#just a false interaction with one person pretending to be two people

[pahtoosh]

a few accounts have left these weird comments on my ao3. are any other writers dealing with this?

I don’t think that the creator for these works is responsible for these comments, so don’t send any hate to them.

all I’m saying is that this is such gross behavior. my comment section is not the place to promote anything. 1) it’s rude. 2) it’s stupid. very few people read the comments and even fewer people are going to take reading suggestions from them. I get a maximum of 2 comments on a post, so all you’re doing is making me upset.

here’s a Reddit post about the problem with webnovel

anyway. don’t be mean, support your writers, and stay away from webnovel.

[goldsbitch]

Not on the menu

Making out in public is not something to be shameful, right?

light smut, minors DNI, angst

note: this is my first Franco fic. this man came, served and what are we suppose to do?!

When it feels this good, it's worth breaking few rules.

You and Franco. Very well protected love affair. A fling. Just two young people who somehow end up in each other's beds whenever the opportunity arises.

Working in F2 as one of the production assistants was more exciting than one might think. Everyone would always praise F1, the size of the teams, the budgets, the glam surrounding it. F2 was different, more loose and less on the spotlight. Full of professionals, who just like drivers, worked their asses off just for a chance to progress into F1. But you were just so young, just starting and unlike with the drivers, you had no rush, plenty of time for that in the next years. It was all about learning, getting to know people and also, occasionally, having some good fun. It's hard to keep young people on a leash. Lot of travel involved, hotel rooms and many people mingling around, leads to just one thing. It wasn't special or albeit scandalous to fool around with a fellow crew member, in fact many marriages started like that, no matter the rank or department. Life on the road has its habits.

So when you first ended up on a dance floor with the ever-so-charming Franco at one of the opening events for F2, it was not such a surprise that you ended at his hotel room. Way less wondering eyes and almost no glam was at these evenings, the exact opposite of F1.

By some miracle, you managed to keep it a secret, apart from few closest friends, who served as an excuse for you two to actually hang out together. These few trusted souls witnessed their fair share of tipsy make outs and laughed collectively at your hickeys, which turned out to be his speciality. You never texted, never addressed your fling when sober. Deep down you knew you were curious to see how he was as a serious partner. But he never gave off that kind of a vibe. So you protected yourself, remained cool and decided that this was the peak your relation would ever be, and that was ok enough.

"So what about you and Franco?" a friend of you both asked you, once again. You hated when she did that. In her mind, it would be a great idea to have two of her friends together. But the truth was, she was way closer with him than you were. Nothing wrong with that, but it only reminded you of how shallow your interaction were. In order to keep you dignity while fooling around with a player, you pretended to be one as well. "You know how these things are, it's just physical. I don't think he's the kind of person I'd like to date." False. You knew that, but..! You stayed on the ground, he was just a bit out of your league. Simple as that. Soon enough he was gonna catch the eye of some model and you'll be old news. The whole thing would be way worse if anyone knew that you would actually be open to at least try and date him. It was hard to stop the daydreaming sometimes. "Yeah, that makes sense," was the only thing your friend, disappointed by your response, answered. You only wondered if she had conversations like this with him as well about you.

Life was good that one evening in August. At the time, you had no idea it will the last evening of that era. It was one of the typical dinners the wealthier members of the teams organized, a nice chill place to wind down after stressful days. You were sat few places from Franco, who was charming as ever. Raining smiles on everyone and stealing glances with you.

A text notification - Bathroom?

You gulped, locked eyes with him and gave a small nod. His smile was probably crafted specifically for you, somewhere in the depths of hell. Impossible to resist.

He got up and you followed a minute later, giving a knowing look to your mutual friend. She understood and happily covered for you in case someone else caught on.

It wasn't exactly the right thing to do, lock yourself in a room dedicated for nursing mothers. But better than blocking a bathroom.

"Aren't you a little old to be in this room?" you asked when you joined him and secured the door behind you. He was leaning over a counter, fingers tapping on the top. "I can't help it, I am hungry," Franco responded and gestured you to come closer to him. With a challenging look, you took few steps towards him. "This is a restaurant, you're at the right place."

"The things I want are not on the menu." He was done playing sneaking around and crashed his lips onto yours, as if to prove his hunger. He was just too good with his tongue. Taking you, like his little victim, making you forget the outside world still existed. His hand went to grab your neck, behind your ear, because by then he had figured out that keeping you in check was the thing that made your knees weak. His lips were locked with yours, in heated frenzy, not allowing any breath to be wasted. You knew how to play the game as well, and with a soft bite into his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, you pulled away slightly, not allowing him to take full control. "Oh," he said, trying to steal another kiss from you while you pulled away more with satisfied smile. "Is this how it is now?" he continued, tone laced with intrigue and challenge. Your tongue reached to lick his lips once again. His hand suddenly lessened the pull towards him. "Oh, hermosa," he whispered, "two can play this game." Butterflies occupied your stomach. He stepped back and to your questioning look responded with another bloody wink. And then, then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up in the air and sat on the counter. You gasped, only amusing him more. Lost for words, you only raised your eyebrows. "Better," he said and with audacity only young boys have lifted your shift up. Without much of a thought you put your arms up and helped him get you slightly more naked. His eyes were shamelessly focus on your chest. "Almost there," he said and gestured towards your bra. "Go on. Take this horrible thing off." You chuckled, because as charming and suave he was, taking a bra off was a moment where he failed each time. Desire fueled you into making this quick. Now that you were sat, his eyes were at a similar lever to your boobs and there was something hot about his hungry look, watching you undress even more. Once you were finally fully bare, he observed you and the locked eyes with you once again.

"Pretty," was the only thing that he said before putting his lips on your left nipple for a gentle peck and then on the right one, which received a light bite. He decided to stay focused on that one, few kisses here and there and began to suck on it while his hand pinched the left one. Arrows of pleasure flew into your lower belly. He knew your weakness, he must have because this was sending you into other dimensions. Anything that feels this ecstatic would make anyone crumble. Whatever he did seemed to always work on you. He wasted no time with gentle touches. Not enough time for that. After nearly sending you over the edge with his lips dancing around and sucking on your nipple, moved a bit upwards and went for his signature move - marking your breasts with hickeys so purple it would take a week to heal. You bend your head backwards, trying to contain any loud noises your body wanted you to make in reaction to his actions. Another twirl around your sensitive nipple, bite into your skin and a hard squeeze. You did not want him to stop, too deep in it to think straight. But that must have been his plan from the beginning, because he put you on edge and then back away. You almost let a soft "No..." escape your mouth. With a puzzled look you slowly came down and remembered you were still in public. Heavy breaths and you gulped your way back to normal. He stepped back a bit and observed his mark on you. With an approving nod, he had the audacity to fix his boner up so that it was not so obvious. "Looking forward to seeing you later?" he asked with a tone that indicated the answer was obvious. You just nodded and reached for your bra, hoping his hickey was low enough it would not be visible. But, he had never made that kind of a mistake. You hopped down and gave him one more kiss, a slow and gentle this time, before he parted back to the dinner table. You joined in a minute, after fixing yourself up and trying to make your cheeks less red. Thankfully, there was only one another amused person when you came back to the table. Your friend raised her brows at you and drank her wine as if nothing ever happened.

Everything shower, hair on point, favorite perfume - you were all set and ready for how the evening would inevitably progress. This time you even made sure to clean your room. You got too comfortable with your expectations. Watching his every move, you noticed immediately when his expression changed from a casual smile to focused frown when reading a text on his phone. Was it something serious? Would he confide in later, sometimes it happened by accident. Secrets shared among tangled sheets. He got up and sent you a cheeky wink. You had to bite your cheek in order to stop the smile your body wanted to respond with, a small bruise burning inside your bra.

It took you fifteen minutes to realize he was not coming back from his phone call. You had his number, you could easily text him. But you didn't. And just like that, he was off to F1.

[jo-harrington]

so teeth? really?

Anon...yeah teeth? I'm weird, I'm here for the weirdos.

I've decided recently that I'm going to be a certain actor who shall only be named in the tags arch nemesis. If there's no one out there talking about his false teeth and his stained nails and his disgusting capitalist tendencies, it means I'm dead.

So in honor of a certain someone who'll only be named in the tags 30th birthday, please enjoy the sequel to this weird RPF.

Pairing: Disgusting 30-year old capitalist B-lister who's lucking out on his career x CorporateBadass!Fem!Reader

TW: RPF, Smut, jealousy, a little angst, a little degradation, and he's gross

Tagging @courtingchaos @deathbecomesthem @dr-aculaaa and @tomtomslongdong @bettyfrommars because you liked my games last time.

18+ WEIRDOS ENJOY! NORMIES STAY OUT.

It came in an email.

It always did.

