#it's just that if i identify it + explain my reasons for liking it this post will be super. long.

[misspelledwordswizard]

How about a reaction from the Chain to a witch Reader, but in a Harry Potter style?

Reader, in addition to being scared at first, would undoubtedly be confused by the blatant display of magic without punishment. It doesn’t help that she quickly mistakes and identifies Twilight as an Animagus after seeing Wolfie just once. It would definitely lead to an interesting conversation where Reader reveals herself as a witch and explains how, in her world, the Statute of Secrecy exists, along with the reasons it was created.

The Chain would be horrified not by the massive concealment of magic itself, but by the reasons behind it, with the main one being the indiscriminate hunting of magical beings.

Hey, I'm back baby! After a while on vacation and having to deal with the return of my classes, I was finally able to organize myself to return fully, I hope. But hey, I'm sorry for the huge delay with the requests, and happy new year to everyone, considering that this is my first post of the year!

Oh, thanks for the request, I really love crossovers, and I love Harry Potter!

I’ve been here for a few weeks, traveling with this group of men who claim to be heroes of the realm, or something like that. I’m not sure how I ended up here, but it was obvious that this was a different world from mine. For starters, the humans here have pointy ears, like elves. Okay, I can deal with that. And then there are other races, which I’ve never seen anything like in my world. I mean, a race of stone men, seriously? Not to mention the totally different monsters. 

But none of these things surprised me as much as the lack of care with the exposure of magic. Everyone, even the supposed “muggles” who don’t have magic, are fully aware of its existence. It’s natural, it’s normal. But it’s also strange that they don’t have any organ that regulates its use, considering how much it is used. 

From what I could see, one of my traveling companions, who took me in for some reason when I fell on top of them after passing through a strange portal, has magic and uses it medicinally.  I don’t know if the others can do things like that, but from what I’ve noticed, most of them have some object that has some magical property and makes things easier. That boy with the rings – I think his nickname was Legend – has one for every situation. 

Well, okay, I know they’re all called Link, confusing, even more confusing when I found out they’re from different timelines. Is temporal magic really that normalized around here? I’ve only been with them for a short time, and I still find it hard to associate them with their nicknames, because not only are they all blond with blue eyes, which doesn’t help much, but each one seems to have about three different nicknames, and each one is weirder than the last. 

Okay, I’m in a different world, where magic is common and doesn’t need to be hidden. I’m traveling with a group of heroes from different eras who consider themselves brothers, and are, from what I can understand, reincarnations... so why are they acting like this wolf that appeared is some kind of pet? 

�� Soooo... you know that this wolf is one of you transformed, right? – I ventured to say. 

Everyone’s eyes turned to me, surprised. They didn’t know? Seriously? They looked at each other momentarily before someone finally answered me. 

— Well, we do know, but how do you know? – The long-haired hero spoke, the Cook, if I’m not mistaken.  

— And how could you not know? It couldn’t be more obvious, I mean, even the markings on his face are the same as the wolf’s, they’re never seen together in the same place, and, to tell the truth, Twilight kind of smells like dog. It’s pretty obvious that he’s an Animagus.  

— Animagus? Huh, Wolfie, are you that thing she said? – The youngest of the group spoke, and the wolf just tilted his head in confusion.  

— Oh, great, it takes her three minutes to figure that out while eight heroes took months to do the same. – Legend complained.  

— Speak for yourself, I knew from the beginning!  

So, they already knew about it, and were just pretending so I wouldn’t find out? Strange people.  

 While the others debated who had been the first to find out about Wolfie, he retransformed, without having to worry about hiding his secret, and approached me, visibly confused and curious. 

— So, in your world, it’s normal for people to turn into animals? 

— I wouldn’t say it’s common, but it’s possible, and all wizards know about it. 

— Wizards? What about people without magic, don’t they know? – The hero with magic joined the conversation, visibly curious. 

— No, of course not. We can’t let the Muggles find out about magic! 

— Muggles? – The little boy asked, interested in the way I called the non-magic users. 

— They’re the non-wizards, we keep magic hidden from them, or else we’d go to war... it’s very dangerous, that’s why the Ministry of Magic exists, to make sure wizards don’t reveal themselves. 

— For Hylia, your world is confusing. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to live in a society as segregated as this one... – I heard the comment coming from one of the quieter boys, the one called Sky. 

 — Yes, well, but it is necessary, or else wizards would still be burned at the stake for using magic to this day. 

— WHAT?! – Everyone gasped as they heard my last statement, shocked by the brutal concept. Oh man, I think this conversation will go on for much longer than I had imagined. 

[samstarium]

OK. yes i will try to explain to the best of my ability. i love mindbound vrissy and i hope (not that kind) u will consider the possibility after this ramble.

i talked abt omega kids classpects a little bit in this post, including vrissy, but i realized i didn't rlly articulate the "why" for her, so let's try to do that now. i'll try to source stuff when i can. this'll be kinda long, so i'll put it under the cut.

we do know that vrissy HAS a (dub)canon classpect, so that's a start in looking at how she's been coded, at least. its highly likely she's going to follow in the classpect footsteps of her predecessor like the trolls have in the past, but i think taking (haha, cuz thief) vriska's class instead of the aspect would b a good subversion. i always think of how hsbc, especially candy, feels a bit off-- the pieces are there, but everything is just a little weird. and a great way to show that is in how ancestral titles work for the new generation.

hsbc page 465

when vriska suggests she use her thief of light powers, ik vrissy says she doesn't have "anything like that," but i think that's a bit of a red herring. vriska mentions the two of them having luck, and specifies her own classpect, but vrissy's reaction doesn't necessarily read as non-thief to me. i also think she might be over-exaggerating how different they are to avoid the comparisons.

hsbc page 463

to me it always feels like aspects are the primary identifier for homestuck characters; even when they haven't reached their full class potential or even godtiered yet, they are liable to view the world through their aspect. class is something that characters are less comfortable with expressing, and often they try to downplay their own class or even attempt to imitate someone else's for one reason or another. i don't agree w/ everything from od, but i think his roleplay theory is relevant here. classes are weird.

