#like these men will literally go out of their way to terrorize women for no reason i'm so done with it all

[enwoso]

not sure what your plans or chronologically for the grumpy universe

but could you write something where tiny is a teenager and she’s going through a rebellious phase. out late, parties, that sort of vibe

TEENAGE TERRORS — alessia russo x teen!reader

buckle up she’s a long one! i didn’t really know how i was going to end this so the ending is a little iffy but ENJOY!

lil psa, not wanting to disappoint anyone but this is probably one of the only ones i’ll write with lovie as a teen just as its a little bit more difficult to get the dynamics right. i’m sorry, i still love you all🤍

grumpy masterlist

you were now sixteen, however you were still your mums little girl.

your mum had since retired from football and had moved into working still within the football scene: part time football pundit for the international matches but still giving back to the local clubs making sure that girls sports was supported in a way they should be.

since you were now able to look after yourself, your mum was rarely around during the week. always being out the house sometimes before you even woke up having to be somewhere for a meeting.

but it worked out well as you would be at school, and then after that she would pick you up from school and drive you to football training and sit and watch you flourish in a sport that had quite literally been your entire life.

you still lived in london, but you had moved slightly further from central london from the first home you lived in when you moved to london all those moons ago. still going to all of arsenal's home games at the emirates both men's and women's.

hoping one day that would be you, you on the field playing for your club.

your mum still very much good friends with her teammates she used to play with, most coming around on a weekend to visit when they had the time. but most importantly, ella was around at every chance she could.

you could have sworn at one point she had moved in for a little bit while her boyfriend had been away on a work trip, alessia sometimes wondering when ella was around if she had one child or two.

alessia had a lot of trust in you, she didn't think she had to worry about you being lead down the wrong path.

you were naturally quite clever, your grades in school were very good, your teachers would never really have a bad word to say about you, maybe the fact you were a little chatty in the wrong moments, and you had a good group of friends which alessia had met and there impression to her was good.

but you also had a strong head on your shoulders. you weren't the type to let others tell you what to do.

but with that you were a teenager and your mum should've maybe been a little more tentative in what you did with your spare time.

it was easy to slip things past your mum as for one she wasn't exactly the hardest to convince — something you more often than you would like to admit used to your full advantage.

which is why when you started coming home late, being out every weekend at someone else's house for party's your mum didn't exactly pick up on anything. your mum just thought you were having fun, she trusted you that you knew what was sensible and what wasn't.

but maybe the trust each time you were late home, or came home smelling of alcohol was being stretched further and further like a rubber band to the point where it could break at any point.

which is what lead to the weekend, you were off to another party.

"mum! i'm going out now, i'll see you later" you called out from the hallway as you touched up your hair in the large floor mirror that hung in the hallway.

your mum sat in the living room watching a series on the large tv that took up a large part of the wall, a small glass of white wine in her hand as a small way for the blonde to unwind after a busy week.

"wait, lovie. c'mere!" your mum called out quickly at the sound of the door keys being rattled around. you huffing slightly at you checked the time on your phone before poking your head into the living room.

your mum turning so that she could see you a sad look adorning on your mothers face, "you never said you were going out? i thought you were staying in, we were gonna do a movie night remember?"

you eyebrows knitted together with confusion, ok you may have forgotten to tell your mum your weekend plans but you couldn't just cancel your plans with your friends now, it was too late.

"i- uh. i did i told you in the car on the way back from training on wednesday!" you lied, you were now getting a little impatient as your mum hummed, she still not really remembering if you had or not a lot having happened since wednesday night.

"we can have our movie night another time, i really need to go now. i'll be back later mum" you spoke fast and your mum could sense the urgency that you had to leave.

"right, what time will you be back?" your mum asked, as you thought for a moment not wanting to say to early but also not too late that your mum would complain.

"about eleven maybe" you shrugged, the maybe coming out a little quieter, more of a whisper.

"ok lovie, but no drinking please you have an important match tomorrow, have fun but be-"

"-sensible i know mum! bye i love you" were the last words spoken to your mum as you dashed out the room and the front door before alessia even had a chance to blink.

you managed to make it to the party just on time, it happened to only be a few blocks from your house but you as always you underestimate the time it's going to take for you to get ready.

you got to the party, there being a lot more people than you expected. it taking you a little while longer to locate your friends over the booming noise of the music and the amoung of people inside the house.

but luckily you were able to find your friends, your four friends englufing you in a tight squeeze as they fiilled you in with what you had missed since arriving late.

you loved your friends, you would do anything for them and they had been there since pretty much the beginning and the five of you were pretty much inseparble.

there was emilia who was definetly the most outspoken out the four of you, you not too far second in that race, she would say anything and everything on her mind. but like every teenage girl she had two sides to her lovely and like butter wouldnt melt on the outside but deep inside her she was a total bitch.

there was olivia, she was emilia's ride or die, the two of them knowing each other since preschool and one thing about olivia is she would do anything for emilia even if meant she or others would get hurt in the process.

then there was isabella or bella as everyone called her, she was the newest addition to the friend group havign just transfered schools, but she was too nice for her own good meaning she was a little naive to her surroundings and some peoples meaning.

and finally your best friend poppy, the girl you trusted with your entire life - quite literally. the two of you had been joined to the hip since your first day at school, clicking instantly. you considered the girl as a sister. alessia always thinking you and poppy reminded her a lot of her and ella when they were younger.

once you had caught up with your friends the night went on you were just enjoying socialising, you always up for meeting new people although it was a little hard in a dimly lit room and blaring music over the top.