Forwarded from your work email to your personal email, then forwarded onto his with several question marks. No phone numbers, no WhatsApp. An occasional GChat if you had trouble compromising over different time zones. But generally, your interactions were limited to a familiar face in an unfamiliar place; not casual conversation during normal, every day life.

You joked once, in an Uber on the way to the airport as you were fixing your disheveled clothes after a quickie before check-out, that you might as well sync your google calendars and that…seemed pretty appealing to him, if only someone else didn’t handle his calendar for him.

“Must be nice,” you joked. “Big important star with an assistant.”

“It’s one of my manager’s assistant,” he argued. “And you have an assistant too.”

“It’s an admin for the department. And they only book the travel. They don’t manage individual calendars. Sorry I’m a peasant dragging my cadaver up the corporate ladder.”

Regardless, he woke up to your email one morning—some remnant of your personality from a former life—at the top of his inbox with the word “London???” above an itinerary for two weeks of franchise meetings and property tours around the city he called home.

His city. No coincidences, no “accidental” run-ins at LAX or JFK that the two of you bent in your favor. You were coming for to him. During a week that he otherwise had no plans.

He acted on impulse. Perhaps a little desperately. Especially considering how little he knew you.

“If you want, you can just stay here. I have plenty of room. You’ll have your space. Pretend it’s a VRBO for the week.”

Realization hit him once he hit send. Dread.

Invite you to stay at his house, a house that he was just settling in to being a home. Where all of his things were, where he had pictures of family and friends.

His house.

Where he was someone and not no one.

He hoped that you would realize the impropriety—as improper as it could be after he’d stuck his cock in you more times than he could count at this point—and be the more level-headed of the two of you, as you usually were, and decline the offer.

It took 48 hours for you to respond. 

He thought that meant he was in the clear.

Until your reply blipped in his inbox between emails containing sides for self tapes and negotiations for his next potential public appearance.

“Great, thanks. I won’t take up too much space. I’ll barely be there.”

Followed by the airplane emoji and the sleep emoji.

He got irrationally angry for a moment.

How could you do this? How could you cross this boundary? Partial anonymity…that’s what you both agreed on and here you were…suddenly reneging on that agreement. 

Invading his space.

Only you weren’t invading, he invited you in.

Invited you to know Joe a little more than you knew Joseph.

And he could know you too. 

He missed getting to know people; he chose not to know people. He knew enough people.

Now he’d get the chance to get to know you.

You’d be here in a week.

And suddenly you were.

Not an email away. Just there.

You sent him a WhatsApp from the car—a necessity now that you’d be with him for a prolonged time—double checking his street. Then suddenly you were ringing the bell.

He went over the mental to-do list that he’d made ahead of your arrival—schedule planned so he’d be available if you wanted or needed him anything, the cleaning service came through, groceries were delivered, and he’d even got flowers for your room…just a nice little thing he thought of—and then he opened the door.

It had been awkward, the initial greeting.

It wasn’t like your typical hotel room rendezvous. It wasn’t straight to business. You both just stood there staring.

“Consider me a vampire,” you joked, slightly jet lagged and weary since you had gone to meetings straight away after you’d landed. “I need to be invited to come in.”

“Of course,” he stepped to the side to let you in. “Make yourself at home.”

You let him carry your suitcase and shoulder your backpack as he led you straight to the guest room. Then you touched his cheek fondly, thanked him…and promptly shut the door in his face so you could sleep.

Well…he at least thought he was going to get something more than that.

But he didn’t get much more than that. For almost an entire week.

At first it was fine. You were busy, and so was he.

He made (ordered) breakfast for the two of you for the first morning. You grabbed tea and a biscuit (“when in Rome…yes I know…but this was part of the Roman Empire so…No I thought it was funny Joseph ok see you later then”) and ordered an Uber to make it to your first walkthrough of the day. He had a copy of your schedule in his email, made sure to run his errands, make his appointments, and hang out with friends while you were busy so he could be there when it was time for you to return at the end of the day. Only to get another peck on the cheek and be thoroughly ignored as you trudged off to bed.

He felt a little bad. He knew those days where they just never seemed to end; come back to wherever he’d been put up only to check his phone and pass out. 

Then he’d hear you around midnight, waking up from a dead sleep and tapping away at your keyboard. Sending communication to your boss or your team or whoever else back home. He didn’t know if you knew he was awake, or if you would venture out of the guest room to find him or get a drink…something. But you never did. Didn’t roam around, didn’t even chat him on WhatsApp; you just clicked away until the clicking stopped and you passed out again.

That’s when he got annoyed.

Because he’d been patient enough; he waited. Waited for something for those first few days. Some kind of sign that you were here with him. He’d sit and watch the telly, pick something from netflix or YouTube, read a book waiting for you to say more than hello to him when he opened the door for you. Have a conversation with him. Something! Sure that wasn’t really how the two of you operated, but even when he still had a roommate and they lived a very separate schedule there was at least a “hey mate, how’d the day go” and it gnawed at his insides that you couldn’t even be bothered.

Who were you? Just some no one, playing at possibly having an executive position one day. 

And who was he? He was Joseph Quinn. Eddie fucking Munson, as much as he loathed it. He had people screaming for him, screaming his name. You even screamed his name from time to time. 

Just not now.

Was he even going to get to fuck you at the end of this torture? Probably not. You’d be off to Heathrow to catch your flight back home with a simple peck on the cheek and a pat on the head.

“Good boy Joseph, letting me stay in your guest room, thank you for the red carpet treatment.”

So after three days of radio silence, he stopped playing such a gracious host. You insisted that you weren’t even there? He would act like you weren’t.

He stopped living his life around your schedule, left you a spare key so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself and open the door for you. Got dinner with his friends, drinks with some people his manager wanted him to meet, all on his own time. 

He did exactly what did, he ignored you.

And that’s what got your attention, or so it seemed.

He saw you “in the wild” a bit more. You and your American lean against the bar at the pub he frequented, wine glass in hand as you chatted with someone in a suit; he decided he’d rather get a beer somewhere else that night. Came home late from a friend’s party on Friday to find you in the kitchen, with a sandwich, going over some contract. You waved at him, maybe a hello or to get him to join you, but he just walked away. Woke up late the next morning to find you actually sitting on his couch with coffee in one hand and phone in another. Your eyes brightened a little when you saw him.

“Morning! I have an appointment at 1, but…dinner?” You asked. “I’m getting so sick of cateri—“

“M’busy,” he cut you off. He didn’t like the way you just nodded, just pressed your lips together accepted it. The way his plans meant nothing. Still, you were out here. Instead of in your room…or just gone.

“Maybe tomorrow night?” He offered, a little more gently.

“Sounds good.” He smiled. “I’ll put it on my calendar.” And the smile went away again, and so did he.

You put him on your calendar like another business appointment; he shouldn’t have felt bad about it, it’s what you always did when you met up in one city or another…but he did. Because this wasn’t “make a run-in happen” this was a meal with the person whose house you were living in for two weeks.

He probably should have asked someone if he was overreacting—probably should have asked you to be honest—but who could he ask? His friends didn’t know about you; they gave him enough shit about his current situation as it was, let alone some American airport fling. Couldn’t exactly tell his manager, they’d have you in to sign an NDA or something; all of the times he planned his travel around “running into you,” he just said it was meeting up with a friend.

So let the feeling stew in his head all day. He came home late again Saturday night to avoid you, and stayed out the entire day Sunday, missing the time you’d made for him on your calendar. Good riddance.

Until he rolled in at 1am, well on his way back to sober after a night out, to find you sitting on his couch, some YouTube chef on the telly, Diet Coke in hand, and his takeaway box of leftovers from dinner the night before on the coffee table.

“That was mine,” he accused. No greeting, just fire as he walked over and looked at the remnants of his gnocchi carbonara.

“It was really tasty,” you nodded.

“I know, because it was mine.” He scoffed and crossed his arm over his chest. “You know if you were really hungry, there’s plenty of other food in the kitchen. Or you could’ve gotten a sausage roll or something. Ever heard of Uber Eats?”

“No I ate your pasta because you told me once that you don’t eat leftovers but you always felt bad that they’d just go in the garbage at the restaurant,” you explained calmly. A little too calmly. “Instead they’d just go in the garbage here. So I enjoyed your scraps, cold, like a peasant, oh King Joseph, most conceited and decadent of all. Because you forgot we had plans for dinner.”

“S’that what we had? Plans?”

“Yeah, I blocked off time for you and everything.”

“Talk about most conceited,” he grabbed the takeaway box and started walking towards the kitchen to dispose of it and this conversation, but you were hot on his heels.

“Excuse me what was that?”

“You heard me, conceited,” he threw the box in the bin and then turned back towards you. “Lemme pencil you in on my calendar, Joe. Dinner, Sunday, 8 o’clock does that work?” He mimed holding a notebook and jotting down the appointment. 

