I saw that marcelled what is it I don’t know whether to kiss it or kill it! It used to sit cross-legged on the floor at Elgin’s and gaze soulfully upward. It didn’t like me and Galpin—too horrid, rough and mannish for it!

The idea that this fucking dweep saw himself as the alpha male in the room is dadgum hilarious.

And yet, R. H. Barlow and Samuel Loveman (again) were gay. Did Lovecraft know? He met the aforementioned "precious sissy" at a gathering Loveman had taken him to. R. H. Barlow wrote a story lost to us called "I Hate Queers" which Lovecraft read that certainly sounds psychologically revealing, but his brief commentary on it really tells us nothing about the content and if it made Barlow's closet more transparent or not.

Derleth said Lovecraft "seemed" to be unaware they were gay, but what the fuck does that asshole know? Lovecraft personally explained the ideas behind his stories to him and he still fucked up the Mythos for decades with his bullshit. On the other hand, Derleth was bisexual himself, and I don't know how Lovecraft couldn't have picked up on it from this letter he sent him:

I can understand your detestation of sex irregularities in life as violations of harmony and I here fully agree with you. I had previously misunderstood you to mean protestation from a basis of morals, and on this basis I would have stood squarely opposed to you. I have known and still know many people who are sexually irregular, both homosexual men and women, and except for three cases out of perhaps 21, I have always found these people highly intellectual, fully aware of what they were doing, and in all cases quite helpless. Speaking perspectively and in the abstract, I could as easily conceive myself entering upon a monogamous homosexual relation as a heterosexual one—though perhaps practice would change that point of view. To quibble about mere words, I should not say that perverts necessarily lived inartistically.

As to if Lovecraft would have accepted scientific evidence in favor of queer validity, maybe. He was becoming a full-blown Actual Communist towards the very end of his life and his racial views, while still preferring to keep cultures separate, had gotten to the point where he believed a Chinese baby raised by White parents would be essentially the same as a White person, which is, uh, technically progress?

[alchemicaladarna]

Just to clarify, I am obviously talking about the characters and the QSMP as a story. I am simply an avid viewer that had too much coffee and time on their hands so I basically wrote an essay. What is it about? I have no idea. So, read it if you want, but beware that nothing at the end of this should make sense.

In my opinion, morally ambigious characters are interesting, but UNPREDICTABLE morally ambigious characters are even more fun to analyze because they take more risks and play more dangerous games. If a character was labeled as a "hero" and played on the "good" side they are guaranteed a safe spot within the group. Regardless of whether they kill or hurt others, they are on the good side because they are fighting against the corporation that is keeping them and their friends trapped in a place that is a nightmarish paradise. If they had done actions that worked against the islanders' favor, by, for example nearly getting everyone killed by explosives at a party they are justifiably labelled a villian. But what if a character played in the middle? What if they were neutral? What if they simply wanted to let things play out- sticking to the sidelines and only becoming involved when the situation benifits their entertainment?

So, pardon me for the long intro, but here's the gist folks: q!Foolish arrested q!Pac e q!Mike and unknowingly put them through loads of emotional trauma that I don't think they'll be recovering from any time soon, for fun. To a person with a normal moral compass, that's obviously fucked up.

"Friends don't send friends to prison."

In q!Foolish's perspective, he REALLY didn't think the consequences of his actions through, but he wouldn't have arrested q!Pac e q!Mike for no reason. Mr. Mustard is missing and the Federation told q!Foolish that q!Pac e q!Mike were responsible for his disappearance. At this point, I think enough time has passed that we the audience know q!Foolish is being manipulated by the Federation. Even Foolish himself knows he's being manipulated by them, yet he still partakes in this precarious game because it's simply more entertaining than just sitting on the good side and letting things play out.

Q!Foolish has never actively gone out of his way to hurt people on purpose. Does he lack some emotional maturity and the appropriate response to some situations? Yes he does; but he doesn't have malicious intentions. He's there to have fun. Where others see a dire situation- at the mercy of the inescapable claws of a malevolent corporate entity, q!Foolish sees fun and exciting opportunities. The others might not want to admit it, but aside from the tragedies and kidnappings that have occured on the island, this nightmarish paradise has provided the characters with more excitement and enjoyment, than what is worth.

