#like there’s making comparisons to your own relationships and then acting like those few comparisons are a character’s end all be all role

[apocalypse-boogie]

I do wonder what it is that makes y’all want to assign characters sibling/general nuclear family roles so instantaneously. Like, you’re the one superimposing the “sibling-like” or “parent/child-like” qualities pretty much eight times out of ten, not the media, and yet you’ll fight with such fervor with people who didn’t take leaps and bounds to get to the same conclusions you did regardless. The characters can’t all just be good ass partners or friends or overlords or mentor/mentee or have a potential future romantic/sexual relationship together. No, they have to be siblings, their bond has to be that of an older/younger sibling. This older character has to be this younger ones “new/other” parent, and the younger has to be their child, there is simply no other way. Just being a guardian or older figure/friend in a younger character’s life isn’t an option, the character has to be the younger ones father/mother or parentified brother/sister or aunt/uncle or grumpy cousin or some shit. What’s y’all’s obsession with assigning people nuclear family roles like it’ll kill you if you don’t? Why must the connection between characters be made explicitly into something familial or elude to potential blood relation for y’all to truly view it with importance? Where the fuck did that come from?

I’ll admit that sometimes the familial titles do fit headcanon wise (or are actively canon in a way I enjoy) but other times the way characters get forced into familial roles is just painful and limiting as fuck for characterization. Not to mention how y’all’s assigning and then forced implementation of these roles often just plain undermines the characters you don’t want to deal with but don’t want to seem bigoted for feeling that way about or traps minority characters in positional cages they can’t get out because y’all don’t want them with your perfect white characters romantically.

Got a group of boys in a team and couldn’t give a shit about the one or two girl characters? Pretend they just have so much of their shit together that there’s nothing for you to flesh out and that they’re like the boys’ mother so that’s why she’s so dull when you write her. And, you can use this same method to get black and brown characters out of your way as well!

Don’t want an interracial (usually where one character is black) couple to happen, especially in canon? Oh, just say they’re best friends and aggressively remind that to everyone at every goddamn turn. Or, alternatively, stress that they’re like brother and sister to you so you just can’t see them “that way” and tell that to fucking everybody even when no one’s asked.

Don’t want a third (usually female) character in a group of three to get “in the way” of your favorite (usually male) otp? Oh, just make her their daughter or (usually younger) sister. Bam! Problem solved!

Yes, I’m talking about Iron Dad & Spider Son. And Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, & Duke Thomas’s treatment in fandom. And Velvette from Hazbin Hotel and the way people treat her role in The Vees. And Damon Salvatore’s relationship with Bonnie Bennett’s treatment by TVD creators and fans (both the writing off of Bamon as a ship and ignoring of their strong friendship outside of being able to use it as evidence to further undermine Bamon as a romantic couple). And Doctor Strange and America Chavez in the MCU. And….

[ohnococo]

the opening of a shell / the shell that hides a pearl | Geto x F!Reader

Suguru supports you in all that you do, builds you up whenever he can, especially when he’s got you in his bed and hanging on his every word.

❥ WC: 2.5k

❥ Notes: a request for geto + praise, set in a canon-divergent AU where Geto didn’t defect and reader is a sorcerer with newly awakened powers - but as usual is 95% pwp

❥ Warning: fem bodied reader, praise, established relationship, geto is sort of a mentor to reader due to his experience, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, sweetheart, my girl, perfect girl), kissing, hickeys/marking, vaginal sex, creampie

minors/ageless blogs get blocked on sight

It’s hard to not be intimidated by your boyfriend. Even the knowledge that you and you alone are the one that gets to refer to him as that—your boyfriend—is enough to have you flustered sometimes.

Not flustered exactly… that isn’t quite the right word… and you do always struggle with coming up with the right words to describe your feelings around Suguru, because it’s too soon to use the first word that comes to mind.

Maybe it leaves you proud, or unsure, or even just dazzled that you have such an impressive boyfriend, and that he considers you to be the same. Impressive.

It’s strange how he manages to act as a mentor without making you feel as though you’re beneath him, guiding you and praising you for your skill as a sorcerer even though your experience���the largest division between you two—pales in comparison to his. You suppose he just has those innate leadership skills though, and feel lucky that he sees your potential.

He does his all to make sure you see it too, in every facet of your life. What you lack in cursed energy can be made up for with a carefully honed technique. What you lack in experience can be helped by the knowledge gained through experiences of his own. What you lack in confidence, even if that uncertainty forms for only a moment, can be built with your steadily building skill and Suguru’s mouth, in more ways than one.

It’s something he does with as much ease as anything else. When you doubt if you’re really suited for work you’ve been sent on. When you’re debating what to wear, or looking at yourself unkindly. When you look at him, so lost in his gorgeous appearance that you might have forgotten that there’s just as much beauty in your own. He’s quick to quell any doubts. And even in the absence of those creeping negative feelings, he’s quick to add yet another building block of confidence to what is already there.

Reminding you of the feats you’d managed to accomplish in the short time since your powers had awakened. Reminding you that he’s with you for a reason.

Or, like right now, by lying you back onto your bed quietly, spreading your legs in wait for his touch, kissing your neck and smiling at every noise you make, all while lilting out comments about how perfect you are for him until you’ve lost track of time completely, nevermind any lingering doubts.

“You don’t have to say all of that, Suguru…”

“I know,” he looks up at you through the few stray hairs falling down into his face, “but it needs to be said…”

He brings his mouth back to your skin, pressing kisses between your breasts, lips rubbing gently across the goosebumps forming from his attention. “Until you remember.”

Words from his lips fall with such a playful ease that it’s hard not to read into them. It almost muddies the waters for when he is being genuinely loving and affectionate like this - although maybe he was always being that way with you? Gentle guidance with a heart behind his hand as he helps you find the way to be your very best.

It’s a kind of confusion you find exciting, one you’re sure you’ll look back on fondly when you finally reach that point in your relationship where you can reveal your own hand to him fully. Though you’d be surprised if he couldn’t already see it. From the knowing smile you get with his sideways glance down at you as you steady your breathing under his praise. When you look to him before anyone else when dealing with a cursed spirit. When you clench and swell for him when he’s hardly even touched you, because his words are touch enough.

“Your skin is so soft…”

The first time he’d said it, before you’d even started dating, is when he grabbed your hand to help you up after getting thrown onto your back in training. You’d waved off the feeling it had built in you with an off handed comment about your moisturizer of choice—he’d found that cute the first time. Every time since, though, it’s said with a little more authority behind it. Suguru is stating a fact, that happens to be a compliment, and you’re going to take it for him.

You reach down to grab at his hand and he intertwines your fingers, squeezing in a way that you almost think telegraphs that he knows exactly the memory you’re thinking of.

“I’m talking to you pretty girl, look at me.”

It’s the least you can do, with the way he had your pussy drooling for him, and the way he was undoubtedly going to take care of that for you. Once your eyes have locked onto his, his face flashes from observing to adoring, soft smile tugging at his lips as he trails a hand down your stomach.

“Like I was saying, so soft.” His fingers make their way between your legs, pressing at your puffy lips through your panties, “Especially here.”

His smile widens in time with your brows furrowing at how intense such a small touch was after so much teasing and talking from Suguru. He presses into you again, this time with his finger settled between your lips, and he lets out an impressed hiss of breath at how your clit throbs for him, a breath you take in with the gasp his actions pull from you. Then, the pressure is gone, replaced with him softly gliding the pad of his finger upwards, petting so gentle it would have hardly been felt if you weren’t so desperate for more.

You tense, want to arch your hips upward, to get him to rub a little harder, and he chuckles like he knows, nose brushing at yours. It’s a move that sends your mind into a frenzied debate over whether to close the distance between your mouths, or to angle your hips up in search of the friction that you need. In the end, you do neither, because your focus is brought back to Suguru’s words: you want to hear them too much to kiss him. And once you’ve heard them you want to live up to them too much to chase your high.

“You know what you want, don’t you? But you’re so patient for me. Waiting until I’m ready to give it to you.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, bringing his mouth lower to whisper into your ear, and you’re grateful to have him close enough to be heard over the beating of your heart—but you suppose he knows all too well that he works you up into such a frenzy that it’s as if all your senses have dulled just to make sure you can savour every touch you receive from him.

Even now, the feel of his breath tickling at your skin is much more prominent than the words floating through the haze of lust surrounding you, though they’re always able to slip into the cracks of your mind.

“Want me to kiss it?”

You shake your head, and he leans back to meet your eyes, surprised at your response, before smiling again as he guesses at why you’ve declined. “You want it already? My needy girl… I love it.”

Hearing that word from him, even when it isn’t followed by that crucial ’you’, has a happiness bubbling up in your chest with such ferocity that you let out a little laugh, matched by Suguru and followed by a hungry kiss. It’s different from the small pecks or languid kisses you’ve gotten so far tonight. His kiss is sudden, hungry, something separate from his usual cool composure, and it pushes you to reach up to him. You slide your hands up the back of his neck, fingers dipping into his thick hair and running along his scalp.

He gives you the reins for that moment, letting you taste his lips, run your fingers through his hair, pull him so close he has to move his hands to either side of you on the bed to keep his full weight off of you. But you want just that, so you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him further into your embrace until he’s settled between your thighs, grinding into you gently. You enjoy your momentary detour, relishing in the feel of his tongue against yours, before you start to feel that lack of what it is you want most right now—his soft words.

Your kisses move to the corners of his mouth, along his jaw, and settle on his neck. When he lets out a groan, and his adam’s apple bobs against your lips, you’re emboldened to suck and lick at his skin there, letting whatever marks may form happen.

Without words, or without your words, Suguru knows exactly what you’re doing and exactly what you need, picking up where he left off.

“Trying to leave a mark?” If it weren’t said so playfully, it would have given you pause. “Good girl, let everyone know I’m yours.”

It makes his movements difficult, but he can’t pull away from your kisses, so instead he props himself up above you on one elbow while he works his pants down with the other, freeing his cock and letting it press against you as he stops for a moment to let the intensity of your mouth’s work against his skin wash over him. You make a move yourself, pulling your hand from his hair to pull your panties to the side, keeping them held aside as he groans at the feel of the underside of his cock finally being able to press against your wetness.

He stays like this, thrusting gently against your folds, giving you the slightest friction with wet, sensitive skin against skin, until he gives you the final say.

“Let me hear your pretty voice.”

You do it gladly, “I need it, Suguru.”

“No, sweetheart,” He finally pulls back, rubbing his nose against yours and tracing his tongue along your parted lips as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You deserve it.”

He swirls the head of his cock around your entrance, dipping in until just the tip is kissed by your warmth. “For being so strong,” he pushes in, just so the ridge of his thick head catches at your tightness as you clench around him with the anticipation of him sliding deep and fucking you as well as he always does.

“For being so open, so eager for me,” he gives you shallow thrusts, pausing his praise for just a moment to groan at the sticky sounds of him stirring up your pussy.

“For taking everything I-“ he presses deep, one thrust right to the hilt, that leaves him groaning as his eyes roll for a moment and you moan out his name in your own form of praise.

“For taking everything I have to give you in stride, and turning it into something more than I could have imagined.”

You want him to move, you need him to move, though not as much as you need him to continue on. So you curl your toes and hold your breath, trying your very hardest not to rock your hips into his, or clench around him, or do anything that would interrupt his words further until he’s ready to give you what you need—what you deserve.