“Have you lost your mind? That’s what I need to do if I want ten minutes to myself, let alone a whole dinner. You know I didn’t even put sleep on my calendar for this trip?”

“Lemme not even say good morning because I have a call I need to get on Joe, thanks for the biscuits.”

“Did you miss the entire point of me being in London when I sent you my itinerary? Or did you think this was just me coming to fuck you for two weeks?”

“Maybe not the whole two weeks,” he sneered at you. “But even a how was your day would have been nicer than being treated like the hotel manager.”

“At least the hotel staff cleans shit up,” you scoffed at him. “You know I went out for drinks the other night, went to that pub you told me about, because we finally figured out a contract and I spilled wine on myself. Came back here to throw it in the wash only to find the machine full of dirty clothes. That was really fun to see your stained and faded tighty whiteys at the top of the load. Were you just waiting for the maid service to come back to start the wash for you? You’re so famous now that can’t even hit the damn button yourself?”

The next scathing remark stopped dead on his tongue at that, and then he felt the shame build up.

But only for a moment, because before he knew it, you were crossing the distance and smashing your mouth to his. It was a quick play for control as usual, neither of you caring that you’d just butt heads because the real winner would be whoever could succeed at your little game first; he was in such a mood, such a state, that he actually tried to put up a fight, wanting to get you to cry out for him like he’d been wanting all week. Wanting to be wanted, needed.

He pulled away to remove the bridge from his mouth, mindful of the complaint you’d made about kissing him last time you’d met up, and you did something unexpectedly delicious.

“You rich rat,” you growled at him as you tugged his shirt free of his waistband with one hand and started working his belt loose with the other. “You better be wearing clean underwear right now so help me god.”

And damn if he didn’t get hard just from your words alone. 

The aggressive snap of his belt hitting the tile floor also helped.

“They should be,” he grinned cheekily and pulled your sleep shirt over your head. “Agnetha did a load before you got here.”

“You’re pathetic.” You worked the buttons of his shirt as quickly as you could. “How much is this shirt? ’S it dry-clean only? Does she take your dry cleaning in too? Bring it back and make sure it’s folded nicely only for you to shove everything in the drawer anyway. Like the useless boy you are.”

Yeah that was doing it for him.

“She washes the sheets too.” He dropped to his knees before you now as you leant against the counter, fully intent on pleasing you right here in the kitchen. “Changed them right before you got here. Shouldn’t be any more questionable stains.”

“Useless,” you hissed at him but ran a hand softly through his curls as he kissed along your abdomen and peeled your leggings down your legs. “Utterly useless.”

The thing about you though was your self-restraint, your discipline. You didn’t like to lose; you’d deprive yourself of things to get some advantage over your adversaries—usually corporate adversaries—and come out on top. And you made that very well known in the bedroom too when this little game got started. You’d gotten him to cum easily the first time you slept together and then used him to chase your own pleasure, commanding his mouth and tongue here and fingers there. 

Just like you were doing now. No moans, just little hitches in your breathing as you steered his head and used the leg you’d thrown over his shoulder to bring him deeper into your center. 

When you got close to completion, you used the upper hand again to push him away and you both descended together. His trousers and pants shoved down to his knees with his shirt bunched up under his head so he wouldn’t be sore from smacking it against the tile when you sunk down onto him. And when he felt the delicious squeeze of your cunt, he couldn’t help himself from throwing his head back; good for you to have the foresight. 

He had the foresight too though. He knew your moves, they made him see the light of God, seductress that you were. You told him your secret once as you basked in the afterglow when you’d rendered him particularly speechless.

“Spell the word coconut.”

“C-o-c--“

“No, I spell the word coconut. As I’m on top. Read it in a magazine or something during my last layover.”

And he could feel it now, predict it. Feel the motion of your hips, around and around and up and down and squeeze.

He couldn’t tell just by looking at your face, he had to feel it; close his eyes and feel the tempestuous slide of you over him, bringing him higher.

Maybe he would win the game tonight?

He wasn’t one to lose either; he could be competitive just like you. In fact, he was excellent at manipulating a situation in his favor. School, money, life. And with you he’d won enough times to know it could be done. You’d made him feel so…meaningless over the past week—even if he’d misunderstood and overreacted—that a win would be even better than the pleasure itself.

You pried one of his hands off your hip where it was clinging for dear life and directed him to play with your clit so you didn’t have to. For a moment, he lifted his head and watched his own nicotine-stained nails and your prettily manicured ones mingle against the engorged and glistening junction of your sex, and where any other time it would have him groaning at the sight, he couldn’t help but notice how disgusting his hands looked in comparison to your own. For a moment the confidence faltered.

When had he last washed them? Maybe you were right, he was gross and pathetic…

But then you moaned, and from his point of view It looked like it even surprised you even. You stuttered in your pace and your eyes went a little wide. 

He felt all the doubt leave him. 

He would win tonight…

He took advantage, used his leverage, to turn the tables. To sit upright and guide you to take his spot; you couldn’t even protest before he pistoned into you, before his fingered took an unrelenting pace on your clit.

He could spell coconut too, and he did. He would tell you all about it after his victory. Boast over using your own tricks against you.

You watched him with unblinking eyes as your nails dug into his bicep and shoulder, as you bit your lip so hard he was sure you’d bite right through it, and you kept the little whine that emanated from your throat as soft as you possibly could. Still, he could hear it through the desperate, wet sounds of your fucking.

He closed his eyes and focused on the finish line, focused on keeping the tension of his mounting pleasure back as he could feel you grip tighter and begin to spasm around him. He needed to win, it would be glorious.

“Joe,” you moaned, and he thought it was over. But there, underneath the neediness, lay the condescension, the obvious upper hand. “Can you hurry up? I have a call at 7am”

He came, seconds before you did. Collapsed against you and spilled inside of you before you found your own release.

On his kitchen floor, spent, laughing together, basking in the ridiculous pleasure found in the presence of one another, another game came to an end.

And he might have lost, but in the end, did he really lose?

Happy Birthday asshole. I'm following you into 30 in 10 months with a vengeance.

No love lost, The better Jo(e) </3

[redsongcat]

If you are a Hoyoverse / HSR / Fate fan, please read this regarding Veeveey2k/Xinyismuu/blkneuvilette

TW: racism, mentions of grooming, harassment/doxxing, catfishing, sexual harassment, etc.

We would like to bring your attention to Merlin/Asa/Vee, an individual who was known in the Fate fandom, who is still racefaking, catfishing, and harassing minors under a false identity.

You may know her by the user VeeVeey2k, neuvibao, or Xinyismuu in the Honkai star rail community, which she has joined earlier this year pretending to be a blasian. Her Tumblr user at this very moment is @/blkneuvilette

It is crucial that we document down this person's online activities, as we have also included new evidence of catfishing by directly contacting various victims for confirmation of details. In addition to linking the document, we will also be providing a condensed version of the contents below "Read more", but we strongly urge you all to read the document for full context.

Reblogs are strongly appreciated, stay safe.

Firstly, we strongly recommend you to read through user @happyartisanreview's post regarding her comprehensive history of inappropriate conduct with minors. They also regularly update on the current users of Merlin/Vee.

We also recommend going through the last thread by user blusongbird001 on twitter, as they have also linked down other relevant threads on the site regarding her previous identities.

It has come to our attention, after being reached out to, and having reached out to multiple people ourselves, that Merlin (who is pretending to be a blasian called “Xinran”, nicknamed Vee), along with her friends/bf are holding NSFW conversations in her server full of minors, as well as harassing/threatening to doxx various victims in the fandom.

INAPROPPRIATE INTERACTIONS WITH MINORS

I cannot stress this enough. It is so incredibly inappropriate for someone of such a history to continue to purposefully put herself (and her boyfriend) within the same space as minors and subject them to NSFW conversations.

Especially when she herself has promised to not make any more servers with minors in the past. Yet she and her bf Mika/Mio (@/zxmikah on twitter) who has admitted to believe there were “links between merlin and Vee”, proceeds to have nsfw conversations about his bathroom habits in their server with minors as young as 13. This should not be happening at all.

HARASSMENT AGAINST MINORS (NSFW)

Merlin and her friends have also in the past few months, harassed several minors aged between 13-15, threatened to dox them, allowed NSFW comments/harassment to be made by her friends towards these minors All with absolutely zero attempts to even stop or regulate her server either.

And as Merlin/Vee’s boyfriend was an active participant in harassing the victims mentioned, we were also requested to include this thread that was made last month regarding his islamaphobia in the Genshin community.