But, not everyone understands q!Foolish's perspective, and that's good! That's ok! But what I'm perplexed about is their constant unjust treatment of him- the exclusion, threats, torture, many many pointless accusations disguised as interrogations, etc- simply because he did one task for the Federation. One task that affected the lives of two people, but in the end both parties communicated and forgave each other anyways. One task that required q!Foolish, and by extension, q!Jaiden to harmlessly investigate around q!Pac and q!Mike's base for a considerably long time before finding nothing that would incriminate the duo. Throughout q!Foolish's endeavour, working with the Federation cost him most of his friends' trust and gave him no benifits, but he still reluctantly chooses to carry out another task because it's entertaining. But like q!Foolish said to q!Cellbit the other day, he may be stupid, but he's certainly not an idiot, and he has limits. A lot of people, specifically q!Max don't seem to understand the concept of a neutral party. If you work for the Federation, you are a villain- and honestly, that's a fair assumption considering their reputation. But what about people like q!Jaiden? Q!Jaiden, one of the kindest people on the island, who is compassionate to everyone, even Cucurucho, who is always perceived as a malicious entity?

What exactly defines a villain in this story? In my opinion, everyone on the island has a skewed sense of morality. Everyone except Elquackity knew of his first assasination and simply watched as he lost his first life, then celebrated when he lost the other with no regards to the repurcussions of their actions or how Elq felt about all this. And while we can justify their actions because Elq hurt people before, and either brainwashed or replaced q!Quackity, how do we justify their treatment of q!Foolish even after he communicated honestly to q!Pac e q!Mike and done nothing to deserve their maltreatment of him. Maybe I'm a bit impatient, but at this point, q!Foolish's arrest, has had the same value and impact as q!Bad giving people the survey for the Federation; I'm even more willing to believe that q!Cellbit's accidental "employee of the month" investigations benifitted the Federation more than whatever measly and repititive tasks they're giving out to q!Foolish.

So, what warrants all this hate and injustice towards q!Foolish then if he's not harming anyone? Why is he the punching bag? Why is he the butt if the joke Every Single Time? What warranted all the cruel jokes and malicious beatings after the Nether event? Is it because they know he won't exact revenge upon them? Is it because, in their eyes, they only value him as a court jester and nothing more? Q!Foolish even said the Nether, an obsolete dimension of fire and brimstone, offered more compassion and comfort than a world where the sun shone and the air was less polluted because the inhabitants, his "friends" treated him with more malevolence than literal souless monsters from hell itself.

Think about q!Jaiden- a person whose compassion broke through Cucurucho's souless programming and gave it a home, a sense of safety, and relaxation. Jaiden works (and apparently worked???) with the Federation, yet she has more kindness within her than an entire group of people, on the "good" side, fighting against evil.

The truth is, there is no bad side among the islanders. The admins (meta) wrote the Federation (and codes?) as entities that the collective group should be against- a common enemy. But once you "ally" yourself with the Federation and do tasks for them does that make you the common enemy as well, or do you need to commit more heinious acts to be considered a villain?

And what about the islanders? At what point do the rest of the players begin to consider a character on the wrong side of things? At what point do they begin to abandon compassion in favor of searching for the truth? How far will they go in pursuit of the truth?

In my opinion, there are no villains in the story because everyone is capable of becoming an antagonist in one way or another. Basically, EVERYONE is morally ambiqious because they have all been antagonists to each other at some point in the tale, and as the story keeps unfolding, who knows what could happen? A character might say they are a good person, but as the story changes, so do their values, their morals, their limits. How thin can someone's patience be before it inevitably snaps?

[thelikesoffinn]

hello - hope you're doing great! I love your analysis, and I wanted to ask about something I've been thinking fanfic wise but also applicable to real life (I think).

So Astarion gets paired a lot with Tavs who also have tragic past experiences (hard to be at his level of tragedy, but some get close). Which is all well and good, cause I see how writing these characters and reading about them is cathartic to many, but I also see plot-wise, it makes it "easier" for him to connect with Tav in a way, kindred souls and all that.

My Tav's background is one of someone who either had a fairly good and regular life, and, if trauma occured, it's been healthily overcome. So at the beginning of the BG3 story she's actually at the end of her own initial "character" arc.

Now my issue is, can Astarion connect with someone who has no idea at all of what he went through? My idea is that's he'd infantilize her, or openly antagonise her (in his charming way) because she's got no right to understand (especially with how he thinks it's fine to be racist and hurt the weak in the first act).

And she'd be understanding and wanting to help and all, but how can people with no/little traumatic experiences connect with those who went through hell, even with the best intentions? It's a dynamic I'd like to explore, because I've seen it played in real life a few times.

Sorry for the poem!

Hello, flower! Thank you so much, I'm glad that you enjoyed the analysis ❤️

As for your question: Eh, I do see why that dynamic is a rather difficult one. People who've survived through a lot of traumata tend to be somewhat hesitant and guarded in front of those who had normal lives at the best of times, and we all know that Astarion rarely has a "best of times", especially early in the game.