"what you drinking tonight then russo?" emilia asked you with a dopey smile, a red solo cup in her hand as she slouched next to you on the couch. you were most definitely the only one there that was still sober.

"just sprite" you shrugged, holding you cup up as emilia let out a little laugh.

"why you being boring russo, just have a drink let your hair down" emilia giggled as she began to sway slightly from side to side with the music but she definitely wasn't in time with the beat like she thought she was.

you shook your head, "i can't, i have a match in the morning and i promised my mum-"

"oh why are you so bothered about all that stupid football jazz. your never gonna make it pro, you would have already! just face it your never gonna be the big name your mum was!" emilia slurred so casually, the words just rolling off her tongue like she was just repeating words she had rehearsed for days.

emilia was off squealing at some boy as she dragged him to dance with her all before you could even process what she'd said. your body just slumping into its self.

"you okay?" a voice said over the beat of the loud music which felt even louder now, your ears ringing. you looked up, your eyes slightly watered as you nodded. it was just poppy.

"yep” you popped your lip looking at the floor before turning to look at your best friend, “can you get me a drink?" you looked up hopeful, as poppy looked at you with knitted eyebrows, confusion filled her face. you didn’t drink.

"what? another sprite?" she asked as you quickly shook your head, "no, something else, vodka? anything. just make it strong?"

"are you sure your okay?" poppy asked again, it was unusual for you to drink never mind ask for a strong drink. your best friend beginning to be slightly worried about the sudden change in your behaviour as you sighed frustratedly.

"yes! just get me the fucking drink poppy!" you snapped as poppy quickly left her red solo cup next to you, mumbling she would be a few minutes.

and to your luck, she was back a few minutes later a red solo cup in her hand, handing it to you. a clear liquid in the cup as you peered into the cup.

"it's straight vod-"

you didn't bother listening to what poppy had to say, instead chugging the vodka. the feeling of the burning down your throat, the same feeling hitting your stomach as when emilia said those words to you.

but right now you wanted to forget that, forget everything, you wanted your mind to be clear, just like the colour of the liquid your just downed.

you felt your head begin to get lighter with each drink you had, before you were starting to not even be able to walk straight never mind put a sentence together.

the night just flushing into a blur, as for the first time you felt free. like nothing mattered. nobody knew your name or used you for your last name. you were just y/n.

lovie🩷 -> hey alessia, it's poppy, y/n's in quite a state and she was about to start walking home by herself but i don't think that's a good idea so my mum is going to drop her home when she picks me up.

mumma🤍 -> hi poppy, is she okay? did something happen?

lovie🩷 -> she's conscious but i don't think she knows what's going on, she had quite a few drinks. i'm not sure what happened one minute she was smiling the next she had a face like thunder.

mumma🤍 -> not to worry poppy, i'll talk to her in the morning. thank you for looking out for her.

"lovie?" alessia looked in shock horror at the state you were in, slightly embarrassed as she looked up thanking poppy as well as flashing a thankful smile towards her mum who was behind the driving wheel and had so kindly brought you home.

“sorry she’s in such a state, i did try and get her to slow down after the first one but she just ignored me” poppy apologised with a wince as alessia nodded with a sigh, your stubborn side which you definitely didn’t get from the blonde.

“it’s okay, i’m not angry. just a little disappointed but thank you for looking out for y/n, your a good friend to her — even when sometimes she may not deserve it” alessia slightly laughed at the little bit knowing poppy had put up with you since your first day of school and knowing you can be difficult at time especially with the strong head on your shoulder.

alessia said her goodbyes to poppy again waving to her mum as she drove down the street, turning to you with a sigh as you leant against your mum and the doorframe.

“c’mon then lovie” alessia began to move you away from the doorway as you held a dopey smile on your face. rambling out some words that alessia was convinced were not english.

"hey, only my mum calls me that-" you slurred out quietly as your eyes began to shut. a big sigh coming from alessia as she called out to ella who was in the living room.

"woah- where has she been?" ella winced as she took in your form as you were slumped up against your mum, alessia shrugging.

"i need to get her to eat something, and a bottle of water" alessia told ella as she nodded in agreement helping alessia get you into the living room at least.

you were carried to the living room by both your mum and ella, the two placing you down as you sighed contently at the feeling of the soft lounge. your body drifting in and out of sleep as each minute passed.

“i’m just gonna make her a sandwich” alessia whispered as ella nodded, staying sat beside you. “yeah i’ll stay here”

a small giggle came from you out of nowhere as you head drooped to one side of the head rest on the couch, “you sound just like my auntie ella, she has a proper thick manchester accent”

ella just sat and listened as you continued your slurred ramble, a smile creeping in her face as you spoke about ella and your mum. clearly not being with it enough to know that’s currently who you’re in a room with.