Merlin/Vee has also found the address of the underaged victims, referred to as “C” in the doc, and claimed in her own public server that she can “just decide one day to drop her house address”. For context, Merlin currently racefakes as a Chinese nicknamed “Xinyi”

Needless to say it is incredibly inappropriate and weird of Merlin/Vee to keep track of a 13 year old minor (who has already blocked her at this point), and claim that the minors’ family circumstances were a result of Merlin practicing Juju..?

CATFISHING

Merlin/Vee has also CATFISHED complete strangers on her previous AND current alt, claiming these individuals to be her sister and parents, all the whilst fabricating their family history, race, occupations, and even claiming emotional abuse while using their faces.

We were fortunately able to reach out to two of the catfished individuals, and discovered that the “father” and “sister” merlin/Vee claimed were hers were in fact FROM THE SAME FAMILY. They both have NOTHING to do with Merlin, Vee, Xinyi, Tiana or any other names she goes by.

We were given full permission by Luisa to post the screenshots above. Luisa and her whole family are aware of what has transpired and that their photos were used without their consent. We have also handed over every relevant information and lies Merlin has spread all the way from last year on her alt up to this month on her current account that may possibly endanger or defame Luisa’s family in any way.

Merlin claiming her father works in the Big 4 of Ireland, using Luisa's father's photos. Luisa has already confirmed that this is a lie.

We also want to point out that Merlin has catfished this family as her own on her PAST ALT with no regards to real life consequences at all.

There is absolutely zero reason and justifications for any of the things said and done by Merlin/Vee towards her dozens of victims, past and present. Especially when she is committing acts of harassment towards minors under a false identity and defaming someone else’s family.

more examples of her trying to pass off random strangers as her relatives.

RACEFAKING AND RELIGION RELATED MATTERS

Regarding her racefaking- This is a topic that many of us have already gone over again and again. I, along with many other fellow Asian contributors are deeply exhausted at this point to even have to fight on what has already been proven.

No matter how much she tries to convince people that she is related to Ramses II, that shes Chinese Hokkien and attends “marriage tea parties” arranged by her great aunt, that she’s related to the families she catfished- She has never been any of these and never will be.

Keep in mind that Merlin (who claims to be Chinese) has a TikTok account dedicated to posting translations for HSR. If she is indeed Chinese and a mandarin speaker, how did she manage to mess up such a simple phrase this badly? Did your DeepL hit the usage limit that day?

And as per her old habits of finding new nationalities to collect every week, she has also recently started identifying as part Filipino, East Asian, as well as Indian again. All the whilst claiming that Hokkien and Vietnamese are alike. (They are nothing of the sort).

She also has a long history of pretending to be a muslim all the whilst saying things like this.

Threatening to call people by racial slurs when she's racefaking.

HER IDENTITY

Merlin/Vee has repeatedly built up the inconsistencies towards her own identity, race, culture, nationality and religion while exhibiting discriminatory behaviour towards the multiple communities and other religious groups that she is not a part of.

Going so far as to catfish people she has mutual friends with and use their family’s photos to spread lies about their father simply shows Merlin’s delusions regarding the “lack” of consequences of her own actions.

Merlin seems to have forgotten that she posted her own BIRTHDAY information on her previous alt, which we have already proven to be her account. The birth year shows 2004, not 2001.

How convenient is it that “Xinyi” shares the same birthday, surname, location, catfish victims, IRL social circle and even face and injuries when she has claimed she knew nothing about Merlin?

HER CURRENT SOCIALS

As Merlin:

Tumblr:@/kireijobmaker

As Vee (active):

Instagram: @/veeveey2k

Tumblr: @/blkneuvilette

Tiktok: @xinyismuu

Twitter: formerly @veeveey2k, @muutxt

People involved in the harassments:

Mika/Mio (Merlin/Vee's boyfriend): @/zxmikah

Zaf: @/skyfonz on tiktok

London (Merlin/Vee's "cousin"): @/zawgawaw

[warden-melli]

Small Melli headcanon, if you will...

The 'flying croissant' line makes me want to think Melli either actually has family in Kalos, or pretends to have Kalosian roots. Japanese people tend to have a bit of a romanticised view of France and Paris, so it'd be pretty funny to imagine Melli occasionally using French to seem more elegant and refined!

Nice catch! A lot of people seem to miss the Melli French/Kalos connection, so it’s cool that you picked up on it! I’ve actually posted several analysis/theory posts about this before, so it’s always a topic I’m keen to discuss!

I firmly believe that he does have Kalosian ancestry, as hinted at in several point during the story, so I’m fully with you there. As for him only pretending to be Kalosian? It’s an interesting headcanon that’s for sure, and would make sense for a character that is so focused on projecting a certain image like Melli is, but I think there’s several factors that make that unlikely, at least for me to subscribe to it personally

It’s important to note that Melli actually speaks French several times during the game, so I think it’s pretty likely that he has some real connections to Kalos. We know that the Diamond clan are the descendants of immigrants who came across the sea to settle in Hisui, so I think it’s pretty likely that he could be the child of Kalosian immigrants, and that he’s learned the language from them. Mai confirms that he grew up with the Diamond clan, and with the clan being as isolated as they are, I can’t really think of another way he would even be aware of Kalos, its language, or of the way its perceived culturally without some sort of family tie to educate him. Especially as no other member of the Diamond clan shows any knowledge of the French language, or displays any overt references to its culture. It seems to be unique to Melli and seems to hold a great significance to him, which is a super interesting aspect of his character

You’re right! While it’s very true that the Japanese have a romanticised view of France, that comes from a long history of positive interactions between the two countries. This includes trade, cultural exchanges, and immigration. If we assume that the Pokémon world’s versions will the two countries share a similar history, I think it’s very likely that Kalosian immigrants could have settled in Hisui, especially as we know those outside trade connections are only being established at the time PLA takes place

It’s also important to note that when Melli does speak French/Kalosian, it is always in context, and is alternated into his “regular” speech, a phenomena common to people who are bilingual, or are the children of people who speak a language at home that’s different from the one most commonly spoken in the area they live in. There’s even the croissant line itself, which can be interpreted two ways. The first, that when he calls Cresselia a croissant, that he is referencing the pastry. Something he really shouldn’t be aware of growing up in an isolated Hisuian clan. The second is that he was actually just alternating speaking French, and was just commenting on cresselia’s moon (or crescent) shape, as opposed to saying she resembled the pastry (who is also named for its shape. Croissant is literally the French word for crescent) Either way he seems to have a knowledge of Kalosian language/culture that seems unusual/impossible for someone who grew up in Hisui, far away from Kalos or any Kalosian people

I think for me though one of the biggest problems with this as a theory is that the Diamond Clan is small, and as mentioned earlier it’s confirmed that Melli grew up with them. It wouldn’t make sense for him to pretend to be Kalosian if he actually wasn’t, when he grew up in a community where everyone knows him, his family, and could easily disprove any false claims. The Galaxy team has only been in Hisui for a short time (Jubilife village has only existed for 2 years at the time of PLA), and the Diamond and Pearl clans had limited interactions before the Galaxy team helped organise a truce between them. With this in mind we know Melli has had very minimal interactions with people outside of his clan for his entire life. There’s just no way I could see him getting away with a lie like that in such a small, insular community like the Diamond clan

Most importantly of all, Melli never actually ever claims to be Kalosian at any point. Melli’s overconfidence is a deliberate persona, and one that isn’t exactly subtle. If he wanted you to perceive him as Kalosian, he would outright tell you, as opposed to dropping subtle hints

But, as a headcanon it’s really fun, and is an interesting way to interpret Melli’s seemingly random Kalosian references, and I think it fits really well with some aspects of his character. Personally, I believe that Melli pretends to be a lot of things, but Kalosian just isn’t one of them

This is just my personal opinion, based on my own interpretation though, and it fine (and cool) that you perceive him differently ^^

[maegalkarven]

Family matters AU. Levi and Noah's meeting throught Levi's POV.

Levi knew it long before he asked. Long before he opened his mouth at all, actually.

It is universally acknowledged truth amidst the druids what everyone moving on two feet is a dirty liar.

This societal conviction grows out of another known to the druids fact; emotions have smells.

Emotion is a chemical reaction of a body to some outside stimulus, and, as any chemical reaction, it provides an echo. A mix of hormones getting into the blood, extra sweating or unusual heart hate, the rise of the body heat or the sudden drop of it.

Emotions control such reactions and thus provide the outlet for the body to process it.

Thus the smell changes.

It almost never fully aligns with the way two feet walker presents themselves, does not back up the words spoken aloud.

They all are liars: humans, elves, dwarves and halflings, mixed breeds of all kinds, children touched by Hells.

Everyone lies; their smell does not.

So, naturally, as a talented druid of his own, Leviathan Anchev always relies on the smells first, they have never let him astray before.

Not what he can remember.

So this is what catches his attention when it's more wise to pay it to a fight.

The smell.

