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grimmweepers · 11 hours ago

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— ★ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after waiting for so long, alhaitham finally loses his virginity to you on his birthday

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: VIRGIN!alhaitham x FEM!reader, established relationship, there is some fluff sprinkled onto all this smut i promise, p0rn with plot, virginity loss (m), slightly more experienced reader, pet names ‘baby’ ‘love’, reader wears a skirt & dress, handjob, masturbation (f), deepthroat, rough fucking, no protection, creampie, cowgirl, might be a little ooc. 5.7k wc (idk what happened) MDNI. 18+ only. | masterlist

𝐚/𝐧: a birthday piece! happy birthday alhaitham! 🎁

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your boyfriend was a virgin.

And for most people, virginity was often a touchy subject. Still, when you started dating Alhaitham, you weren’t surprised by his indifference towards the topic. He never danced around it or became flustered when the subject of sex came up. During your first conversation about it, he didn’t fidget, didn’t sugarcoat, he simply took a sip of his coffee and stated, “I’ve never had sex before.” Then after finishing his cup, he added, “Not for lack of opportunity. I just never prioritised it.”

There was no shame or awkwardness, just a fact laid bare between you. And, really, why would there be?

Sex wasn’t something he’d avoided out of fear or insecurity. To him, it was nothing but a passing thought.

At the time, you grazed over his humble boast because, of course, Alhaitham had opportunities. He was, by all objective measures, incredibly handsome and you told him this very often as his girlfriend.

The scribe might’ve been notorious for being difficult to converse with but people were still drawn to his appearance, whether he wanted them to be or not.

That conversation weighed more to you now. Not because of what he said but because of what it implied. Despite the passing interest others had in him and the potential experiences he could have had, he had waited. Not intentionally nor with some frivolous romantic ideal in mind, but simply because no one before you had ever made him want to.

As your relationship progressed, you discovered that contrary to popular belief, Alhaitham was still human (really, it’s a shock to some) and like any other human, he had needs that were managed with usual discretion (his hands). So while he had no qualms admitting he was a virgin, he also never pretended to be entirely unaffected by the curse of morning wood or the challenge of dating someone who was totally his type and much more vivacious than he.

But when you turned him on (which wasn’t difficult), no matter how heated things got, they never went past a certain point. It wasn’t hesitation on his part, nor was it uncertainty on yours.

It might’ve been because he’d never done it before, or maybe because it felt too significant to rush into. Either way, whenever things teetered on the edge of no return, one of you would always pull back. Every time it happened, it left you a little more restless than before.

It had started slow, as most things did.

Your first kiss with Alhaitham had been more curious than anything else. He always paid attention to detail so he was careful in how he studied you. The more he kissed you, the more he adjusted to the newness of it. You could even taste the hesitance on him but that had been months ago. Now, he’d memorise the way the shape of your lips fit against his, and kissing him felt as natural as breathing.

In the beginning, your make-out sessions had been tame. Nothing more than lazy, unhurried exchanges between reading breaks or in the fleeting moments before you parted from him. Uncaring for any responsibility he had prior, he would hold you close in his burly arms and take you in.

However, in time, those kisses evolved into something you had to be broken apart from.

His hands had also grown bolder. They would slide up your sides, paw at the curve of your spine, and settle on your hips to pull you closer. He noted the way you reacted to him—the way you tossed your head back when his fingers mapped your sensitive skin, the way your grip made home in his hair when his tongue delved deeper.

And you learned things about him, too.

You learned that even though the Alhaitham you first met had an air of mystery to him, there was something far more desperate laying dormant beneath that imaginary veil… lest his control slip. If you sucked on his lower lip, a groan would softly erupt from his mouth. If you allowed him to bury his face into the crook of your neck, the love bites he’d give you would feel much more erotic.

Then his touches became scandalous over time. Alhaitham seemed to explore you more.

He started to kiss—no, lick along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse just to hear your breath stuttering. His hands, no longer satisfied with resting at your waist, began to push under your shirt time and time again, ghosting over your ribs, tracing the dip of your back, just to gauge a reaction to his touch.

Your body continued to hum with need long after you had settled on opposite sides of the sofa, swollen lips and skin warm.

Each encounter left you both embarrassingly sticky by the end of it so you never bothered to admit you’d touched yourself to the thought of him long after he’d gone home. And neither did he.

An invisible string was about to snap, and the most recent time was the hardest to walk away from.

On that particular day, while you were nestled on his lap, Alhaitham had been kissing you with extra urgency—as if the taste of you wasn’t enough and every movement of your lips was drawing him into a slow-burning fire.

Each kiss was another spark, every touch a flicker of heat that spread and throbbed in the most wicked parts of you.

His hands traveled all over you, fingers that normally stayed at your ribs and waist started drifting lower so you sluggishly rolled your hips to match his rhythm, losing it at how hard he was growing beneath you.

Maybe it was because you’d worn a skirt that day but you felt closer to him than ever. Having your legs sprawled across his lap and feeling what you assumed was the head of his cock prod your sweet spot made your body scream even more for him. So it didn’t help your case at all when he suddenly stilled his fingers under your skirt and gingerly kneaded the back of your clothed pussy. The touch was petal soft but enough to make you whine without permission.

“Holy shit,” your words came out in plumes.

You half-expected it to escalate then but instead, he pulled away. A familiar pang settled in your chest. He didn’t do it out of regret—you knew that much, but all that racing intention now became idly slow.

“I’m sorry,” he said a little too quickly, it almost sounded awkward but you were too busy trying to figure out what he was apologising for. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong.

“For what exactly?” You asked.

Alhaitham took a moment to think.

“For not having more restraint,” his glossy eyes searched you, uncertain of what he wanted. “That felt impulsive.”

It was unintentional but you’d never seen him look so innocent. Or vulnerable.

Tilting your head, you said with a chuckle, “If I’m ever caught complaining about my boyfriend not being able to keep his hands off me, alert the authorities because that’s not me.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

None of this was your fault either, of course. Stopping was as much of a crime to him as it was to you, but he quietly returned your laughter, and timidly squeezed your hips as if to ground himself. “I just don’t want this to be something that happened because we couldn’t control ourselves.”

In other words, he wanted something planned. Maybe he had envisioned it unfolding differently.

Which was reasonable, you thought. It was his first time, not yours. And it wasn’t discouraging at all—that solid bulge pressing between your legs revealed enough about the effect you had on him. No part of him didn’t want to flip you over and fuck you senseless on that sofa but perhaps an impulsive make-out shouldn’t steer the wheel for something he held off for so long.

So despite how badly you wanted him, you stopped. You waited. You told yourself the anticipation was half the fun. “You’re right. You’re right. Must you always be right?”

“Just a gift bestowed from the Archon.” Sarcasm, even when all the blood that should’ve been in his head had rushed to his cock. He watched you sigh, “It seems you don’t agree?”

“Well if say I don’t, you could always ravish me until I do.” You smiled from ear to ear, satisfied when a pale shade of pink immediately dusted his cheeks.

“Stop that.”

Alhiatham was thankful when you rolled off his lap and collapsed beside him with a buoyant giggle.

Even then, he already missed the weight of you on his groin and the phantom tingle from when he allowed himself to touch you over your underwear was still fresh on his fingers. He didn’t dare look at you right away, afraid that one glance at your pretty face, kiss-swollen lips, and the tremble in your thighs would set his skin alight all over again.

— — —

Remnants of Alhaitham’s birthday were scattered around your home. Half-finished slices of cake on abandoned plates. Few too many empty glasses littering the coffee table. The lingering scent of candles recently blown out.

Looking at the mess, you felt a wave of gratitude that the last batch of your friends had already come and gone.

Honestly, it was a good thing he chose to celebrate at your place. If he’d done it at his, there would’ve been an inevitable crowd, and he and Kaveh would’ve probably found themselves locked in a debate over something trivial like the spelling of a single word. The only thing to break it up would be the arrival of dawn.

Here, it was just the two of you. While you’d both enjoyed the company earlier, ending the night like this felt right.

As the street lamps outside flickered on to welcome the evening, Alhaitham lounged beside you. This was the most relaxed he’d looked all day, with one arm draped lazily over the back of the sofa, and the other resting on his thigh with a new tome balanced loosely between his fingers. The dim light softened the sharp lines of his face, making him appear boyish as his sea-green eyes read the pages.

But he wasn’t really reading.

It was obvious by how his eyes were fixed on the same spot. His pupils were slightly dilated and maybe he had the wine to blame. Or something else altogether.

You finally broke the silence, leaning on the armrest to reach for your own glass. “It’s still your birthday, you know?”

Alhaitham returned his attention to you, closing the tome you bought for him without marking his place. “Is there a statute of limitations on celebrating?”

Huffing a laugh, “Not exactly,” you said, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip. “But I’ve been thinking about your birthday gift.”

“Hm?” He replied, slightly confused. He’d thought you’d already given him everything earlier in the day.

“Just wondering if there’s anything else you might want,” you set your glass down and watched the dark liquid ripple. This was the perfect opportunity to bring up what had been on both of your minds.

“Oh?” He blinked at you. “Well, this book you sought was quite a rare find, I’m aware there are only two other copies. For that alone, I needn’t ask for more.”

“And if I told you that was only the appetiser?”

Alhaitham adamantly shook his head, “I’m not following.”

But you both knew that was false. The entire conversation was laced with implications and this was a Haravatat genius you were speaking to. Nothing needed to be spelled out for him because you saw his throat bob with a subtle swallow. That alone told you he was already waging war with his thoughts.

Tonight felt different.

Aside from it being his literal birthday, ever since the morning you’d caught him eyeing your body on numerous counts.

One instance was when you conveniently sat across from him while your friends mingled, positioned so perfectly that he could see the triangle of underwear between your legs. It left little to the imagination and when images flashed of him running his sticky tongue over your panties—he bit the inside of his cheeks in shame.

Another time was not too long ago when you adjusted the strap of your dress—he was sitting where he was now and you had noticed his fixation on the exposed skin of your shoulder. When the flimsy strap irritatingly fell again, you pretended not to see him shifting his shorts by the crotch.

Something other than enticement was festering behind his gaze. It wasn’t out-right staring but you had an inkling you were being carefully watched.

Maybe assessed was the better word.

There was only so much pretend-reading he could do before it became obvious that your boyfriend was undressing you in his mind and using his tome as a silly cover. All of that told you he was ready.

He just needed a little nudge. A precious courtesy.

“Haitham, you’ve been thinking about it. Haven’t you?”

Alhaitham’s lips parted like he was about to deny it. But he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure he could. Between a sigh and a too-long pause, you were surprised when he admitted, “Of course I have. I’m not immune to… well, you.”

An intentional smile formed at the drop of that last word and your cheeks immediately grew hot. “You look beautiful,” he continued, but then his tone dipped into something far more audacious. “I might be convinced you were trying to steal my thunder today.”

The sincerity behind his delivery of it made your heart pound like a drumline beneath your ribs.

When you dared slip your hand to his knee, his muscles reflexively twitched. He didn’t try to stop you as you slowly traced the outline of his leg.

“That honesty is going to get you in a lot of trouble, birthday boy.”

“Trouble?” He said with a knowing smirk. “I think I’m already in enough trouble for tonight, don’t you?” You let him take your wrist to his mouth and he suckled above your pulse, soft and slow.

Goosebumps danced across your arm before you stood up.

Alhaitham tracked every step you made and his burning hands instinctively moved to your waist when you stopped between his legs. As you leaned down, he almost shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. “What do you mean? I’m terribly innocent.”

The heat of his touch seared through your dress and you didn’t falter when he started bunching up the fabric.

Alhaitham, he was different.

Unlike the temporary touches of almost-lovers, every place his hands explored left a trail of fire in their wake. He always held you like the space between you was something he could not tolerate. Everything had to be met. Tongue. Hands. Body. Mind.

Alhaitham loved you. Deeply. Utterly. In ways that contradicted his nature. It was neither measured nor composed, only barbaric and all-encompassing.

And credit must be due to you for being the most patient person in the world.

“So,” you said quietly, brushing away those unruly greys that tickled his forehead. “Do you feel like this time is rushed?”

His long fingers tightened around you, answering your question before he spoke. Whatever hesitation he felt had apparently already passed. “No, this is perfect.”

As he looked up at you through those curtain of long lashes, an indulgent question had accidentally slipped out of your mouth: “How often do you picture yourself having your way with me?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Clearly defeated by your feathery voice, he exhaled through his nose, almost jaded, “Constantly."