“For opening me up, and letting-“ his jaw clenches and he lets out a huff, returning to shallow thrusts that slowly pick up in intensity as he speaks, until his voice is hitching just to get the rest of it out before your pussy draws him in too deep to keep his carefully crafted composure, “letting me spill myself into you.”

“You’re so good to me, so so good.” And that’s that, with his next words his pace is set, long and deep with hips rocking up just right to have you making noises you didn’t know could come from your lips, “My good girl.”

The sound of your bodies in motion replaces any words Suguru might have formed: hips slapping together, stomachs sliding against one another, heat squelching as you clench at him every time he’s buried deep. He moans every time your bodies are flush against one another, pressing more firmly each time as though he could find a way further into you. Instead, it slides you slowly up the bed, until your hands are pressing at the headboard, only intensifying the sound of it hitting the wall behind it, but neither of you are concerned. Not when you’re both so desperate to see the other break, to feel the other coming undone.

You get there first, Suguru always makes sure of it. When your back arches and your thighs start to tense, he kisses at your jaw, flicking the tip of his tongue at your earlobe before speaking low. “Don’t tense, don’t tense…”

You listen, as much as your body screams to do otherwise, and as you relax into the steady movement of his thrusts you feel like your whole body is pulsing with every slap of his abdomen against your clit.

“That’s my girl, just like that.”

It feels endless, like you’ll cum until there’s no more air to fill your lungs. As the waves peak and sweep you up, Suguru’s movements stutter, ever so slightly—enough to have you begging in the only way your body can manage as you let out a little whine.

“Ah?” He repeats it, stilted and playful even in his frenzy, and when your rolling eyes meet his he’s looking at you with warmth, devotion, something not entirely unlike the way you catch yourself looking at him. Then it’s like he’s heard your thoughts somehow, just by looking at you, but he wants them said aloud.

“Please?”

You nod, receiving the words he could see in your eyes and repeating them back now that he had formed them for you, “Please.”

He gives you what you’ve asked for, reaching his peak on the tail end of yours as he fills you with his cum, pouring it into you in throbbing waves as his thrusts turn to staggered, rough snapping of his hips until he’s letting his weight fall onto you completely. Your hands find their way back into his hair, running through it, sweat be damned, as he sighs gently.

He lets you hold him, kissing gently at your neck, before he decides he needs more air than he’ll get with his head buried there. He pulls out, slowly, rubbing at your waist to soothe the little shiver that goes through you at his absence, before he’s settling his weight back on top of you and resting his head on your chest. He presses a kiss there between your breasts, smiling to himself as he whispers.

“My perfect girl…”

banners by @//cafekitsune

[litnerdwrites]

"Rhysand had every right to be mad at Nesta for giving Bryce the mask. Cassian was right not to defend her."

Okay, so our issue isn't that Rhysand is mad at Nesta for giving up the mask. Logically speaking, giving up the mask was reckless and dangerous. She and the IC don't know Bryce like we, as readers, do. They don't know her story, motivations, or goals as we do. All they know, is that she has a power that their enemies are looking for, and if they let her go, their world as they know it may very well be destroyed. Especially after they saw the weapons that the Asteri/Daglan have. From a logical perspective, it makes sense that they don't trust her, so giving her the mask was too great a risk.

That's not the issue. It's never been the issue.

First, I think it's a little hypercritical for Rhysand to be so mad, since he, unapologetically, did the same thing to Tarquin. At least Bryce gave them assurances that she'd return the mask, assuming they'd succeed, through hostages. It would also be a way to make sure she wouldn't give in under torture, since that would mean opening the gate to where her family is and dooming them as well as Prythian. Meanwhile, Rhysand didn't even give the book back, or offer to make it up to Tarquin somehow.

That aside, however, Rhysand being mad makes sense. Rhys can be mad she's risked his people, his city and their world. Cassian can be mad that his home and family is in danger because of Nesta's reckless actions. That's fair.

What's not fair, is Rhysand threatened to kill her. What's not fair, is that Cassian let him.

No matter how angry he is, threatening his family/in law's (I'm not convinced he sees her as family at all tbh) with bodily harm. Especially when he's very capable, and (at this point) not proven that he's in any way unwilling to actually carry it out. He has no right to take it out on her in that way. That is verbal abuse. That is threat of bodily harm. He has no right to argue that females are safe in his city, because clearly, Nesta isn't safe in her own home above the city.

Cassian can be upset with Nesta for her decision. As a general, who's job it is to protect the NC, it makes sense he'd disagree with her choice and can be mad over it. However, standing back and letting someone threaten Nesta's life, in her own home, that's supposed to be her safe space, knowing damn well that said person could kill her if he felt like it.

It seems like common sense that once you get married or mated or whatever, your spouse becomes your family. While it's important to prioritise your other family, the safety, and comfort of your spouse should come first and foremost. Every relationship, and family, has their issues, granted, but resorting to abuse, and threats of violence to fix them, is wrong. Allowing others to resort to abuse is wrong.

It's not even the first time this has happened either. The last time he threatened to kill her, she was mentally broken and suicidal, and Cassian didn't stand up for her then either. Maybe Nesta shouldn't have said it the way that she did, but someone should've said it. The worst Rhys can be upset about, in that case, is her 'trying to upset Feyre' (but I've already made it clear a post or two ago how I don't think that was the case), and maybe about how she essentially broke into Amren's apartment, but both pale in comparison to what Rhys did, and should be put aside for a while.

Cassian needs to get his act together. Let Rhysand be mad at Nesta. Let him dock whatever salary I hope she's getting after the events of ACOSF. He's, unfortunately, technically, her employer, so he's free to cut her pay for a bit, suspend her from work for a while, or fire her from court matters, or even give her a few days worth boring paperwork to do. Those are normal, workplace punishments, and make sense, if he's really that mad (but we all know he won't since he needs to keep her and her powers under his thumb), but threatening to harm her when Cassian should draw the line.

The reason he's a terrible mate, isn't because he doesn't act like she's always right or take her side every time. It's because he lets other people (read Rhys) take things too far. Nobody has any reason to think that if Rhysand ordered Nesta to be killed the next morning, that he'd do anything to protect her. He may tried have stood up for her when she wasn't around once or twice in... The series (once in acofas, during that dinner, another time when they wanted her to find the trove, and once when he wanted her to be aware of the fact she can create a trove), but he backs down so easily, proving that if push comes to shove, he won't fight for her.

[cloudraker]

heyo! I saw ur post and wanted to ask for tfp decepticons with a winged! S/o

preferably with megatron, soundwave or shockwave and knockout! Like how they would react and act around them, or like how they would use reader to their advantage? (Not in a bad way)

Reader has a long wingspan (18 ft) and is bigger than a normal human? Like smaller than Arcee but bigger than average.

Please tell me if that’s too much for you! And ty! <3 stay safe

Ofc!! And no worries, it's not too much at all :) Thank you sm for requesting <3

TFP Megatron, Soundwave, Shockwave, and Knock Out with a Winged S/o

Under the cut :)

Megatron

Honestly probably doesn't even notice you're any different at first until you start zipping around

I would say that of the four he's the one that cares the least

That isn't to say he doesn't care at all, far from it! He's got more than a handful of schemes, plots, ploys, etc ready to use when the need should arise

Depending on how you fly and such, he might take your movements into consideration when it comes to his own flight or when training troops. The information gets passed on to Starscream for the latter, but he's still aware of it

He doesn't expect you to be able to keep up with him when he's flying, but he will commend the effort

He does expect your wings to be in peak condition; they're one of your defining features and something that he see as putting you above the rest of your species

If you're at all self conscious about your wings, he scoffs and tells you to take pride in what sets you apart. It's not great advice, but it's something

Soundwave

Enjoys running his fingers through your feathers if you'll let him

Despite being in a relationship, he's still got a job to do. If you're up for it, he'll ask you to do recon or survey areas that need to be scouted in a more subtle way

He's not above using your humanity for the benefit of the Decepticons, but he wouldn't knowingly put you in harms way

Of the four, he's got the easiest time helping you groom your wings due to how thin his digits are

He draws comparisons between you and Laserbeak at times, though he does keep those thoughts to himself

Shockwave

Dude has got plans and ploys in place to test things and ideas

At times it might feel like you're more an experiment than a partner

He's always more than happy to run tests on how far you can fly and how fast, how much weight you can carry and for how long/far

He's also rather interested in your biology, pulling up diagrams of a typical human body and comparing it to yours, trying to figure out why you're different

It might be hard to notice, but he's more careful when it comes to tests. It's one of the few ways he has to show he does actually care about you, and doesn't want to see you hurt if it can be avoided

If there's something you want to train towards physically, you can count on him to come up with the most optimal training program possible

He finds it helpful to have you in the lab and having you zip around and collecting tools for him so he doesn't have to step away from his work

He understands the concept of keeping muscles strong, and makes sure you exercise enough if you're keeping him company in the lab

Knock Out

Dude makes sure you know how pretty your wings are

Makes sure you've got every product you'd ever need to keep them in top condition. Don't ask where he got them from tho

Schedules regular sessions where the two of you just preen and gossip

Also finds it super helpful that you can just fly up and reach the spots he can't and buff them out for him

Absolutely admires the strength you have in your wings. The idea that you have to actually flap them and have enough strength to get yourself off the ground is foreign to him as it's super different for Cybertronians

Not a fan of molting tbh. There's feathers everywhere and guh they're everywhere

Will still (reluctantly) help you deal with it tho

Knock Out makes sure you know he thinks that your wings make you much cooler than other people, and is not above making fun of the Autobots for having 'inferior' humans on their side

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I’m the anon that asked if you write for Tekken 👉🏻👈🏻 I always like the grumpy x sunshine trope, and I was wondering if you can write headcanons for Kazuya with an s/o like that? Very soft, sweet, affectionate, I feel in a way it would also be funny 😆

Idk if this is what you wanted but I have it my best shot. 🦦

Not me back on my Brutus and Pixie agenda (seriously it’s my favourite thing to reference at this point.)

All I’m going to say is; it’s not easy showing kindness to a man who had been so vastly removed from it from a young age, and the only memory he has of experiencing such kindness was from his mother; which in of itself was merely candlelight in comparison to the suffocating darkness.

So needless to say if you keep at it, not showing agitation or anger towards his inability to see your acts of kindness towards him as just that; pure acts of kindness. Then Kazuya will slowly -baby steps mind you, extremely small baby steps- begin to believe it to some extent.

Everyday is an uphill battle but you were willing to fight it forever without ever showing an ounce of fatigue if it meant earning Kazuya’s trust. Something that he one day noticed and will- in his own unique way- show his gratitude for sticking by him for as long as you have.

Let’s hypothetically say he came back injured, you naturally wanted to help him but much like showing affection or acknowledging how he felt towards you, he will have those walls up again faster then you could blink. It’s just natural for him this way to never pay any mind to the ‘weaker’ side to himself and reject any and all notions that could possibly end up in him becoming ‘soft’ and ‘pliable’ for those who might have it out for him.