Infantilising them is something I definitely see with him. He's the type to do that with anyone anyway, but especially so with those he considers "sheltered". And sheltered is likely something he inevitably will consider Tav, as that is often the case with those who experienced trauma.

Trauma tends to age and harden you, in a way, so oftentimes people who simply grew up normally, with normal ups and downs, are viewed as "sheltered" or "spoiled" by those who didn't, even if that wasn't necessarily the case. That label isn't used or assigned maliciously, and it's simply based on the fact that other people's "normal" seems like the very best to someone who had it worse.

I can also see a huge amount of antagonism, yes, but how it shows will depend on when your story is set.

Is it while he's still dependent on Tav? Then I think he'd try to refrain from being more antagonistic towards them than necessary, since he needs to stay on their good side. So, he'd likely stick with his base-line arseholeishness, if a bit more intense at times. You know, in a sense that you side eye him and wonder if he just actually insulted you or if he's still joking around.

But if he's not dependent on them? Oh boy. Yeah, very likely that he'd be extremely mean and Tav would definitely 100% know that he means everything he says, even when it's uttered with a smile. Think how he talks to the Gur hunter in act 1 because let's be honest…that was far from subtle.

Astarion as a whole doesn't take kindly to anyone prodding his weak spots, albeit he mellows a bit towards Tav over the course of the story, and if would be even worse with "sheltered" Tav. He would likely flip his shit really hard and become extremely cruel with them, staying on their good side be damned because how dare they prod where they have no business being?

It's something I've seen at work before, and let me tell you: It's never a pretty sight. Many people who experienced trauma usually don't want to hurt others - quite the contrary, a lot of them would rather sacrifice themselves before watching anyone else get hurt like they were - but that doesn't mean they're not good at it. Precisely because they're often so hypervigilant, they have a talent in picking out your weak spots and if you test them enough, oh boy. They'll hit them with such aim and grace, you'll find yourself reeling. And that's the super sweet and kind clients, not the Astarions.

Here it's important to mention that the things people say in those situations are rarely what they really believe. It's mostly is just a well aimed assassination of your soft spots to get you to back off and leave them be.

So "sheltered" Tav will have to be extremely careful regarding any sore spots if they don't want to be hit by the full force of protective-malice.

Does that mean Astarion and your Tav won't be able to bond? Aabsolutely not, but it will be a tad bit difficult because he'll likely take a lot longer to open up and their bond will have to be built entirely from scratch. The shared understanding of their trauma can’t function as a temporary foundation – temporary because a bond entirely based on [shared] trauma will eventually become instable, if not fortified by other things – so they’ll have to put in a lot of work to even get to having a solid foundation to build on.

I'll give you a bit of a general rundown on how I was taught to tackle clients like that, maybe any of that will be helpful for you!

So, firstly: "Sheltered" Tav will need to be careful and understanding and they'll have to be able to take a blow and live with it if they accidentally step to close too early.

Important to note: They'll have to be able to take a blow but they can't be too lenient either.

Astarion seems like a person who's attached to 'respect'. Not in the 'respect your elders' way, but in the sense that he treats those he respects a lot better than those he doesn't. It's the nobility’s definition of respect - some "deserve" it and some don't and who is who is entirely based on personal understanding - so it's very in line with his background.

So, while your Tav will need to be able to take a hit, they'll need to know when to call him out on his bullshit. If you let Astarion walk all over you, he will eventually lose all respect and then this is a lost cause. Don't let him push you around.

If he's being too cruel, don't be cruel back, but definitely call him out on it and let him know that he can always ask you to stop prodding but you will not stand around and let him insult you.

Be understanding, but don't be a doormat.

Then, in order to get someone to open up, you'll have to have a lot of patience. Don't demand anything, don't force anything. Every question you ask has to be careful and phrased in a way that won't corner them, which can be really difficult in casual conversation. So, mishaps can and will likely happen, which is great material for a story anyway, so that's great! (Not so great at work though, haha.)

In case of "sheltered" Tav, it's probably best if they wait for him to come to them. Listen when he rants, listen to the tiny things he mentions and if you ask questions, make sure they directly relate to what he's told you just then.

So, if he talks about Cazador essentially making him choose between eating putrid rats or getting beaten, a question like: "Did he do that a lot?" or "Was it always those two options?" could potentially be alright because the red string is easily visible for both parties. Astarion can tell why you would ask something like that and he can follow your line of thought easily.

But a question like: "What else did he do to you?" or "Did he do other things as well?" would probably have his defences going up. It's too broad, too unspecific, and how is that any of your business anyway? What is this, an interrogation? An interview so that you can ghost write his sad memoirs? Back off.