“she’s pretty cool, she was an awesome footballer too. just like my mum” a sad lopsided smile crept on your face as tears slightly built in your eyes. an eyebrow rising at your words from the brunette sat beside you as she hummed.

“my mum was an amazing footballer, my dream is always to be even half the player she is-“ a sniffle came from you as if you were about to start crying, ella patting your shoulder.

“i’m sure you’ll carry on her legacy” ella smiled at you, but as you were squinting to see if you could recognise who your were talking to but you couldn’t really make out the facial features. it all just being blurs of colours.

a yelp came from you as you screwed your eyes shut, startling ella a little as she looked at you with panic in her eyes, “oh my god, my mum gonna be so annoyed at me” you covered your face with your hands.

at this point alessia was coming back into the room, a bottle of ice cold water and your favourite type of sandwich made in her hand. the blonde about to open her mouth to say something but ella waved at her not to say anything to allow you the chance to carry on your drunken confession.

“but, the drinks just looked too good and it helped i forgot about what she said” you mumbled as you carried on talking with your hands over your face. ella and alessia looking at each other with blank faces trying to figure out what you were saying.

“i felt free like i was floating on fluffy clouds- oh is this sandwich for me?” you spotted the food on the plate on the coffee table out the corner of you eye.

“yeah eat it lovie, and there’s some water there too” alessia pointed as you hummed tucking into the sandwich still not aware of your surroundings and the fact you were in your living room at home.

alessia tapping ella on the shoulder and letting the brunette know that she was gonna get your bed ready and get you some pjs out so you could change. ella just waved the blonde off letting her do her thing of what she needed to do.

after around an hour later and the two finally got you to bed, after a few little mishaps like you tripping up the stairs and you falling asleep with your toothbrush in your mouth as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom.

but finally the two had gotten you into bed and safely asleep, alessia’s head spinning. why had you gone out and got basically black out drunk, the night before an important match. there had to be a reason. this wasn’t like you.

"oh god" alessia let out a shaky breath as she lent over the kitchen counter her head in her hands. mum guilt washing over her.

"she'll be fine less, she's a teenager. this is what they do. we were once like that too-" ella tried to help comfort her best friend with a light hearted joke towards their past of them being teenagers. it not being too dissimilar.

"yeah but tooney, this isn't the first time this has happened." alessia sighed looking up at the brunette who was stood in the dimly lit kitchen.

"this is becoming every weekend and i thought maybe when she came back late smelling of alcohol the first time, it would be the last but it's happened nearly every single time since" alessia explained as tooney's face turned into a small frown, she didn't realise that wasn't the first time.

"i thought i could trust her, ella" alessia whispered, ella knew the blonde was being serious that's the only time alessia would call her best friend by her proper name. a worried look was etched across the blondes face.

"you can less, tiny is a smart kid" ella nodded pulling the blonde into a side hug as alessia whispered, "i hope your right."

the next morning had rolled around and you woke up with the biggest head ache and no recollection of the events that happened last night, the last thing you remember was your conversation with poppy.

anything else after that, you had no idea. hell you didn't even know how you got home or when-

not even realising you were home until your eyes scanned around the dimly lit room, noticing the framed photos you had from football. some with your teammates, your family, and some with some of the lionesses past and present you'd met.

a tight knot building in your stomach as you looked at it a little longer, the words lingering in your head of what your friend had said to you.

huffing you didn't want to look at the photos any longer, you pushed your covers off you and walking your way down the stairs. the bright light of the sun shining through the windows hurting your eyes as you made you way into the kitchen not even realising your mum was stood waiting for her coffee machine to finish.

"morning- why are you not ready? we have to leave in fifteen minutes?" your mum asked as you turned grabbed a glass from the shelf filling it with ice cold water.

you ignored the question your mum was sending your way instead reaching out for the cupboard in which you knew your mum kept the medicine — rummaging through the box until you found something that would help sootheyour seething headache.

"lovie? i'm asking you a question" you mum pushed but still was talking in a soft voice. you shrugged, "don't wanna go" you mumbled as you took the time to take the medicine before placing your glass in the sink.

your mum was taken back by your response, you never missed football. not matches. not training. hell you'd even beg your mum to let you play even if your leg was hanging off. football is everything to you — or so she thought.

"why?"

"not feeling too well-" you began but were cut off by your mum, "the one thing i asked you not to do was drink and you knew you had this match this morning which you know is important-"

alessia started her rant but you just sighed and walked out the room heading towards your room. your mum realising you weren't in the room any longer, following your tracks towards your room. "y/n, i'm not finished talking-"

"yeah well i am, just leave me be mum! i don't want to go to the stupid football match okay, i quit!" you snapped as you yelled from your bedroom door slamming it shut. alessia stopping in her track, your words hitting her right in the chest, as the slam of the door echoed in the hallway.

stupid football? that wasn't the lovie alessia knew.

the lovie, alessia knew was football crazy and since she could walk had a ball at her feet.

the lovie alessia knew would spend hours in the garden trying to perfect a skill even if it was pouring of rain.

the lovie alessia knew would have to be practically dragged of the pitch and away from the football after training otherwise you would spent all night there.

the lovie alessia knew, loved football and wanted to play for her club and country.

alessia didn't understand what had happened, yeah your behaviour at the minute hadn't exactly been perfect and the blonde would be lying if she said she wasn't loosing a little bit trust in you with each time you came home late.

your actions speaking louder that maybe what you were doing in your spare time wasn’t as innocent as you tried to perceive it as. your show last night was the real eye opener for alessia.

she slumped down on the stairs as she let out a breathe. she didn't know what to do or even say.

the blonde was brought out of her thoughts at the sound of knocks echoing through the hallway. alessia pushed her self up from her seat on the stairs making her way to the door and pulling it open.