So imagine the feeling of achievement you’d get the moment Kazuya let’s you tend to his wounds, listening silently as he slowly began to open up to you, even if it was a little bit, it was still something to celebrate for the both of you; especially when going forward into this relationship where you’d gradually bear your entire heart to the other, letting them see the most vulnerable parts of yourselves and silently praying that the other doesn’t destroy you with it in the future…

And imagine how nice it was to be hugged by a pair of strong arms, held against a firm chest by powerful hands and just finding yourself melting into him…smiling softly at the fact that Kazuya wanted to hold you out of his own accord. Feeling protected from any and all harm that could come your way. It was enough to make you want to cry but instead you smiled brightly and told him how utterly proud you were of him for taking the first step, for taking a chance on something he was once so vividly against.

This man looks like he’s never be told that someone was proud of him ever in his life. So hearing someone who had nothing but the most wholesome of intentions with him say it? He’s not going to know how to react, but from the way his grip on you would tighten slightly told you more than enough as you reminded yourself to keep reminding him how proud you were.

Is it a stretch to say that he would be protective? Especially towards the person who had shown him their truest self and shown him how being in love and being loved don’t inherently make you weak or lesser than, boldly proving him -a man dead set in his ways- wrong on several occasions and him not feeling an ounce of anger but instead a weird sense of relief? So Kazuya will want to keep you away from the shadier side of things in the instance that he might not always be there to ward away unwanted attention.

He may not say it aloud but then again why would he when his actions were loud enough for you to understand their intentions, no matter how few and far between they might be but at least you knew that he would stand by you and keep you protected by any means necessary.

He just has a fear of loosing the one good thing in his life because of who he was; For if he were to loose you then everything he originally believed would then become truth, that it would become reality.

The fact that you were both opposites would be made apparent in everything that you did but that’s what made your relationship work when in any other circumstances it probably wouldn’t. However it only made your appreciation of the other stronger than before.

It’s not perfect, not that I’m saying it ever was, but ultimately the hardships are what made you treasure your relationship with the grumpy man even more. You didn’t try to change or ‘fix’ him because that was not your job, you’re not fixer and you knew that as much as he did and instead you -with your unwavering kindness and gentleness- had let him taken his time with getting to a level of comfortability with you where he knew he could relax beneath your touch instead of flinching away.

You soothed his scarred heart whilst also loving it unconditionally without feeling the need to change it to fit your fantasy.

[the-catboy-minyan]

when people say "death to america" do you assume they mean kill every non-native in the united states? Or do you suddenly understand the concept being communicated then?

you know what, does does give more context to why people think calling for the death of Israel is okay. now, I can explain why that's still a fucked upthing to say:

1) most people who say "death to America" are Americans, there's a massive difference between calling for the death of your own country as a privileged citizen of that country, calling for its death as a discriminated citizen of that country, and for calling for the death of a country you never even set foot in.

the best comparison I can come up with is: you will call your sibling a bitch when they're acting rude to you or others, but you'll be hella upset if a stranger decides to swear at your sibling.

the stranger is making assumptions on your sibling's character based on one or a few negative interactions, and have no idea what they're really like as a person.

you (most likely) have known your sibling since you/they were born. you have a clear image of who they are in your head based on many different interactions. when you curse them after they acted out, you're calling them out on their behavior while being emotional. your sibling will most likely recognize that, and while they may get offended and hurt (depends on your relationship), they're not going to assume you have bad intentions at heart.

while a country isn't a person, its citizens are, most Americans will recognize the intention behind other Americans saying "death to America", but you can't assume Israelis will read "death to Israel" with the same mindset, especially when it's not said hy one of their own. ESPECIALLY when most of them have a history of being persecuted for their identity as Jews (saying most since not all Israelis are Jewish and I can't speak for others), and when there are people alive at this moment calling for the actual death of all Israelis.

2) there's a massive difference between American and Israeli history. I'm not an expert in history, so I can't reliably give examples, but for startes Jews are native to Israel while Americans were originally European colonizers.

you're looking at Israeli history from an American lense, and making comparisons between events that have wildly different historical contexts. American culture is extremely black and white and heavily influenced by christianity, you're interpreting the conflict as "evil white colonizers (like those first European colonizers)" versus "helpless indigenous noble savages (like those Native Americans)", this is just not the reality of the conflict.

3) if the message is being read as a call for genocide by Jews, there's a high chance that means their cultural history is giving the sentence context that you don't understand.

people are telling you "the thing you're saying has negative implications", and your response is "but I meant it THAT way, you meed to see it from MY perspective". I'd suggest taking a step back and see it from their perspective.

anyways 6/10, thanks for the context, still a call for genocide.

[atopvisenyashill]

Hiiiii it’s @martelldragon I ask from my main

BUT, on the Saera/Jaehaerys thing, IM GLAD IM NOT THE ONLY ONE because whenever this conversation about there being SA or at least some weirdness from Jaehaerys towards Saera, a lot of people will brush it off as “you’re being weird, trying to find something sinister where there isn’t anything” when the subtext is there!!! And I also think HOTD sort of replaced Any potential weirdness there was between Ali/Jae when she was reading to him by having her reading to Viserys -> him marrying her -> him maritally r*ping her in the show.

I feel like this sort of acknowledges that there was something not right about Jae and Saera’s relationship but the show sort of gave the Alicent angle years later when Jaehaerys was being taken care of her while dying and any potential creeping on her to her reading to and taking care of Viserys and him being the one to creep/on eventually marry her.

I also think Viserys calling her Aemma in one of the episodes was definitely at least a reference maybe to the old man she took care of in the book mistaking her for Saera.

Anyway seeing you acknowledge the Jaehaerys/Saera relationship instead of ignoring it and acting like everyone who sees something odd there is “reading too much into it” is just so refreshing and sorry if this doesn’t make sense I kind of started rambling lmao

Oh yeah I feel like I get at least one anon every few weeks since I posted it that is just like "you're reading too much into this" without any explanation and it's like...okay well I disagree lmao. I think especially the people who are like "you think Saera is a girlboss but she's actually a psycho" like...WHOMST is "you" in this situation because it's not me! I think Saera was an intelligent, bright young girl who lived a simultaneously spoiled and lonely youth. I think her worst inclinations were often "rewarded" in the very typical "child can't get attention so they settle for negative attention by acting out" type behavior, which made her behavior worse. I think she exhibits some rather disturbing sexual proclivities and children generally don't land on those types of behaviors on their own; they mimic the behavior, good or bad, that they see. Regardless of what happened, I think it's very clear that Saera is mimicking sexually abusive behavior because she has either witnessed or experienced first hand sexual abuse happening. Now who is the likeliest culprit for that hmmm...

I do think the Joffrey comparisons or even the Rhaenyra comparisons crack me up the most though. Like...oh so you think these three children who really obviously experienced/witnessed sexual abuse and proceeded to act out and enact that sexual violence on others are all very similar little psychopaths? Wow tell me more!

But re: the Alicent of it all. I would agree, i think they combine her relationships with Viserys and Jaehaerys in the show, as well as combining her character with Aemma's (and clearly taking inspiration from Dany and Sansa as characters as well). Viserys is not noted to be decaying to death in the books nor is he particularly old when he dies; in fact, it seems implied he's still fairly young looking and handsome when they marry. Which isn't to say that it's still not tacky at best for him to have an affair with a 17 year old and then marry her when she's 18; it's just like, the show takes away that very gray area that George likes to play with where a teenage girl will marry a handsome, fit 25-35 year old and is maybe not too freaked out by it only to realize there is an ocean of difference between her and that man. Which like, fine, I think they still do a good job of interogating that aspect of F&B and Westerosi culture by delving into with Daemyra ("a girl child you bounced on your knee" is CRAZYYYYY i fucking love that line so fucking much especially because we get that scene where Alys is crying over Daemon and Daemon is a bit playful with her - she for sure judges him for his relationship with Rhaenyra but she also can't help but be fond of him, and I think that really displays the sort of dynamic George is going for with this specific sort of sexual abuse. Not dissimilar imo from like, Sansa remarking on how Tyrion was kind to her and the sort of lasting fondness she has for both him and Sandor - they are doing real damage to those girls but at the same time, the love and fondness is there and it matters to that girl regardless!). I do miss the kind of loving-but-weird beginning to her relationship with Viserys though; aging her down and making Paddy look so old and fucked up makes sense when you're trying to drive home the point to a casual audience that is just. so incredibly monumentally slow on the uptake. But Also imo starting it off this way really cuts a lot of that complexity of how damaging The Institution Of Marriage Is, when Alicent becomes an unwilling victim instead of a hopeful bride.

HOWEVER. The fact that her relationship with him can be airlifted out of the late 100's/early 101 right to the late 110s and onto Viserys sure does speak to how creepy her relationship with Jaehaerys is in canon! Doesn't say anything good about the reasons why she is sent into that man's room to read to him! And if he's calling her not his wife's name, not even his sister's name, but Saera's...hmm is all I'll say!

[chigirisprincess]

Good Luck Babe! - Chapter 2: Your Best Laid Plans.

— Aizawa Shōta

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used to refer to reader), sfw, reader has anxiety, mentions of past situationships ;), reader has lore, plot building, teacher talk. ⊹ Run time. 4.0k ⊹ Note. This is mostly plot progression, next chapter will be make exciting! Enjoy :3

❝Unpacking isn't always easy, at least the U.A dorms were nice.❞

previous part || masterlist || next part

The U.A dormitories were infinitely nicer than your university accommodations. The realisation strikes you before you’ve made your way across the green expanse of the newly built quad. It bristles your feathers and adds yet another reason why privately funded academies were far from your wheelhouse of experience. The Miyagi University of Education was a fine school, it had a small number of students which meant one on one time with their professors, and was built in the late 19th century making the campus as picturesque as a university could be. Sure, the accommodations were a bit dated especially in comparison to a brand new, state of the art building, but you couldn’t complain. Your university years were enjoyable, you wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

And, Sendai was a lovely city. Costal, filled with enough greenery to never make you miss the quaint rural town you were raised in. There were a plethora of museums and cultural sites that kept you busy and when your close friend worked as an apprentice curator, affordable year round passes were suddenly far more accessible.

Friend, almost boyfriend. Situationship. You chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head. Almost something, almost, nothing. It was maddening when you were stuck within the pit, uncertainty wearing at you. Now, it just seemed silly. 

The lines were still blurred on where exactly your relationship stood. Not that the semantics mattered much when you moved nearly four hours away to a new city, with new people, and a new job. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since you moved into Musutafu for work and he refused to answer any text messages you’d sent. Not that you cared, that chapter of your life was firmly shut and left in the past– in Sendai– and he was still a close friend, at least that’s what you liked to believe, and would until he said otherwise. Not that he would say otherwise. Still, he was a good friend to have even if he didn’t see you as a friend, or was pissy that you never made a move to clearly define what you were. It’s not like he did either.

Almost, he was an almost. 

You had a lot of those in your history books. Paramours who weren’t quite lovers but you could hardly call them a friend. Always feeling too attached to simply name them as a friend. Women who’s friendship was so intense you couldn’t call it anything other than something akin to love. An almost something that you were scared to commit to. Your heart locked firmly behind the fortress of your rib cage when you wished it could be freely given.

You think that’s why you took this job.

Aside from the clear résumé booster this would be, the pay, and the perks, and the fact that you’d be stupid not to take the job, it was a far leap from your comfort zone. Sendai was the safe choice for university, it was only an hour train ride from your family’s home, a handful of upperclassmen had already been in attendance and offered to shepherd you into this new era. Most weekends were spent back at home until you made a few friends. Even those came with a caveat and a safety net. Mister situationship with the spiky blonde hair and glasses was your lab partner and subsequently became the gateway to the group of friends you'd made. You didn’t dare to branch out on your own, beyond them.