as stated, i think it's pretty obvious she's not a light player, but the way roach specifies she doesn't have thief of light powers, and that her powers are just a "little different" (countering vrissy's "anything like that" retort) leads to believe that the thief role is here to stay.

anyways, enough about thieves for now.

the mind aspect is weird. i mean, most of the aspects r weird one way or the other but mind seems to be fairly hard for even veteran classpectors to pin down (the ez didnt help, "remaining rational" is not the phrase id use for mind but whatever). a lot of ppl think mind is abt facades, but in one of my favorite classpecting docs tamago describes it as filters, deliberate ways of shifting one's appearance to other ppl for one reason or another.

hsbc page 60

^ this image isn't a citation for anything i just think it's a cute intro

everyone can act different around different ppl, but for the mindbound its something they r consciously thinking abt quite a lot... that is to say, mind players are often fairly concerned with how they come off, moreso than most other aspects. as the classic heartbound embraces themself with their whole chest, the mind player is deeply concerned w/ adapting their mannerisms to what's needed.

she has some of her ancestral namesake's insecurity, for sure, but also some of the tact and awareness that the original vriska seems to lack. when they first meet and vriska begins to waffle on about reality and nonsense like that, vrissy knows exactly what to say to snap her out of it. she picks up the vibe and adjusts.

candy 37

she can also see through vriska's bullshit just as quick. i love this line man. vrissy is rlly good at figurin out when someone isnt being honest w/ her, or w/ themself.

candy 37

after vriska checks in with terezi, vrissy also understands, w/o exchanging any words, that her ancestor needs distance. she's very perceptive, honestly.

hsbc page 57

the rest of their interaction has some mind-y elements as well. vrissy immediately accepts the nickname placed upon her (names and renaming are very mind-related, given the emphasis on the outer presentation of one's self)

for all of her teenaged hangups, she is hyperaware of the larger situation on earth c and the fact that... actions have consequences, basically. tavros is under the whims of the elder vriska, harry still thinks the clown escapade is a joke, vrissy knows the reality of what might happen to them

hsbc page 75

and she's very concerned with the Plan (her own capitalization). all about the plan with those mindfolk. she brings up consequences a few more times as they fumble the clown and hide, giving her much more of a level head than even the fretfulness of her kismesis tavvy.

you are right that running into an active warzone is not the behavior of someone very concerned w/ consequences, but i think that has mroe to do w/ her still needing to grow and develop than it does a dismissal of the mind aspect. even terezi had her irrational moments, n balancing out the opposing aspect is often just as important to a homestuck character's development as mastering their own (grimdark rose and void is a good example). so i definitely get where you're coming from but i think enough characters act "out of aspect" to justify it.

also i think vrissy becoming a sort of mind foil for vriska like terezi was as opposed to another light player would b cool. balancing out her rashness with some caution bc skaia knows she needs it.

there's probably also some tidbits during the vent escape shenanigans, but i've run out of steam to cover that w/ a play-by-play so uhh. yeah that's it

so well plenty of this is absolutely up for debate and her arc hasn't even gotten started rlly i hope at least some of this makes sense as to why i think vrissy could b a thief of mind. ok byeeeeeeee

Can anyone give me a good explanation as to why so many people think Vrissy is a mind player? Because to me it really seems like a completely random far-off guess than an actual simplification of her role and character.... After seeing so much of her dialogue I'm pretty sure consequences are the furthest thing from her mind especially when considering the fact that the last thing we saw her do was mindlessly run into an active warzone because her boyfriend and sister were one-upping her by doing some cool shit.

Like am I seriously supposed to think that the girl who trusted Harry Anderson to assist her in a plan involving bringing a celebrity's CORPSE into a SCHOOL would be the aspect commonly associated with choice, foresight and tact????? It almost feels as though the fandom is playing some elaborate prank on me and me only

[xcziel]

.

[grizzcore]

Having a trump supporter mom who USED to be your ally is a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst fucking enemy

Having a step dad who’s an ex-gay white Christian nationalist is an endless nightmare

I cannot wait to go no contact with these fucking freaks

[burinazar]

incomprehensible Sages shitposts. context explanations are in the tags but they are not going to help i promise

[nowendil]

been thinking a lot about womanhood lately

[235uranium]

gonna be real i have yet to see anything actually compelling for antipsych to be a decent methodology other than "psychology and psychiatry havent been very good at doing science, so clearly science cant answer this question"

[halfricanloveyou]

here’s the thing about being nonbinary for me personally: it is not and has never been about breaking boundaries or daring to be different or freedom of gender expression that made me suddenly choose to be nonbinary.

i have always been this way. i’ve always known but never fully understood why i felt so uncomfortable being a woman. it had nothing to do with leaning more towards femininity or masculinity or gender roles or hating women.

i have always felt that i have never been a woman. it never felt right to me being defined as one. though i share a lot of experiences with women due to society seeing me as a woman and people in society treating me that way, disliking femininity wasn’t what made me think i was nonbinary.

what made me really fully realize and understand was when i realized that when it came to me personally, i didn’t care about femininity OR masculinity. i didn’t really think in those kinds of terms when it came to myself either. the idea of gender isn’t one i felt applied to me, as a person.

i didn’t care about being a woman. i didn’t care about what things were labeled as “feminine” or what i was supposed to be like as a woman. i didn’t WANT to be a woman. i didn’t feel like a woman.

at the same time, i didn’t want to be masculine. i didn’t want to be seen as a man. though i feel i have more in common with men, i still never felt that i was a man.

it was always really difficult and alienating for me, not understanding why i felt so much dysphoria at being seen as a woman OR as a man. why being called either just never felt fully right to me. why trying to be either felt like a chore or a costume i had to put on, and when i was called or mistaken as either i felt like i wanted to scream and cry. why i never understood why i wasn’t good enough as either gender, not feminine enough or masculine enough, not fitting into either category.