"ay we ready! where's our superstar?" ella called out as she walked in not catching the gloomy look on her best friends face at the side of the door as leah walked in behind her just as excited as the two began to recite your chant.

the two were dressed head to two in the colours you wore, ella minus the arsenal jersey. but leah was decked to the nines in gunner merch.

ella and leah made it to nearly every one of your matches, ella of course didn't make it to as many as she lived in manchester but any matches you had close to there or any time ella was in london she made sure to be at your matches with alessia.

leah on the other hand would be lucky if she missed one match a season, she always made sure to be there. leah had a close connection with the academy it being one she spent the first years of her footballing years too.

"oh- what's happened?" ella smile dropping as she looked at the sad look on alessia's face, leahs head turning around as her smile too dropped. the vibe going completely flat.

"it's lovie, she's quit football-" alessia said quitely, so quiet it almost came out as a whisper, as she walked past the two going to sit on the couch in the living room, ella and leah following alessia like lost puppy's as they came to terms which what the blonde had just said.

"what do you mean she's quit?" leah asked sitting down and taking the arsenal scarf from around her neck, it being quite warm in the room. alessia just shrugged she didnt know what the cause of you sudden outburst was, but what she did know is that something had caused it or rather someone.

ella coming and sitting next to the alessia as a sigh came from her, "she can't just quit- tiny is the future of football.."

"well she came down, i asked why she wasn't ready and she said she wasn't feeling well and then i followed her cause she walked away while i was still talking and then bascially yelled in my face that football is stupid" alessia sighed putting her head in her hands, ella running a soothing hand up and down the blonde's back.

"stupid football, that does not sound like tiny at all" leah was in disbelief, the girl she was hearing about was not the tiny that they knew and loved.

"tell me about it"

"have you tried asking her about it" ella suggested, it seeming like a silly thing to ask as she thought that alessia would ahve probably done that first but it was always worth a suggestion.

a shake of the head came from alessia, "no thought i'd give her a chance to cool off first"

"good thinking less, but it's worth a try even though she may not say anything. try and see if you can get something out of her" leah gave a sad smile to alessia who nodded taking the much needed advice on board.

the three sat a little more trying to get to the bottom of why you were acting a little weird and why you suddenly after bascially dedicating your entire life to football wanted to quit.

"but you know tiny too, more than we do, thats she capable of changing her mind more times than the weather" ella jokes as both leah and alessia let out a small chuckle. she wasnt wrong, you were known to be very indecisive.

"well we'll be off, let us know what happens and if you need anything" leah slaps her hands off her knees standing up, ella nodding and agreeing with leahs words.

"i will, i'll keep you both updated" alessia gave a half smile as she held the front door open, for the two to leave as they left still dressed in their football attire. leaving a little less excited then when they arrived.

alessia waving the two goodbye as leah drove away, the blonde shutting her door as she lingered in the hallway glancing up the stairway. planning her next movements.

make you some lunch as you hadn't eaten yet and the blonde knew better than to try and talk to you empty handed.

"just me.." your mum whispered as she lightly knocked on your door, "i brought your favourite- cheese toastie" as she put the plate on your bedside table not a mutter of a word from you as your mum walked through your room.

you just lay still in your bed, blankets wrapped around you as you held your little esme the elephant. yes the same one you'd had since you were little, it all worn with there being a little tear in the ear.

your mum sighed as she sat at the end of your bed, "how you feeling now?" she cooed as you still remained in the same place staring at the wall, the only thing to be heard was your light breathing.

alessia felt as though she'd hit a brick wall. her brain trying to think of things that may get you to talk to her but ultimitately she knew it would be a long shot. you and your stubborness. something you defiently didn't get from the blonde.

"you can't ignore me forever, lovie" alessia joked lightly hoping it may help to lighten the tense atmosphere inside your room, you glancing over at your mum perched on the end of your bed.

"i can try" you mumbled if the room hadn't of been as silent as it was alessia would have most definetly missed what you said.

a hum coming from your mum, "you can try but then who knows that you don't like blueberries cause you don't like the way they feel in your mouth, or that when your anxious about something that you bite the inside of your lip, or that you like having ketchup with almost ever meal-" alessia trailed off as you perked one eyebrow up turning onto your back.

"i'm sure i'd find a way to survive" you mumbled as your mum nodded her head slowly, humming a little at your words.

"what's happened lovie? why do you all of a sudden want to quit football" your mum asked as you moved your head slightly to the side, you knew this was coming. you just didn't think you were ready to admit out loud why you wanted to stop playing.