For some reason, you were still caught by surprise. Even if it lasted for a sliver of a second, when his admiration for you felt too good to be true, sometimes you thought it all a farce. But you were wrong.

"In fact, I’m thinking about it right now," he continued.

Without needing any more reassurance than that, you closed the distance. “Do you mind?” You asked over his lips.

“Not at all,” he said like he was granting you a wish.

One tender kiss bled into another, then another, until his tongue started rolling over yours, swallowing your gasps in between. Then it turned into something wet and visceral. Your body wilted each time they collided but when his teeth sunk into your bottom lip, a riot of sensations gathered between your thighs.

Fuck, you swore internally.

Alhaitham may be a virgin but he sure didn’t kiss like one.

Still standing, you snaked your arms around his neck and combed at the ends of his hair. No matter how often you’d done this, the sound of his grunts always drowned out the rest of the world.

Your lips broke apart for only a moment when you were forced to find air. There were too many annoying layers between the two of you so the cycle of kissing and never crossing that line was forever broken when you pulled on his shirt, “Take this off.”

Letting you go, even for a second, was unbearable so when he lifted his arms to rid himself of the barrier, he greedily chased another kiss. The fabric dragged over his torso, revealing inch by inch of warm, silky skin stretched taut over muscle, and as soon as the shirt was gone, you traced the broad plane of his chest.

From this view, you wonder if he was thinking about how many times he had imagined this moment. How many nights he had stared at the ceiling, picturing your hands on him just like this?

“Nervous?” You asked, following your palm over the firm ridges of his abdomen as you connected lips again, pecking them softly this time like a butterfly kissing the edge of a blooming flower.

“Impossible,” Alhaitham relaxed his shoulders and pulled blindly at your waist. You looked so pretty—if anything, he was excited to fuck you. “I’m in good hands.”

Your lips trailed downward, over his jaw, his throat, ghosting his uncharted collarbones before moving even lower. Cushions collapsed to the floor as he began to fray beneath you, his body keening toward your open-mouth kisses no matter how much he tried to hold himself together.

“Baby—” he rasped. Your knees wobbled at his sweet call. The quietest groan escaped his mouth and you felt it reverberate against your lips where they hovered just above his navel. His scent was richer here—clean but muskier, and engulfing your senses to the point of dizziness.

Sinking to your knees, your tongue followed the dark path of hair that disappeared beneath his shorts while your hands nimbly pushed at his growing tent, “—Fuck,” he sighed, screwing his eyes shut. It pulsed involuntarily against the restraint and already, a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Your heart was racing, the size of it felt even bigger in your hand.

You toyed at the waistband, “Haitham, tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

He nodded, slumping back into the sofa. Sure, but he doesn’t think he will. His lack of words made you wonder if he’d actually heard you.

You palmed his bulge one last time before pulling everything down and immediately, his cock sprung against his stomach, giving it a good slapping sound while you ogled at the sheer size. And weight.

It was so much prettier than you’d imagine—not too veiny, plump and pink at the tip, slightly curved, and already glistening with precum under the hues of evening light. A handful of beauty marks dotted the underside of his shaft which would only help you out in the future when you had to decide which parts of him you wanted to kiss first. It might’ve been the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

Rubbing your thumb over the tip, you peered up at him, and as expected, “Oh…” he rolled his eyes back, lulling himself in the immediate pleasure. At that moment, he knew fucking his fist in the dead of night would never feel the same again. Not when they can be hugged by your soft, velvety hands.

Alhaitham’s body jittered under you with each small stroke along his length. Another fat ball of precum dribbled over your knuckles and made it extra slippery—he was so hard, he could barely look at you through his drowsy eyes.

“Do you like how this feels, baby?”

His feelings wavered between bucking for more friction or letting you dictate his ruin. “I- ah- love it. Keep going… Please…” Either way, by the time this was over, Alhaitham was going to walk away a new man.

His cock was so heavy, so wide in your hand that you briefly imagined it training your hole open. You desperately clenched around nothing—suddenly it was your to feel needy and as a result, your strokes became even faster as you thought about him stuffing you with it instead.

Each languid pump chipped away at his resolve but it was you who was beginning to lose control. Your free hand couldn’t hold still for any longer so they snaked to the throbbing heat that had been building between your legs for too long. The first roll of circles over your clit sent a sharp jolt up your spine. “Mmmm,” you were already so wet, your slick drenched your fingers within seconds.

Alhaitham's thighs twitched at the sound of you. That was a moan. A real fucking moan. A multitude of things could turn him on but watching his girlfriend play with herself and moaning above his cock made him spasm in his spot. He was begging for more, even if he couldn’t form the words.

“Ahh, Haitham…” you mewled his name softly as you slid two fingers inside your sopping entrance. Without waiting any longer, you spat on the leaking tip as a courtesy warning before taking the entire length in your mouth all at once.

“God…” Alhaitham groaned, drawn out like the sensation alone could tear him apart. He could’ve jumped out of his seat if not for the vice grip he had on the sofa, his knuckles white from holding onto it like a lifeline. The inside of your mouth was so warm, your tongue so blissfully foreign and you felt him stiffen up even more when you sloppily sucked and popped off with a messy slurp.

“This definitely... isn't your first time,” His voice was rough with lust.

Every tantalising lick was written off as proof of your experience.

The praise, while indirect, made your cunt clamp around your moving fingers. You hummed, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock before pulling back with another lewd pop, “No,” you casually admitted, licking a stray tear of precum from your lips. “But it’s my first time taking something so big.”

“No need to flatter me,” he murmured softly, lifting your dripping chin with a single finger, “You’re already doing enough.”

But damn, he thought. If that were true, he’d stretch you further than anyone else.

After returning your lips around him, he unexpectedly brought his hand to the back of your head.

This time, he didn’t want to sit back. “Slowly…” he sucked in a breath. “I… want to try something.”

Alhaitham apparently grew some confidence of his own which made your fingers work even faster inside yourself. Your lips sank lower and lower. Throat tightening as his thick cock tunneled its way through—

“Mmph—!!” Your sudden yelp was muffled when his mushroom tip nudged the back of your throat. The vibration of it made him buckle his knees beside you.

Oh, he was weak for you. And he knew it.

“Ugh— Look at you…” he groaned through gritted teeth. Still, despite the newfound confidence, he was losing the battle fast. He had buckled so hard, he was worried he’d already cum but he was relieved when you gagged and withdrew, leaving only strings of saliva connecting to his fat length.

That was enough to tell him he couldn’t hold it off anymore.

Alhaitham could barely think straight. His cock was twitching, aching, still glossy from your mouth, and somehow standing taller than when all of this started.

“Come here,” he pleaded and now his heart pounded because it was finally happening.

His eyes were hazy when he hoisted you up, catching you in his lap to taste himself on your tongue. The kiss was feral and teeth-clashing and the curl of your name kept being whispered again and again between breaths.

His hands wasted no time, sliding down your body, comfortably hiking up your dress while he met his cock with your entrance. Even with your underwear in the way, you felt just how girthy he was and squeezed around the head as much as your flimsy panties allowed.

“Haitham~” you whimpered, continuing to grind on him.

Between his own rolling of his hips, he eagerly helped you tug your dress over your head. Then you hurriedly removed your underwear and returned to his lap.

For a brief moment, he just stared.

His jaw went slack. His chest rose and fell slowly.

It was a showcase of your bare body, your soft tummy, your sweat-stricken tits, and your exposed pussy.

Suddenly, you felt shy, but he reached out with surprising gentleness, smoothing his palm over your waist, then up to your chest.

“I know I keep repeating myself but seriously,” he hushed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you shiver. “You’re beautiful.”

He looked at you like you were something divine and overcome, your lips crashed against his.

A guttural sound escaped his throat as he kissed you back with just as much hunger.

“I love you,” you whispered to him. Another twist of your tongue. I love you. Another hand tangled in his hair. I love you. Another peek at your loving boyfriend, eyes shut and kissing you so tenderly like it’s the only thing he knew. I love you.

His hand slipped between your legs, fingers parting the opening where you were dripping for him. If you hadn’t known him at all, you would’ve never guessed this was his first time. Perhaps preparing for this really paid off in the end.

Your legs trembled around his hand, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. The need clawed at you.

His hand gripped your putty thighs, forcing them open as he stared at the pretty mess.

Alhaitham flicked his gaze back to yours, “I love you, too,” his voice was hoarse. “And I need to be inside you.” It was then you understood why puppy eyes worked on people. No argument could ever shield him away when he pleaded for you like that. It would be like kicking a puppy in the most literal sense.

You gave him a nod of approval. It’s okay.

He exhaled as he positioned himself. The downright weight of it jerking against your clit made you whimper. You couldn’t help but rock into it, circling his shaft with your juices while he was on the cusp of shattering.

Finally, he lined the swollen head at your entrance and a sharp gasp left you as he slowly pushed in, stretching you apart like all those times you fantasised in the privacy of your bedroom but this was much, much better.

Inch by inch, your walls latched onto him and—

“Shit—” Alhaitham cursed under his breath.

Nothing has ever felt so warm or soft. Or all-consuming. His entire vision was a blur. There was no doubt he was already painting a clear, sticky mess on your walls.

Your nails sank into his meaty arms, his name tumbled from your lips as he gradually slotted himself completely inside you. His groan was so deep and wrecked, that it made you tremble around him even more.

Your legs tightened at his side, urging him deeper. “T-Thoughts?” You asked, barely. It remained a mystery how you stayed teasing even as pleasure threatened to steal your words away.

“You’re so… tight,” he managed to breathe, thrusting up experimentally. His head dropped to your shoulder as he relished in the wet heat of you wrapped around him. “Better than my hands."

"Better than I ever imagined, actually." A strained chuckle left him, “And I imagined a lot.”

Another slow thrust. His fingers embedded themselves around your waist, possessive, obsessive, and he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in.

You smiled even though you knew he couldn’t see, “You don’t have to hold back.”

Your cute encouragement made him snap.

He lifted you slightly before slamming you down on his hips, plunging as far as he could. Right as he did, you arched your back and struggled to find your bearings. The sound of your jutted cries echoed freely in the living room, only for it to be swallowed by his muttering against your skin—

“You’re perfect.”

A deep thrust, much harder this time.

“I can’t believe you’re mine.”

His teeth scraped against your neck.

And then he really started fucking you.

Every bounce punctured all the right spots and you could only whine while rivers of sweat glued your bodies together. You tried to keep up with him but he was so fervent with his hips, your mind went cloudy.

More often than not, you tend to forget how strong your boyfriend was but you’ll never need a reminder after this. Not with how easily his large hands guided you up and down his throbbing cock. You were helpless against the feverish way he moved you.

Plap. Plap. Plap. Each wet slap of your fleshy ass against his thighs sent a violent shudder through him, decorating his skin with flushed, red marks where you landed.

Who knew Alhaitham could be so obscene and filthy?

“I can see why—people—enjoy this,” was all he could muster you as deliciously gripped him. Every word punched out of him from the force of your tight cunt.

However, as good as it felt, most of his enjoyment came from looking at you.

“Mhm…!” you babbled, brain foggy and hands abandoning his shoulders to roll your sensitive nipples between your fingers, twisting and tugging and arching your back so your tits were right in his face. “But are you—?” You tried to ask between ragged moans but he cut you off with a snap of his hips.

He’d never seen you in such a messy state, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He was nearly offended at the implication that he wasn’t. How could he not be? He was buried to the hilt and drinking in every filthy little sound that spilled from your lips.

He wanted to engrave the image of this memory into his mind forever.

The creak of the sofa legs as they scraped back and forth on your floor; the squelch of your soaking pussy; your arousal smearing the base of his shaft, running down his legs with every feverish roll.

Even like this, even while he was losing every last shred of innocence, his mind was already latching onto something else—

“I’m already looking forward to doing this again…”

Alhaitham, who fucking loved you, was also going to love fucking you.

Oh, and the toe-curling sensation of his balls smacking the back of your pussy intensified.

For each erratic push, your battered clit rubbed even more against his pubic bone. Your eyes were starting to drop and your voice only came in erotic moans. “Baby, please…” You’ve adjusted to the stretch by now but you’ll never get used to how you can feel every curve or ridge mind-meltingly dragging inside you. “Don’t stop—”

He wishes he could just record the way you coo at him like that, because your honeyed tone damn near made him bust on the spot.

“F-Fuckk-Ngh… Love, I’m close,” he groaned, forehead falling against yours as his hips stuttered. His hungry, feral eyes—wild, desperate, blown back with lust, searched yours, now certain of what he wanted.