You took the easy way out. If asked you’d say that made you sensible. Your elementary school teachers would agree. They all thought you to be well beyond your years, an old soul trapped behind a pair of chubby cheeks. Never one to act out or step beyond your comfort zone. Your assignments were predictably perfect and drawn directly from your wheelhouse of interests. Your arguments were well polished and you possessed an arsenal of peer reviewed resources that you shuffled around based on your topic of choice.

As a child the adults in your life fussed over you, shirking their misplaced dreams on your frail shoulders. A little leader in your own right, keeping your stuffed animals and friends in line. They told you that you’d make a great teacher, your voice was gentle and your touch was always soft. That or a mother. As if it were the middle ages and that’s all you could amount to.

But, you were predictable. 

You stayed the course they mapped out for you. Too scared for anything bigger. The figs that branched out beyond you had long since rotted and died, taking with it, whatever other paths and aspirations you might’ve filled your life with. 

And, in some fruitless attempt to extend beyond their expectations, you left home and took this job. In most lights it still existed within the realm of your comfort zone but in some it pushed you.

You decided, your one saving grace of the day was that you packed lightly and still managed to scarcely fill out your apartment. Though it may not have been half as fancy as the U.A accommodations, you learned from your university dorm that you probably didn’t need as much as you thought you did. Clearing out your apartment took an hour and the commute back to U.A only about thirty minutes. Foot traffic was much lighter now that the morning rush had subsided. It helped that you’d spent the last two months living out of your suitcase. The apartment was temporary, a placeholder until you found something closer to the school. Though you stupidly never thought to consider that you’d be expected to reside on campus grounds.

Perhaps you were a child like Aizawa accused. Your brain gnawed on his words, playing them on loop until it accepted it as fact. Wearing boots too big for your feet, your naivety glaring. Obvious to everyone but you. 

It was an easy fix. Pessimism was your middle name, though, you preferred to call it realistic. You would wise up in no time. Gather your bearings, plant your roots, and never stumble over the shock of the unknown again. Prove to them, to you, to anyone else who thought to question you, that you were meant to be here. Then, maybe you wouldn’t feel so sick with insecurity even as you tossed your things into your new lodgings.

Shōta stands with his back pressed against the wall outside of class 1-A when Yamada pops out of the classroom. Kayama would be there soon for modern hero art history, Shōta decided then that he’d prefer to keep whatever schemes Nezu was cooking up to himself. He scoffs to himself as he replays the conversation he has with you.

Concerned.

The ministry of education was concerned? Now? Of course they were. Shōta wasn’t stupid, he saw the uptick of distrust growing between the general public and the ministry– it went hand in hand with the near constant criticism that floated across the gaggle of paparazzi that sat outside the school gates everyday. They questioned the ethics behind U.A as an institute, wrote think pieces and created conspiracy theories to work out every move they made as if to catch the school in some lie. It was as exhausting as it was hypocritical. Shōta laughed at the mere thought. The general public had no problem fawning over his class during the sports festival, marvelling at just how powerful they had to be to stand against the League of Villains all on their own.

But sure, now there was a problem. It was serious now that a student had been kidnapped.

Stuffing his hand into his pocket, Shōta grabs the small plastic bottle of eye drops he keeps handy. His eyes sting with irritation, if that was even possible. His unkempt bangs slide away from his forehead when he tilts his head back, widening his eyes for a few drops of temporary relief.

“Hey” Hizashi calls, popping his head out of the classroom door, “Who was that you were talking to? Your students sure had a lot of questions but I didn’t have many answers”

“Irrelevant,” Shōta snips.

“Hm?”

There’s a stack of workbooks tucked in the crook of his elbow, the covers worn and the colours faded. The class must have finished their latest grammar unit. He tilts his head down, his bright orange glasses slip down the slope of his nose to reveal his inquisitive yellow eyes. He peers at Shōta with interest.

“I said, she’s irrelevant,” he repeats, with a frown, “At least to you.”

Hizashi chortles, “Oh? So what, only you get a special little helper?” he quips, with a smile, “Iida said she introduced herself to the class and Nezu was with her, it seemed like she was supposed to be there.”

Shōta hums, pushing off from the wall and away from his classroom, “Seems to me you’re pretty well informed already, Mic.”

“Eh, not anymore than your students.”

His laughter bounces down the hall as he bounds after Shōta, only pausing to adjust the stack of workbooks under his arm.

“C’mon, Shōta, spill!” He says, throwing his free arm over his shoulder, “No one’s losing their job are they?”

The teasing lilt dies quickly, “Right?” Hizashi asks, concern drips from his tongue. Concern for Shōta. He’s getting sick of it.

“She’s from the ministry of ed,” Shōta huffs.

There’d been concern after Bakugō had been kidnapped. Selfish ones. Some worried their positions were up for debate, others wondered if alumni and sponsors would pull funding. Of course, there was always the concern for bad publicity. This entire school year was bad for publicity. Not that it mattered. Bored, nameless nobodies on internet forums always had something to criticise even when the academic year was perfect, when U.A graduates continually climbed the ranks, opened their own agencies, and continued to keep Japan safe. Whatever concern they had now was purely bureaucratic to save their own skin.

“Oh?” Hizashi raises an eyebrow.

They share a look, “Apparently they’ve begun to worry,” he explains, thinking back to what you said. How much did you believe in the lines you’d been fed? Did you create them?

No. You seemed earnest, young enough that your naïvity was genuine and you were likely just a piece for them to move about the board as they saw fit. You couldn’t be complicit in whatever cover up scheme Nezu had allowed into the building. Your flighty, nervous demeanour told him as much. He was worried he might burst into tears if his voice dared to sharpen any further. The way you wilted like a sad, delicate flower beneath the uncomfortable heat of the sun reminded him of a few past students. The ones he expelled for being too soft and too thoughtful. The ones who weren’t cut from the right cloth, they’d never be able to hack it as a hero without that reckless drive most had. 

You were like them but somehow even more fragile. Even with the tenacity and sheer stupidity you had.

“About?” Hizashi questions, his eyebrow quirking upward.

“Our teaching capabilities,” Shōta shrugs, jabbing his thumb into the up bottom once they reach the elevators.

Hizashi leans against the wall, hitching his leg upward, “What does that mean?” His scrunches up in annoyance, “It’s deceptively vague.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The ride up the elevator is quiet. Hizashi keeps his lips pursed in a fine line while Shōta scowls in contemplative silence.

Concern?

If they were concerned they’d help implement mental health services for all students at U.A. He’s petitioned them relentlessly for years, they had the funding, Nezu was onboard but there was far too much red tape to navigate through and each thread led back to the ministry. Instead they wanted to throw you to the wolves. A peppy, fresh faced, anxiety riddled university graduate who had yet to experience much of the real world. You sparkled in the way most did before they got a taste of how monotonous their dream careers were. 

“I heard the minister of education is planning on campaigning for Prime Minister,” Hizashi comments, stepping toward the now open elevator doors.

Shōta clicks his tongue, “Hm, how convenient.”

“It could be worse.”

“How so?” He raises a brow to Hizashi.

“The hero commission and the ministry could be breathing down our necks,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m sure she’s harmless and her presence is merely a formality, a box to check to appease antsy civilians and overzealous journalists.”

“Right.”

Shōta gives Hizashi a tight, strained smile as the elevator door shuts between them.

A formality. 

That’s what you were. He didn’t often feel uneasy, but none of this sat right with him. His stomach churned at the thought of you. The same looming feeling of dread sat like a pit in his stomach most days when he stared directly into the bright eyed, determined faces of his students. You held the same look, though it was shrouded with an obvious nervousness that you couldn’t shake. Still, your dreams had yet to be jaded by the cruelties of this world, much like his students. It made him uneasy. They at least understood the gravity of their reality, he wasn’t sure you did.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shōta sighed to himself.

He was growing soft in his age. That’s why he didn’t fight you. It had to be why.

Sauntering down the hall to his office, Shōta wonders if he made the right decision.

Aizawa finds an hour after the final bell has rung. The sun has dipped low in the afternoon sky, painting your lodgings a warm, comforting yellow. The walls are bare and the decor is sparse. Only a few polaroid pictures, a calendar and your two degrees occupy the space. It feels oddly big, too big for just you but there’s nothing else to cram in the nooks and crannies to make your new home a little less lonesome.

It’s a relief to see Aizawa’s tired face on the other side of your door. He’d offer you a reprieve from the anxious thoughts that relentlessly ping pong around your skull.

“Hi!” You chirp, opening up the door, offering him a nervous smile, “Did you want to come in?”

He hoarsely grumbles out something resembling a, “Yes”, pushing past you before you’ve fully moved out of the way. His eyes scan his surroundings, you suppose he’s taking in the little decorations you’ve set about the place but you struggle to follow his gaze from where it’s hidden beneath his fringe. You suppose it’s a learned trait. After a bit of googling, you found that his quirk was aptly named erasure and  manifested through his eyes. 

Aizawa settles on your sofa, his legs spread as he rests his elbows on his thighs.

“Did you uhm, want something to drink?”

All you had was a nearly empty tin of instant coffee and a box of tea that expired two years ago. You hoped he’d say no, so you didn’t have to go through the mortifying ordeal of scrounging something you. Your parents raised you to be hospitable when you opened your home to guests. So, you couldn’t help but ask.

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, “Thank you but, I’m fine,” he says, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers.

“Okay!”

Scratching the back of your head, you flounder around the living space. The armchair was piled high with your winter coats and the only other space to sit was next to him. 

“I don’t bite,” he mutters, peering up at you.

You shift nervously from foot to foot, reminding yourself that he’s a pro hero– despite his tired disposition. He was likely trained to read body language. It wasn’t that you were easy to read but that he read others easily. There was no need to feel nervous, he wasn’t doing it purposely and you probably weren’t giving anything away. Shuffling closer to the sofa, you sit as close to the arm as you could without making your discomfort obvious.

“You’ve settled in?”

Nodding you nervously bite your lip, “I pack light so it wasn’t much work.”

Aizawa hums. His arm brushes against yours. You can feel how his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“Good,” he says, pausing for a moment, “Then, I trust you have the time to elaborate on why you’re here?”

A small sound of agreement passes your raw, bitten lips, “I sure can!” You smile, hoping the pep in your voice disguises the panic, “Uhm, well the ministry of education was worried that the repeated villain attacks and lack of consistent curriculum was negatively impacting their development.”

 You wrack your brain trying to remember what exactly their email outlined but all that comes up is the excitement you felt. The picture in your mind is hazy, the details sparse but you remember most of the key points they had. They’d stuck out to you and seemed reasonable enough once you started digging into the files they sent you.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that being the target of villain attacks would have adverse effects,” you state as if he didn’t see that for himself, “However in addition to the unique mode of learning employed by each teacher here, there has been concern that the lack of consistency is what’s causing their markedly low grades.”

Aizawa scoffs, staring at you in disbelief, “Their grades are fine, I would know.”

“Their grades are still above average; however, compared to their entrance exam marks and results from the previous year's standardised tests, the class's average has dropped by 5%,” you explain, pressing a finger to the tip of your chin, “I have the data sheets, I can show them to you if you want.”