The ghostly-light wiff of another living being in the building.

A child. A particularly strange smelling child.

This is what leads him to abandon the fight at all, rather recklessly even, and follow the scent to a small alcove with steep stairs leading up.

This is what makes him climb the steps, effortlessly discard of several alerted by his presence guards and stop in front of a locked door.

This is what makes him blast the darned lock to ashes, turn on the knob and step inside.

The smell.

The intricate mix of personal odor of two people combined.

It is another universally aknowledged by druids truth what children often smell as a combination of their parent's scents. It stirs from the primeval biology and the way the child is inevitably a product of two genomes interwoven, combined to a new, previously unexistent mix.

One is his.

Another belongs to Gortash.

It is also a thing what helps animals track their cubs, no matter how far they've gone.

Levi is very much that animal now.

And he knows; he knows even before he sees the boy with the dark hair and Gortash's face, sans the crooked nose and dark shadows under his eyes. He knows before infernally bright green eyes peer at him curiously, his own gaze reflected back at him.

He knows before the child stumbles from the sofa he was sitting on, transfixed by some odd board game.

He knows and something deep inside him aches and burns and twists.

His. This little boy with faint freckles scattered across cheeks is his.

But two-legged creatures are liars, and Levi is currently one, so naturally, he is too.

And he lies. To the boy he just met yet loves more than is reasonable, to himself, a man not allowed such affections, to the whole situation itself. He lies and pretends he Does Not Get it.

He lies and intruduces himself, he lies and chats the boy up as his father climbs the stairs, no doubt brought up by some kind of alarm system.

He lies even as Enver Gortash's body betrays him, his own scent betrays him, letting Levi know not only of the man's presence, but the sudden, wild and uncontrollable gush of affection.

The boy is the source of it. No, the boy and him, interacting with each other.

Just what kind of a tragedy Levi managed to leave behind?

But he keeps the rouse, asks the questions, and finds more than he had any right to know.

His voice trembles and his hands tremble and finally he snaps, because he is not a wild animal and he needs to hear the confirmation spoken aloud.

It is spoken aloud, with the smile so false it reeks of its owner being wary, ready to open fire at the mere hint of his cub being in danger.

That revelation is worse than knowing he and Gortash were involved. That revelation lets him know the child is loved and, if the total lack of fear from the boy is of any indication, is treated fairly.

That's a low blow.

His voice trembles as he tries to calm the child - his child - down as the boy - Noah, Noah - sobs, hands wrapped around Levi's neck in a strongest hold they can muster.

He can smell a fury of conflicted emotions tearing at his companions, and cares not. Not even for Astarion's, who seems to be affected even more than Karlach.

Instead he concentrates on the intoxicating scent of him and Gortash intertwining, joining in this child, the product of their creation.

Their child.

He kisses Noah's forehead and tastes the expensive soap what was used, he buries his nose in his hair and it smells of herbs. He closes his eyes and melts away, merging together with a creature what was once inside his body, whom he had grown, muscle and bones and sinew, from his very own flesh.

Flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood.

His son.

[liliallowed]

thorn bound souls 1

a dusttale soul-mate fic (anomaly x sans)

warning tags:

-dark

-corrupt/forced soul bond

-manipulation

-self sabotage

-suicidal thoughts (no attempts)

-not a fix you fic

-hurt

-imprisonment

-mutual yandere tendencies

again. this IS a sans x anomaly fic. just reminding :) and it's a choice game! each part has a choice! I'll make a poll and you can chose the interaction!

summary:

after making a deal with the devil sans has to deal with the consequences of developing feelings he never asked for. luckily LV solves half of his problems.

he felt the sickeningly sweet pulse again.

there was no indication of them visiting him but he knew he KNEW each time.

the new sense of surveillance he had over them being close by gave him a sense of control. a sense of power. he was in charge. of course he wouldn't just let them off the hook.

he really didn't take them for such a hopeless romantic. or an idiot... but that could only mean that THEY REALLY HAD feelings. because love made people do dumb stuff like being coerced to give away their immortality for forgiveness he lied he had in himself.

"idiot" he grinned.

he had their lifeline. if he killed himself the world would reset by result of their soul shattering along with his.

using the soul bond as leverage was the last thing he expected but it still was technically more "ETHICAL" than murdering the entire monster population...

and they both deserved to suffer together anyway. two birds with one stone!

it wasn't still a direct influence over the save but... with this much he could still pull some strings to mess with that narcissistic fool with a god complex.

he had control. he had control. he was in control.

they thought that they could just fix everything with a small apology. props to the act, they'd surely win an award with those crocodile tears. they even went through the trouble to antagonize a common enemy and defeat the demon FOR him as a display of absolute loyalty and affection...

...

his none existent ass.

he smiled through it all. pretending... waiting... until they let their gaurd down.

"do you believe even the worst person can change? "

they thought that they could just whisper sweet nothing and have their happy ending with him?

oh that was absolutely hilarious. sometimes he wondered how STUPID they thought him as. as if he was a one dimensional fictional character to them.

"only if they decide to"

well on way or another he WAS slowly creeping up and catching back up to them. not in LV or exp but with wits.

*buddum*

the pulse was stronger.

he hated it. hated how his mind and soul would clash. the way he'd be stuck in a trance unable to think... to act.

it was invasive. it fucked with his mind more than he liked to admit.

emotions manipulating his actions and an involuntary urge to protect this freak. to comfort them. to ask them about their day or... WHATEVER cheesy ass things bonded people did.

he wanted to puke.

he'd be worried he was actually in love if he wasn't confident in his LV fighting back the love.

more. he needed more he needed to drown it out. he wasn't going to be another pawn. he WAS IN CONTROL OF THESE CHAINS. not these fake FEELINGS. not THEM.

he let out a sigh calming himself.

one way or another these forced "feelings" would take over. he just had to make sure to go down kamikaze with them.

he could feel the "love" slowly chipping away at his hatred and pacifying him.

it made him want lash out even further.

it felt suffocating. like a silent scream being drowned out by a peaceful slumber.

it felt BAD that it felt so warm and good. he knew HE KNEW it was because of his souls chemistry. his falsely happy lil piece of shit magic that wasn't numbed by LV, rejoiced.

nothing but heavy coded dumb mushy monster instincts.

he wished he didn't have soul sometimes.

humans didn't HAVE that problem. they were out of tune with their magic and souls by default making it much easier for them to raise their LV.

he wanted to bash his head against the wall.

a clear disadvantage on his part but he STILL had some tricks up his sleeve. if he could only get rid of the bond the MOMENT he killed them... without dying himself...

this could be fixed.

problem was that they weren't oblivious.

they KNEW he would stab them in the back given the chance and had the entire mosnter race fooled by heroism.

oh how valiant. they saved everyone from being murdered by the crazy judge. how fucking heroic.

he cackled.

it always give him the ick. how they treated everything as a stage play. so disconnected so... fake and empty.

the ambassador forcing their way back to a Pacifist ending DESPITE his efforts.

"you lost. I still own your fate."

he could practically hear them snickering playfully like an eight old pulling a cheap prank.

guess all anomalies had such standards for pranks.

so why weren't they laughing when he killed them? he was telling them a joke in THEIR OWN language.

they liked things extreme.

"wouldn't it be funny if I did it instead?"

" why aren't you laughing? it was just a prank. it's not like you can't bring them back right?"

the irony. oh the sweet irony.

it was a bit childish. like a classic "no you" a child would say in retaliation... but seeing the absolute shock on their face...

it gave him a sense of euphoria. it felt... like he was for a second... ahead of them.

that they DIDN'T expect this. that they WEREN'T a god they pretended to be. that they WEREN'T ABOVE THE CONSEQUENCES.

a weakness that he had CONTROL over. HE COULD LAUGH AT THEM. HE COULD WIN.

his eyelights locked onto the door feeling the magnetic pull behind the wall.

"didja miss me?"

he grinned looking at you as you entered the room.

yes               ❤️              yes

he watched you pause with confusion with a small chuckle.

he could see the gears turning in your head. you looked slightly creeped out by it. as if he had BROKEN a certain "rule" or expectation of yours. your SOUL was unique. your EYES were unique too. so for it to aknowledge your will, there were some... complications.

"c'mon it's not like I'm messing with your head more than you are with mine" he shrugged nonchalantly.

No            ❤️             yes

before you could reply however he interrupted you with a swing of his magic, trapping your soul in place. 💙    

[bracketsoffear]

OK, I genuinely believe Eveline might be better than Gog-Agog, but this is the first time a KSBD character has made it to Round 2, so I'll do some propaganda for Gog-Agog while I can:

She's narsty.

She's real narsty.

Her true nature is basically that of a massive multiversal infection. Her ability to infect and assimilate others has given her a massive cult that worships the Worm-Queen as a god, imitating her current style and aspiring towards being eventually assimilated by her.