“Inside,” you panted, cradling the back of his head with your arms. “I bought a contraceptive tonic… You can cum inside.”

Alhaitham froze, for just a second.

But with your permission, he lost whatever fragile thread of control he had left. Using the last of his strength, he clumsily wrapped himself around your waist and attacked your g-spot over and over.

“Quickly,” you urged him, “Because I’m gonna—!” A feeling in your stomach coiled before you could finish your sentence. With his hips rolling at an angle, everything you were holding together finally broke apart. Your ears abruptly rang and your vision went entirely white, as if months’ worth of pent-up energy was gushing out of you.

You pushed through the untangling in your gut, feeling everything all at once as your orgasm obliterated your senses. The downpour left you mewling, writhing, and spasming around him like a tightening knot. You've cummed to the thought of him but you always felt like something was missing.

Nothing but desperate moaning and the crying of his name met his ears while you blissfully rode him out.

A harsh thrust later did it for him, too.

His merciless rhythm shattered as he rutted inside one last time, a guttural groan ripping from his throat like all the air was being punched from his lungs. “Hah—I’m cumming!” His cock pulsed violently as he came, hot ropes of ivory spilling deep inside you, with him losing focus after each shudder of his hips.

So much of it was already oozing out of you despite how tight you still were and you saw the ruin it brought on him. He was beautiful with his brows pinched tight and strands of damp silver sticking to his forehead. Every flex of his toned arms and chest showcased the primal strength beneath his elegance.

Alhaitham whimpered—it was barely audible as slumped against your chest. He clung to you, panting, hot breath fanning your shoulder as he pumped out the last tremors of his release. His balls tightened for the final time as they emptied inside you.

Neither of you moved. Just sticky heat, layers upon layers of sweat, and the aftershocks pulsing through your trembling bodies.

Then, slowly, his hands fell to his sides.

“…That was…” he started, feeling like his mind was still trying to piece itself together. His body practically surrendered against the sofa.

You swiped a thumb over his jaw, smiling. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

When Alhaitham lifted his head, blinking at you, completely softened by the afterglow, it hit you.

Your boyfriend wasn’t a virgin anymore.

divider: @/adornedwithlight

#☾ grimmweepers #genshin impact smut #alhaitham smut #al-haitham smut #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #genshin x reader #gi smut #alhaitham x you #al-haitham x you #genshin x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x female reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #genshin oneshots

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koyagifs · 3 days ago

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𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

pairing: yunho x reader au: idol | established relationship | genre: fluff word count: 1.2 k synopsis: yunho so excited to become a father, he was determined to make your babymoon the most memorable memory for you. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities. mention of pregnancy!

Yunho's excitement was palpable as he talked about the upcoming babymoon. He'd been planning every detail, determined to make it the most memorable experience for both of you. From finding the perfect cozy getaway spot to arranging special activities that would help you relax and enjoy the time together, he made sure everything was perfect.

The way his eyes sparkled with anticipation whenever he spoke about it made you smile. He was eager to share these precious moments, even before the baby arrived, creating memories that the two of you could cherish forever. It was clear to see that his love for you and the excitement of becoming a father filled him with a sense of joy that couldn’t be contained.

At seven months pregnant, your belly had grown beautifully round, a visible testament to the new life you were carrying. It was pleasantly swollen, and Yunho couldn't help but gently rest his hand on it, feeling the baby move every so often. He’d often smile, his heart swelling with love and anticipation for the little one on the way.

You moved a little slower now, but Yunho was always there to support you, making sure you were comfortable, whether it was with a soft pillow to prop you up or a blanket to keep you warm.

The date he decided on for valentines weekend and you were so excited. Yunho had chosen the perfect place : Jeju Island. As soon as he told you, your excitement was uncontrollable. You had always wanted to visit the picturesque island, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The idea of spending the weekend there, just the two of you, before the baby arrived was incredibly special.

Yunho made sure every detail was planned—romantic walks along the coast, visits to the island’s lush gardens, and cozy moments in a beautiful, secluded retreat. He even arranged for a few surprise activities, like a couple's spa day and a private dinner with a view of the ocean. His thoughtfulness made everything feel extra special.

On the last night on Jeju Island, the two of you decided to take a peaceful walk along the beach near your villa. The sky was painted in deep shades of purple and pink as the sun set, and the sound of the waves crashing gently on the shore added a calming rhythm to the air.

Yunho, always the caring partner, held your hand tenderly, his fingers intertwining with yours. His touch was warm and steady, offering you both comfort and connection. Every so often, he would rest a hand on your swollen belly, feeling the baby’s tiny movements and smiling softly to himself. He seemed so full of love and happiness, his excitement for the future shining through his every glance.

As you sat together on the beach, the sound of the waves creating a serene backdrop, Yunho's voice broke the gentle silence. He leaned back, his hand resting softly on your lap, his eyes warm and full of love as he looked at you. "I love you so much, you know that, right?" he said, his tone sincere and filled with emotion.

You could feel the weight of his words, the depth of his affection for you and the little one growing inside you. His hand on your lap was gentle, yet it held an undeniable tenderness, as if he was already imagining all the moments ahead of you as a family.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with love in return. "I love you too, Yunho."

His hand gently rubbed your belly, feeling the warmth of the life inside you. He leaned in closer, placing soft, lingering kisses along your belly, making you giggle each time his lips brushed against your skin.

"You're going to be so beautiful—just like your mother," Yunho mumbled, his voice full of adoration as he continued to caress your belly. His eyes shone with a mixture of love and excitement for the little one.

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, your fingers gently playing with his hair as you replied, teasingly, "No, he's going to be handsome just like his father."

Yunho paused, looking up at you with a playful grin, his eyes sparkling. " he is a she."

You rolled your eyes playfully as you laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Well, she is going to be beautiful just like her father then," you teased, your hand still gently resting in his hair.

Yunho's grin widened at your playful response. "I knew it!" he said with a mock pout. "You can't deny it, she's going to be a little version of me."

You chuckled, shaking your head, knowing that no matter what she looked like, she would be perfect in both of your eyes. "She'll be perfect just like both of us," you said softly, your voice filled with affection.

Yunho's gaze softened, his hand resting back on your belly as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. "I can't wait to meet her," he murmured, his voice full of love and excitement for the future.

" i believe the boys are more excited then us, " you joked.

Yunho chuckled softly, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with amusement. "You might be right," he said, his grin widening. "They're already planning all sorts of things for her." He seemed to be imagining the excitement of the other guys, all eager to meet the little one.

You laughed, nodding. "They're going to spoil her, I can already tell," you teased, the thought of their eager anticipation making you smile. "She'll be the center of attention before she even arrives."

Yunho shook his head, his hand still resting on your belly as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. "They’ll be great uncles," he said warmly, his tone full of affection for his friends—and for the future they were all about to share together.

"You and I are going to have to fight for her attention," you joked, winking at him.

Yunho's smile softened, and he leaned in to kiss you, a kiss full of promises and love for everything that was to come. "As long as she knows how much we love her, that’s all that matters," he murmured against your lips.

You melted into the kiss, feeling all the warmth and love he had for you, your heart swelling with emotion. But before you could even fully process the moment, Yunho’s arms were around you, and with a playful grin, he effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

You squealed in surprise, laughing as he held you close, his strength surprising you even more in the tender moment. "Yunho!" you gasped, trying to hold back your giggles as he twirled you around slightly, the world around you seeming to blur in the joy of it all.

Yunho chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I couldn’t resist," he said, his voice light but full of affection. "I’m just too excited to hold you—and our little girl." His gaze dropped to your belly for a moment, filled with such tenderness.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer, unable to stop smiling. "Careful, Yunho, I’m not as light as I used to be," you teased, even as you enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms, so secure and loved.

He just grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I’ll carry both of you for as long as I have to," he said, his words as sweet and sincere as ever.

In that moment, you couldn’t have felt more cherished, knowing that no matter what, you would always be held in Yunho’s love.

p.s the baby was a baby boy.

#yunho x reader fluff #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #yunho x you #yunho fluff #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #ateez #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #yunho

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r0tting-rat · 16 hours ago

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"Little pest."

Hi Magpie!!! Gift :> Just a lil thing for a very talented someone with an incredible au. Yeah I'm a huge simp for their alien boys what about it /silly

Pairing: Alien King!Eclipse (by @sleepymagpie-draws) x Gender Neutral Reader Warning: None, maybe just a bit ooc (sorry mags) Words: 4000+ Summary: You're bored and can't sleep. Thank god you have someone to annoy to pass the time <3 Heavily inspired by this ask/art!!! Literally died when I saw it he's so beautiful. Additional tags: TouchSTARVED reader. Starved as hell. Also fluff fluff fluff so much fluff. Magpie I love him can you tell. (Reminder everyone that the reader has techincally been kidnapped, but they're pretty chill about it dw)

Who said being kidnapped by aliens is a terrifying and horrible experience? It has already been months since Sun literally grabbed you and brought you with him, and you have yet to be put on a vivisectionist's table. In fact, all you have known since then are silky sheets, soft pillows, ornate plates of fresh fruits you have never seen before, and heavy pieces of jewelry that hang down your neck and rest fresh against your sternum. You live better than you used to back on Earth, spoiled rotten by three royals every single day of your dull life, sleeping in a bed three times the size of a human one, and with countless workers ready to be summoned at your every call. Although, you have to admit that you much prefer the attention of your “captors” compared to the one of their servants, feeling like their soft touches work like a relaxing balm on your mood.

The one of the three brothers you see less is Eclipse, and even if you can bet your money on the fact that he must be constantly busy due to his duties as a king, you can’t help but wish you could spend more time with him, craving the way he gently scratches the top of your head with his claws whenever he manages to stop by and pay you a visit.

Rolling around in the soft sheets of the bed you are resting on, looking up at the dull ceiling, you feel like a pampered and neglected pet at the same time, left to the care of strangers who refuse to speak more than quick sentences to you, covered by precious gifts from head to toe and fed with silver spoons while also being locked alone in your quarters for hours without end.

You complain, of course. To Sun, Moon, and anyone who’s willing to swing by and listen, really. You grumble and whine; you roll on your bed and do your best attempt at puppy eyes, but all the brothers do is laugh and caress your cheeks. There are rules—they say—rules that can’t be broken, and each time they remind you, you roll your eyes. They promised you books and games to pass the time, but as you wait for the shipment from Earth to arrive, you are left with nothing. You don’t understand the language of the heavy volumes collecting dust in the bookshelves of your room, and something tells you you wouldn’t enjoy reading them even if you did.

The part of the brothers’ visits you hate the most is when you see them stand up and prepare to leave, because you know that the very moment the door closes behind them, it locks, leaving you stuck in your room for hours. There’s no real keyhole in your door, so you can only guess how it works, but from what you have gathered so far, it seems like it’s semi-automatic but opens only when you’re coming in from the outside. Listening to Sun and Moon made you realize another thing as well: their rooms seem to be close to yours—maybe even adjacent—and the thought infuriates you. So close, and yet so far! Why do they so rarely visit you if they are so close by? Do they have other places to rest? Do they sleep at all? Are the bedrooms just for show? Drowning in questions, you decide that it’s time to break some rules, and when Eclipse finally stops by to visit you after dinner, you come up with a plan.

The alien is so tall the tip of his crown brushes over the canopy of your bed as he leans over your draped form on the bed. He rests one of his hands on top of your head, brushing your hair back, and you look up at him with a pout.

“Finally decided to pay attention to me?” you say, swatting his hand away and sitting up. You know you’re being a brat, but if they so desire to treat you as a glorified pet, then you might as well show them the reality of owning one. From under his crown, which you consider more like a helmet or mask, you hear the disappointed clicking of his mandibles that translates through your magnetic ring with a soft cooing sound.

“Oh, my pet, are you feeling neglected?” he asks, coming back to gently run his claws through your hair. He loves to do it, and you love allowing him.

“I’m bored, Eclipse.” You have no qualms about calling him by his real name, ignoring any honorific everyone around keeps suggesting to you. “I’m bored, and it’s been almost a week since your last visit.”

You shift back on the bed a little so it doesn’t seem done on purpose, and you watch as the terrifyingly huge alien climbs on the disarranged covers to follow you. He never fully enters your personal space, always keeping enough room between the two of you to keep things “formal,” in a way, but you also noticed how he likes to have you at arm’s length. Every time you are in the same room as Eclipse, one of his four arms is always touching you, resting on your head or shoulder, tilting your chin up, sometimes even running his claws from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck just to see you shiver and glare at him.