i tried to force myself to be a woman. i tried really hard to be more feminine, really hard to force myself to see myself as a woman. i tried really hard to be like the many women i know and have known. and i tried the same on the opposite end. i tried to force myself to be more masculine. i tried to dress differently and posture differently. and it still felt deeply wrong to me.

i’d always appealed more to animals specifically because they didn’t have to worry or care about whether they were seen as boys or girls and they could be loved just as dearly even when their owners had no idea or what gender they were. how being a girl or a boy had very little impact on who they were because it didn’t really matter to them, and how people were always excited to see a dog or cat and what gender they thought the animal was didn’t change how they approached that animal because in reality, whether the animal was a boy or a girl came secondary to the fact that it WAS a pet, a dog or a cat, and in reality nobody really cared about what gender the animal was. and the animal itself also didn’t care or have any sense of it’s own gender outside of hormones and reproduction.

with the several farm cats i owned gender meant nothing when it came to their group dynamics: the cats that were “in charge” or the more combative cats that would chase off and fight cats outside of their colony or the ones who would hunt and bring food to share with each other, who were protective of the other cats in the colony and would attack any troublemakers that intentionally tried to pick a fight; or the ones who preferred to lay back and were more affectionate, who would all lay together and who would simply sit and stare when a cat they were unfamiliar with tried to enter their territory; or the cats that were the ones who seemed to be targeted and picked on by the other cats, who pushed the boundaries of the cats around them, who would randomly pick fights just to lose consistently, who would growl at the other cats and get into spats only to run away or be chastised; gender had nothing to do with which cats tended to fall into which role.

the cats i had that tended to be skittish or aggressive or active or affectionate…gender had no bearing on any of that. i always felt so jealous of that. i wanted to be a cat (especially in childhood lol) because i wanted to live in a world that had a dynamic like that. a world where gender didn’t matter, where no one really had any concept of gender and it really didn’t matter. no cat cared about whether the other was male or female and it didn’t change how they interacted. (unless it was something like intact male vs neutered male or female cat in heat and male cat)

when i finally heard the term non binary, that it was something that even existed, i knew instantly that it sounded like me. i was scared at first, went through a lot of self doubt and questioning myself, calling myself stupid for considering it. but then i started to understand what it really meant.

a gender identity that is neither male or female. a gender identity where the concept of gender simply didn’t apply. an identity where you didn’t have to pick one or the other or lean into one or the other. and once i finally let myself accept that identity i finally felt right. i didn’t have to pretend to care or go out of my way to be feminine or masculine. i didn’t have to care about being a lady or a woman or lean into being a man or wanting to present as masculine or any of that. i didn’t have to be what i was “supposed to be.” i didn’t have to be a tomboy or a girl that was proud to have masculine interests and still be as much of a woman as a feminine girly type of woman. i didn’t have to be a man at my core, being proud to have feminine interests while defining myself as just as much of a man as a more masculine man.

none of those felt right or felt like me or who i was. knowing that i didn’t have to force myself to be any gender or present/lean into any feminine or masculine ideal was freeing to me. that i could like any of the things i wanted without really thinking about whether they were feminine or masculine was so relieving. i could decide it didn’t matter to me. i could be someone who was neither or someone who none of those ideas applied to.

though i still suffer from low self esteem issues and mental health issues, i finally don’t hate myself for not being able to choose one identity or the other. i finally understand why i am the way that i am and why i felt so wrong and inadequate and unable to be the woman or man i was supposed to want to be.

in understanding that i didn’t have to be either if i didn’t want to, i was finally able to accept the person i’ve always been. and i’m finally able to accept that that person exists, even if people don’t understand or are disgusted by them or make fun of them. even though it’s supposed to be one or the other. i don’t have to choose. i don’t have to pick the option my body is biologically defined as.

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[snekdood]

bitches prolly out here psychoanalyzing my old art on behalf of my abuser to cushion their belief that im a Horrible Person but then dont see the irony when I point out the shitty things my abuser has drawn and how I see it as clear evidence of their mindset and beliefs (of what's okay to do and how to treat people) descending and pairing that along with everything else they've done and it paints a clear picture of how this person got to the point of thinking it was okay to abuse me the way they did and then the people looking for reasons to hate me through my art will act like "they're just drawings !!!" about their art. which one is it. does someones art say something about them or not? or does it only say something about them if you hate them?

[clone-wars-retteyo-au]

YOU. YOU GET ME.

Canon genders the clones, both individually and collectively, pretty aggressively. They're men, brothers, boys, sirs. Omega is notable for being the "female" clone, to the point where she's not recognized as a clone in a meaningful way.

But the clones grew up without gendered social groups! Despite how clones are gendered by external factors, gender is functionally a nonentity in their lives until they meet civilians, and civilians do a load of other weird shit anyway.

So why do they still use gendered language?

My argument is that feminine language isn't used as a gendered form of address, but as a form of address that reflects a specific kind of power dynamic and relationship between parties.

Given the structure of the clone army, the only people a vast majority of young clones interact with who could insist on being called ma'am are exclusively kaminoans.

The kaminoans view clones not as autonomous subjects, but as property. They have and expect complete control over their lives and actions. Incidentally, the female kaminoans we see (such as Nala Se) tend to demonstrate an even more proprietary perspectives on the clones.

You can question a sir, like your superiors or trainers, at your discretion, but you can't question a ma'am. A sir is someone who has power over you, but is somewhat responsible for you. The have personal accountability to you in some way. Sirs are responsible for men under them. A ma'am is someone whose power over you is absolute, an authority without accountability, who is not beholden to you but that you must obey. You are tool or a number to a ma'am.

And when you bring clones out into the wider galaxy, I'm not sure anyone would figure it out that quickly.

Say you're a new jedi general. You meet your men, and they address you as "ma'am". Maybe you correct and move on, figuring that they've grown up surrounded by thousands of identical men and aren't great at guessing genders based on social and appearance cues. Scuttlebutt has your forms of address spread through the men by the end of the day, and you don't think about it again.

The clones, on the other hand, take this correction as he/him jedi stating that they want to work with them and suppourt them despite having so much power over them, which fits with both what they know of the jedi and, most often, their leadership style.