Pictured above are members of her court--note that two of them have her facial lines, which could be emulation of her, but could also be indicative of having become more Gog-Agog.

And of course, as evidenced by the size of the flesh moon (all of which is her worms), there is a shit-ton of people who've been Gog-Agog-ed. When the author says that "Gog-Agog rules and controls entertainment in Throne and is considered a major celebrity there. Outside of that, her worlds are a mess, her empire largely self-consuming," that may not entirely be a metaphor.

As for the figurative aspects of Corruption, she has less of that than Eveline, but it's worth noting her interactions with Allison in King of Swords:

She introduces herself to Allison--a stranger and enemy of the Demiurges--as "Your pal."

And then she's shocked that Allison reacts to one of the god-emperors who having been keeping her ex captive and brutally ruling the multiverse by punching her.

Then there's her pitch--"People always wanna feel good. Satisfied. Pretty. Happy! Hey! Try it out yourself! Eat this worm! If you eat it, you'll become me! And being me is reaaaally fun!" Gog-Agog promises to fix everything you don't like about yourself, fill the holes in your life, make your dreams come true, bring you eternal happiness--and all you have to do is eat a piece of the parasitic hive mind and become her.

Gog-Agog is Bugsnax if the facade was less cute and more clown.

And when that doesn't fool Allison, she switches to another tactic:

She plays on Allison's affection for Zaid (insofar that she doesn't want him held prisoner or dead) by offering to help her win the Ring of Power to save him...with the implication that if Allison refuses her, Zaid dies. At the same time that she's coercing Allison, she insists on keeping up the "friendliness," flattering her (the buff Allison in the first image) and calling herself Allison's "BIGGEST FAN!!" Of course, being Allison's "pal" only lasts until siding with Allison doesn't cater to her whims, at which point she immediately ditches Team Stop Jagganoth and leaves them all to die because "I'll be fine." She cares about Allison not as a person, but as a tool to get a good show and stick it to Solomon David for offending her.

And Gog-Agog is not just too out of it to realize what she's doing. She can be very cruelly cunning and intelligent when she feels like it:

TLDR; Gog-Agog is a Flesh Hive if the Hive itself was sapient, and had infected+devoured billions of people using Bugsnax tactics (i.e. false promises of happiness in exchange for assimilation), pretended to be the main character's friend while also clearly just wanting to string her along for her own amusement, and also was a clown.

.

[vickysaurus]

I’m about two-thirds of the way through Harrow the Ninth, and while I found the early parts of the book somewhat tough to get through, I’m hooked at this point. Some thoughts:

I just got past the three AU chapters (Harrow and Gideon swap, Harrow at the ball about to meet the emperor’s daughter (who could it be???), BARI-star) and I loved them. It is interesting that it’s always Abigail who asks if this is how it happens, and that they (and the main false flashback storyline) contain a bunch of information Harrow did not know. That leads me to believe it’s more than just a false memory, but perhaps some actual alternate timeline tapped into using lyctoral powers. Or, since only the dead appear in the flashbacks/AUs and the people who actually survived get killed off without ever interacting with Harrow, perhaps it’s their actual spirits playing out an alternate past without Gideon. Either way, I agree with Abigail: I would’ve loved to see where the ball AU was going.

Protesilaus being a warrior-poet and Ortus having instant poet-on-poet loathing for him is my absolute favourite joke. I really hope we get more of it.

I have been thinking hard who the defector could be and who is likely to be the one to assassinate Jon/God, and my main suspects are Harrow herself and Gideon Ortus the First (I’m like 102% sure his name is actually Gideon and Harrow has some sort of perception filter to hear the name Gideon as Ortus).

-My main reasons for suspecting the Saint of Duty are his memory loss/the almost split personality thing he’s got going on, which makes me suspect he, like Harrow, may have deliberately erased some of his memory, maybe in order to never have John suspect him, as even he himself doesn’t realise what he’s doing. And what better cover for an imperial assassin than a man who is absolutely hellbent on protecting him against all reason? He also seems to have complicated feelings about Commander Wake, who I think is Gideon’s mum. I don’t know if that’s a spoiler I’ve seen on here and half-forgot (the name did sound familiar when it fell) or my own conclusion from the fact she disappeared about twenty years ago and there’s a poster of a red-haired person who hurts Harrow’s head to look at in the rebel shuttle. Also I have been spoiled that Gideon’s dad is George Washington and her mum did 9/11, and I’m figuring out what that means. ANYWAY all this is to say that the Saint of Duty has complicated feelings about her, she was last seen being chased by him, and Gideon’s mum died saying his name. Now that could have been in a ‘argh that fiend Gideon killed me!’ sort of way but also a ‘help Gideon I’m dying’ sort of way or maybe ‘name my kid Gideon after that cool Lyctor who’s been helping us’ way that the Ninth house correctly interpreted.

Harrow is my second suspect. When I started thinking about the Saint of Duty Zaphod Beeblebroxing himself so he could assassinate the emperor without ever being suspicious, I realised that applied to Harrow too! We’re dealing with two characters with memory loss, and while it seems like the explanation for what Harrow did to herself was simply wanting to forget Gideon, what if there was more to it? Now Harrow may be fanatically devoted to John God, but she is at least as devoted to The Body, aka A.L., aka Annabel Lee, aka maybe the Alecto I’ve seen mentioned, aka the person literally prophesised to kill him! She’s been haunting Harrow heavily (one of at least two people haunting her, because I think the narrator is Gideon Nav and is also doing so) and I think maybe she and past!Harrow have set up Harrow so that she can safely get in Emperor God’s trust and he would never suspect her. And maybe they’re using Cytheria’s body for something? Except I think maybe Ianthe is the one making her shuffle around and pretending she has no idea what Harrow is talking about. Either way, even if the Saint of Duty is right and Harrow is the future imperial assassin, that probably doesn’t mean she’s the one giving information to Blood of Eden, since I get the impression that’s been going on for a while.

Other suspects: Augustine (presumably first in line for the throne, awfully willing to help kill off the most protective lyctor just before they need all hands on deck for the resurrection beast), Ianthe (her sister is in Blood of Eden, I think is puppeteering Cytheria and gaslighting Harrow about it, would have had the opportunity to fuck with Harrow’s brain and maybe use her for it that way too), John himself??? (Probably not)

Okay conspiracy board ramblings over. Other thoughts: Blood of Eden are definitely the good guys, right? John seems like a pleasant enough guy, but he and his lyctors are out and about killing entire planets and are the rulers of an extremely fucked up 10000 year old dictatorship holding what seems to be the entire universe in their grip.

“None houses with left grief” hit me like a fucking truck. I believe that is John forcing the meme, not Tamsyn Muir, and shows that he in fact lived as a normal human being in our time, before the apocalypse he briefly described.

[sheepwithspecs]

Lately I can’t seem to get the idea of a short CarvRhos fake dating/marriage fic out of my head, but despite knowing certain scenes I want to write I still can’t get a solid plot to actually follow through with it.

It’s the kind of plot stream of consciousness I’d usually write about on Twitter? X? TWITTER, but it’s hard to make threads that other people will actually see and be able to interact with, especially now that replies are being automatically hidden unless you’re a paid user.

Anyway! About this plot.

For one thing, both of them are a high profile status in LL; everyone and their mother is going to know these two are NOT actually married (despite what the Herald continues to claim). And neither of them are the type of person who would feel insecure about being single—at least, not in the conventional, trope-heavy sense.

It’s often played for laughs that Rhoswen is not quiet about her crush on Carvallain, but neither does she seem embarrassed or uncomfortable about the fact that she’s a single woman in her late thirties. If anything, the only emotion she ever shows is annoyance that her efforts are (presumably) going unnoticed by the man due to catastrophically comedic timing.

If that’s the case, then it must be Carvallain who makes the initial claim, and thus has to humble himself by asking her to help him keep up the ruse. But why would a self-made merchant of means with no ties and virtually no obstacles need to make such a claim in the first place? The most obvious answer would be towards Charlemend, but even then… why claim that he is married?

The only reason I can feasibly think of is that it would be a good way to make some (false) ties outside of the Durendaire name. You could call it something of a contingency plan, just in case Charlemend ever decided to press him on returning to Ishgard indefinitely. Purposefully kept vague so that he could change the details as he saw fit, depending on the social climate. After all, how could he possibly return to a home where his dearly beloved spouse would be eschewed and looked down upon for the unfortunate circumstances of their birth?

Unfortunately, that plan did not include his father becoming much more open and accepting of those not of highborn blood. Now both he and his spouse have been invited to spend a holiday in Ishgard… but there’s no spouse to be had.

Or is there?