“My apologies,” he says, and his words sound sincere, “I promise the shipment will arrive shortly; you’ll have your books in no time.”

“It’s not the books that I want, though,” you reply, leaning closer, and that causes Eclipse to slightly move back, like he’s scared you might end up too close to his face. “You kidnapped me, dragged me here, then proceeded to simply ignore me.”

You weren’t being ignored, of course. You were just acting dramatic so as to get what you wanted.

“I’m sure I do not need to remind you who of the three of us is the one at fault for your presence here. As I told you already, I’m afraid I cannot bring you with me while I work, pet,” Eclipse sighs, “After we expanded on your little planet, both Sun and Moon’s responsibilities and tasks have doubled as well. It has to be said, your fellow humans are quite rowdy.”

You turn your head away, pretending to look saddened by the news—nothing you hadn’t expected, of course, but still.

“Also, the thought of you roaming these halls alone makes us all uneasy,” he adds, “You could get lost, or someone could see you and be scared to the point of calling the guards on you. That’s why we must lock your door, my pet, to keep you safe.”

“Not because you think I might run away?” you question, eyebrows rising up with skepticism, and Eclipse purrs with amusement.

“Run off? And where to, silly?” he laughs, “You wouldn't even know how to leave this place, let alone return to your home planet.”

He’s right; running from them would have been stupid. Plus, you don’t really want to escape—not when you have two princes and a king spoiling you like that—you just need to leave that damned room for at least five minutes so as to not go mad! Is it too much to ask not to be subjected to psychological torture?

“Are you returning tomorrow morning?” you ask, hopeful, and Eclipse shakes his head. You groan, now seriously disappointed, and try not to lean too much into the touch of his hand caressing your cheek. The contact burns, like living embers, and you have to stifle a second groan. It’s been so long since you had some form of physical contact with a human, and something tells you it’s starting to take a toll on you, making you more compliant and demanding of attention. It could be due to the unfamiliar setting, which you simply can’t grow accustomed to despite how much you walk the perimeter of your large room, or the complete absence of familiar faces, but the cause of it doesn’t matter. All you know is that you need to be hugged, to be cuddled, to be held, and to be caressed. You’re touch starved, so hungry for it you could just throw yourself at Eclipse and cling on his neck until he relents and decides to sleep there with you or bring you to his room—either way, you’d get a full night of cuddles; too bad common decency stops you from hugging a king like a koala.

“I have an important meeting in the morning, so I’m afraid not. I’m sure Sun and Moon might be able to clear their schedules in the afternoon, though, so don’t fret.”

His words are apologetic, but you feel as if they were said with the sole purpose of bringing you harm because they do nothing but hurt you.

Eclipse leaves after a while of chatting, bringing all the warmth of the room with him, and you watch him from your spot on the edge of the bed as he walks towards the door. You’re on your back, head hanging down the bed, staring blankly at the heels of the king and mentally preparing your next move. You act fast. The door opens, Eclipse slips away, and right before it closes, you throw a pillow in the gap of the threshold. The noise of the pillow falling is soft and muffled, and Eclipse doesn’t seem to notice that the door hasn’t closed completely behind him; instead, he simply walks away in the white corridor outside your room, and you stare at your successful attempt with surprise. You actually did it! The door is still open, blocked by the red pillow, and you finally have access to the rest of the rooms.

Carefully standing up from your bed, like afraid someone from outside could hear you, you make your way towards the exit and peek out, hoping not to be met with Eclipse’s disappointed masked face. When your eyes travel the length of the long corridor extending before you like a white snake, you find no sign of any alien, and a smile splits on your lips from ear to ear.

The idea of immediately beginning to explore is alluring, but you know better than to leave when it’s still so early. You must wait some time until you’re sure Eclipse must have already retreated to his room for the night, and then enact the second phase of your plan.

Once you’re finally sure enough time has passed since the king has wished you goodnight, you finally push fully open the door of your room, looking around once more to make sure the coast is clear. After that, you put the pillow back to stop the door just in case it couldn’t be opened from outside like you thought, and walk in the direction you’re almost sure Eclipse has taken. During your short trip, you notice the complete lack of furniture or wall decorations in the halls, mumbling to yourself about “rich people’s lack of taste,” occasionally finding a door and trying to open it with no success, and you’re just about to give up when you finally place your open palm against one tall frame and see it move at your gentle touch.

You stare in disbelief at the room opening before you, large and barren at the same time, trying to understand who the place belongs to while lingering on the door sill. In the darkness you see thousands of books neatly arranged on tall bookshelves, with their colorful and ornate hard covers staring at you as if they’re aware you’re a stranger, and as you enter you notice many have a broken spine. Those books, you realize, have been well loved by someone, or maybe simply re-read dozens of times out of need. It doesn’t matter to you, because what you’re most interested in is the second door in a corner of the room, likely leading to the actual bedchambers. It seems like the initial area has been arranged to be used as an office, separated from the personal spaces, but if that isn’t the truth, then you might have simply stepped into a random library and made a fool of yourself in front of the books. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up, and the monkey part of your brain keeps screaming that there’s someone watching you, but the deeper you go in the quarters, the more you keep telling yourself that it’s just your imagination. Your bare feet leave a slight trail on the carpet in the middle of the room as you walk towards the second door.

As expected, the second room is more similar to a bedroom, although it doesn’t seem to gain any form of personality compared to the office you just left, almost as if the owner of the room doesn’t spend too much time in it. It wouldn’t fit Sun to sleep into such a sterile and dark ambience, and you feel like Moon would also take some more care into creating a welcoming area for himself, so that leaves out only one of the three brothers.

The size of the bed confirms your theory: you have ended up exactly in Eclipse’s room, and you’re face to face with his sleeping form. Or, at least you guess it must be him, considering how dark it is in that corner. The only source of light in the room is a large window kept almost entirely shut, not allowing a ray of starlight to enter, so you really can’t be sure of anything.

The canopy bed in front of you is enormous, of a deep burgundy color, and see-through curtains drape over it to hide the figure in the middle. As you study the fabrics with the tips of your fingers, testing the softness, you find yourself enamored by it, beginning to press your open palms in the covers and then your face. You breathe in the scent, delicate while also heavy in your nostrils, and recognize the amazing aroma Eclipse brings with him everywhere he goes. You have no idea if it’s his favorite perfume or simply his natural scent; all you know is that it reminds you of the time you fell asleep on the king’s cape while he stopped for a visit, and the morning after, you found it still draped over you like a heavy cloak.

With your face in the covers, you simply close your eyes and let the memory play in your mind, affection blooming in your chest and throat like a warm flower, not noticing the dark frame towering over you from behind. Eclipse, from the height of his 8 ft, looks down at you like you’re nothing but a silly rabbit caught in a trap, about to be served for dinner to a horde of hungry guests.

“What exactly are you doing here, little pest?” he asks, and his deep growl makes you jump in the spot. When you turn around, your heart is racing, your eyes are wide open, and you feel more like prey than ever before in your life. As soon as you realize that Eclipse isn’t wearing his crown, you suddenly feel your blood pumping in your throat, and your cheeks grow warm at the sight of the red marks around his eyes and the dark color of his face sweetly mixing together, hypnotizing you for a second. All you can think of in that little head of yours is that the male should take off the helm more often so as to let his beautiful eyes see the light of day.

It isn’t the first time you saw him without the headpiece; sometimes he takes it off after he comes back from a long meeting with his advisors, and the sight always strikes you like lightning.

Eclipse—it has to be said—is beautiful. Not only for the eyes, which are of a wonderful milky color that makes you feel as if they’re cursing you with some kind of magic, but also for his soft features, unfortunately hidden for most of the time. Did his citizens even know their king looked like that? Heavens, you suddenly remember why you’re so happy that you’ve been kidnapped.

Eclipse is wearing something similar to a robe that wraps around his torso while leaving his chest open, with long sleeves covering his four large arms, and everything is kept into place by a tie in the front. He must have been on his way to go to bed before you interrupted him.

“It is only polite to answer when a royal addresses you,” the alien angruily reminds you, and you suddenly realize you haven’t said a thing since he entered.

“I just… I wanted, I was…” None of your sentences are making sense, so you swallow the lump in your throat and force your mind to clear itself of all the other distracting thoughts. “I just wanted to spend time with you, Eclipse.”

That sentence paired with some well-played puppy eyes is enough to make the alien sigh and relent, annoyed, probably too tired to argue with you after a long day of work.

“I don’t know how you left your room, but that’s unimportant now. You should return, it’s late,” he says, and you pout.

“Why can’t I sleep here?” you ask, and Eclipse looks down at you like you have grown a second head.

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning. Have you forgotten?” he sounds incredulous, “I’ll wake up early.”

You shrug after fake-pondering for a second. You had already made your decision.

“I don’t mind,” you reply with a small smile, “I sleep for the most part of the day anyway, so I’m well rested.”

Eclipse’s eyes turn into slits as he stares down at you, one pair of arms crossed over his chest and the other pair of fists on his hips. You can’t help but admire the dip of his collarbones as the fabric of his robe reveals more of him.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” he sighs, and your smile widens as you see his resolve start to break. You shake your head, and Eclipse finally relents. “Fine, get on the bed already.”

With a smug expression, you jump on the soft covers, happy with your little win, and you watch from behind the see-through curtain the king as he walks back in his personal library and returns, a moment later, with a book in his hand. You turn around, curious, and realize that the frame you thought belonged to Eclipse was actually just a bunch of pillows stuffed under the covers. Had he put them there because he had heard you come in? That would explain why he was ready to jump on you the very moment you turned your back.

The king motions you to get under the covers, then parts the curtains to slip in himself. Your eyes don’t miss the way his tense frame relaxes once his body finally rests on the mattress, as if the dark red sheets weren’t made of fabric but rippling water of a warm spring. One of his hands wraps around you, caressing your back, and you take it as a sign you can scoot closer and lay your cheek on his chest. The contact is pleasant, sending a nice buzzing of emotions down your spine, and you find yourself leaning onto him more and more every second, warm face resting on a cold and hard exoskeleton with a sigh. His main pair of arms opens the book on a page in the middle, and, with his back against the headboard, he begins reading a book with pages covered in mysterious letters and signs.

You can’t help your curiosity, and the words slip out of your mouth even before you can stop them. You don’t want to bother him, but you crave to hear him talk to you some more.

“What are you reading?” you ask, and Eclipse begins to smile.

“Fiction. After so many hours spent on documents, I need something to distract my mind.”

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you murmur, and your sentence makes him laugh.

“You just don’t know me enough, pet,” he almost purrs, and once again your face heats up. How can he say that as if it was nothing? You do want to know him more—in fact, you want to know everything about Eclipse. You want to know his favorite books, his favorite scents, what he does in the morning after waking up, and what he likes to eat. You want to ask about his childhood, you want to spend time with him and his brothers, you want to learn more about their culture and more about them as well. You want to be able to spend every second with the three of them, but you can’t, so you cherish the moment you have with Eclipse before you eventually fall asleep.

“That’s something we can always change,” you say, nuzzling closer to him and closing your eyes for a moment. You’re so close you can hear the pumping of his heart under his exoskeleton, and the sound of it is almost lulling you to sleep. “What’s the story about?”

“Ah, just a tale about two lovers,” he explains, “It’s tragic, but I can’t fall asleep without reading at least a chapter.”

“I hope it’s not too tragic,” you murmur, “It’d be sad if one died.”

“I must agree with you here,” Eclipse hugs you even closer. “They’re made for each other. If one were to pass away, I have no idea what the other would do.”

You feel cradled by the gentleness in his words, the emotion that you so rarely hear in them, like a hand caressing your cheek and tilting your face up. When you do open your eyes, you find Eclipse fondly looking down at you with a small smile.

“Keep going,” you mutter, fighting with your own heavy eyelids as you speak, “I wanna know about them…”

“Sleep, my dear pet,” Eclipse whispers instead, bending down to kiss the top of your head, “I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

You don’t want tomorrow to come, you know you wouldn’t stand to see him wearing his crown and leave for the day. The thought is so painful you curl up into a ball and groan, and you stop only when a pair of strong arms hold you close to a hard chest, and you realize that Eclipse has fully slipped under the cover and is now gently hugging you, one hand on the nape of your neck, another burying its fingers in your hair, and the last two resting on your hips. Another kiss is placed on your forehead, and you swear you might just start boiling on the spot.

“What about your book?” you ask with a tired and groggy voice, wrapping yourself around Eclipse some more, like you’re afraid someone might come in and untangle you from him.

“It’ll wait,” the king answers.