Initially you hadn’t been concerned when looking over their most recent examination marks. They had done exceptionally well with material that far surpassed the curriculum expectations set in the prefecture, however the decline was clear. You presumed the several areas in which they hadn’t done as well in, had been lessons interrupted by villain attacks. It wasn’t their fault, and if anything they were still on track but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

“If they're above the country's average, I don’t see the issue.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you sigh “Well there’s a clear pattern that indicates an issue that needs to be addressed,” a frustrated puff of air passes your lips, “These kids are meant to be above average, sure that’s why they’re here, however their emotional well being and emotional needs should also be met instead of being ignored because they’re so special!”

Clearing your throat, you sink deeper into your sofa’s cushion, cheeks warmed to the touch. Your voice had raised several octaves, progressively getting louder as you prattled. You’d always been passionate about mental health, but you didn’t know you were this passionate. Aizawa watches you, there's something in his eyes, you can’t name it. Not yet. You don’t know him well enough. He gestures for you to continue on with his hand.

 “It’s evidentially contributing to a class-wide decline,” you conclude, fiddling with your fingers, “It’s not your fault! I tried asking Principal Nezu about U.A’s guidance counsellor and mental health resources and apparently neither exist.”

He nods, seemingly knowing it all too well,“How do you propose we fix that then?”

“This isn’t something that’s cut and dry, I need to spend some time with your students, get to know them, and hear from them where they’re needing support.”

Aizawa laughs. He laughs at you, throwing his head back and letting out a full bellied laugh. You’re stunned to silence, blinking, half in disbelief and half in shock. His laugh was nice, rich even. Oddly befitting for a man like him, but still unexpected. At first glance you wouldn’t have expected from him. Though, you’re unsure what you had expected of Aizawa. He was nothing like the glamorous, larger than life pro heroes you grew up watching on television. Aizawa was far more relaxed, his dress casual, and seemed to proudly wear the dark circles that lined his tired eyes. It made him approachable, the lack of lustre and branding around the elusive Eraserhead. 

You liked that about him.

“Is something funny?” You asked with a quirk of your brow.

“It’s just rather amusing that you think any of them will ask for help,” he states, leaning back into the sofa, “Have you ever heard of a hero's pride?”

“Well, it’s a good thing they’re not heroes, they’re teenagers,” you hum, clasping your hands together.

“Try telling them that and see how well that goes.”

A joke, you think he was making a joke,“I’m well aware they think they’re more grown up than they actually are,” you felt the same at that age, you’re sure the responsibility of herodom only intensified it,“They kinda are compared to their middle school peers at the very least.”

Aizawa snorts, “Something like that,” he agrees with a shake of his head.

His gaze catches yours for a moment, it’s held for a few short seconds before you anxiously look away. Letting out a forced cough, you train your eyes on the television that sits across the room. 

“So I was thinking it would be a good idea if I could have a copy of your students' syllabus for each course they're taking?” You blurt, eager to continue the conversation forward.

“What?”

“The syllabus?” You repeat, “You know, the document that outlines their course expectations, assignments, and schedule for the semester?”

He scratches his chin, rubbing the stubble, “We don’t have those,” Aizawa says with a frown, “Is that standard practice?”

“Ah, mostly in University but many secondary schools are beginning to use them,” you explain, “It helps give students an idea of their semester beforehand.”

“It’s the beginning of the semester,” Aizawa comments, his lips pursed.

“That it is.”

Shrugging his shoulders, his eyes slide over to you, “We could make up a syllabus,” he suggests, “If you think that it’d be a worthwhile endeavour.”

“I think it is,” you sit a little straighter, a grin overtaking your lips, “Students seem to respond well when they feel prepared rather than blindsided, I can send you one of the research articles I’ve read!”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Giving your knee a pat, Aizawa offers you a strained smile.

You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking if he was sure. Aizawa didn’t strike you as a man who did anything he wasn’t sure of. Your overly eager, zealous attitude could be a bit much. You didn’t want to come off any stronger than you already did. Whatever impression that you’d made to him likely wasn’t one you’d want to stick around for too long.

“Well, that sounds like a plan!”

“So, tomorrow you’ll observe my class,” he proposes, “We can regroup in the evening, if it should suit you?”

You find yourself nodding before he’s finished speaking, “Oh for sure!” You grin, clapping your hands on your thighs, “I can do that!”

Aizawa rises from your sofa with a small grunt, stretching out his spine before he turns to you, “I’ll see you then.”

Nodding in agreement, you watch as he walks out of your front door. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, flopping back onto the sofa as soon as the door clicks shut behind him. Tomorrow would be the big day then, the day you stepped into adulthood and kickstarted your career. Your stomach churned at the realisation. You’d spent the better part of two weeks preparing for this day, meticulously rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d say it, what you’d wear, and how you’d part your hair. 

You’d have to do it all again, tomorrow. This time, without any of your planning.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[konigsblog]

Since you're on a roll with Toxic!dadbod!Price content (and I'm so here for it 😩) I'm here to share some thoughts.

Toxic!dadbod!Price who openly flirts with every woman he can, especially younger ones which hurts even more after you've given birth to his child. He doesn't even hesitate to flirt with your sister/cousin/best friend. You can't even have friends over because he will try to flirt and grope and fuck them.

Toxic!dadbod!Price who will comment loudly on how those girls have nicer bodies and later when he's deep inside he'll grope you and growl how he's imagining that pretty little waitress and her tight ass just to spite you and make you feel awful about yourself.

And when you get tired of it and eventually try to fire back how Simon or Soap or Gaz or your neighbor or some other man clearly doesn't think so because you see the way they look at you, he snaps and goes absolutely insane and feral.

(Mostly because I feel like he secretly knows you're right, you're young and pretty and you could find anyone so he has to keep you emotionally attached and submissive and afraid.)

toxic!dadbod!price just wants to make you feel insecure and vulnerable, to wear you down and make you feel self conscious, more obedient. seeing your smile falter when he talks about the women he'd saw whilst getting cigars, how big and nice their tits were in comparison to yours. or how the waitress had a nice ass, one he'd die for. it makes you want to cover up, to hide your body or attempt to be better for him.

but, truthfully, all he wants is you to beg for his attention. feeling left out, wearing more revealing clothes to show off how gorgeous your body was :( he has you sit on his knee whilst he gropes your ass and slaps your tits, pulling your shirt up to pinch and twist your nipples, praising his pretty girl. his lips wrapped around your hardened nipples and his grip on your waist tightening. “mmh', that's it, good girl, doll.”

toxic!dadbod!price promised to keep your relationship monogamous. he put it that way because he didn't want to admit he was a cheating asshole, a dickhead who couldn't keep his cock in his boxers. after you gave birth, your sex life slowed down, meanwhile he grew more desperate for his release, to use something other than his own hand.

coming home late with hickeys and the perfume of another woman sticking to his body. you wanted to throw up -- already pissed off that he wasn't answering your calls. you held your baby boy against your chest, letting him feed off of you whilst you confronted him. honestly, you didn't expect to be ignored, the least he could do was tell you the honest truth. instead, going upstairs and sleeping in your shared bed... :(

and he acts all shocked and surprised when he wakes up and doesn't find you or the baby in the house, a few essentials like toothbrush and some baby stuff gone. you felt sick to your stomach when he appeared at the hotel you were staying at, tracking your location, a gut wrenching feeling burning inside your chest. :((((

[ken-katayanagi]

I’ve read your google docs of the katayanagi twins’ fashion. Super interesting stuff and I love it as both a fashion enthusiast and fan of the siblings. Your document really emphasizes the distinction between those two even with the very little info we have on them (kyle’s style could be late 80s japanese pop while ken’s style could be more leaning towards visual kei). Also matches their personalities (ramona mentioned kyle is the hothead of the two, so I guess the pretty and proper bad boy kind of look fits him)

Something about your endnote fascinates me, however. You mentioned something about the twins’ relationship being strained but then strengthened after ramona’s betrayal. Would you implore more on the idea? I’m now invested in it very much…. thank you and have a good day

Thank you!!! I mostly based my looks off this piece of concept art by O’Malley, which makes me think the personalities the twins had in their few anime appearances were just parts that weren’t as well communicated in Vol. 5

(I think that little doddle next to the crossed out “they’re not even Japanese” emphasizes that visual kei comparison you made)

But as for the second bit, I think the twins weren’t exactly on great terms, even before Ramona. A decent part of this has to do with my own personal head cannons surrounding Kyle and how I perceived his and Ramona’s relationship with alcohol, but also with just how different the twins seem to be under the surface. They seem like they would run in almost completely opposite social circles and be invested in similarly opposite things.

And it’s honestly really tied to their teens. Basically, their parents kinda unintentionally set up a dynamic where Kyle felt like Ken got away with everything (piercings, weird clothes, going out to band shows and having a more trusting relationship with their parents) and Ken thought Kyle couldn’t get his act together (partying, showing up back home late, getting in fight with their parents). Neither was true as in reality their parents let a lot of stuff with Ken slide that wouldn’t have otherwise because “well at least he’s not drunk” and Kyle was genuinely going through some serious mental shit but not telling anyone so his actions just looked super random and mean spirited. So by the time they get to college, they haven’t really addressed this weird image they have of the other in their heads.

And it explains how Ramona was even able to two time siblings. They’re not going to the same parties, they’re not really talking at length about their lives (since they never mention enough detail to make the other suspicious), they’re probably not really bothering each other much if they share a dorm. Ramona unconsciously sees and plays this divide, knowing they’re not really together enough for her to get caught.

It also emphasizes for me a very emotional aspect for all three of them. Ramona is hot off a messy break up (Roxie), the breakup that ended her first relationship with a women and also seems to be her first attempt at having something…maybe not serious but genuine (it seemed more important than anything with Matt Todd or Lucas). Shes hardly in the headspace to be in a relationship, and maybe after some nights out, she’s terrified and not sure what to do because whoops she’s in two! And the longer it goes on the less Ramona actually wants to fix it because it’s kinda fun in a messed up way, and the twins aren’t bad company…until it all comes crashing down and she’s out the door before they even notice she’s gone. I think Ramona’s relationship with the twins is her at her actual lowest, with her being most at fault for what happened and the least justified in bolting afterwards. This low point is exactly when Gideon finds her, unsure and upset at herself, in exactly the position to manipulate her. (Sorry if this came off a little Ramona bash-y, I love Ramona but this girl makes bad choices)

As for the twins, I think the really strong emotional beat here is the idea of how avoidable it would’ve felt for them. How if they had just been able to set aside their own bullshit, if they had even bothered to connect at all, they could’ve figured it out in a few days, rather than in a few weeks or a few months. Ramona’s betrayal is catalyst for them to sit down and just…talk out a lot of their own personal crap.

But yeah that’s why. Sorry this got super massively long, but I hope you liked it and it wasn’t too ramblely lol.

[tinyvesselhearts]

What Fear Does to People (Egon x You)

It's Chapter 8 of my series Thing Is but can be read as a standalone.

Rating: Mature (descriptions of violence) Pairing: Egon Spengler x You (no Y/N) Others: "Platonic" bed-sharing, pre-relationship, gentle touching, hurt/comfort, ghosthunting, Lovecraftian monsters, Ray's recovering from a bust and he's not currently at the station

(also: a reference to GB game. If you know, you know)

It’s roughly 2 a.m. when it starts.