"just do, 'm not gonna make it anywhere anyway.." you whispered your throat going slightly tight as the words left your lips. alessia felt her heart tighten a little at your confession.

"lovie, you don't seriously believe that do you?" alessia asked a little bit of seriousness in her tone of voice, a part of her thinking maybe these weren't your words, but rather someone elses.

"and what if i do-"

"has someone said something to you lovie?" your mum has this gut feeling in her stomach and her gut was rarely ever wrong, it was if it was her sixth sense. "like did something happen at the party you were at?" your mum continued to push for an answer as you lay still with you eyes facing away from your mum, worried that if you did look at her that the tears would start to fall.

you stayed silent for a moment, contemplating your next move. before slowly moving your eyes to make contact with your mums as you bit your lip. another few seconds passed before you nodded your head to your mum previous question.

"oh lovie" your mum pouted as she crumbled moving from her seat at the end of the bed to quickly engulf you in a much needed hug as the tears began to fall. your mum comforting you as you cried in her arms letting it all out as you began to relay the events of what happened at the party, what emilia said to you and then how you just began to drink to get rid of the pain.

alessia's heart breaking for you, being told such harsh words from someone you considered to be a very close friend. it wasn't fair and the world was a cruel place. your mum wishing she could wrap you up in bubble wrap and protect you from anything you came in front of.

"she doesn't deserve to have you as a friend and you don't need people like that in your life lovie. thats not what a true friend does-" your mum comforted you as a few stray sniffles came from you as you knew what your mum was telling you was right. emilia didn't deserve to call you her friend.

"and anyways she won't be saying that when your on the big stage, playing for your club and country!" your mum smiled softly as your furrowed your eyebrows. "you really think that'll happen-"

"of course! you could play rings around some players you come against" you stayed in your mums arms a little more as she continued to comfort you as she continued to build your confidence and ego back up that clearly had took some serious damage.

"you'll always be my favourite player, y/n russo." your mum smiled sweetly at you as she placed a kiss to your forehead. you knew the topic of your recent behaviour and how you spent your spare time would come up and alessia definitely knew she needed to have a chat with you about that but right now you needed love and comfort which is exactly what you got as you sunk into her warm and loving arms further.

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[womendeservehumanity]

Males are truly a danger to women

This man went viral on Twitter by purposefully framing a woman who broke up with him as a cheating “bitch” who doesn’t take accountability when in reality they had already been broken up for some time. He knew what he was doing.

He knew that framing her this way and then exposing her account would lead to harassment. So much so she had to delete her account.

Luckily there were some sound people questioning the wording of her text as it did not sound like a girlfriend getting caught cheating. And he soon admitted that they had been broken but insisted on them working it out. She blocked him on everything and wanted no contact with him. He went against that and showed up to her house with coffee (as if he had good intentions) and was upset because she was with another guy KNOWING they weren’t together. But he knew that the internet doesn’t know that and that the internet hates women. And there were some very interesting responses

First we have this degenerate suggesting that this man contact this woman’s family to “expose her” because she deserves further harassment I guess. I’ve already said this to myself so many times. But men get so much gratification from shaming and humiliating women. Like it’s actually sociopathic. They just have this innate need to punish women. And the fact that op is taking this advice KNOWING she didn’t cheat on him. KNOWING they weren’t together. And yet he’s still propping himself as a victim seeking vengeance. Fucking gross

And these two tweets. Pretty much one and the same. “Accountability” is essentially a buzzword to males on Twitter. They’ve been frequently using it since about 2020 and it’s such an ironic word to use a man. The gender that has dodged accountability since the beginning of time. The gender that protects other men from accountability when they commit heinous acts. OP is quite literally a man dodging accountability for his shitty behavior towards his ex and yet they want to parade this word around as some sort of universal truth about women. Give me a fucking break. Anyways. I truly hope that woman is doing ok. The lengths men will go to further terrorize women after they’ve broken up is insane

[cinnamonest]

May I present to you... innocent playgirl reader x modern au incel scara??

Like reader is just a sweet gal that thinks this boy who she's in a project with is pretty and despite his weird and creepy behaviour, it's a good thing she's trying to make a move, because y'know! it's actually women's fault that men get so frustrated and depressed since they never give the short guys a chance! Only go for the top 1% and all that.

Unfortunately after scara naps her, noncons the absolute, living daylights out of her, and continues to terrorize her ass does she realize that being nice and sweet to the degenerate, sexist incel in hopes of fixing him wasn't the brightest idea 😔

(If you can't tell I love the idea of kind n sweet MC who doesn't know any better getting her shit wrecked for no good reason because incel scara is just that much of an asshole)

Ohhhh my God bless you for this

Precisely, it’s so unfair. It’s just extra inches of leg bone, it means nothing. And yet day in, day out, the oppressed class (sub-6-foot males) have to deal with unjust discrimination. All because you have the most superficial desires and can’t compromise on such a silly thing. No, you’d rather whore around with some guy that will just use you and cheat on you because your dumb girl brain seeks that out like every other. And in spite of being smarter and better than the neanderthals you choose to date, which should entitle him to pussy, he’s left with nothing but porn and his hand. The world is an unjust place.