“But you said you can’t sleep without reading…” Your eyes are closed again, and this time you feel like they might not open until morning.

“This can work as well.”

You finally fall asleep cradled and hugged by Eclipse’s arms, uncaring of his hard shell being so different from any kind of fur or skin humans might find more comfortable, and when you do manage to sleep into your own world, you do it with a smile on your lips. You’re no longer afraid of turning around right after waking up and finding the bed empty and cold, not anymore, not when Eclipse is making up for all the lack of affection you had to endure.

Next time, you’ll try to see if you can rope Sun and Moon into it too. It’d be nice to have a sleepover all together.

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joemomrgneissguy · 2 days ago

Text

I have conflicting feelings on this.

Because, yes, third spaces have been diminished. Fear mongering over media consumption and the youth has been going on for thousands of years.

And there are good and valuable life giving things that come from being online and it makes sense for folks to participate in it and often.

Not all of our problems stem from phones, and it would be incredibly reductive to just say "phone bad" and be done with it.

But also I feel like most of my time online in recent years has not been spent in a good or healthy fashion. There are many instances where I leave the experience feeling hollow or somewhat braindead. And there are real, documented incentives for media companies to use every trick in the book to try and keep you captivated for however long is possible in order to sell more ad space. There is infrastructure in place to encourage addictive behavior. YouTube shorts feels like a skinner box, and I don't feel good after involuntarily binging videos for 14 hours.

I've felt good on the Internet and think it can be a force for good in the world, and believe that there isn't a realistic scenario where we move entirely away from it. But I feel like there is a disconnect between that theory and actual practice.

Then again, maybe it's some work I need to do, and nothing is wrong with how it's set up. Are companies working against me and thus lowering my quality of life? Or am I looking for a scapegoat for my own ruinous behavior?

Much to ponder there, I suppose.

I wish it was easier to talk about mobile phone addiction without sounding like a boomer

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prttylight · 2 days ago

Note

Sebastian Vettel with Schumacher daughter? Age Gap/Forbidden love affair?

SV5 ★ secrets and kisses

★ Summary: Sebastian adored being your boyfriend, even if that meant lying to his idol. In where Sebastian and you, the daughter of Michael Schumacher, are in a secret relationship.

★ Sebastian Vettel x Schumacher Daughter. ★ Forbidden Love. Fluff. Kisses. ★ im thinking in a second part

You barely remember Seb as a child, not that you should feel guilty about that, life was busy then and there were so many people in your life that it was hard to keep him so present years later. But for Seb, your existence was still in the back of his mind, even after all this time; when you met again in the paddock, it was instantaneous, the feeling, the looks and the speed of your heartbeats were synchronized. Every night before you went to sleep you thought about all the things Seb had said during the day, their fleeting encounters and the interviews he gave after the races. Even though the feelings were there at first sight, the road to stability was a little slower.

Every time they saw each other, they were surrounded by other pilots, which kept them together, since despite their age difference, they were still among the youngest. This gave them an excuse to spend more time together, but it should be made clear that even if the conversations were fluid and they always had a great time together, both kept their desires buried deep in their hearts and only let themselves be seen under the fascination of their eyes whenever they met. You could say that the mask of a mere friendly relationship was broken when Seb gave you a kiss on the cheek at one of the many parties, as innocent as it was, it changed everything for you.

His rosy cheeks and the disappearance of Seb's self—confident attitude made you rest your lips on his. Fleeting, sweet and full of experiences to be discovered. That same night, on the balcony covered with plants, the German asked you to go out with him and you accepted.

Almost half a year had passed since that first date when you and Seb became engaged and you couldn't be happier. Of course, it had its complications, the schedules of a Formula 1 driver and a college student with panic attacks about failing were not easy to manage, and there was another little problem. Hiding it from your father, Michael Schumacher. You weren't sure how your father, who had previously warned you that F1 drivers were a no—go area (and to be honest, you hadn't been that interested until Seb's arrival), would react, and on top of that, your father was your boyfriend's biggest idol and absolutely refused to let him down. For these reasons, your dates consisted of meetings in your car with fast food or simple walks listening to music during the weekends that you had a career (although it was not always possible because many times you did not accompany your father), while during the week they usually met in your apartment. It was no big deal, a small apartment that you had asked your parents for, with the excuse that you wanted to be closer to the university and that it was hard for you to concentrate at home with your siblings, they accepted on the condition that you could provide your own food. So, in addition to all the obstacles that were placed in front of your relationship, there were the hours of tutoring that you offered to the children in order to feed yourself. But it was all worth it. You were privileged, and having an apartment to meet Seb was an incredible advantage in your secret relationship.

—You're coming to Monaco,” Seb asked, sitting on the floor as they ate at your coffee table in front of the TV.

—Should I? I have a couple of essays due—Seb looked at you as you pursed your lips, you seemed to be thinking about it—But if I bring my computer I should come.

Your boyfriend smiled and unconsciously his shoulders shrugged in happiness.

—That's good, we'll be able to sneak out in the evening—and slightly tilting towards your body with a mischievous smile he added—and I can help you with your homework.

—Yes, sure. Homework—you rolled your eyes and Seb laughed quietly as he ate. He was so happy that his cheeks were red and sore.

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The weather in Monaco was nice, you were wearing a tank top and an ankle—length blue skirt, a cool wind was blowing in from the balcony of your room and you decided to add a black jacket just in case the weather got even colder. Your younger brother looked at you with an arched eyebrow when you added pearl earrings to your outfit.

—Are you going out?" your brother questioned, not taking his eyes off his mobile phone.

—Yep — you didn't lie. You checked that everything was in your bag, and before you left you glanced briefly at your brother, "Don't stay playing and go out to dinner, at least with dad.

He nodded and you left the room walking down the corridors of the hotel with a smile on your face. As soon as you reached the lobby you spotted your dad talking to his friends and among them, Seb. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood and was joking loudly, you approached slowly and your boyfriend was the first one to see you with a little wave of his hand, which your father turned away from. Just as everyone was joking, they also greeted you. You approached your father just to say hello and let him know that you were going out with friends, you lied. He nodded, whispering to take care of yourself and not to come back late, you shook your head in agreement and before you left, you glanced briefly at Seb, whose eyes were, as usual in your presence, sparkling.

The plan was the same every race weekend, you would leave a few minutes early with the excuse that you would spend the night with your friends or colleagues, you would wait a few minutes a block away from the hotel they were staying at and Seb would come by with his car to pick you up and spend the evening together. It was one of their favourite activities to eat snacks in the car while they were driving and then they would buy food to take away and enjoy the evening in a prominent place in the city where the race was taking place.

You waited a few minutes on a well—lit corner and before you could even get bored of looking at the beautiful golden poles, Seb appeared in front of you with his rented car. You quickly hopped off the curb and opened the car door, Seb grabbed your bag as you settled into the seat and left a kiss on your cheek. You buckled in and he rested your bag on your lap.

—Ready?" Seb raised his eyebrows as if they were about to run a race.

—You grabbed the handle of your bag and Seb pulled away, smiling.

—You don't know," he asked as if it were obvious as he averted his eyes from the road for half a second to give you one of his cocky smiles, "We're going to spend our dinner at the best place in Monaco.

You pursed your lips into a smile; he was always so self—confident, so confident of making you nervous with the simplest acts that he managed to leave you speechless. You swallowed as you watched him turn down the streets of Monaco, he always drove with one hand and it would hurt your pride to accept how handsome he looked when he did.

—By the way, congratulations on passing the General Psychology exam — Seb congratulated you and that made your heart pound, but without thinking too much you shouted.

—How do you know that? I wanted to tell you at dinner," you stammered awkwardly, slapping his thigh; at your reaction Seb laughed hysterically, realising that it wasn't you who had told him, "You were guessing?

—No, no, honey," your heart trembled slightly at the nickname, before Seb continued laughing and tapped the steering wheel gently as he parked in front of a beautiful restaurant. He entangled his hands and with a kiss he placed on your forehead, he added, "Michael's been bragging about it all afternoon.

You gasped at the thought of your father bragging to his friends about something as mundane as passing an exam, especially in front of Seb. You covered your face with the palm of your hands and when you opened your mouth to moan, Seb spoke again.

—And I think you should too.

You frowned uncomprehendingly as you pulled your hands away from his face.

—What?

—You know, bragging, being proud of what you accomplish—Seb shrugged but his gaze was steady—You should be more proud of your accomplishments, I am. Every time we meet and you tell me how you've been studying so hard and how well you've done, it just makes me so happy.

You fluttered your eyelashes not believing what you were hearing, your hand trembled and being held still by Seb noticed the slight movement and tilted his head leaving another kiss on your cheek.

—I'm going to get our food." Seb got out of the car, the heat that had formed between his hands slowly subsided but the tingling did not. You felt yourself swallow hard before you threw yourself down on the seat laughing and wiggling your feet, Seb liked it so much that the only thing you wanted at that moment was for him to feel that way too.

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The night in Monaco was quieter than you would think. They had settled near a park, which due to the timetable was closed and they couldn't walk around. Having finished all your food we took the opportunity to rest your legs on Seb's lap with your back against the door. You were telling him about one of the many dramas of your university. Even if he pretended not to, Seb loved drama and even more so if it didn't involve him.

—I swear she rejected him, and he was really angry — you waved your hands dramatising the whole situation.

—That's not very nice," Seb commented. "Obviously being rejected isn't the best experience, but getting angry at the person I doubt it makes it any better.

—Exactly! And then he accused her of taking advantage of him and threw the ice cream on her dress—you paused and slapped your thigh hard—God, an ice cream Seb! If someone really did that to me they wouldn't have any hairs left to pluck.

—That's really awful, but now that you mention it," Seb began, registering your curious stare, "It's time for us to go get some ice cream.

Lowering your legs off his body you both celebrated your successful night with loud music and silly singing, at a traffic light you came to ask him.

—How are you feeling about the weekend," Seb hadn't mentioned the subject all night which surprised you, it's not like he could tell you the team's strategies but he kept a pretty wide berth for the expression of his feelings about racing. Seb scratched the back of his neck and, with his eyes on the road, replied.

—I'm not sure... For some reason everyone seems so interested in winning in Monaco that the fact that it's not so special to me keeps me... Confused.

—Seb... I can assure you that Monaco is not that important, I mean no more than other races," you assured with a confidence that made your boyfriend grimace, "Really, you'll do fine.

—Well, if a Schumacher says so, I guess I'll just have to listen to him," Seb's car got closer and closer to the busy streets of Monaco and as soon as they found a place to park for ice cream they pulled over with smiles already formed from anticipation. Opening the car door, you didn't hold back your comment.

—Of course, the winning instinct is in my blood," you exclaimed, putting your foot on the floor and looking up, and before you could warn him, you grabbed Seb's elbow to pull him into the car and slammed the door abruptly shut, stowing yourself in the safety of the car. Seb, who still didn't understand, screamed.

You covered his mouth with your palm only to direct your eyes a few metres away from you, where Michael Schumacher was leaving a restaurant with his friends and your brother. You both held your breath.

#formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #sebastian x reader #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel

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cea-tide · 1 day ago

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I skimmed through it and while it has some valuable advice here and there, when it comes down to giving specific examples, they give sub-optimal or actively privacy-hostile suggestions. I find that odd, as that is the opposite it claims to want to achieve. It falls right into the trap of false privacy the text is talking about. I put more details about my reasoning under the cut. I'd urge you still to follow along, but instead of taking the recommendations they give at face value, check out these two sites and compare: privacytools.io prism-break.org As a general rule of thumb, if the software is free, (libre) and open-source [F(L)OSS], everyone can check the code on malicious or faulty code (including trackers). These are preferred over closed-source solutions, which don't have any such accountability. This does not consider privacy-focused architecture per sé (though people certainly check for that), but the FLOSS community is generally privacy-focused, and you are at least (extremely likely) not tracked by the software itself. Exceptions to everything. Also, I want to mention this because I did not see them talk about it: If you change your details (email, etc.) on an account, all your old tracking data linked to that account (or even email) may now be linked to the new details too! Make an entirely new account wherever you can (and switch to privacy-focused services). This is where those email masks are incredibly useful; one mask per account. Feel free to ask me questions; I'll try to answer them.

They start with linking to Amazon lol, but they do acknowledge that

The RSS reader they recommend is actively promoting (generative) AI

Browsers: they do mention Chromium and its Google ownership, but they fail to mention most of the browsers are based on it, its problems with MV3 (see my #firefox tag), and then they recommend the very browsers that are Chromium-based... Just use Firefox or a derivative of it.