Egon wakes up with a shiver. He’s freezing. A gust of wind runs through his clothes and that in itself is enough to put him on guard. Thing is, all the windows are closed, both of you are covered with quilts and there’s no tangible cause for the cold. No rational excuse, unless…

With mounting suspicion, he takes a look around. It’s pitch black and he can barely make out the edges of Ray’s empty cot. Warmth of the linen seems to hit him all at once, stark contrast to what he’s just felt on his skin. Disconcerting. Eerie, maybe— but he’s calm nonetheless. This is how those entities operate. The Collective: all kinds of eldritch horrors. They’re playing hide- and- seek until their victims can’t keep their wits about them anymore and he— as a devoted scientist and a Ghostbuster (yes, the very same)— is here to teach a lesson.

You’re unabashedly curled up against his side. Safe, unbothered, sound asleep. The attacker must be considering you innocuous enough, likely due to your comparative vulnerability, and is focused on Egon. Perfect. He lays his head back but doesn’t close his eyes— he’s vigilant— alert— ready.

The thing about Collective Unconscious is that despite being aware of its modus operandi, human brain is pretty pathetic in comparison. Its innate susceptibility to fear, specifically. During his years of Psychology, Egon would repeatedly hear that fear and love were the strongest of all human instincts, as they made the whole body receptive and focused in an instant. Later he’d find out that’s true about fear. He has no first- hand data on the latter— he supposes due to the troubled relationship with his parents— but Peter and Ray have done enough stupid things out of affection to confirm the thesis. Since Venkman’s incident with the tank a few years back, Egon hasn’t questioned love or its impact on a subject’s decision- making process. Or common sense. Or mating choices, just to be clear.

With that in mind, Egon knows what to expect. Diminished control of his body. Flinches. Unconditioned reflexes. He is determined to distinguish between real, physical stimuli and paranoia- induced ploys. A moment to cool off, analyze and conclude before acting on impulses. That’s the plan. Right. It’s easy in theory.

A distant bang echoes in the garage. It resembles a metal tool— a wrench, maybe?— but the sound is followed by nothing else, so Egon decides it’s nothing but a figment of imagination. Until—

“What was it?”

He leans back. He can’t see your face properly but enough to notice your eyes are open.

“…Oh. You’ve heard it too?”

“It’s not like… Ray got discharged in the middle of the night and sauntered back here, is it?”

There’s another loud bang. Nobody moves but both of you are very much awake.

Egon finally speaks.

“I’ll check it.”

“Uh, okay, okay”, you whisper. “What do I do?”

“Stay here and try to sleep. I’ll handle it.”

“…what?”

“Don’t argue. There’s no time. I’ll take care of whatever that is. I’m a professional, listen to me and I’ll make sure you’re safe. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yes, but the Ghostbusters are a team. Now you’re on your own. I’m not leaving you! What if—”

“No time”, he mutters, putting the proton pack on. “Stay here. You were so tired you almost passed out on the couch. Do I need to remind you that you put my shirt on backwards?”

“My mom says it’s good fortune!”

“I’m serious”, he states and switches the backpack on. “Eldritch horrors are different than regular spirits. They harm both physically and emotionally. Lack of proper rest weakens the cognitive functions and you may be a real, tangible danger to yourself— and to me. Especially if you’re not familiar with their strategy.”

Egon slides into a pair of slippers. It’s not the perfect job attire but it’ll have to do— he stupidly left his combat boots in the locker downstairs. Maybe when he slides down to the garage, he’ll manage to change.

He takes the final look at you because you’re awfully quiet. Exhausted and hopeless, he guesses. He’d appreciate some backup but the boys aren’t here and you’re in no position to fill the role now. When you ignored his precaution the last time (while fully capable and well- rested), you ended up wounded in his lab. What you’re facing here can do much, much more damage.

Egon briefly considers escorting you out of the premises altogether—just in case— but then, how could he ensure your safety if the spirit decides to leave after you?

His chest is heavy when he speaks.

“If anything suspicious happens in this room, call me immediately. Shout, if you have to.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright”, he shoots you a look. “Stay here.”

You nod. It’s weak, devoid of conviction and Egon wants to emphasize how crucial it is for you to stay— but another loud bang comes from the reception area and there’s no time to waste.

Egon turns around and scuttles towards the pole. He slides down. Lands with a loud thump, doubled by the flip- flops and takes a slow, cautious look around.

He’s quick to spot the source of the noise: it’s a loose pipe lying on the floor. It might not be currently moving but it sure as heck was just a moment ago— Ray doesn’t leave spare parts scattered around the floor. He has his secret dirty stash for that.

Egon takes a long, wary look around. Nothing’s moving, except for gentle flow of a dirty cloth drying on the heater. He pulls out the PKE meter and glances at the readings. Whatever this thing is, it’s here. It may be invisible but it’s here. Lurking. Leering. Hidden in the shadow, a predator on the hunt. Any moment now.

He doesn’t even manage to slide the device back into the pocket when a slimy tentacle shoots at him.

It’s massive. Heavy and slick. Whatever creature it belongs to, it must be huge and, uh, incredibly unusual. The dissonance is almost incomprehensible: to see a wet, marine limb which acts very much alive here— in the garage of New York’s finest— in a place devoid of water (well, save for a tap).

Egon screams. He drops the PKE meter and reaches for the charged rod. A proton stream lashes outwards with full power but before it catches the giant limb, it’s already gone— slithered into the shadows, shrouded in shade.

A few things to note right away: one, the ghost is huge. Two, it’s unlike any other they’ve seen before. Three, the sheer amount of mucus suggests a healthy dose of Marsh genes. Four, it’s out of sight and apparently good at staying there. Right. All Egon has to do is pretend to be unsuspecting, so that the ghost—

“Yeah, so I’ve done some thinking and I can’t do this.”

He whips his head around. There you are: in his crumpled shirt still inside- out, peeking through the hole in the ceiling. You’re in the middle of putting on your socks.

He can’t with you. He can’t.

“What did I tell you? Don’t come down here!”

“Oops?”

“No”, he yells. “I told you to STAY! Stay! How many times—”

“Sure, and pretend your screaming flows like a nursery rhyme.”

You clutch the pole with both hands, pull yourself close and slide down. Egon curses under his breath. Shite. Shite. Of course you wouldn’t listen. Psychology classes pop up in his mind again— the most powerful instincts— the things people do for fear…

“I’m here now. Poof. Too late”, you say. “Whatever happens is on me.”

He stifles a groan. It’s a lost cause. The stairs are at the opposite end of the garage. Escorting you there would take way too long and expose you to a stealthy attack and— well, he doesn’t suppose forcing you to climb the pole is on the table.

“Alright”, he decides. “Grab the pack.”

You manage to put it on yourself. He helps you to switch it on. You huff, smile and turn to him.

“Which trap?”

“Regular.”

“On it!”

You dash towards Ecto- 1. Just as Egon suspected: the enormous tentacle emerges from the shadow and aims.

Egon shoots. The proton stream reaches the ghost this time. The current wraps around its shape. The ectoplasmic limb wrestles and yanks but he holds it in place: it’s your turn to capture it before it rips the shackle.

“Now!”

You slide the contraption right under the ghost. Set the pedal. Step. Open. Wait.

Intense glow fills the room. Egon navigates the tentacle downwards but for some inexplicable reason the trap doesn’t seem to swallow its prey. It tries— sucks some ectoplasmic residue, hoovers up some of its slime— but the monster doesn’t get pulled in, as if it was… attached to something?

A roar echoes through the garage and everything happens at once: the trap closes, proton stream breaks and the ghost dissipates again.

You’re the first to whisper.

“…Is it…?”

“No”, Egon exhales. “It’s around here somewhere.”

“So… The trap didn’t work? Why?”

“Apparently it’s not just a ghost. It must be a complex being with some sort of material form. We may need to overpower it in a more… traditional sense.”

“Chain? Wires? Chandelier? Forget- me rod? A random hydraulic pipe of oblivion?”

Your flowery language is both a blessing and a curse. That translates into a perfect bait. Keep talking.

“So you’re opting for brute force?” Egon asks and that’s all it takes.

“Uh, I thought you were suggesting. I’d try another approach. If that guy is a marine cephalopod he may have a hard time adjusting to open air. Maybe dragging it out of the drainage will do the trick, right? Instead of streaming it, we could—"

Your mouth is still open when the giant tentacle shoots in your general direction. You let out a loud shriek and manage to evade— albeit barely— and even though Egon assumed using you as a lure would be the practical choice, he, for once, can’t stand the sight of it.

The proton rod won’t help any. Hitting you is a real threat— and it’s way more dangerous for you than the ghost. He’s about to resort to brute force but the monster steps out of the shadows and Egon can’t believe his eyes.

It’s human.

Oh, that makes things significantly easier.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a tiny bottle and charges.

A hit from behind may be cheap but it works every time. Egon swings the uncharged proton rod right into the creature’s head. It squeals, unwraps the tentacles protruding from its sleeve, then snarls and shakes its head. Egon has a few seconds to take in the entire picture: three gargantuan ectoplasmic limbs (a developing ghostly sickness?) have taken over the poor guy’s left arm. He seems dazed: his eyes are foggy, droll seeps through his teeth and for a split second Egon wonders if there’s any spiritual cancerous disease he’s failed to discover.

The hybrid lifts its arms and aims at you again, full force. Before you have the chance to scream, Egon slides right in front of you, pushes you aside and splashes some of the bottle’s contents on the monster’s face.

It howls and retracts.

“…What is that?!” You manage.

“An old trick. Handy when possessed individuals fail to be cooperative.”

Egon spots the dirty cloth still hanging on the heater. It should be dry enough. Easy to soak. Perfect.

He dashes for it, grabs it and presses it against the bottle, pouring a decent amount of the liquid on it. Heavy drops of the potent solution spill around. Tiny wet lines trickle down his gloves. He takes a deep breath, holds it and looks at the monster. It snarls. Then charges.

Egon isn’t a great fighter but he dodges just fine. He slides under the tentacles, turns around and hops on the hybrid’s back. It screeches— then stops— wet, throaty sounds stifled by the rug in Egon’s hand. He clutches the monster’s throat, squeezes it with an elbow and turns to you.

“A common tranquilizer. Learnt it during my coroner years”, he grunts, pressing the pad into its face. “You might want to find something to tie him with.”

You’re awfully quiet, staring at him blankly— but you nod. There’s a spare, long chain in Ray’s stash (nobody knows what he uses it for) so you take it and approach the scuffle with apprehension. The hybrid’s movements slow down but it’s still trying to break out of Egon’s unrelenting clutch.

“Thank you”, he says, composed as ever. “You’re doing great.”

It takes a few more seconds. The monster’s muscles eventually give in and it slides down on the floor. Its arms loosen. Eyes close. Its head hits the garage floor.

For a long moment nobody moves.

“Yo”, you whisper. Egon looks at you, then at the limp body beneath him and takes a step back.

“Sedated. Perfect.”

“What now?”

“Let’s tie it up.”

Egon reaches for the chain you’re holding. He wraps the creatures torso (making it extra tight and unnecessarily confusing around the arms— safety first) and you take care of its legs. The constraint turns out pretty solid and, most importantly, impossible to slip through by the tentacles. Once you make sure it’s sealed, each of you grabs a loose end of the chain and proceed to drag the dead weight across the floor.