She/her jedi (see Shaak Ti especially!), clones maybe treat a little more as absolute authorities. This gendered divide in behavior gets met with, "hm, maybe they're just not used to women." For many jedi, they eventually switch to calling them sir as well, especially as they build rapport.

For Shaak Ti specifically, she is an absolute authority as the representative of the Jedi on Kamino, not just as a figurehead but as a decision maker and educator. Even as the clones grow to trust and love her, she's a relatively distant and all-powered figure. She has near total authority over them, and clones might ask for help or suppourt, but there's no social obligation for those requests to be met, she's just kind. It's compassion, not duty.

Senators, there's a good mix of different factors that make it confusing. "Senator" is always an acceptable form of address if you're not sure how'd they react, even if they should be ma'ams by default, but they're either trying to build rapport for some reason or genuinely want to work with you when they say to call them sir, regardless of the actual power dynamic at play. The she/her senators that respect the clones are in the same boat as Shaak Ti: Padme Amidala may care about clone rights, but I am still just one of hundreds to her and she has no personal accountability to me. Her position is such that she should not and cannot owe me anything. Same with Riyo Chuchi, Mon Mothma, etc. etc.

And a civilian that insists on being called ma'am or sir is going to be an asshole either way, and they technically have power over clones without personal accountability or responsibility for them. It works.

Finally, Palpatine.

He's a slimy rat fuck who pretends to be affable and kind, so of course he's going to laugh and say, "Oh, no, call me Sir!" when you call him ma'am. He is not personally accountable to you, and he does not care about you, but it helps his image and it helps him manipulate people to pretend, so of course he's making you use sir to build false intimacy despite the fact that he's the ma'am of ma'ams, both in power gaps and lack of accountability for his treatment of clones.

So having clones using sir vs ma'am not as a reflection of gender but as a reflection of power? Yeah, I think it works.

[porcupine-girl]

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

[copperbadge]

I'm getting depressingly good at identifying the formula for Pop Academic Books About ADHD.

Regardless of their philosophy it pretty much goes like this:

1. Emotionally sensitive essay about the struggle of ADHD and the author's personal experience with it as both a person with ADHD and a healthcare professional.

2. Either during or directly following this, a lightly explicated catalogue of symptoms, illustrated by anecdotes from patient case studies. Optional: frequent, heavy use of metaphor to explain ADHD-driven behavior.

3. Several chapters follow, each dedicated to a symptom; these have a mini-formula of their own. They open with a patient case study, discuss the highly relatable aspects of the specific symptom or behavior, then offer some lightweight examples of a treatment for the symptom, usually accompanied by follow up results from the earlier case studies.

4. Somewhere around halfway-to-two-thirds through the book, the author introduces the more in-depth explication of the treatment system (often their own homebrew) they are advocating. These are generally both personally-driven (as opposed to suggested cultural changes, which makes sense given these books' target audience, more on this later) and composed of an elaborate system of either behavior alteration or mental reframing. Whether this system is actually implementable by the average reader varies wildly.

5. A brief optional section on how to make use of ADHD as a tool (usually referring to ADHD or some of its symptoms as a superpower at least once). Sometimes this section restates the importance of using the systems from part 4 to harness that superpower. Frequently, if present, it feels like an afterthought.

6. Summation and list of further resources, often including other books which follow this formula.

I know I'm being a little sarcastic, but realistically there's nothing inherently wrong about the formula, like in itself it's not a red flag. It's just hilariously recognizable once you've noticed it.

It makes sense that these books advocate for the Reader With ADHD undertaking personal responsibility for their treatment, since these are in the tradition of self-help publishing. They're aimed at people who are already interested in doing their own research on their disability and possible ways to handle it. It's not really fair to ask them to be policy manuals, but I do find it interesting that even books which advocate stuff like volunteering (for whatever reason, usually to do with socialization issues and isolation, often DBT-adjacent) never suggest disability activism either generally or with an ADHD-specific bent.

None of these books suggest that perhaps life with ADHD could be made easier with increased accommodations or ease of medication access, and that it might be in a person's best interest to engage in political advocacy surrounding these and other disability-related issues. Or that activism related to ADHD might help to give someone with ADHD a stronger sense of ownership of their unique neurology. Or that if you have ADHD the idea of activism or even medical self-advocacy is crushingly stressful, and ways that stress might be dealt with.

It does make me want to write one of my own. "The Deviant Chaos Guide To Being A Miscreant With ADHD". Includes chapters on how to get an actual accurate assessment, tips for managing a prescription for a controlled substance, medical and psychiatric self-advocacy for people who are conditioned against confrontation, When To Lie About Being Neurodivergent, policy suggestions for ADHD-related legislation, tips for activism while executively dysfunked, and to close the book a biting satire of the pop media idea of self-care. ("Feeling sad? Make yourself a nice pot of chicken soup from scratch and you'll feel better in no time. Stay tuned after this rambling personal essay for the most mediocre chicken soup recipe you've ever seen!" "Have you considered planning and executing an overly elaborate criminal heist as a way to meet people and stay busy?")

Every case study or personal anecdote in the book will have a different name and demographics attached but will also make it obvious that they are all really just me, in the prose equivalent of a cheap wig, writing about my life. "Kelly, age seven, says she struggles to stay organized using the systems neurotypical children might find easy. I had to design my own accounting spreadsheet in order to make sure I always have enough in checking to cover the mortgage, she told me, fidgeting with the pop socket on her smartphone."

I feel a little bad making fun, because these books are often the best resource people can get (in itself concerning). It's like how despite my dislike of AA, I don't dunk on it in public because I don't want to offer people an excuse not to seek help. It feels like punching down to criticize these books, even though it's a swing at an industry that is mainly, it seems, here to profit from me. But one does get tired of skimming the hype for the real content only to find the real content isn't that useful either.