Password Managers: LastPass is not recommended; android app has/had trackers and it has had numerous data breaches.

"Most Privacy Isn't Private". Indeed, the moment you connect to the internet you can be traced eventually with enough effort. You can only make it harder (to the point that it is practically private). That does not mean that you should not try of course :)

Yes, store as much locally on a disk. What is not on the internet cannot be tracked or data-harvested.

Data balkanisation: That's not about giving your data to as many rival companies as possible (???), it's about country data legislation. Are you really relying on the assumption that Google/Yahoo wouldn't want to make a profit by selling more data, regardless of its buyer? Second example: just use Signal where possible because it doesn't share your data...

Ceasar: if you absolutely can't switch from a platform, yes minimise its usage

Firefox extensions: Ghostery is not recommended; it has/had trackers itself, and ads too (according to user reviews on the internet; no personal experience). I have reblogged plenty of FF addon posts before; see my #firefox tag.

Email clients: the default Windows mail app is of course controlled by Microsoft; do not use. I also recommend Thunderbird, but check your options above (and elsewhere). Note, an app is not required if your email provider also has a webmail (e.g. proton). Up to your preference.

Calendars: No comments, beside check the above sites.

Signal is not the only one out there, but it is certainly the most mainstream popular. And the more popular, the lower the social network switching cost, yay

Password Managers: LastPass is not recommended; android app has/had trackers and it has had numerous data breaches. Neither is 1Password recommended, because it is closed-source.

VPNs: I do not trust that list. Again, check above. There is also an outdated VPN privacy overview from 2019 on this website. I will write my own eventually, because that has been abandoned, but that will not be anytime soon. Because I know this specific example, I'll also say explicitly to not use ExpressVPN, because it has been taken over by Kape Technologies.

Collaboration clouds: One of them is powered by AI again... These are all closed-source; I do not recommend them. Instead I use: cryptpad.org, which can also serve as cloud storage, but indeed is a collaboration suite.

No comments on home assistants. They're spot on. All I will say is allowing tunnelling into your home network and connecting Internet of Things, is a massive security risk in general. Also consider setting up a Pi Hole on your network.

Mobile OS: I don't have enough experience on this; no comment.

I urge folks to check out this link. Its a very approachable roadmap to improving your digital privacy. As a consequence, it usually means you'll be supporting tech giants much less. Its not all or nothing either, do what you can.

#cyana.add #firefox #tech #privacy #internet

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questionablecuttlefish · 3 days ago

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Lightcannon Headcanons: Close Combat.

JINX

We get a really good look at Jinx as both a close quarters and ranged fighter in Arcane.

She's incredibly slippery, fluid and unpredictable, even before the Shimmer gives her a super-speed, super-strength juice mode (as depicted with the pink trails from her eyes in the show.)

My take is that Jinx picked up her fighting style learning from Silco's best fighters but also from observation of numerous street fights and pit fights on her own. She has no particular style or formal training, and a lot of her close quarters is just sheer animalistic survival instinct. Anyone expecting a traditional slugfest with Jinx is going to lose, but as we saw with her fight against Rictus, she's still vulnerable to a more experienced, professional warrior who's able to keep a level head, hold their ground and not fall for her tricks. Survive her long enough and she may get sloppy or frustrated and give you an opening.

But that's if you survive.

Jinx has never been big or strong (until the Shimmer) so she focuses on speed, unpredictability, dodging and hitting back with erratic timing and force. She won't hesitate to fight dirty, if she doesn't already have a weapon to hand, the whole environment is likely to be her weapon. She'll bite you, claw out your eyes, smash your teeth on the concrete if she has to. Anything to win.

LUX

I know my h/c that Lux isn't a soldier or a frontliner fighter is pretty rare, but I don't see any evidence in her current lore that she's ever served on the front line (and in her old lore she was more of a battle mage) and I kinda like that as a contrast to Tianna, Cithria, Kahina, Poppy, almost all the other Demacian women champions and supporting characters being heavy-hitting front line fighters or specialized but still deadly warriors like Fiora, Vayne or Quinn (Shyvana is a freaking dragon so she gets extra points here.)

But Lux is still a Demacian, still a member of a noble family in this extremely militarized but gender-equal feudal society, she has absolutely still been trained to fight, and likely with a wide variety of weapons - dagger, staff, sword, spear and bow at bare minimum, and some form of unarmed fighting. In the comic we see her shoot Sylas with a crossbow and stab him with a concealed dagger, so we know she's not shy about it if she's pushed.

My Lux take is that, since she's primarily a diplomat with spy skills and was never meant to be a frontline soldier, she's been trained to fight defensively. But because of that, her fighting style with a sword or other melee weapon is very bare bones and efficient. It catches people off guard if they expect her to be weak or fancy.

Nope, she's just going to disarm and stab you in the quickest and most efficient way possible. Lux doesn't like killing so she's going to make this quick and clean. It makes her ironically more dangerous because she's not screwing around.

I also like the contrast between this and her flowing, dancing, elegant and graceful spellcasting style when she's weaving her Light. Wielding her magic is a spiritual experience for her, communing with a profound part of herself, equally intimate, exhilarating and terrifying for her.

Killing someone with cold steel is something she'd rather not do, so she just wants to get it out of the way.

#lightcannon #lux crownguard #jinx #luxanna crownguard #arcane #lux #jinx x lux #arcane jinx #lol jinx #league of legends #ao3 fanfic #arcane netflix #lux league of legends #lux lol #lux x jinx

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thatdiabolicalfeminist · 13 hours ago

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Someone I love dearly, who has been there for me for decades and whose children I could not love more if they were my own, is having car troubles again. She was really hoping this most recent car would last her awhile without having to ask for help again, I know she hates when she can't handle things herself without help, but apparently the gasket is messed up and I don't know anything about cars but it sounds like it's not worth fixing this one. She's asking for help affording something that will HOPEFULLY be a little more reliable, as she has two incredibly sweet young children who have been very intensely bullied (with no help from the driver/school) when they ride the school bus.

This is also the only reliable transportation to get to the grocery store, doctor's office, and pharmacy.

They live in a small town in South Dakota and I can attest from personal experience that even getting an uber/lyft there is unreliable (if you can afford that, which they can't). If you'd be willing to help these kids and their mom out with even $5, I can't tell you how grateful I would be, and I know their mom would be too!

The people in her life who'd be willing to help are all poor ourselves, and she doesn't use social media so Tumblr is kind of her main hope here.

She works for very little money cleaning houses in nearby towns, so her work is also in jeopardy the longer she goes without a car.

#e #im still so angry at the kids' school there were students loudly chanting at those sweet kids to kill themselves and nobody helped #i fucking hate the nasty culture in south dakota i really wish they didn't have to live there #like if you're in a blue state rn imagine what it's like in rural south dakota rn it's so brutal. i wish she could get out like i did.#she would've left long ago but she got babytrapped by her ex who doesn't even like hanging out with the kids but refuses to let her move #like genuinely he doesn't even hang out with them during his parenting time he makes his barely-older daughter take care of them #i better stop before this becomes an even longer list of things i hate about what they have to endure.#but this is the sweetest family and they have to endure a lot and here's something you could alleviate if you want

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burning2know · 3 days ago

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I agree wholeheartedly with OP and these tags from prev. prefacing that I will be ignoring the game that shall not be named and probably repeating some points.

There's nothing quite like the interactive medium of a video game that makes you examine your own choices and beliefs. And when it comes to politics, there's often a disconnect between ideology and lived experience. My favorite thing about DA was always the fact the it tried to bridge the two. Whether it's showing that various individuals in similar circumstances can have completely different ideologies, or it can be to explore what happens to individuals and their experiences after reshaping the world according to the player's ideology. That bridge, albeit implicit, has been formative in the way I think about my own world. When it comes to the lore and world building, it demands the player to use critical thinking, much like a historian might, to make sense of it. And I did end up feeling like I needed to make sense of the world to make my choices.

Even though DA has argued both sides, it does it incredibly well. The arguments it presents come from character perspectives that makes sense in the universe, and it makes it all feel real. I think a lot of credit should go to origin's writers for providing those arguments. It feels like the writers talking amongst themselves trying to hash out what each action means for the world and to eachother using the NPCs, and in the spaces of these discussions, I get to reflect on where I agree and disagree and what that means for me as a player. The experience reminds me of me watching Contrapoints videos in which she has a conversation with various parts of her own beliefs about her gender identity, and engaging with her inner-discourse lead me to a deeper understanding of my own identity.

That's the true value of arguing both sides. It lets the audience decide for themselves without being prescriptive. And while it does demand the audience construct their own reasons and values to explain their choices, it also provides a window into possible viewpoints that the audience might or might not agree with. And not in a judgmental way. That process shows how one character may arrive there, not through insanity or stupidity, but through various circumstances and experiences.

DA's goal was always to challenge the player. That isn't to say that there's no bias, or a particular perspective that the writers are coming from. But the point is that it opens a space for exploration. It takes a certain kind of person to be able to do that without falling into the hole of appearing contrarian or troll-ish. And to some extent the writers themselves had to treat each argument with equal respect and legitimacy to display its outcomes in the game according to the rules of the world rather than their own ideals. And that itself is not easy. It doesn't surprise me that that world view and capacity disappears when the series changed hands.

And underlying all of that is a philosophy about how individuals operate, and how they operate when they come together into groups of individuals (many different words to say power and hierarchy). And that underlying philosophy is what resonated with me so much with over time. It's very compassionate to be able to hold space for these other perspectives. Not only rare to see due to the complexity required to show it, but easy to lose and difficult to gain back once you've lost it. And at this moment in the history of DA, we have lost it.

In some ways, I think the timing of this happening Makes Sense. We live in a tumultuous time where reality is uncertain and volatile due to the nature of new modes of information exchange. We see all kinds of people sharing things on social media that could easily be interpreted as lived experience or disinformation. And more than ever, our shared reality is being shattered into a million pieces by personalized content. (I too have felt the "we live in parallel universes" thought creeping up on me). In this chaotic environment, we Need the psychological comfort of certainty, of knowing what the world is like. The easiest and most familiar way is to find an authoritative voice and trust that single voice as the guiding star. That voice is only strengthened by others' agreement, and we contribute to this strengthening with our own psychological needs for certainty and stability. And we become resistant to dissent and critical analysis, because the amount of information to sort through gets very overwhelming very quickly.

What DA does has always been the opposite of that, it demands the player to confront multiple perspectives (albeit in a much more curated and coherent way). And it is logical to me that the game goes against such a primary psychological need in these trying times, perhaps now more than ever. But this theme has always gone against the grain, and media that goes against the grain in this way is so rare and So Badly Needed. We Need people to be able to think through and cobsider multiple perspectives, because there are so many perspectives accessible to us. At the same time I understand the draw of never ever having to do that. And I also understand that a lot of people just don't think that deeply ever. And that's why losing DA hits extra hard for me. Because it is another piece of resistance swept away with the torrent of greater trends that push us away from shared understanding with the people around us.

i feel like all of my pondering and analyzing and criticizing veilguard over the past few months has actually truly given me a better understanding of what dragon age meant to me, what about it specifically was so meaningful, and why, as a result, veilguard felt so wrong. it took a while for me to figure it out. about three full months of relentless essay writing, actually. but i think if you had asked me a few years ago what the core of my love for dragon age was, whatever answer i gave would not have truly gotten to the root of it, because i think i had to experience the disappointment of veilguard to fully understand why i love dragon age. and ive realized that core is that i loved how the previous dragon age entries demand so much of the player, and deliberately prompt introspection and critical, often political, thought.

dragon age games have historically forced the player to be self-reflective and introspective about their worldview and beliefs. solas is obviously a fantastic example, as he was deliberately written to be a reflection of the player in order to prompt them to reflect on how they treat people, how our expectations of people influence their behavior, and how people are pushed to extremes and turned into monsters or saved by love and kindness. how do people become monsters? what drives them to blow up buildings or start rebellions or destroy the world as you know it? are they right or wrong? does it even matter? how did you contribute to this? are you innocent? it puts these insane, politically and morally charged situations in your face and forces you to confront them. slavery, a refugee crisis, poverty, class disparities, racism, foreign occupation, the list goes on, and you are not given the option to look away or be a bystander. you have to ACT. you have to choose, you have to make judgements, you have to take responsibility and explore your role in this world as someone with the capacity to act upon it, to make your will a reality, to fail, to make mistakes. i honestly can't think of any other video game that does this to the same extent? nor any media at all because the act of being IN the world as one of it's people through the act of role-playing is essential to how it provokes this experience in the player. its ballsy. they deliberately try to make you uncomfortable. these games are full of liars, deceivers, betrayers. the games themselves lie to you. its character try to deceive you. did you catch it? or were you fooled? what else might you be fooled by? who else might be lying to you? in the game? in real life? and then you get to play it again knowing the end, and what the game prompts changes with your new knowledge. now it asks, do you forgive them? what makes someone worthy of forgiveness? where do you draw the line? what do you think?