I’m still a little fuzzy on the other details, but I think it wouldn’t be more than 4-5 chapters at most. I also thoroughly enjoy the idea of Charlemend knowing from the moment he sees them that his son is lying through his teeth, but he enjoys Rhoswen’s “vivacity” so much that he’s willing to pretend along with them for the sake of the bit. And, of course, the usual fake marriage tropes thrown in for good measure. The UST, the RST,  Carvallain unable to believe that Rhoswen is indeed capable of behaving like a civilized person, Rhoswen realizing that a good 65% of Carvallain’s posturing is a convenient façade to hide his true feelings…. You know, the usual.

[scarletooyoroi]

Are you happy with how your favorite canon muse was portrayed in canon? In what fandom did you start? What’s something you find weird on here?

Are you happy with how your favorite canon muse was portrayed in canon?

I want to personally take advantage of making this Genshin-esque, primarily for Thoma's case!

While I'm certain you know quite well, I'm on the fence with Thoma's presentation in the story. Though, this leans in with a lot of the Archon Quest's execution in Inazuma in general.

When it comes to him being a character, how he acts and the things he does, absolutely love it. He really holds a noble brand of heart despite the more mischievous routes he'd take to accomplish his means. I say it makes for a really fun character to interact with, whether it's the approach of sweet and sentiment, to thorny, to outright confrontational. A wide lens of muses can create different interactions with him.

Though as for his place in the story? For the set up they gave him, I genuinely wished he was a more active force in terms of helping the Traveler and the Vision Hunt effort, as in with his whole ass body being there and suffering, thriving and working alongside the others.

While I'm not trying to have him say take a 5-Star's shine in term of story significance, the actions Thoma incited that day with this newly established ceremony would be an act that causes ripples all throughout Inazuma and the Shogunate faithful. I'd love to see the long lasting effects of such actions, compared to the 'neat and tidy' way they just cleaned it all up.

And by clean up, simply pretended all of that strife and struggle just didn't exist.

It would create some meaningful interactions for a lot of the cast if they could've swam through the situation and the many side instances it generated.

What’s something you find weird on here?

I'll take this question as for the state of RPCs in general on tumblr.

While I don't necessarily see this anymore as I'm apt at culling the content I see. It's two things. One was more primary here in my earlier experiences, and it was this sense of ~False Positivity~ that ran heavily rampant to the point it made my head feel nauseated. It really made some of my experiences/interactions here not only feel hollow, but always made me second guess if people were trying to learn/get close to me for some other reason outside of just sitting here and rp'ing.

It was also this oddly alienating thing at the same time?? Like if you didn't conform to this style of behavior, you really could find yourself tossed to the wayside.

Another element use to be vaguing in general. Never got involved with it, never intend too, but that was a Really easy way to make me go and avoid someone for the long term. It really fed into the atmosphere of just getting people paranoid. In turn, I've come to see a lot of communities just devolve into fighting for xyz pointless reason when more popular heads were swept into that kind of momentum.

Both of these examples pretty much boil down too, it was taking too many elements of the 'social' aspect of RP and bastardizing them, instead of this just being a simple hobby that people can relax and enjoy after their day.

@reginrokkr

[chubbycaucasianchristiancloseted]

“Fact-Checks” from the left are amazing!

“Fact-Checks” from the left are amazing! If it’s something negative about the left it’s “they said they didn’t do it, we couldn’t find any proof, so it’s “mostly false””, but when checking the police “even though they deny it, there is no proof that they didn’t do it so it must be “mostly true””.

Why did we completely believed the “private autopsy” the family got and no the official one form the Medical Examiners? Do people not have faith in our institutions? Was Chauvin allowed to have his own “private autopsy” completed and then believed?

The race card is played over and over again in this. Holding someone at gun point only gets you 5 years in prison? Apparently when “Big Floyd” got out or prison, in 2013, he turned his life around, was involved in church and served as a mentor….then why did he have so many narcotics in his system and why was his tolerance for these drugs so high? Ahhh probably just unlucky, the only time he ever had drugs in his system was also the only time he interacted with cops.

Direct Quotes:

As cities worldwide erupted in protests over the death of George Floyd — a Black man who died after a white police officer knelt on his neck for about nine minutes in Minneapolis

No one thinks that he should have died in his arrest, but what I find despicable to be is that everyone is pretending that this man lived a heroic lifestyle when he didn't. …I refuse to accept the narrative that this person is a martyr or should be lifted up in the black community. ...He has a rap sheet that is long, that is dangerous. He is an example of a violent criminal his entire life — up until the very last moment."

The claims in this meme are a mixture of true and false, as we'll document below. In brief, the alleged crimes and time periods are mostly accurate, with the caveat that Floyd was convicted of theft in 1998, not armed robbery.

Not all the crimes resulted in prison time, but rather jail sentences; no evidence suggests a woman involved in the 2007 charge was pregnant; it's an exaggeration of toxicology results to claim Floyd "was high on meth" when he was choked by a cop, and there's no proof that Floyd was "getting ready to drive a car" before his fatal encounter with police other than the fact that officers say they approached him as he sat in the driver's seat of a vehicle.

According to court records in Harris County, which encompasses Floyd's hometown of Houston, authorities arrested him on nine separate occasions between 1997 and 2007, mostly on drug and theft charges that resulted in months-long jail sentences.

As to the details of Floyd's arrests, the first occurred on Aug. 2, 1997, when he was almost 23 years old. According to prosecutors, police in that case caught him delivering less than one gram of cocaine to someone else, so they sentenced him to about six months in jail. Then, the following year, authorities arrested and charged Floyd with theft on two separate occasions (on Sept. 25, 1998, and Dec. 9, 1998), sentencing him to a total of 10 months and 10 days in jail.

Then, about three years later (on Aug. 29, 2001), Floyd was sentenced to 15 days in jail for "failure to identify to a police officer," court documents say. In other words, he allegedly didn't give his name, address or birth date to a cop who was arresting him for reasons that are unknown (the court records don't say why police were questioning him in the first place) and requesting that personal information.

Between 2002 and 2005, police arrested and charged Floyd for another four crimes: for having less than one gram of cocaine on him (on Oct. 29, 2002); for criminal trespassing (on Jan. 3, 2003); for intending to give less than one gram of cocaine to someone else (on Feb. 6, 2004); and for again having less than one gram of cocaine in his possession (on Dec. 15, 2005). He was sentenced to about 30 months in jail, total, for those crimes.

Lastly, in 2007, authorities arrested and charged Floyd with his most serious crime: aggravated robbery with a deadly weapon.

He pleaded guilty in 2009 and was sentenced to five years in prison. He was paroled in January 2013, when he was almost 40 years old.

Two days later, the county released a statement that attributed Floyd's cause of death to "cardiopulmonary arrest complicating law enforcement subdual, restraint, and neck compression" —which essentially means he died because his heart and lungs stopped while he was being restrained by police. That announcement came just hours after Floyd's family released findings of a separate, private autopsy that determined Floyd had indeed died from a combination of Chauvin's knee on his neck and pressure on his back from the other officers.

According to the county's postmortem toxicology screening, which is summarized below and was performed one day after Floyd's death, he was intoxicated with fentanyl and had recently used methamphetamines (as well as other substances)

More Specifically, Floyd tested positive for 11 ng/mL of fentanyl — which is a synthetic opioid pain reliever — and 19 ng/mL of methamphetamine, or meth, though it's unclear by what method the intoxicants got into his bloodstream or for what reasons.

But more complex is proving whether "he was high" at the time of his fatal encounter with police. While everyone's reaction to and tolerance for such drugs varies, and the effects of mixing drugs can be totally unpredictable

Also, Hennepin County medical examiners stated Floyd's blood levels made it seem like he had "recently" used meth in the past, not that he was peaking on a high from it, and the county investigators did not list the drugs as Floyd's cause of death, but rather as "significant conditions" that influenced how he died.

In January 2013, after Floyd was paroled for the aggravated robbery, people who knew him said he returned to Houston's Third Ward "with his head on right." He organized events with local pastors, served as a mentor for people living in his public housing complex, and was affectionately called "Big Floyd" or "the O.G." (original gangster) as a title of respect for someone who'd learned from his experiences. Then in 2014, Floyd, a father of five, decided to move to Minneapolis to find a new job and start a new chapter.

[newspecies]

🤥 all the gods

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

Mazgomoth - maz doesnt have a whole lot of REASON to lie, mostly because it's a hermit that doesn't have very many people to lie to, but if it had to it would state the lie with the same matter of fact-ness it does everything else. but if it was sitting or laying down at the time, it would fidget with its wings a little more than usual. The other gods know this tell, but the Dusk does not.

Loom - Loom is the PERFECT liar he loves to lie for fun, he thinks its so funny. his tell WOULD be that he's smiling the whole time but he's already smiling a lot so it's not noticeable at all. when he's lying to another god though he interrupting himself to laugh, so the others see through his shit all the time.