Les (not his real name) was diagnosed at the age of 236. Charming, well-read, and wealthy, he still spent much of his afterlife feeling deeply inadequate about his perceived shortcomings. "Vampire culture doesn't really acknowledge ADHD as a condition," he says. "My sire wouldn't understand, even though he probably has it as well. You should see the number of coffins containing the soil of his homeland that he's left lying forgotten all over Europe." A late diagnosis validated his feelings of difference, but on its own can't help when he hyperfocuses on seducing mortals who cross his path and forgets to get home before sunrise. "I have stock in sunburn gel companies," he jokes.

[tanadrin]

Can you explain in what what you think eugenics doesn't work? Does this basically boil down to skepticism about the accuracy of GWAS studies? My understanding is that academic consensus is "G probably exists, disentangling direct genetic inheritance vs genetic cultural inheritance is complicated but possible, we can identify a number of alleles which we're reasonably confident are directly causally involved in having a higher G factor"

when it comes to intelligence, its heritability, and its variation at the population level, my understanding of the science is:

highly adaptive traits don't, in fact, vary much at the genetic level between populations of a species because they are strongly selected for. in an environment where a trait is being strongly selected for, a population that failed to express that trait strongly will be rapidly outcompeted.

intelligence is probably the quintessential such trait for humans. we have sacrificed a great deal of other kinds of specialization in favor of our big brains. we spend an enormous amount of calories supporting those brains. tool use, the ability to plan for the future, the ability to navigate complex social situations and hierarchies in order to secure status, the ability to model the minds of others for the purposes of cooperation and deception means that we should expect intelligence to be strongly selected for for as long as our lineage has been social and tool-using, which is at least the last three million years or so.

so, at least as a matter of a priori assumptions, we should expect human populations not to vary greatly in their genetic predisposition to intelligence. it may nonetheless, but we'd need pretty strong evidence. i think i read this argument on PZ Myers' blog a million years ago, so credit where that's due.

complicating the picture is that we just don't have good evidence for how IQ does vary across populations, even before we get into the question of "how much of this variation is genetic and how much of it is not." the cross-national data on which a lot of IQ arguments have been based is really bad. and that would be assuming IQ tests are in fact good at capturing a notion of IQ that is independent of cultural context, which historically they're pretty bad at

this screed by nassim nicholas taleb (not a diss; AFAICT the guy only writes in screeds) makes a number of arguments, but one argument I find persuasive is that IQ is really only predictive of achievement in the sense that it does usefully discriminate between people with obvious intellectual disabilities and those without--but you do not actually need an IQ test for that sort of thing, any more than you need to use a height chart to figure out who is missing both their legs. in that sense, sure, IQ is predictive of a lot of things. but once you remove this group, the much-vaunted correlations between IQ and stuff like wealth just straight-up vanishes

heritability studies are a useful tool, but a tool which must be wielded carefully; they were developed for studying traits which were relatively easy to isolate in very specific populations, like a crop under study at an agricultural research site, and are more precarious when applied to, e.g., human populations

my understanding based on jonathan kaplan articles like this one is that twin studies are not actually that good at distinguishing heritable factors from environmental ones--they have serious limitations compared to heritability studies where you actually can rigorously control for environmental effects, like you can with plants or livestock.

as this post also points out, heritability studies also only examine heritability within groups, and are not really suited to examining large-scale population differences, *especially* in the realm of intelligence where there is a huge raft of confounding factors, and a lack of a really robust measurement tool.

(if we are worried about intelligence at the population level, it seems to me there are interventions we know are going to be effective and do not rely on deeply dubious scientific speculation, e.g., around nutrition and healthcare and serious wealth inequality and ofc education; and if what people actually want is to raise the average intelligence of the population rather than justify discrimination against minorities, then they might focus on those much more empirically grounded interventions. even if population differences in IQ are real and significant and point to big differences in intelligence, we know those things are worth a fair few IQ points. but most people who are or historically have been the biggest advocates for eugenics are, in my estimation, mostly interested in justifying discrimination.)

i think the claims/application of eugenics extend well beyond just intelligence, ftr. eugenics as an ideology is complex and historically pretty interesting, and many eugenicists have made much broader claims than just "population-level differences in intelligence exist due to genetic factors, and we should try to influence them with policy," but that is a useful point for them to fall back onto when pressed on those other claims. but i don't think even that claim is at all well-supported.

[moonlit-stay]

· . * · ° ☆ Soft As Silk

☆ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

☆ Genre: Fluff and Smut

☆ Word Count: 3.4k

☆ Warnings: Soft!Dom Hyunjin, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, reader (me) is very needy for her hot and sexy boyfriend (Hyunjin), tongue sucking, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, soft love making for a bit, multiple orgasms, marking, little bit of praise, creampie

☆ Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Gold, Cream, and White <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything written in all of my work is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

"You love me, right?"

The question, as simple as it is, is asked with urgency; each word laced with subtle worry and something you immediately identify as excitement. It startles you slightly, but you answer the question honestly, nonetheless.

"More than anything." Your voice seeps through Hyunjin's speaker like a warm blanket, immediately easing his worries while simultaneously enhancing his excitement. "Why? Is everything okay?"

Your question is soft, gentle, but laced with arguably more worry than Hyunjin's question was. You barely had time to pull your phone to your ear before he blurted out said question, giving you no time to even greet him before your mind started racing with assumptions.

"Yea," he breathes out in a laugh, one that tells you he means it. "I did something." He simply explains, knowing the brief explanation will only spark your curiosity further.

"What do you mean?" A reasonable question, one he was expecting, and one he only answers with a breathy chuckle. "Jinnie?"

"You'll see, just be ready for me, angel."

Before you can question him further, he ends the call, leaving you to soak in your own confusion and nerves as you impatiently wait for him to get home. You manage to come up with a list of things this something could be, but knowing Hyunjin, this list grows long rather quickly, and at the end of the day, it still doesn't actually answer your question.

You're lost in thought, an equal number of assumptions and ideas circling endlessly through the paths of your mind until they inevitably circle back to the starting point. If leaving you curious and eager was Hyunjin's goal, he had succeeded without much effort.