i dont think i realized until recently how impactful this was for me considering how i first got into dragon age at 16 years old. i dont think i had experienced anything up to that point that would put a situation like judging a war criminal who ordered the deaths of children or another war criminal who just left me to die and orchestrated a near-coup or a traumatized terrorist who just blew up a church right in my face, and said MAKE A DECISION. and i didnt know it at the time, but looking back i can see how valuable it was for me at that age to have what was effectively an avenue of exploration and self-expression of all of these moral and political issues that i was grappling with as a young adult. i played inquisition for the first time just months before i voted in my first presidential primary. i already had a political consciousness at this point, but it was nonetheless new and vulnerable and still blossoming into something more concrete. inquisition, then, almost provided a sort of political, moral and personal sandbox for me from ages 16-20 to better help me understand myself in relation to the world. the RPG-ness allowed me to put myself into these situations - like the mage-templar war and its metaphor for mass incarceration and police brutality - while i was also simultaneously grappling with and trying to understand these issues in real life. having dragon age to help me further unpack my own beliefs and conception of these issues was undeniably impactful. it provided a space, through a narrative i enjoyed and cared about, to make choices and judgement calls and better understand who i was, and what felt right to me. it asked, "what do you think?"

veilguard lacks this. completely. and lets be clear that the previous games did not always do a perfect job. many of these depictions are messy and harmful and problematic, but they at least, by extension of their own existence in a narrative that forces you to THINK and JUDGE and DECIDE, give me the space and opportunity to judge them as messy, as problematic, as harmful. i can confidently say that i think da2 is too sympathetic to the templars as an organization because the fact that da2 presents me with so many narrative conflicts regarding the templar organization allows me to not just make in-game decisions and play as a staunch advocate for mage freedom and circle abolition, but to form opinions on the game itself by extension. i can confidently say that i believe the qunari's portrayal is islamophobic because the game has prompted me so many times; what do i think about the qunari? what do i think about the oppression of the elves? what do i think about dorian being a seemingly good person but defending the practice of slavery? who should rule orzammar; the progressive asshole or the conservative traditionalist? do i forgive loghain? do i forgive anders? do i forgive solas? this in-world critical thinking about issues in thedas leads to meta critical thinking. further questions naturally follow -> what message did the writers intend to send through anders? how can i notice the echoes of how this story came into fruition in the shadow of 9/11? what do solas's endings tell me about the writers view of retributive punishment? how is bioware's portrayal of the dalish, as inspired by indigenous north americans, reflective of deep-seated anti-indigenous canadian sentiment? why did the writers stop prompting these hard questions at all in veilguard? did they only like it when it was about characters, not when it led to critical thinking about them and the company as a whole? through these processes of in-world interrogation, i am inevitably invited to analyze the effectiveness of their narrative portrayals and the writing itself. perhaps this is why dragon age is so famous for its discourse lol.

ive said before that im not sure that veilguard could ever have been as impactful for me as the previous games, partly because when you are 16 everything is more impactful because your brain is an eager sponge, unless it did something that really resonated with me as an adult. but what it should have been, at the very least, is something that could have been as impactful and formative on a current 16 year old that sees a gif on tumblr and decides to check out the game, as inquisition was to me 10 years ago. and im sure there are teenagers and younger adults out there playing this game and loving it and loving the characters and the world and thinking its great, good fun. thats great. however it fundamentally cannot have the same profound, developmentally catalytic experience it had on me because it simply does not challenge the player. it does not prompt them to question their own beliefs and the power structures within their lives. it does not prompt them to reflect on the political narratives they may have been fed all their lives. it does not confront them with the sorts of topics that get books on banned lists in florida and force them to bear witness, to think deeper, to feel guilt or horror at the outcome of your own poorly-made decision, to make moral judgements, to make mistakes, and to live with the consequences.

i think i now understand why veilguard was so disappointing to me and ultimately would be a failure in my eyes no matter if i enjoyed the combat or the exploration or whatever other shiny coat of paint sits atop it. veilguard does not ask much of you. it does not prompt any sort of introspection or interrogation of your presently held beliefs. it does not demand anything from the player except to dodge at the right moment. this is a fundamental, core departure from what made me fall in love with dragon age in the first place. if you love dragon age because you want "fantasy escapism" and fun characters to smooch, then i am happy for you. but i would remind you that can find fantasy escapism all over the steam library - farming sims, cozy games, a witch looking for her cat in the alps, etc. what you cannot find are games that are willing and brave enough to challenge and provoke the player into a better, more thorough understanding of themselves in relation to our world and it's many, complex and daunting political and moral issues. to have lost such a thing, when media like this has become so few and far between, and during a time when we need it more than ever, is a devastating loss.

#i know i am just saying a bunch of unsupported vague stuff #but we can't all write scholarly masterpieces

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drdemonprince · 2 days ago

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Similar to what some other people have said- I was never sexually abused, but did experience what I suppose it's fair to call emotional and physical abuse at the hands of my primary caregivers. As an adult, while the physical abuse is what tends to upset other people the most, for me the most traumatic experiences were denials of my bodily autonomy. We all knew there was a limit to the physical damage they could do to me without getting CPS involved, and they didn't want that to happen. But there were no laws protecting my autonomy. Isolating your child from their friends, severely restricting their internet access, and forcing them to attend religious events are seen as standard parts of parenting and I knew the only way to escape that was to age out. Even then, they maintained a lot of control over me throughout college, through tuition + housing + access to my siblings. I'm not trying to diminish how incredibly lucky I was to graduate without student loan debt, but it gave them a lot of power over me- I would probably have had to drop out of college if they stopped paying (which they threatened to do multiple times). What's maybe the most fucked up part of all of this is that yeah, I think the money might be worth more than the trauma. It was a lot of fucking money lmao. In conclusion I suppose there are a lot of ways to violate children's autonomy that don't involve sex and are perfectly socially acceptable, and not all of them end the moment you turn 18. The only differences in my situation at ages 17 and 19 were made up by the legal system. Yeah, having my own bank account and being able to consent to my own medical treatment made a big difference to me, but it's honestly weird that I had to wait that long when I would have been responsible with those at a much younger age. Yeah, everyone is different, but when I was 15 the school nurse had to call my caregivers for permission to give me tylenol. Tylenol! Something I had been taking several times a month for years. Not even my caregivers required me to ask permission for that. And I turned out perfectly fine (in that respect) because at 15 I could easily read and understand safety labels, lol.

Yeah, this is tertiary to your point anon but I've never envied the handful of wealthy people I have known because the amount of control their parents leveraged over them using that wealth was horrific and really limited them as people. Lots of parents do this to a smaller scale with whatever resources they do have access to, of course. And yeah, sometimes you gotta decide what makes the most sense for you and put up with mistreatment as cannily as you can to get those tuition bills paid! It sucks.

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sl-vega · 7 hours ago

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[🪡] - UNRAVELING MY HEART - meguru bachira

bachira tends to rip a lot of his clothes, shirts, hoodies, jackets, and especially his soccer jersey. he's absolutely hopeless for when it comes to mending his clothes himself, so when one of his friends joins the textiles club, he finally has a sure fire way to repair all his clothes! (and an excuse to see his pretty crush that's also part of the club)

cw/additional notes; potentially ooc, highschool au/no bllk au, pure tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers(?)/classmates to lovers, gn! reader, just bachira crushing HARD on reader, fluff with minimal plot, partially self indulgent because i'm part of my school's textile club and i got this idea during one of the meetings, so this is partially based off of my own experiences <3

divider creds to @aquazero

Bachira held his crumpled up jersey as he maneuvered his way through the crowded hallways of his school, the unfamiliar path was slightly jarring, he had never been in the textile club's meeting room until now, he never had a reason to.

Of course, now that he realized just how much he needed to repair some of his things (and how much he didn't want to constantly bother his mother with frequent requests for mending) he was partially grateful for the strange circumstances that led to something somewhat beneficial for him.

A few weeks ago, Chigiri had injured his leg, nothing too serious, but enough for coach to encourage him to take a break, and maybe to take up an extracurricular in the process. His friend had ultimately settled on joining textiles, muttering something about it being 'incredibly practical' as he signed his name on the registration sheet.

This came with it's own perks for Bachira, because now he had free clothing repair whenever he wanted!

(Whenever meaning once a week on Thursdays after school for about an hour and a half, but that was just enough for him and his consistently wrecked closet.)

After a few minutes, he finally made it to the club room and quickly peered through the door before opening it.

He was greeted by several of his schoolmates setting up sewing machines on the desks, a strange culmination of wires and chords on the floor that he had to be extra careful not to trip on, as well as a large supply of fabric tucked away in a few plastic tubs in the back of the classroom.

Suddenly, he heard someone clear their throat as he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"Hey Bachira! Looking to join?"

He spun around, being met with a girl his age with her hair tied into a distinctive side ponytail.

"Oh, hi Akiyama! I'm just looking for Chigiri, have you seen him?"

She tilted her head to the side a bit, presumably racking her brain, there were quite a few members so he wouldn't be surprised if his friend had somehow slipped the girl's mind.

Akiyama shook her head, sighing a bit. "Nope, sorry. Maybe one of the other members have seen him."

She called out to another girl with short brown hair who was helping an underclassman adjust her machine. "Hey Ena! Have you seen Chigiri?"

"The red head? Nope, sorry."

Akiyama turned back to Bachira and shrugged. "She's been here for the whole time, she would've noticed if he was here. Sorry, but...if you're looking to get something fixed, you could always join-"

Bachira was about to just laugh and politely turn down her offer, soccer kept him more than content, and he didn't really see a reason to join anyways.

Before he could properly formulate his response, he heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

"Are you looking for Hyouma? Sorry, he had to leave early, he told me he had a doctor's appointment."

Meguru spun around, and was immediately met with the sight of you.

The unbearably pretty transfer student that had been the object of his embarrassing affections for the past few months, and the subject of many teasing comments from his friends.

"H-hey (Y/N)! I didn't know you were a member..."

God knows he would have come here much sooner if he did.

You just smiled and chuckled softly, God, you were like an angel...

"Yeah, I've been a member for a while. Anywho, why are you looking for Hyouma? Did you need him to fix something?"

"Oh, yeah, I ripped my jersey and I was hoping I could get him to fix it for me." He explained as he held up the piece of polyester for you to see, you eyed it curiously for a second, lifting up the small rip at the seams of the top before letting it go.

"I could fix it for you if you'd like. I'm not as precise as Hyouma though, so maybe asking someone more experienced like Akiyama would be better-"

"No you're perfect!"

He quickly cut off your rambling, you were offering to fix his jersey for him? That was even better! Chigiri be damned, why ask him when his wonderful crush was right here giving your services to him on a silver platter!

Bachira didn't realize how strange his choice of words sounded until Akiyama reminded him of her presence by clearing her throat.

"I personally wouldn't mind helping you out either, but since you're so biased I won't press."

She handed you a needle and thread as she walked back to her own desk next to her friend, and flashed you a not so subtle teasing glance.

But Bachira couldn't care less because again, his super amazing crush was right in front of him, fixing his jersey.

You sat down, allowing him to drop the piece of cloth into your hands so you could find the tear and fix it. You threaded your needle and pierced the fabric, your hands working quickly and concisely to mend the hole.

"Sorry if it comes out a little weird, I'm not very good at sewing by hand."

He didn't take his mind off your hands for even a moment, they looked so warm and soft...they'd probably feel really nice if they were intertwined with his own.

"Nah it's fine, I'd probably manage to make an even bigger mess if I left it up to me."

You pulled the thread through one last time before snipping off the excess and handing back to him, the pads of your fingers gently caressing his hand in the process.

"There ya' go! That should hold up for the next bit."

He flashed you a charming, boyish, smile that made your heart flutter a bit. "Hey thanks! How about I just go to you for repairs from now on?"

"I wouldn't mind that." You smiled back at him, and that alone made his day. He was definitely going to make this as normal of an occurrence as possible. Bachira stood up, waving goodbye and giving you a playful wink as he left through the classroom's main door.