Kane - another perfect liar! unlike Loom, Kane can actually lie to the other gods and he WILL use this to his advantage. he doesn't have a tell.

Ifer - Ifer is fairly good just because interacting with mortals so often means they HAVE to lie a lot. Their tell is that they start licking their lips more than normal.

Creechur - Creechur wants to lie sooooo bad. unfortunately (or fortunately) he is very bad at it. He gets nervous and starts stuttering a whole lot. before Infallis being stolen from him, he was much more confident in general and was a fairly good liar. now though, he worries more.

Jack - Jack hates lying so much that if he tries he has to interrupt himself halfway through to tell the truth. the idea of spreading FALSE knowledge eats him up inside.

Arcane - has no tells because lying is kind of her whole thing. She loves when people don't know things <3

Pyxis and Cyphi - like Loom, these two think lying is sooo fun and so have a similar tell. while one is lying, the other is giggling the whole time (when theyre not saying things simultaneously anyway).

Terrag - just like a dream, Terrag can lie to you but later after you realize they were lying, the lie was way too weird to believe in the moment so you dont even know how they managed it.

Ran - Ran and Flee are a little weirder because their personalities are harder to pin down but I think Ran would be a good liar if she did have a set personality. She's a stalking predator, she can hide the truth.

Flee - Flee is the same. prey animals are accustomed to hiding and pretending to be something else.

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

@lil-stark Hello, OP here.

I have a few things to say so I'll put them in nice numbered list for the sake of organisation of thoughts and ideas. Does that sound good?

1. What I find funny is that you're functioning on the assumption here that Hindus are any less vicious when it comes to politicising religion. Even though, I'll argue that religion is inherently political due to it's very nature of influencing how people act and behave and it's occasional use as a tool of control by certain entities. But for your sake, I'll pretend that that isn't the case and that religion is wholly and uniquely free of any sort of politics. I don't say things about other religions because of one simple reason: it's not my religion so I have no business saying things about topics I have no personal knowledge of and experience with. When you say that I should try saying stuff about Abrahamic religions, you have decided that Hindus are more accepting than the other religions.(by which, I'm assuming you meant Christianity and Islam specifically) Take one look at our inbox and you'll learn that this is so false, it's laughable. I would like to extend an invitation to you to just look at the news and tell me that Hindus are lovely and accepting people when it comes to anything about any sort of perceived offense against Hinduism. If you still hold on to your decision, then I'm sort of jealous of the powers of denial that you wield.

2. This is such a weird post to be commenting this on as compared to literally any other post of mine. Because I was just talking about two separate books that I had read that had a similar conclusion about Krishna's philosophy and ideology. There's nothing offensive in the post. Unless, of course, you believe that communism is bad and that calling someone a communist is the equivalent of a gaali(curse-word, for anyone who doesn't speak Hindi). In which case, this is a separate issue that should be addressed but I won't be doing that because better people than me have already done and you should look it up.

3. I've literally never said that I'm quirky and unique for making memes. In fact, if you spent literally any amount of time actually reading through any of the multiple times I've explained my reasoning and opinions about it. But you're a person on the internet. You didn't have the time to go through other posts because that's not how the internet works. The internet is all about reacting in split seconds. Which is fair, I'll give you that. For this read to point 4.

4. The simplest rule of the internet is don't like, don't read/interact. Why is it that you and everyone who sends us comments like this acts like I'm somehow forcing them to look at my posts? Why is it that you and others act like it's your personal duty and crusade to inform me that I'm being disrespectful or "blasphemous"? I just don't understand how hard it is for people to look at something and say to themselves "eh, I don't agree with this" and simply move on. Why waste your time and mine on this? You are never going to see my point of view even if I tried to explain myself. You've decided I'm wrong so I'm wrong. Why waste your energy on making sure that I KNOW that you think I'm wrong? Unless you wanted that dopamine rush of being right on the internet. If that is so, then, CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'VE WON AND ARE RIGHT! Enjoy your victory, buddy. I wish you the best in life.

-Mod S

(It's actually not weird and I understand the decision completely but I just wrote it that way for the meme.)

-Mod S

[0011100101110011]

hi, can you do enemies to lovers prompts ?

˗ˏˋprompts : enemies to loversˎˊ˗

change pronouns as needed!

A drags B into a stupid situation. B could back out at any second and leave A to solve this problem alone… so they do. or maybe they don’t. it depends on who you portray B to be.

“you’re such a dumbass!” B’s words don’t hurt A at all. instead, they let out a condescending chuckle before saying, “but you put up with me.”

A is stuck on a level in some video game. they only know one other person that plays the game… and that’s conveniently B. so, despite a not wanting to, they ask for B’s help. once B passes the level for them, A expects them to boast about it… plot twist: they do, just in a playful, humble way.

“you mean nothing to me,” A would say to B. on the surface, A tends to believe it’s true. B has every reason to believe it’s true as well. together, the two had a messed up history and despised each other, but it still hurt to hear.

A and B get into a disagreement over something, but this time it’s not over anything stupid or petty. now they’re not even talking or interacting in the slightest. it feels odd not talking to B, and though A doesn’t want to admit they were wrong, if it means they and B can talk again, they decide it’s worth it.

A, B, and all of their friends have been invited to a dance/party. but all of their friends… well, they have dates, A and B don’t. they pretend to date so they don’t seem as lonely as they are. they didn’t treat each other differently than they usually do, but there was something about them “dating” that changed something about B. it made them feel something… something indescribable.

something awful happened to A. maybe someone died, maybe they’re going through a break up. they need comfort. the only issue is… it’s past midnight. all of their friends and family are asleep. B probably is too, but if they had to wake anyone up, they’d rather it be B. after all, A needs comfort more than B needs sleep. A hoped B saw it that way too. they must’ve after they spent all night comforting A until they fell asleep.

A drags B into yet another stupid scenario. they know B can call it quits at any given moment. when they see B developing an attitude, A assumes that moments coming soon, so in an attempt to make B stay, they commence conversation. asking how their family is, what’s been going on in their life… things like that. A seemed genuinely interested in their talk. for that, B stays.

rumors have been going around saying that A and B are dating. because of this, the two have to convince everyone that the rumors are indeed false. A corrects those who believe it, and goes off on those who ship it. B only corrects a few people. they don’t really seem to mind as much as they probably should. wonder why that is…

some assholes are intimidating B, but thankfully A comes around and verbally (maybe physically?) obliterates those jerks. (bonus points if A says, “only i can be a bitch to B. back off.” or something along those lines!)

kyman. this is literally just kyman prompts-

thank you for the request, anon! sorry that i’m not the best at enemies to lovers prompts. i tried my hardest with these. hope it’s okay!

[graveyard-ripper]

delxsive​:

               john propels her into sitting, and ivory grimes can hear only the ticking of a clock opposite her fragile form, every second rattling her bones as she wipes pitifully at tear-stained cheeks. the muffled sound of a male’s stern tone vibrates above her, followed by an unimpressed response that the doctor can only presume is her ’girlfriend.’ god, she is so embarrassed. features bury pitifully into her palms, even as footsteps ( two pairs ) descend the stairs ; she doesn’t want misty to regard her as so pathetic, so vulnerable.

              that request causes wide, watery eyes to glance up at john rucker, focused solely on the only person she favours at the moment. ❝ i do        ❞ despite that the scholar’s voice is barely above a whisper, this remark is lower, though she persists,  ❝ all i do is talk, and no one listens. ❞ both true and false. ivory grimes talks to her patients, to her students, to everyone. the doctor talks to get the answer that she wants, and she continues to pry out what lies underneath. in addition, people ALWAYS listen ( and not only do they listen, but they pay to do so. )  ❝ no one that matters. ❞ the scholar mumbles the words, eyes downcast towards the hands that wring in front of her, sleeves covered in smeared mascara.

     indignation still simmers underneath the skin, because ivory grimes pretends she is not equally obstinate. she misinterpreted a meaningless interaction and persisted in a ridiculous argument – despite that misty assured her there was no argument to be had. now john is involved, and a part of her wonders if the scholar is attempting to embarrass her in return. she never knows with her partner-in-crime. their relationship may be fake, but the complexities are REAL and just as difficult to navigate.

     frustrated tears leave fresh streaks down misty’s face. all she wants is for this to be over. an abrupt reflection of her inadequacy, she wishes for respite in the only person who understands: ivory grimes – yet seeks to shun her just the same. john is watching them. watching her, and misty knows whatever she says next must be honest. she cannot lie in such a raw state, and her brother will hit her for being disingenuous. ❝ i’m sorry, ❞ she sniffles, eyes fixed on the floor. ❝ you’re a good partner, ivy. better than i deserve… ❞