While a question like: "How exactly did those dinners go?" or "Beaten? How?" is too specific. You're practically asking him to relive a painful moment in great detail for your own "enjoyment". Why else would you want to know? Why else would you ask how exactly he'd been hurt and humiliated, if not for that? Maybe you were planning to do the same to him. He won't let you. The past is the past. Let. It. Rest.

So, as you can tell, it's basically playing question-hot-foot!

But even if your Tav should cross the lines in that regard every once in a while - it happens, every question is a gamble - it'll eventually be fine. The closer they get, the easier it will be to ask questions, because he'll realise that he can actually trust them.

The one word I would really really avoid - and I cannot stress this enough - is 'understand'. God never use it. Tav, omit it from your vocabulary, you'll never "understand" anything ever again!

"I understand what you went though was horrible, but/and/however…" - No, you really do not. You can't understand, can't even imagine what he's faced over the years so never pretend that you do.

"I won't pretend to understand what you went through, but I want to/you can trust me/I can still listen." - Always said with kindness, but that one really is nothing but an empty platitude, at best. Hearing someone say that they don't understand you so directly is never really encouraging either.

"I just want to understand you." - Great, but you don't need to know the barest parts of a person's soul to be able to understand them. If you can't do it without that, maybe you shouldn't. And, all in all, this phrasing of the last one feels really iffy anyway, personally speaking, because it has a very manipulative edge to it. 'Hey I'm just overstepping your boundaries because I want to know you and understand you better. It's all for you..." and blegh. I hate that one, but that might be totally personal so please feel entirely free to ignore this paragraph.

Anyway, as you can see…never "understand", even if it’s just meant to encourage him. Just don't. I've seen clients who asked to be transferred to a different social worker or ended up leaving completely because someone used one of those lines, so I'd really strongly advise against them.

Instead, opt for things like "I'll listen to whatever you want to say." or "Can you explain it to me?" because that way you're not lying to his face and you're leaving everything up to him. He gets to decide where this conversation goes and, more importantly, how far it goes. Not an interview, not an interrogation, but a conversation that he controls.

And well then, flower, that’s it! Of course, there’s a lot more to it, but we’d still be here by the time Baldur’s Gate 8 is released if I went over every tiny thing, but I hope this was enough of an overview to help you build your story 😊 If you end up sharing it, don’t be shy to let me know, I’d be excited to check it out because, as you said, it’s a really interesting dynamic that isn’t explored as much as it should be. It’s a difficult dynamic, but it is so rewarding to write, read and experience. I wish you all the best ♥

[controversialhottakes]

Apparently these are unpopular opinions but I don't want Wilmon to be endgame and I don't want Wilhelm to abdicate. (I think the show might be heading down the Wilmon endgame + abdication route but I can't imagine them doing it in a way which would feel satisfying to me personally.)

All I could think about throughout the whole season was how unsuitable for each other these two are. They're so different, and I don't just mean their backgrounds, I mean every single thing about them. Their personalities (this one is huuuuge), their values, apparently even their interests since after 3 seasons I can't really name a single thing they both genuinely enjoy (maybe rowing? or was Simon there for a reason? can't remember), unless we count sex which... fair but a rather shaky framework if a long-term relationship is what you're after.

What do they even talk about? Other than Simon hating the system which Wilhelm is at the very centre of. Or the fact that they don't understand each other because Wilhelm is too privileged and Simon is too big a socialist. And while I hate the phrasing I do agree with the sentiment wholeheartedly because it's actually absolutely 100% true. What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a conflict of interest. Plain and simple.

One thing that was very clear from the very beginning is that Simon doesn't understand what a relationship with a crown prince entails and that he's really not the kind of person who'd want or should be in such a relationship. He cares too much about other people's opinions, which isn't necessarily bad in and of itself, but people are going to have a lot of opinions if you're dating someone in the public eye, especially the future king, and they're going to be nasty af. Because they can. It's just the reality, nothing you can do about it.

I know a lot of people say that he didn't get media training and so on and so forth. And it is very true and valid. However, a lot of this boils down to his personality. You don't need media training to know that reading comments is a bad idea, let alone replying to them. To me, it's just common sense, and I know he's only 16, but even though it's been a while, I do still remember being 16 and my mindset (on this subject) has not changed since then. Especially if you know you're going to take it to heart, you shouldn't even be looking at the bs people post online.

Simon doesn't fit into Wilhelm's world not because he's poor. He doesn't fit into Wilhelm's world because his personality and values simply don't work in this context. How do you even begin to solve a problem like this? You just can't.