You miss the quiet sound of your front door opening in the distance, Hyunjin quickly slipping into the warm embrace of your shared home as the bitter cold desperately chases after him. He closes the door just as quietly, taking a cautious step forward as he leaves his shoes by the door.

"Baby?" Hyunjin calls out, peering around the space he can see from where he's standing.

No longer than a second later, he hears your hurried footsteps approach him from somewhere deeper in your home. You race towards your entryway, excitement bubbling in your chest as you finally turn the corner.

Your eyes briefly meet Hyunjin's as you stop dead in your tracks, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the unexpected sight of your boyfriend's short, blonde hair. It's a stark contrast to the long, dark brown wolf cut he's had for the past few months, and it effectively catches you off guard enough for all thoughts to leave your brain.

You take slow steps forward, almost cautiously, your mouth agape as you soak in Hyunjin's appearance. Hyunjin's hands find your waist the second you get within arms reach of him, pulling you close until your chest is flush against his. You can feel the warmth radiating off his broad form, the comforting feeling engulfing you as his fingers dip underneath the fabric of your shirt to feel your skin beneath his fingertips. He draws shapes against your soft skin as he patiently waits for your initial shock to die down.

"What do you think?" He softly asks you, his voice barely above a whisper as he smiles down at you. "Still love me?"

Aside from the initial shock, one thing you can confidently read and place amongst your jumbled thoughts is that he looks good.

"Still love you. So much," you reassure once more, your voice quiet as it dances along the border that separates a whisper from a mumble. You let your hands rest on his shoulders as your eyes rake over his features, your palms gently caressing the smooth curves of his muscles. "You look so, so good."

His features have always been perfect, but there's something about his buzzcut that deliciously highlights each of his features almost beyond recognition; putting each of them on display in a way that makes your eyes hungrily drink in every detail of his appearance. This, as well as this particular shade of blonde. It perfectly compliments his gorgeous skin tone in ways that make your head spin, his soft skin glistening in the dim lighting of your home.

There are many things about this look that draws you in like a siren at sea, drowning you in the overwhelming urge to touch and feel him everywhere at once. You simply can't take your eyes off your boyfriend. Hyunjin notices the look in your eyes, being all too familiar with the hidden meaning deep within your gaze, and he smirks down at you as his hands glide down your hips until they land on your ass. He pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours as your hands move to glide over the silky expanse of his freshly shaved head.

"Yea?" He asks with a grin, his voice low and teasing as he palms your ass, using his grip to pull you impossibly closer.

"Yea." You sigh out in response, your tone breathy and laced with need as your hands rest against the back of his neck.

Hyunjin leans down to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss, giving you exactly what he knows you want without wasting any time. A soft moan slips past your lips just from feeling him like this, close and intimate, and all for you.

"Need you," you breathe out against his jaw, pressing kisses along the defined bone as he leans his head back, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against his heated skin.

"You have me, angel, always." His breathing is shaky when he answers you, moving to press kisses along your neck as you cling to him, desperate to hear more of your pretty noises as he mouths at your delicate flesh.

He nips at your skin in a messy trail from just below your ear to the base of your neck, letting his tongue glide over each pinpointed spot until you're whimpering helplessly against him.

"Please," you start, your voice quiet and weak as you paw at his shirt, "do something, Jinnie."

You feel Hyunjin smirk against you before his lips are on yours again, walking you backwards towards your shared room as you blindly follow his lead. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head, quickly tossing it to the side before he gently grips both your wrists in his hands, guiding them to press flat against his abdomen. You run your hands over as much of him as you can reach from the close proximity, and the shaky breath you let out against Hyunjin's lips has him throbbing in his black sweatpants, his mind spinning at how needy and worked up you are for him.

Hyunjin pulls your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor as he presses you against the wall of your shared room. A gasp leaves your lips at the feeling of the cold surface against your warm skin, and Hyunjin takes this opportunity to lick into your mouth as he palms your tits. He groans at the taste of you on his tongue, your lips closing around the wet muscle as you lightly suck on it with a moan. Hyunjin's eyes roll back at the feeling of your lips eagerly sucking his tongue into your mouth the same way you do with his cock, his hands roughly gripping at your hips in a weak attempt to keep himself sane.

Hyunjin looks surreal in this state, and you can't help but press your thighs together at the sight of him, trying desperately to ease the growing ache between them as moans leave his swollen, parted lips every time you suck his tongue further into your mouth.

The simple action doesn't go unnoticed by Hyunjin, and his right hand is quick to slip past the waistband of your leggings. He cups your clothed mound, feeling your thighs immediately close around his large hand. He groans at how warm and wet you are against his palm as he presses the pad of his middle finger against your entrance. He can feel the tight hole flutter with need against his fingertip, your body eagerly reacting to his every touch.

You release his tongue with a wet pop, your head falling back against the wall with a shaky breath as Hyunjin slips his hand into your panties to make direct contact with your core.

"Look at me, baby." Hyunjin softly demands, watching your eyes immediately snap to his.

He sinks his middle finger into your heat, watching your eyes flutter shut as he presses up against your walls. Your arousal coats his finger, dripping down to his palm as he quickly adds his ring finger, slowly pumping the digits into you as your mouth falls agape.

"You're so wet for me, baby." He breathes out, picking up the pace of his digits so you can hear how wet you are. "All this because of my haircut, angel?" He asks, curling his fingers inside you to watch your eyes roll back.

"Y-Yes, fuck-" you moan out, feeling your legs shake as your high grows closer with every thrust of Hyunjin's long, slender fingers.

Hyunjin watches in amusement as you struggle to keep your eyes on him; hooded eyes, heavy with lust, drinking in his appearance as you let out breathless pants. A smirk pulls at his lips every time your eyes roll back or screw shut at the spine-tingling pleasure that courses through you all because of him.

He always takes this time to commit each of your facial expressions to memory, drawing every crease, line, and curve deep within his mind to keep in his own mental treasury.

"Jinnie," you breathe out urgently, your voice quiet and broken as you grow dangerously close to your high.