It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace level of service anyway— not like you owe anybody standards— but when the monster’s back slams against a concrete pillar, you flinch.

“Oh no!— Oh dear, it hurt him—”

“It’s just tried to kill you. You do understand that, right?”

“Sort of”, you groan. “I really wanted it to warm up to us. We’ve sort of killed our chances at cooperation.”

“Don’t worry. It isn’t capable of drawing conclusions in this state.”

Egon pulls the chain and ties the creature around the pillar in an ungallant knot. It’s not his proudest work but a staple of initiative nonetheless. Links are sealed. Hostage is secured. It’s all under control.

He’s still focused on triple- checking the locks when you speak.

“Egon, why did you…?” You rub your hands together. “You… It was dangerous. Reckless. You don’t do reckless, Egon Spengler. Overcomplicated, yes, way too optimized, yes. But this, whatever you were thinking, was almost careless! You… You could’ve—”

He looks upwards. You seem anxious but you’re alive and well. He doesn’t understand.

“I could’ve what?”

“Well, I mean, you stuck your neck out for me. It could’ve been bad”, you gulp. ‘You could’ve been hurt.”

“I wasn’t though, was I?”

Egon’s at a loss. He watches you closely. You’re both okay and that’s all that matters. It’s not the first time he’s done something stupid out of fear— ah, fear, the bypass of rational thought— the Psychology classes again…

You stay silent for a moment, then sigh.

“I’ll call Peter.”

“Yes. No. Wait.” He frowns, takes off his gloves and approaches you. “Check- up first.”

“…This again? Seriously?!” You huff. “It’s, like, the third time this week! If something happened, I’d tell you immediately. I’m fine, Egon! I’m fine, you should be focused on yourself, you’re the one who went berserk for some reason I can’t wrap my head around—"

No bruises, no scratches. He touches your face, looks you in the eyes.

“It’s a precaution. I’ll make it quick. Tell me if anything hurts.”

His fingers skim over your features— cheeks, nose, forehead, temples. Your voice catches. Breath gets shuddered, eyes go frantic and cheeks are still awfully warm but it’s a natural response. Egon’s expected that much. His thumb runs across your lip, even though it looks untouched and there’s no justifiable reason to examine it closely. He just… can’t resist. Nor does he want to, really. There’s still room for excuses which get half- woven in his head but their seams are loose and each sentence falls apart before it leaves his mouth.

Egon knows he lingers too long. Needs to pull back. He doesn’t understand why his body won’t listen.

The tip of his thumb rests at the corner of your lips, then moves on to another gentle caress. Then again. And again, until you sigh. Warm breath tickles his skin. He tries it once more to check if you allow him— and you do— more than that— you melt into the touch, heat radiating from your skin, breathing deep— receptive, indulgent, responsive.

This is… inebriating.

“…You seem okay”, he concludes. “No injuries?”

“No. You?”

“None”, he says, letting his hands hang loose again. “I’ll run a few tests. Call Venkman, tell him we’ve got a subject. He should come immediately.”

“Okay. But tell me what’s going on.”

“…We’ve just caught an anomaly. As I said.”

“Not that. I see you. I notice things”, you say cautiously but he makes sure his face is as blank as ever. “You’re usually so collected. What happened?”

Egon doesn’t think it needs explanation. It’s obvious. Should be, at least. He frowns and says:

“I don’t want my friends to get hurt.”

“…After Ray?”

He nods.

A pair of soft hands brush against his jaw and in a moment— before he’s able to fully process what’s happening— his face dips down, guided by the delicate touch and you gently place your lips near his chin.

It’s a simple gesture. Gentle touch. A shadow of a kiss, lighter than Dana’s, nothing more than a brush of hot skin but— Lord, help him— he shivers— it’s so much more— it’s everything— it’s overwhelming.

“Ray is fine”, you whisper, looking at him again. “You’ll see him tomorrow, remember? It’s almost over.”

“…Again, please.”

“You’ll see him tomorrow...”

“No. Not this, the…”

It takes you a second but you get it and breathe out a laugh. Brush his jaw again, then wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a tight hug.

Oh. Oh.

His arms tentatively reach for your back and once they’re there— recognize the texture of his shirt (outlining your shape in a way he declines to register)— and he lets down his guard a bit. Tightens his grasp. Sinks into the moment. He lets his hands really feel you for the first time since the both of you’ve started accepting proximity and it frightens him beyond belief— it’s soft, welcoming, disarming and pure— so his eyes close, stiff muscles let go— anxiety abates—  he’s out of breath— but all you do is hold him close, no doubt, no shame. You’re as open and affectionate as ever, a salve for his mind, a missing link. You fit right here. He’s never known a feeling like this, not even with his family.

That’s something new: his fear for your life instigates a soothing response. Highly unusual. He’ll have to write it down for future reference.

“Could we include this into the list of things we do? Under… particular circumstances, of course?”

“Sure. Whenever you need it.”

You stay like that for a moment. It’s quiet and dark. Egon relishes every breath tickling the nape of his neck, every slight fidget against his chest, every movement— and when you finally take a step back, his chest feels almost hollow. As if it’s just tasted peace and had to let go.

“You should also add a point in which you listen to me in case of immediate danger”, he says. “In a bold, red, permanent marker, preferably.”

You smile. It’s playful. Cheeky. Beautiful. Whatever anxiety you’d felt a moment ago, evaporated.

“I did cooperate, doofus! You won’t find a more flexible squire than myself.”

“Flexible tends to mean obedient”, he raises an eyebrow. “When I say you fall back, you do.”

“When you require assistance, I help! That’s literally in my agreement. I signed the paper, you have no say in this, Spengler.”

“Spenglers are a team. And, when faced with danger, have to be unanimous.”

“You’re right!” You give him your finger guns and turn to the reception desk. “See? We’ve just agreed and it’s that easy!”

He smirks.

“Call Venkman.”

“Ai, ai, Sir!”

He watches you pick up the phone and dial Peter’s number. A few beeps later your voice fades into a mumble of funny noises.

When he turns towards the hybrid, he notices another curious thing: the tentacles seem to deflate and seep into a bile of ectoplasmic goo.

He must take a sample immediately. Ray is going to love this.

[lotusflowersimagines]

Hi! Cna we get a Xander Matthews x reader who acts like chiaki nanami from dra2?

Absolutely! Thank you for the request! Since you didn't specify on talent or anything I left it up for interpretation, but I made it so the reader like similar interests as Chiaki. If I interpreted the request wrong or you wanted something more specific, shoot me another ask and i'll gladly fix it!

NOTES: Non-Despair AU, romantic Character/Reader relationship, G/N reader, N/N is "nickname", Reader and Xander move in together

~ Xander Matthews with a s/o who acts like Chiaki Nanami! (HC's + Scenario)

Xander thought you were so sweet!

When the two of you first met, he was suprised that you weren't scared or intimidated by his extroverted personality- but thankful all the same! He doesn't do it on purpose, he just gets excited easily

You were such a calm person in comparison, meeting his enthusiasm with your own softspoken support for him and what he did

It was no wonder he fell head over heels for you! Even though you may have seemed dismissive or even a little lazy on the surface, he grew to know you better than that; you were passionate about what you loved, even if you weren't as loud as he was with it, you were a caring and considerate person who put people you cared about first and held them close to you

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he confessed, but you decided that he would be one of those people aswell

He was red in the face as he swore he would do his best for you, and hoped that you would do the same for him!

Of course- the two of you fulfilled that promise together. You had a wonderful dynamic that had your personalities bounce off of eachother well, you were the calm to his storm and his friends definetly appreciated that aswell

But you didn't have everything figured out, the two of you still had your own downsides that required some extra support

"Y/N! You've been on the console for 3 hours! C'mon, let's go outside for a little- a walk can't hurt, i'll even get you ice cream!" "In a minute.. I have to finish this boss battle and i'll be done with the main storyline.." "I'll give you five, but then i'll be back for you, okay?"

Sometimes you were just a little too entranced in your games, books, socials.. He loves that you have passion for the things that you enjoy! but he knows too much of it is bad for you, he makes sure you're taking a break every now and again so that you're alright

Xander was a whole other thing though, and once he's set on something he'll put his mind to it and see it through! It's not always a good thing though

"Xander.. Where are you going..?" The redhead rebel was putting on a raincoat and on his way out the door. "Oh! N/N- you're still awake! I have a protest to get to and i'm running a little late, it's a bad look for me and I have to be there to sta-" "But it's raining really hard- The severe thunderstorm warning on my phone woke me up, actually…" "Ah well, justice can't sleep, Y/N.. The consequences of others actions- or, inaction can be severe. I have to go tonight" "No, you can't.. Xander you could get sick or hurt, you might not even be able to see out there- I know how passionate you are about these things.. but there will be other opportunities to give justice to your cause. You're important so.. I need you to stay tonight, please?" He paused for a minute, visibly conflicted. but after a few minutes of long silence, he sighed and began removing the raincoat. "Alright.. Alright. You're right Y/N, maybe it isn't worth the risk." You smiled softly, he followed you back upstairs to your shared room and you both called it a night. In short? You two are basically perfect together!

[roobylavender]

what are your thoughts on the naruhina dynamic? I adore hinata, we don't often get characters like her

i LOOOOVE naruhina omfg they were my day ones when i first got into naruto.. i used to enjoy fluffier ships at the time so they perfectly fit my modus operandi lol. i think it's a shame how underwritten their relationship is in main canon (in the sense that they don't get as much page time) because the set up is so good and the few moments they do share with each other are incredibly potent. the pain arc was utterly life changing for me and while i loathe the way the anime generally tends to portray most of the female cast this was one occasion where its expansion on the manga was actually so well executed and remains seared in my mind to this day (please watch from 2:06 of this amv it makes me feel CRAZY). unfortunately the ball was totally dropped with neji's death and instead of adapting hinata's full THREE page monologue to naruto the anime reduced it down to one line that she's consistently been mocked for even though her intentions in the aftermath of that event were so sincere.. i'm always baffled by people's hatred of her because they seem to act like she's timid or quiet on purpose as if she wasn't abused by her father for half of her life. and then they act like she's stupid and can only think about her feelings for naruto at the expense of everything else. but if it was anyone out there on the battlefield watching someone they love get absolutely pulverized would they not do something about it too regardless of their own ability in comparison? i don't think that moment ever came down to logic and i don't think it even had to. comparatively when she made a remarkable display of composure and emotional strength in response to her cousin's death everyone laughed at her for subsequently accepting the smallest bit of comfort (and don't even get me started on how neji fans feel about her generally.. they direct more hatred to that poor girl than they do her father lmao it's insane). it's simply bizarre the expectations she's held to and the consistency with which she's underestimated because she's capable of a lot emotionally and the development is there! and a lot of people act like if naruto really loved her he would have reciprocated during the main narrative but i always argue it was unrealistic for any relationship between the teen characters to be actualized during the main narrative because they were literally at war.. i'm an avid hater of the last admittedly but that's because i think it squanders the potential the main narrative immediately set up with naruto and hinata theoretically bonding over their grief and desire to take action to ensure nothing like what they went through ever happened again. i've always dreamed of post-war naruto commencing his education in leadership and diplomacy under tsunade's tutelage and that occasionally entailing long days in the library reading over historical scrolls and the like that happen to sometimes be on the same shelf as a scroll on the history of cursed seals, which of course hinata begins to look into after the war because she wants this branch clan business over and done with for good and if there's a way to remove those seals forever she'll find it. the idea of the two of them on awkward library non-dates that eventually segue into something more and develop a rapport and friendship between them that can bloom into love is simply so special to me like urgh they make me Weepy. i truly love them so so much and most of my naruto fanfiction is actually about them lol i do think a lot of it is cringe and over the years i tried to rewrite some of it but if you're interested in reading all of it is here