Simon has a very strong personality and even stronger beliefs. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it, it's admirable, but this creates so many problems that are virtually unsolvable. If you watch the series (not just the third season, it's been shown consistently), Simon needs Wilhelm to agree with him. And he wants Wilhelm to do it openly and preferably to feel about it as strongly as he does. Which simply isn't going to happen. In order for this to work, Simon would have to change his entire personality and that would be just awful.

Re: Wilhelm abdicating. You don't make a decision like that at the age of 17. Because this is literally life-changing and there's no going back. His brother just died. His mother is having a nervous breakdown. His father is absolutely helpless. You work through all of that first.

Correct me if I'm wrong but it's only been a couple of months since the accident. Oh and now Wilhelm finds out that his brother was human and not some perfect Disney prince. And he gets front row seats to his always-unnaturally-composed mother's descent into literal madness. Just imagine how terrifying it must feel. This boy is going through a lot, this is not the time to be making huge decisions.

I genuinely believe that Wilhelm would make a great king. Keep in mind that for 16 years, it never occured to him that he might have to do this. This was dropped on him like a bag of cement, together with the news that his older brother, whom he worshipped, was dead. All things considered, he's doing great. Come to think of it, Erik's death is the root of 99% of Wilhelm's current problems. Like he said, he never got to grieve and now on top of that he thinks that his brother was an arsehole and would have hated him for dating another boy. But I think Wilhelm finding out about what happened at the initiation is actually going to help him heal.

Wilhelm abidicating just feels too much like giving in, like he was running away from his problems which is a bit OOC. And it would feel like he was doing it for Simon which is such a bad idea on so many levels. I can't put into words how stupid it would be and, as impulsive as he can get at times, Wilhelm doesn't strike me as the kind of person to just completely fail to think of consequences of his actions when it comes to something this big. I can't for the life of me explain why, but he does come across as rather level-headed and sensible, specially for a 16/17-year-old going through what he's been going through. Certain... incidents... aside (the rifle... yeah, the hell were you thinking? you need to chill out and let it go). Season 2 was peak recklessness, he seems a bit more mellow and settled now. Although breaking up with Simon might turn out to be the final straw, yikes...

[blackjackkent]

Oh man, more Jaheira conversations I never had with Hector bc it didn't occur to me to look for them. I'm sure I could have, because according to the dialogue files, this is a high-approval conversational line - nice to know that Rakha has reached that point with her also.

This is self-indulgence on my part bc my Jaheira brainrot is real and I'm making that everyone's problem. XD

"What can you tell me about the Harpers?"

"Hmm. I've learned not to unpick the legends so many have woven around our name. Seeing the hope die in a romantic's eyes - it is only funny the first few dozen times. Some call the Harpers heroes. Others, petty meddlers who cannot help but stick their nose into into every conflict they stumble across. The truth is in there somewhere. We try to work towards a common balance. If every other faction finds us equally annoying, that is probably a sign that we are succeeding."

"How did you end up joining?"

"I will not bore you with a long tale. The short - I was born to a high family in Tethyr. I remember little, except that when my family fell, they fell far, and fast. I learned young what fear and hunger make desperate people do. I learned to do some of it myself, even, until a roving circle of hedge druids found me. They raised me in the wild. But when it became clear I was perhaps not suited to a life of idle reflection, I was sent to the Harpers - to *do*. They showed me how to fight with sword as well as spell, and gave me ample causes to wield them for. If I was not always the truest believer in every cause, well..."

"I fell in love with someone who was. And that is almost the same thing."

(A/N: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 )

"Want to tell me more about this someone you loved?"

"Mm? No. Not really."

(A/N: Lmao.)

"It sounds like you and the Harpers have a complicated history."

"Oh, you might say that. I left their service and swore never to return. Multiple times, if I recall. It is easy to get tired of the intrigue, the high causes shrouded in secrecy. I thought I might find another way to be of use to the world. And for a time, I did."

(A/N: Travels with Rasaad, in this worldstate, among other things. <3 )

"But my comrades would use a rather irritating phrase - 'A Harper never leaves the chorus, she simply goes to spread the song.' Meaning that whatever cause I turned my hand to, there I would find them. Harpers, stuffed with their own virtue but always there, always trying to help. So I returned to the fold, returned to the city. Eventually, they hung a title around my neck: 'High Harper.' And I still do not know how to play one."

"If I tried to spare Geraldus the same headaches, well, now you know why. And if he is half the Harper I suspect, it won't make a damned bit of difference."

"But you're staring, which means the tadpole has finally eaten your brain, or I have been talking too much. Either way, time to move, no?"