He’s pessimistic as all hell, so he can’t take any kindness or attempts at getting closer from you at face value, there has to be an ulterior motive.

You’re only pleasant to him when you talk to him because you want something. You probably expect him to do work for you, or help you cheat on tests for you or fork over money. You think he’s the sort of loser that will salivate over any girl that gives him a shred of attention, don’t you. That he’ll run himself ragged doing whatever for you just to get your approval. Well. You’re not going to get that.

It goes along with this greater idea of you he’s crafted in his head, one that fits a similarly pessimistic image. It doesn’t matter how “innocent” you are, literally anything you say or do, he’s projecting this stereotype of a secretly not-so-innocent, ultra-promiscuous college girl onto you and using it as both justification for his disdain and as a means of rationalize not leaping at this rare chance for female interaction — it’s not that he’s too afraid of rejection, it’s just that he knows that talking to you is a waste of time anyway, you undoubtedly have guys lined up you're fucking on a regular basis.

Besides, even if he tried, you’re far too dull-brained, so any conversations you’re capable of aren’t going to be stimulating anyway. You’re in college, of course you’ve spent all this time racking up a body count because God knows girls only use college as a means to get dicked all the time, they don’t actually care for academics in any way.

And poor you, you're completely oblivious to his bitter seething. You just think he's just quiet. And surely he doesn’t come off as rude and cold on purpose, no, you tell yourself that he probably just is one of those guys that is naturally like that, it’s not malicious.

But then you have to start going out of your way to be actively nice. Trying to make conversation and say nice things — you must think he’s stupid, that he doesn’t know that it’s actually just fake niceness so you can lure him in and get him to say something you can then mock him for in that faux-sweet tone of yours. In the exact opposite of your assumptions on him, he assumes malice in everything you do and say. He won’t give you the satisfaction of giving you leverage, so, he stays quiet, gives you one-word answers and shrugs.

What plans do you have for the weekend?, you say, in your attempts to make conversation. Ugh.

Not only are you trying to jab at him by reminding him that he has no plans other than staying inside and wallowing, but clearly you do have plans, undoubtedly ones that end with you stumbling home in a walk-of-shame on a Sunday morning.

And the nicer you get, the more you irritate him. What makes you think you can just be like that? All smiley and sunshine-like, and for what? To mock him? Acting innocent and sweet as if you don't know what kind of power you inherently hold just by having a hole between your legs, as if you're not actively abusing that power when you're clearly trying to get him to be attracted to you.

Each and every class period, he ends up so infuriated by the few words you exchange that the only way he can even stay sane is by immediately going back to his apartment after class and releasing all the pent up frustrations via exceptionally violent porn. He's got a few specifics pages bookmarked now, girls that look just like you getting slapped around and choked and manhandled and skull-fucked and gaped… but it's just not satisfying enough, there's still this lingering irritation, a skin-crawling malice that won't go away.

It's not good enough to imagine. If anything, the post-orgasmic clarity just makes the whole thing feel pathetic — it's not really you, you get to be all happy and safe and sound when it should be you, you should be the one being brutalized and put in your place, you deserve it for being so damn nice. So pleasant and upbeat and kind and what gives you the right?

In the end, once the burning fury becomes too much and no one else is going to do it, the only option is to take matters into his own hands…

[powerpuffobsession]

Am I the only one who feels that Hazbin Hotel's overall vibe is far too naive and upbeat for an adult cartoon about hell and redemption of sinners?

I feel like before writing this cartoon, Vivzie and the other writers should have made a trip to unfortunate areas of the world and watch how the lifestyle there rolls. Because hell is said to be a place of misery, where there is no trust and a lot of hate, both internal and external... Adam is an object of pure unfiltered hartred (both from writers and fandom) because he dares to live in heaven, such a safe and friendly-natured place...

And yet the sinners who happen to be main characters act more like school kids on a field trip (even more carefree than those, lol) - their selfish and sinful motives are so artificial and are brought up only when these characters need to look like a victim, not like criminals who somehow deserved a place in hell

Obviously, it's a manipulative trope to put them in a better light than Heaven and Adam (who is forever silenced by the writers and not allowed to voice any thoughts and reflections other than "hurr durr murder I luuuv murdering and being evil because that's what I was since I was born, even though Lilith and Eve, born literally the same way as me, were innocent victims from the get go, and no logical explanation for that will be provided whatsoever - men bad, women good")

In the light of all that, the sinners are too eager to trust each other and form "da epic powar of friendship" mlp-sonic-style

In a society built on terror, anarchy and survival instincts, no one would ever bother wasting vital power on noticing someone's problems and helping them out. Everyone is focused on their own problems and desires, and that's what drives them to act. Well, the exception may be family members, and even that varies

That's why Husk's intent to comfort Angel after the later attacks him over nothing at the bar, looks really fake, considering the setting. At first I thought that "loser baby" where Husk insults Angel, was some sort of revenge and Husk laughing in the spider's face. But no, it actually turned out to be a comforting song that started their friendship. Husk literally had no motivation to want to help Angel, because he was annoyed by him all the time prior. If there was some kind of basis for their bonding, I would have believed it. But not like this.