Your eyes dart back and forth between his own, watching as his smirk fades into a soft smile that beams with fondness and admiration as he nods at you. "S'okay, angel," his voice is soft and soothing as he watches your eyes shake before they inevitably close in ecstasy, your first high of the night washing over you in waves.

You cling to whatever part of him your hands can grip first, your body feeling weak as you cum around Hyunjin's fingers. He holds you securely in place, keeping you close and safe until you come down from your high.

"You okay, baby?" He asks you once your eyes refocus and immediately fall back on him.

"Need more, please," you whine out, pulling Hyunjin into a desperate kiss as you paw at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Hyunjin smiles into the kiss, basking in each of your noises, words, and actions that all circle back to something as simple as a haircut. He feels his chest swell with love and pride, knowing that you'll always love him regardless of how he chooses to alter his appearance, while also losing his mind at how easy it is for him to reduce you to a needy mess that is more than willing to take everything he gives you.

"I got you, angel, it's okay." He pants against your lips between messy kisses, pulling your bare chest flush against his own.

You can't help the soft moan that slips past your lips at the bare contact, your arms circling around his muscular back to hold him against you as your nails lightly press into his skin.

Hyunjin is quick to lay you on your shared bed, hovering over you as he moves to kiss down your neck once more. When he feels your legs press tightly against his hips in a weak attempt to ease the pulsing between your thighs, he pulls away from you completely. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and panties, pulling them off of you in one swift motion. He's quick to do the same with his sweatpants, leaving you both bare for the other's hungry eyes.

He slowly slides his hands along your inner thighs, pulling them apart until he can see your glistening core. His cock twitches at the sight as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, letting his head loll backwards as he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.

"How do you want me, baby?" He asks through clenched teeth, his tip an angry shade of red as precum beads at the slit.

"Don't care, as long as I can see you." You whine, watching him slowly lose his mind above you as he fights the urge to stuff every inch of his length deep inside your cunt.

He wastes no time in pulling you closer to him by the bend of your knees, pumping his length a few times before he hurriedly runs his tip through your sticky folds. You both let out whines at the contact, desperate and sensitive as you shift your hips upwards in an attempt to get him inside you. He takes the hint, impatience getting the best of him as he slides his tip down to your entrance. He can feel you pulsing against him, and without any more thought, he slowly starts pushing into you.

The stretch every time Hyunjin presses into you is never anything short of mind-numbing. All thoughts leave your brain, and your mouth hangs open as you take him inch by inch, feeling your walls part in invitation for his thick cock. He lets out choked moans above you as your eyes roll back, your walls squeezing every inch of him until he finally bottoms out. He holds as still as he can, waiting for your tight cunt to release its vice grip around him enough for him to move. Short, labored breaths slip past both your lips, you lock eyes with Hyunjin, pulling him closer until his forehead rests against yours.

"I love you, and I love the way you love me." Hyunjin whispers out to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips to punctuate his confession.

"I love you, too," you whisper back, "I always will."

Hyunjin's lips move slow against yours, in perfect sync with his hips as he pulls out of you until just his tip is nestled between your slick walls. He slowly thrusts back into you, letting you feel all of him as you moan into his mouth. He keeps this pace, slowly thrusting into you as your tongues collide in messy, love-filled kisses.

He grips at one of your thighs, guiding it to wrap around his waist as you follow suit with the other, wrapping both your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Even with every part of Hyunjin pressed against you or inside you, you still feel like you need more of him, like no amount of physical contact is enough to satiate the deep-rooted need you have for him.

You don't know what makes this look so wildly different from the rest, other than the obvious length, but it's making your brain turn to mush. You want all of him at once, in a way that can only be described as carnal. You feel your brain grow increasingly fuzzy with every deep thrust and needy kiss, coherent thoughts fading into distant babbles as Hyunjin increases his pace only slightly. Your body rocks with every thrust, your legs around Hyunjin keeping you in place as Hyunjin palms at your soft tits.

You whine into his mouth, the pleasure overwhelming your ability to think as his bare cock drags deliciously against your velvety walls. You feel Hyunjin's thumb rest firmly against your clit, rubbing fast, calculated circles against the bud as you struggle to kiss him back. Hyunjin takes this opportunity to nip at your collarbones, letting red marks bloom across your skin to serve as a reminder of this moment later.

You feel the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening rapidly, your moans becoming more frequent and higher in pitch as you grow closer to your high. When Hyunjin angles his hips to hit that little gummy spot deep within your walls, the knot unravels. Your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing further into Hyunjin's as your breath gets caught in your throat. You're completely silent as you shake against Hyunjin, every noise and potential breath captured in a pleasure prison as your hands flail around desperately before you choke out a scream. Hyunjin rides you through your high, his thumb still firm on your clit as his thrusts slow to shallow pumps.

"I've got you, baby, there you go." Hyunjin softly coos, watching you blink up at him before he slowly starts picking up his pace again.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around his back. Each of his thrusts still presses right against that sensitive spot, and you gasp as your body jolts in his hold.

"I know, angel, I'm sorry." He breathes out, his voice shaking with need as he thrusts into you with more force. "Just a little more for me."

You desperately cling to Hyunjin as need sets into his movements, his pace increasing and his thrusts forceful as he chases his high. The sound of his hips connecting with yours echoes in your ears, making your head spin as you moan out his name in breathy pleas.

"So good for me, baby," he groans out, feeling your walls tightly clench around him. "Taking all of me so well."

Hyunjin's thrusts grow erratic, his pace unrelenting as he drills into you so hard it almost hurts. His high quickly approaches as he listens to your incoherent babbles, your voice high-pitched and breathy, each word coming out in broken syllables as you thrash against him. He knows you're close again, he can feel it in the way your walls pulse around him, eagerly trying to milk him dry. He pushes his hips flush against yours, pressing his cock as deep as it'll go as he finally cums inside you.

The moans that he lets out against your heated skin as he stuffs you full of every drop of his cum has your third orgasm of the night hitting you like a ton of bricks. High-pitched screams, a messy string of swears, and Hyunjin's name spill endlessly past your lips as you shake against the broad expanse of his form, clawing at his back as choked moans leave his pillowy lips. Each of his sounds only adds to the cloudiness in your mind as your vision blurs, white hot pleasure setting a fire within each of your nerves as you cream around Hyunjin's cock.