You let out a bark of laughter as you heard him cheer from all the way down the hallway. He really was a strange boy, you never knew guys could get that excited about their clothe's being fixed. Or maybe that was just a Bachira thing, who knows?

You sighed to yourself, moving to your sewing machine so you could finally work on your own project, but before you could make any progress, you were met by Akiyama's teasing grin.

"Oh that guy is in love."

"Akiyama! I barely know him!" You groaned as your classmate's grin just grew bigger.

"I'm just saying, I wouldn't be surprised if he started being more destructive on purpose just to see you~"

"Shut up!"

However, much to your future dismay (or amusement) a certain Meguru Bachira was already rummaging through his closet for anything and everything that could be deemed 'in need of repair'

💌 tagging: @shrii-kk @freyao7 @analiee6 @thetwinkims @bellflower1257 @blvdmrcnry

#bachira x reader #meguru bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #bachira x you #bachira meguru x you #meguru bachira x you #bachira #bachira meguru #meguru bachira #meguru x reader #bluelock #blue lock #bluelock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bluelock manga

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mortalityfixer · 20 hours ago

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my experience with roiz .

( as best i can remember )

warning for lesbiphobia , ableism , manipulation , transphobia ( ? ) , grooming / sexual harassment , potential faking of physical disorders , mental health struggles / episodes .

i first met roiz a few years back ! we didn’t really talk much , until later on that year . he became more active in my server due to our mutual interest in " melliot " musicals . he seemed nice at first . maybe a little off sometimes , but nice . though this quickly changed and i grew uncomfortable . i didn’t speak up at this time — due to fear of losing someone i had grown to borderline depend on in such a short timeframe . let it be known that i am not trying to one - up anybody else ; this is purely my experience with him . nor do i feel as though my experience was worse than the victims of his sexual grooming : it wasn’t . my heart goes to each and every one of his victims .

one of the main things that sticks out to me is the way roiz would treat me regarding my identity . he seemed to view me as a cisgender lesbian ? which confused me , as i am very much not . he would also constantly make lesbiphobic jokes towards me, such as putting lesbians on his official introduction post as a ' joke ' targeted at me . this was almost neverending and made me feel incredibly invalid and insecure in my identity and who i was as a person . i started to feel like i would never be more than the " token lesbian friend " to people due to the way he would act around me whenever i mentioned my orientation , and this eventually led to a horrible mental health spiral where i truly didn’t know who i was anymore , or if i was worthy of being known as anything other than ' the lesbian friend . ' he would also only ever address me using feminine terms , when i have always been open about using all terms . i wouldn’t mind feminine terms sometimes ! but it wasn’t sometimes , as he would never use any other form .

another thing that i remember about our friendship was the way he would treat me as a disabled person . to add context to this , i have a medically recognised joint disorder which causes mobility issues alongside other things . he would make comments such as " blud can’t run " unprovoked . he did this whilst we were referencing adamandi characters ; none of which have mobility issues . additionally , he would claim to have the same issues as me shortly after i talked about them — prior to me discussing them , he had never mentioned any form of physical disability . i won’t go into any more detail about this specific aspect of our friendship , as there’s not much else to state , as well as my own struggles remembering the situation .

most importantly of all : roiz was my friend whilst engaging in inappropriate sexual contact with an eleven year old . i never picked up on it despite it being extremely clear looking back , and i would have never befriended him had i known he was doing this ; i was manipulated into believing otherwise . roiz also claimed that this person had ' abandoned him ' after they temporarily broke contact , evoking a feeling of sympathy from me towards roiz that i really shouldn’t have felt at all . however , i did notice that he would initiate sexual or otherwise inappropriate conversations in a public server with exclusively minors . it later came out that the one on the receiving end of these conversations was , in fact , an eleven year old boy being groomed by roiz . this eleven year old was — as you may have figured out already — my good friend over at @\haowenyang , who also has a post about the situation . i recommend reading it as he is the true victim here , not me . you can find that post here .

that just about sums up my experience with this vile , sickening person . once again , i am not trying to claim that my situation was worse than those he sexually harassed and / or groomed . i do however feel it is important to get it out there . this may not be entirely accurate and there may be some gaps , as my memories of my friendship with roiz have become fuzzy and unclear . but i felt it was important to share either way . thank you for taking the time to read this .

#important

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elysianholly · 2 days ago

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Hey! I had more thoughts.

The first time I was in fandom, Spuffy endgame was strictly a fan conceit. At the time, materials like the comics were not Spuffy-friendly. I phased out of fandom before the canon comics started trending into Spuffy territory, so in general, the Spuffy fandom space felt (to me) more wish fulfillment than anything we'd get to experience through official media.

That is clearly not the case now. The comics went hard Spuffy (and I contend they only ended the way they did because JW is a pansy-ass; but even their ending strongly indicated Spuffy endgame so whatever). We also have other non-canon comics that are very pro-Spuffy. These things would have blown mid-00s Holly's mind. No longer was Spuffy fan wish fulfillment -- we have been acknowledged within licensed material.

Why does this matter? I've seen a lot of concern that SMG's involvement will make Bangel endgame. And it might; we know how she feels about it. But if that's what happens, it will only be endgame in that particular continuation, no longer dominating all of Buffy storytelling. In fact, we have Spuffy endgame all over the fucking place. Not wish fulfillment, real endgame. That's something we didn't have for a long time.

Also, I'm inclined to believe that the 90s/00s shipping wars will be kept out of the reboot. If they're smart, they'll keep Buffy's love life vague. Why?

Spuffy fandom comprises most of the active Buffy fandom these days; I understand they won't want to alienate the old-guard fans who will tune in out of curiosity and nostalgia, but fandom is what keeps properties going.

The JW brand of feminists will reject this outright (i.e., the dudebros you see on Reddit). There will be complaints that Buffy has gone "woke" (with no sense of self-awareness, same as we've seen with Star Trek and Star Wars). Lose the JW dudebros and they'll review bomb it, and we know Disney listens to these assholes. And they WILL lose them. A non-JW Buffy is going to be way more inclusive.

Because of point 2, the success of the show will be decided by the diehards. That's us. Look at what happened with Veronica Mars. They pissed off the diehards and now it's Season 4? What Season 4?

I've said before that Spuffy is the reason we're still here. We're 20+ years old and have two incredibly active non-AO3 fanwork communities that are Spuffy exclusive, never mind the dominance on AO3. Can you point to any other ship where that's the case? (I mean if you can, awesome, but I'm not aware of it)

Anyway, I think that's it but don't hold me to it.

A Spuffy Fan's Perspective on the Reboot

So, as most Buffy fandom knows (unless they’ve been living under a rock in a crater on the Hellmouth), it was announced yesterday that SMG is involved in a Buffy reboot sequel series, one in which she will be a recurring but not central character.

As a lifelong Buffy fan, I’m expected to be overjoyed at this news, and I’m, well, not. Nor are a good number of people deeply entrenched in fandom. I’m super happy for the people who are excited. As a Spuffy fan, though, it’s hard to be jazzed for a number of reasons, among these being that SMG is most definitely a Bangel shipper, and despite being overwhelmingly more popular than Bangel in current times, Spuffy is often overlooked in a lot of key areas of the “official” Buffy promotions, the comics being a notable and welcome exception.

One thing I’ve noticed is a lot of people in Spuffy fandom are more than just “not normal” about Spuffy. I’ve struggled for 20+ years to both identify and articulate why the ship resonates with me so much to the point that news like this can make my anxiety spiral. I understand it’s not an ideal reaction media, but I have lived inside a neurodivergent brain my entire life and that ain’t about to change. And I’m not the only one—I’ve met and interacted with many, many people who feel as intensely as I do and also struggle to articulate why news like this distresses them.

So for everyone who is like me, slightly more than just “not normal” about Spuffy (or any aspect of Buffy!) and distressed about the news, here are some things I keep reminding myself.

Buffy is an Established Multi-Universe Property

We know that there are multiple universes in Buffy; it’s explored in The Wish and then confirmed by Anya later in the series. Not just multiple dimensions, but divergent/adjacent worlds to the one we saw in the show. This has been later explored in the comics, such as The Lost Summer, the Boom reboot, and The Last Vampire Slayer, never mind the plethora of authorized novels and the recent audio play. These were all officially sanctioned, licensed productions that exist outside the official canon.

All of these stories matter, regardless of whether or not they’re considered “official.” For my Spuffy people, some are Spuffy friendly and some are not. We acknowledge what we want to acknowledge and leave the rest behind. Me? If I find the sequel reboot upsetting, I’ll mentally shove it into one of those other worlds, the same as I’ve done with the comics for years (yes, even if they got Spuffy friendly).

One of the points that was brought up yesterday when I suggested just giving the sequel reboot the comics treatment was it’s harder to ignore if SMG is involved. And I get that; I felt the same way about the Slayers audioplay, because significant OG cast members were involved so it felt more official. But upon reflection, I do still think it’s the same as the comics, which were spearheaded and overseen by JW and still considered (until this sequel reboot happens) the official post-series canon. If the involvement of original artists is what makes or breaks something’s authority, then the medium shouldn’t really matter.

And on that note…

Star Wars Legends, Halloween, Terminator, & Other Reboots

For years—decades—following Return of the Jedi, the official Star Wars canon was continued in novels, the same as Buffy was. There was a rich tapestry of intergalactic politics, Leia and Han’s Force family, Luke and Mara Jade, and characters like Grand Admiral Thrawn that proved so popular he’s been recanonized.

These books existed and still exist. The new movies, the reset of canon, all things involving Rey Palpatine Skywalker and Kylo Ben Ren exist alongside established, official property. I know plenty of people who were upset that their investment in the extended Star Wars family was essentially nixed with the sequel series 10 years ago, and others who chose not to acknowledge the sequel series but maintain their post-Jedi canon.

In an era of reboots and sequel series, canon can become a bit diluted. You can’t just erase everything that came before you decided to hit the “start over” button. The recent Halloween trilogy flat-out ignored multiple movies to tell the story it wanted to tell. Terminator has done the same thing, multiple times, with the Sarah Connor Chronicles being officially licensed and more or less officially scrapped, and the last Terminator movie retconning like, what, four or five that came out after Judgment Day. That is to say, established canon doesn’t really matter in this era, because the people making these decisions are doing what fan artists have done for decades; keeping what they want, tossing all else aside, and focusing on the story they want to tell.

If what came before and what has been long established doesn’t matter (and I actually do love this; it opens up worlds and essentially gives us licensed what-if fics), then canon itself is kind of nebulous. It doesn’t matter what is or isn’t established, because established canon is a moving target, subject to personal interpretation. Don’t like the Halloween reboot? Ignore it. There are other movies out there. Don’t like the clusterfuck Disney has made of Star Wars? There is a fully developed alternative. Don’t like any of the options? Come up with your own. Comics do it all the time with superhero stories, and Buffy is nothing if not a superhero.

It’s All Fiction

This is what drives my husband crazy when I try to explain my beyond not normal feelings about Spuffy. It’s all fiction. We’re not talking about historical events here. All fiction lives in exactly one place, ultimately, and that’s between your ears. If you don’t like the way a fictional story went, you can do what fanartists have been doing for years and create your own fix-it. Or find a ready-made fix-it; I promise it exists. And the more I think about it, the less stock I put into “official” stories that are told primarily to make money. The people who are here telling these stories because they love the characters and know the characters on levels that frankly outperform most licensed stuff.

In Summary

So I’ve rambled a lot, but here are the key points to take away:

Buffy is canonically a multi-universe property so the world we’re shown by official licensed sources see isn’t the only one that exists. I didn’t say this in the section, but in this way, all fanfic is canon, because each exists in a different universe

If canon is not sacred in the world of reboots, then what they try to sell us as canon is debatable, negligible, and ultimately fine to just not acknowledge

Official canon doesn’t really matter all that much when you can pick your own, which you can and should

I hope this helps my fellow Spuffys and anyone else who is struggling with the news. My siblings in beyond just not normal. Your feelings, even if you have trouble explaining or understanding them, are valid. You’re not silly. It’s never silly to be upset about news that impacts something important to you. And there’s still so much we don’t know, so speculation abounds, but whatever comes of this, I hope you find some comfort in the freedom of being able to do exactly what the for-profit storytellers do all the time and just fucking ignore what doesn’t suit them.

In the meantime, Elysian Fields Archive will remain a Spuffy exclusive safe space, and I imagine will be home to a shitload of fix-its if the pilot gets picked up, so you’re free to join us there.

Until then, be good to yourself, and to somebody else.

#spike and buffy #spuffy #spuffy is the reason we're all still here #buffy reboot

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