And Angel had no reason to actually like that sort of comfort. I get it when your best friend or a family member cheers you up in a harsh way - you know them. And even when coming from people you trust that can hurt. Now imagine a complete stranger doing that to you. That's actually something that shouldn't be done - trying to playfully insult or jester a person you haven't communicated with for a long enough time to gain their trust. And to make this even more strange, Angel at first reacts negatively, but then suddenly snaps to liking that disrespectful way of comforting for no reason at all.

And why did Angel even vent his problems to Husk, a stranger bartender who he'd hurt before. Wasn't he actually afraid of being laughed at and of Husk using his trauma to spread gossip around or something?

Next, Sir Pentious. In the pilot (which is officially part of canon, mind you), he already felt like a joke sunday cartoon villain, but at least he had some edge to him that made him look like a sinner with some dark history. In the series however, he gets nerfed the very moment he steps into the hotel to the point where it's painful to look at

His tendency to abuse his henchmen, his physopathic demeanor, his hartred for Cherri (instead of embarrassing attempts to get blue balled by her), his sincere power hunger - where did all that go? Vanished in a blink of an eye. All that's left of a promising snake demon is a pile of fanservice. So morally unchallenging and harmless that a viewer theoretically simply cannot resist loving him

Well i'm kind disappointed. We don't even know in what way Sir Pentious had to improve, because the plot never focused on his past, his life goals, whatever made him want to lead turf wars and whatever awful things he did in life, what was the point where he started degrading... none of that. He just became a better person after one "sorry song" and acted perfectly innocent ever since and didnt put any effort into getting ready to sacrifice himself for other main characters

The sacrifice... to me it's baffling how fast the sinners, over the course of just 6 months, actually became Charlie's family figures and risked their lives for her hotel. Such pure child-cartoon-styled power of friendship, built in hell, with the aid of a princess who cant even think through her project of helping sinners without bringing them more trouble... realistically, Charlie would have had to fight angels alone (how convenient it is that no main characters died in that chaotic brawl, right?)

And Charlie herself is far too naiive and soft-natured for someone who is free to walk along the streets of hell looking at all the muder, rape and othe horrible stuff that's happening there. Given that she's 200, Charlie had more than enough time to built up her street smarts and guts and learn to be more practical and mindful, instead of staying with the mind of a 12 year old who needs other characters to do everything for her (Lucifer, Vaggie, Alastor) and then get praised for THEIR efforts. That's hell's royalty and our main character?

Aaand since sinners are portrayed as Charlie's "people" (as if they are a nationality), sweet babies who all deserve redemption and are called innocent by Emily (I can't believe how dumb the writers made angels be) - the true essence of exterminatons is never focused on. Adam and his exterminator army are seen in the wrong, like some kind of monsters who terrorize poor souls. However, think about this - child molesters, rapists, torturers, bullies, nazists, actual racists etc died in those exterminations. Doesnt that seem like something a lot of us would want? To have scum like this disappear as revenge for people they have hurt/driven to suicide?

Exterminations are not really an act of racism, bigotry or something like that. They are an excecution of criminals, which a lot of sinners are.

But the black and white writing is trying to conceal that rather prominent highlight of the rotten part of Charlie's plan (not all sinners deserve mercy or redemption). All that was needed was to make exterminators these icky "villains" who luuuv killing and are never willing to listen

All in all, a cartoon that has an ambitious premise that should be driven by psychological reasearch/analysis and dark serious themes... makes me roll my eyes with its cliche use of "power of friendship" and " strictly good main characters, strictly bad villains" tropes. Too bad such beautiful animation was wasted on such juvenile writing that never had any effort put into it

There shouldn't even be any villains or heroes in a setting like this. Allow the lead roles (sinners in hell) do something actually questionable and be unlikable, don't coddle the viewer in fear of making them even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Allow those, who opposes sinmers, have personalities and reasons, not cliche sociopathy for sociopathy's sake to cause forced sympathy for the main characters

Pristine "safe" writing should not have a place in adult cartoons. Or else they will stay a product that'd rather be watched by 7-14 year olds instead of adults (I can't picture a single adult over 22 who would unironically call hazbin hotel a show that tackles realistic issues in an observant way)

[historicity-was-already-taken]

One thing that truly disgusting me about so many Jewish people outside of Israel is how much they throw Israeli Jews under the bus. They themselves have never experienced true hate for being Jewish. Getting the stink eye or some flyaway comment is the highlight of the antisemitism they ever experienced, and they wallowed in this in order to keep the victim status as much as they can.