You can feel Hyunjin's thighs shaking against the back of your own, and you mindlessly pull him to lay on top of you. Even in his dazed state, Hyunjin is quick to roll onto his side, taking you with him as your shared heavy pants fill the silence of the room. Neither of you say anything or dare to move for a while, choosing to bask in the afterglow of your orgasms until your heartbeats and breathing steady.

Hyunjin sits up just enough to lean over you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss before he pulls away from you with a smile.

"You really like my hair, huh, angel?" He asks you with a knowing smirk, watching as your eyes glaze over with need as you stare at his beautiful bare face.

"Mhmm," you nod up at him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you pull him down to you with your gentle grip on the back of his neck. "I can't get enough of you, Jinnie."

He presses a quick kiss to your lips, much to your dissatisfaction, before he pulls away to take in your features. He gently tucks your hair behind your ear, his breath getting caught in his throat when he feels you clench around him. Through mutual sensitivity, his hips move on their own accord, shallowly thrusting his previous release deeper inside you as you nuzzle further into his chest; soaking up his warmth as he holds you close.

Nothing could've prepared you for Hyunjin's buzzcut, or the never-ending insatiable need for the gorgeous man that came with it, but when you reassure your love for him in ways like this, he can never find it in him to complain.

☆ Main Masterlist

☆ Hwang Hyunjin Masterlist

☆ Author's Note

Hwang Hyunjin, the man you are😣

This took me five entire days to write because he jumbled my thoughts so bad with this look (😩😫), I couldn't articulate my thoughts, feelings, and emotions into a work, but I finally managed and now here it is.

Also, little note about the title of this work: if you've ever felt a buzzcut (of that length in particular), you know that shit is soft as silk, and if you haven't, now you know🫶🏻

I still obsessively think about him and how goddamn fine he is with this buzzcut for many hours every single day. What has he DONE to me😣😵‍💫

☆ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @ka0ila @hanji-coffee @pixie-felix

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist !

☆ Extras

©2021 - 2025 all rights are reserved to @moonlit-stay Stealing, Reposting, Copying, Translating, Plagiarizing, and Modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: January 8th, 2025

[enigmaris]

Reading a lot of DPxDC fics lately, heres my take on the Danny is Damian's twin AU:

Danny was injured to near death and left for dead by the League as a young boy. Ra's only wanted one heir and Danny was less bloodthirsty than Damian, so it was decided that Danny had to go.

Danny is found and taken to a hospital in Illinois, barely alive. He is saved and wakes up with basically no memories of where he was from and speaking a rare dialect of arabic that none of the cops investigating his case can identify. What words Danny does know in english are concerning so the cops figure Danny was being held by some sort of murder, death cult.

The investigation runs cold and Danny is sent to foster care once his injuries heal. He is then adopted by the fentons and moves to Amity Park. As he grows the only clear memories he has of his past is another boy his age who he felt safe with. He knows the other boy is important to him but not why. He cant even really remember his face, certainly not his name. Danny always felt shitty that he couldnt remember the other boy because if he did, then the cops would have rescued him from the murder death cult too. Instead the other boy is presumably there and getting hurt all the time like Danny was.

Danny gets his powers like normal at 14 and decides that now that he has superpowers he absolutely has to save that other boy. Sam and Tucker help him gather clues, he starts to remember a bit more. He remembers the word ahki and realizes that the other boy is his brother!! Which just really enhances Dannys need to save him from the murder death cult. Eventually Tucker finds a picture of Damian Wayne and Danny is like thats him. Thats my brother.

Wait.

Bruce Wayne is his brothers dad???

Bruce Wayne is a rich fruitloop like Vlad obviously, so he is probably a member of the murder cult. Danny has to rescue his brother from the illuminati.

Cue Sam going to a socialite dinner in gotham much to her parents delight. Getting close to Damian by talking about animal rights, slipping him some sleeping pills in his vegan food. Tucker hacking into the gala and causing a commotion. Danny lugging an unconscious Damian out of the Gala and into the GAV ( no, his parents dont know why he borrowed the car or where he is).

Damian wakes up and immediately tries to attack Danny thinking hes a clone. Danny is like woah shit no its me! Its your brother. Damian is like Danyal is dead. Danny is like obviously not. Now chill out im rescuing you from the cult.

Damian, who has been secrectly mourning his twin for years, has never heard anyone call the League of Assassins a cult. He has to reevaluate a lot of things while Danny drives the GAV out of Gotham as fast as he can. Danny explains his whole backstory and how he is sorry he didnt come to save Damian earlier, his memories were gone but he had never forgotten how important Damian was to him. Damian doesnt do emotions on a good day and is unable to handle that like a normal person.

"Father isnt part of the cult, Danyal."

"Hes a billionaire from Gotham, of course he is!"

Damian who has fought many rich people from gotham, all of whom were evil, tries to find an explanation that isnt 'our dad is batman'. Danny isnt listening to any of it, promising Damian that he will be safe from the murder cult in Amity.

Damian eventually gets out that their mother was in the cult and their father didn't know about them. Danny pulls the GAV over and looks at Damian.

"Did i just kidnap you for no reason?"

"It was a kind gesture at least Danyal."

"Fuck. I just kidnapped bruce wayne's kid in the middle of a gala, am i super villain now?"

"Not if you take me home. Father will understand Danyal."

"I dont want to go to jail!"

Damian gives Danny the address to Wayne Manor and Danny drives to Bristol.

When they walk inside Damian now has to explain the whole 'had a dead brother i never told you about' thing to a less than amused batfam.

Danny introduces himself to Bruce and says that he has an adopted family back in illinois, but that he would be happy to get to know Bruce, also sorry about the kidnapping i dont normally do that i thought you were part of the illumimati and i had to rescue my brother.

Bruce just hopes this kid is normal.

(Hint: he's not)