[nedlittle]

genuine question: what is wrong with the peyton beachdeath lma trans thread? I know…too much about peyton himself so we don’t need to revisit that, but i’d love to see you rip into some shoddy scholarship and ways to (mis)understand historical queerness

oh god...

i mean aside from people taking the word of a notorious clout-chasing liar and conspiracy theorist at face value...peyton just doesn't understand or even really care about history when it does not directly benefit him. full disclosure i have not read the thread since it was first posted but it is burned into my memory unfortunately, i also don't know a lot about lma as a historical figure

aside from cherry picking quotes from lma's diaries there were no actual sources. nothing from her biographers, no secondary scholarship at all. it was just peyton presenting quotes purposefully stripped of their context in order to further a point that he wanted to be right.

this should be like. queer history for pre-schoolers but people in the past who were or may have been queer understood themselves and their queerness differently than people do today. peyton is incapable of looking at queerness outside of his very specific 21st century lens. could louisa may alcott have been a trans man? possibly! could she have also been cis and/or gnc? sure! could she have simply been writing in both her private and personal lives about how suffocating the experience of being a woman in the 19th century was? yeah. we have no way of knowing which of this could be true, and whether they overlapped at all. queer history exists in shades of possibility. in some cases (and we're going to use trans men contemporary to lma), like those of albert cashier and charley pankhurst, we can pretty definitely say that they were both men; that being a man was essential to their continued survival, that they would have wanted to be remembered as men. in other cases, it's more slippery because the taxonomy we use nowadays to classify ourselves and especially our differentiation of gender identity vs sexual acts is SO recent that it does a disservice to classify all historical queerness with it.

it's insane that there are MULTIPLE notable 19th century trans men in american history at the time lma was living and he still was like no this is not good enough for me i can only emotionally relate to something if i can force my own image onto it. that's really the problem here, not the shoddy history and the deliberately misleading language, but the fact that peyton is seemingly incapable of enjoying or relating to a piece of media or a person if he cannot find a direct comparison to his own life. he did the same oh "(x) was 100% absolutely a trans man if you tell me wrong you're transphobic" thing with katharine hepburn (iirc??) a few years back and this is a personal gripe but having read a 600+ page bio of hepburn that was very generous to several queer readings of her life: lol. lmao even. his insistence of flatting the experience of anyone with a moderately fucky gender into "you're either Like Me or your not" is so purposefully stupid.

like, do all the trans readings of little women you want! i myself made a deranged little women trans post a few weeks ago. but lma isn't a fictional character who you can apply different literary lenses to! she was a real human person whose relationship with her gender we will never fully understand because we were not there. at some point you just have to accept that it is not your business. why are you so desperate for any shred of historical representation that you are willing to exhume the dead in order to out them?

peyton relates to jo march, so he insists that reading jo as a trans man is the only (morally) correct reading. he likes little women but has to make it fit the public view of transness that he is made his personal brand. i actually followed him for longer than i'd care to admit, and it's a trend with any piece of media that he is publicly into that he has to make a character a trans man in order to relate to them.

he also has this deranged idea that any author writing with emotional depth about the """opposite sex""" must have been trans. see the article he wrote for the niche about how must have been a trans man because he gave dido's emotions and the collapse of her marriage to aeneas the same "dignified treatment as any sprawling, epic battlefield scenes." [direct quote] the article is literally called " vergil had a pussy and i'll prove it." no further comment.

one of his "proofs" is that lma was called "lou" by her family, which he then proceeds to call her for the rest of the thread. lou is....a very normal nickname for louisa both now and then. you know what else was a 19th century nickname for louisa? wheezy. imagine that same thread but he calls her wheezy alcott. thank you, good day.

[yurisorcerer]

A friend said yesterday that I seem like I have a complicated relationship with Ishura. This is untrue, I think Ishura sucks but has a few bright spots; that's not complicated. If there's a show I have a complicated relationship with this season it's Metallic Fucking Rouge. What, like, IS this show? Actually? When you strip away all the minutiae and all attempts at allegory, political or otherwise, what is this story *about*? Like, at its core?

With three episodes left on the clock (assuming this isn't a secret two-cour show, but I'd be very surprised if that we the case) I'm still not sure I could tell you.

Metallic Rouge has all these big-brain classic sci-fi influences that it very clearly wants to integrate into its sense of storytelling. That's why there are two competing factions of aliens who we don't really see much of until this episode, that's why there's this whole human oppressor / humanoid robot oppressed class dynamic that the show doesn't quite know what to do with, that's probably a good chunk of why it hops between planets at all. At the same time, this is also a 12-episode anime that needs to deliver solid fundamentals to actually keep people invested. Most people are not me, and will not watch an entire 12-episode series just to figure out what the fuck it's trying to do. I think a lot of people, given how willfully opaque Metallic Rouge is, would / will / have just found it frustrating. The action sequences have been good at staving that off, and I think this episode's was maybe the best yet, but I'm not sure it's enough.

That aside, yeah, this is a series that's worn a lot of hats. It's been a toku-inspired action series, a story about the aftermath of war and the mechanics of oppression, a trippy dream sequence, a whodunnit, etc. Now, in its last leg, it's become like....I don't even know, one of those 90s sci fi movies with CGI aliens? It's been better at some of those than others and I actually think this new turn fits it surprisingly well, but I am left with a frustration and I kind of wish the show would just stick to something.

That said; I can see the counterargument, right? You know, compared to most bad anime that have aired or will air this year, Rouge's problem is not that it has NO ideas, it's that it has TOO MANY, and doesn't execute them well enough. In my head, I've kind of been comparing the series to Lycoris Recoil, but they actually have opposite problems; LycoReco couldn't find enough solid ground to stretch for a full 12 episode cour, and ended up showing its ass when its underlying politics turned out to be embarrassingly basic. Metallic Rouge by comparison is hyperactive and unable to follow through on any of its ideas. I wouldn't be surprised if, rather than turning out to have *basic* politics as I've previously wondered, it just turns out to have none. Who needs themes when you have giant spaceships and can reveal your main character is an alien?

Or is it, right? That's the obvious thing, there are still three more episodes. Maybe, somehow, someway, it will find a way to tie all of these disparate elements together in its final quarter and I'll look like a fucking idiot for having ever doubted it. I would honestly love that, I can count on my hands the number of times a show I was frustrated with turned out BETTER than I thought it would, but it's always a really lovely and cathartic thing. But I'm pretty skeptical, I don't know, the fact that the series used so much charged imagery early on and has largely just chosen to discard it makes the entire thing feel poorly thought-out. I am still, in spite of myself, mostly enjoying the show for what it is; I love the action sequences, the incredibly strange bits of hyper-expressive and overfluid animation (seriously, look at this)

and I even kind of love how up its own ass it is, but I think there's a distinction to be drawn there between something being *entertaining* and being *good.* Metallic Rouge is very entertaining, but it's also hugely frustrating and at this point I would be VERY surprised if my main takeaway from it once it's over isn't just that it had a lot of potential it didn't live up to.

I guess we'll see! Who knows.

EDIT: Oh yeah, I saw someone else mention this in the tag but credit to this show for being fairly normal about a plural system. I hope they survive the rest of the show, Alice/Aes are honestly some of my favorite characters.

[onlyswan]

ARTTT HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! we already starting it off with a bang with that new drabble! You are literally iconic and your words have struck such a deep cord in me i think they’ll always be ingrained in the essence of who i am for years to come. seriously sometimes i’m just going about my day and something happens and before i react i think back to something you said in your works and i think it’s beautiful how i’m learning and growing through reading the things you’ve written. idk i just think writing is kind of a love language on it own and it’ll always hold a special place in my heart❤️❤️

our in which couple is literally the epitome of romance to me. it lowkey makes me sad when i look around at people’s perspectives of relationships today and see how it all just feels lackluster in comparison to them 😭 like seriously what happened to romance these days it’s not romancing like it should n oc n jk just quell my anxieties about having a beautiful relationship in the future. they’re really my hope. which brings me to one of my two questions. when writing them as individuals and together are there any pieces of yourself and your experiences that you give to them. i know jungkook is your muse for writing his character and honestly that man is everything one could want n more in a muse what a beautiful beautiful soul my heart aches thinking about him and it aches more with the character you’ve created (men written by women are 🥹🥹) but with oc they’re just so… so… so… painstakingly ethereal and unique and their essence alone and thoughts and habits and just everything is so wonderful and i just love them and i can’t imagine you’ve created that sort of person from nothing. there must be some things you’ve taken from yourself to add to them and whenever i read i cant help but to imagine that there are glimpses of you also in these drabbles.

question two, would you ever write a drabble of their first time together? being physically intimate that is… i know you said before you don’t write smut and i understand n that’s not really what i’m asking. i just think with your way with words and how you describe the intimacy between them that’s it’d be heart swelling to read about what that step in their relationship was like. did jk plan out how he’d go about it, was it a romantic night on the town or did he set up something special for them indoors, the nerves and butterflies, was there wine tasting and silly little tipsy giggles that lead to not so innocent touches, the barring of their souls and bodies to each other in a new way, oc realizing just how different it all is compared to their past experiences. the act of what it truly means to ‘make love’ with someone not just have s*x because of lustful feelings.

okay that’s it!! thank you so much for reading if you do! i hope this year is a beautiful one for you and everyone who happens upon or frequents your page ❤️❤️❤️ ~🦢

my sweetest swan anonie 🥰 wishing you the happiest new year !!!!! you always know the right words to say that will make me cry :"( i’ve always hoped even a little piece of any of my writing could stay with those who read them just like how many authors did for me. thank you so much for making that dream come true 🥹🥹🥹 you have a very special place in my heart!

seriously what happened to romance these days it’s not romancing like it should lmaoooo this sums up my disappointment with almost every romance and almost romance i’ve had for the past few years 😭 the shit people get away with are so… please never let anyone treat you horribly and make you believe that you aren’t valued !!!! 😡

hehe of course my experiences also come into play at times, but tbh that was mostly at the beginning of the iw!series. as time went on jk and oc’s love story and them as individuals evolved on their own in my brain and it became out of my hands. they write themselves atp 🤷🏻‍♀️ most especially oc !! my goodness. of course i love love love and adore jungkook 🥺 the bestest muse ever 🥺 but oc has definitely become a character i have sooooo much respect and fondness for. oc exists with fragments of myself, but also oc is a person that i really, really aspire to be. so thank you so much for loving them 😭🫶🏼 it truuuuly means the world

oh yeah and their first time together… i’ve been outlining something since y’all want it so bad haha it might turn out to be one of my favs if it ends up the way i’m planning it to be 🫣 i don’t know when it’s coming since uni is already starting again for me next week but sooooon! definitely… lots of butterflies in this one 🥹🦋

i always read an ask a couple of times before answering so of course i did :P i love youuuu and i adore you and your mind and your heart 💞💞💞 please spend your days happily and healthily!