Meanwhile, I, an Israeli, experience people try to murder and annihilate me in a daily basis. Non stop terror attacks, that started years before Israel even established, and are still going full force. There was a serious one in my city last week, in a location I visit frequently. Almost 20 years of being constantly bombed, ever since Israel got out of Gaza. Underground tunnels of terror, underneath Israel territory to allow terrorists to cone into civilian houses and kill people un their homes. October 7, a truly horrifying massacre, including brutal rape, maiming, burning people alive, in their homes or taken from their homes, or from a peaceful festival music in the desert, parading young women half naked and bleeding in front of a crowd of Palestinian men spitting on them, beating them and cheering, filming these actions while laughing. Abducting some of them to Gaza, to these underground tunnels, not letting humanitarian organizations like the Red Cross see them, not telling Israel who had been taken and if they are alive or dead. Calling their children to help them loot the houses of the people who they just massacred and abducted. There is a video out there of these children taunting and mocking an Israeli child who was still alive and calling for his mother. And above all, the knowledge that this could happen again and this time it could me or my family, friends, neighbours, who are brutally raped, maimed, burned alive, abducted. The horrors of living like that you couldn't even start to understand.

No sympathy. Nothing. You have not an ounce of sympathy for the Jewish people who live in Israel. You just want to distant yourself as much as you possibly can, so the false accusations of "Palestinian genocide" will not stick to you. This is the biggest blood libel in history, to say that Israel, a country that literally is fighting for its life, the life and safety of its citizens, is committing genocide just because they have no choice but fight in a populated civilian territory. The numbers of the Palestinians death are also heavily exaggerated, by the way, even the UN that is extremely biased against Israel admits that. But the most important thing is that you can feel good about yourself. Fuck Zionists, fuck Israelis. No sympathy. No empathy.

To say that I am deeply disappointed by the Jewish diaspora is an understatement. You don't feel any empathy or sympathy toward us who live under constant terror, who still have 100 civilians held hostage, dead or alive we don't know, who experience terror attack every other day (currently, ever day), who experience bombing and missiles launched at us, who live in true, real, palpable fear that something like October 7 will happen again and again, unless something would be done to stop it. Who live with an extremely hostile population that wants us annihilated, and they say that out loud, but somehow the world is completely deaf to that.

It hurts, you know? How the world treat us? How much they hate us, us who are being attacked all the time, who tried to reach our hand in peace but getting it bitten again and again, and on October 7, have our hand severed? These Kibbutzim who were annihilated, they were very leftwing, set there with civilians Palestinians in meetings trying to advance the idea of living together in peace, helped the Palestinians, driving Palestinians children to hospitals on their expense, hiring them,and this is what they got. This is what they got.

I am done. I am done. People like you who says fuck Zionists are not my brothers and sisters anymore. Your Judaism is just a tool for you to feel some authenticity and claiming oppressed status. Victimhood points. I am done.

No one harass the person who sent this. Leave them alone. I don’t care what your religion or nationality is. Leave. Them. Alone.

I never said anything about Israeli civilians or civil society. I also know the details of exactly what went down on October 7.

What do you want from me? I am a fucking history blog dealing with a bunch of hostile gentiles trying to ideologically pin me down as a good Jew or a bad Jew when I’m just trying to do my work as a Holocaust historian. In fact, I’ve even stated here that so long as half the Jews in the world live in Israel, i am obliged to care for the welfare and safety of Israelis because their fate is inextricabley intertwined with mine. And I was harassed and verbally abused for saying that shit.

You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me and my views on Israelis or the realities of the military operations to eradicate Hamas. You don’t know about my ties to the country, the family and friends I have living there; the safety my family found there after fleeing Poland. Because I don’t put that here. Actually, most of what I put here about Zionism is wrt diasporic Jews who misuse Holocaust history to bully Jews with divergent views.

You know my begrudging takes as a historian and that’s it. I’d end this with a blistering takedown, but you’re one of my people and you’re in pain and I’m so sorry you’re in pain, but I’m in pain too.

I’ve dedicated my life to the history of our people’s pain, and you don’t get to verbally excommunicate me based on my interactions with western gentiles and diasporic Jews who verbally abuse me.

And I guarantee you I’ll be verbally abused for showing you empathy for the horrific situation you’re living through.

No one harass the person who sent this. Leave them alone. I don’t care what your religion or nationality is. Leave. Them. Alone.

[ahaura]

Abby Martin tweeted (Nov. 7) a link to an interview she did with an former IOF soldier, Eran Efrati, posted in 2017. He describes the standard brutality of the IOF and how the soldiers enforce the apartheid state—protecting settlers; the standard practice of execution by both the IOF and police; the systematic dehumanization of Palestinians; the role and treatment of Arab Jews in the Israeli state; and Palestinian resistance.

Some excerpts:

"I didn't feel like I was protecting anyone, I didn't feel like I was keeping anyone safe. I feel like I'm terrorizing people. [...] I felt like I was the terrorist. And my job was literally to scare people so they cannot think about acting against the Israeli settlers or the Israeli military. That was actually our defined mission. [...] To instill fear in the hearts of Palestinians [...] and that's exactly what we did."

"At the age of 15-16, I began being almost obsessed with trying to understand the Nazi side in the Holocaust. Not only to hear the stories of the Jewish victims and any other victims of the Holocaust, but to try and understand how can a Nazi soldier get up in the morning, give his kids a kiss, a wife a hug and go out to the camps and do his job. I just couldn't understand it. And when I got into the occupied territories, for the first time I understood how there can be a contradiction inside yourself. As a human being you could do your job and be one person at home—be a loving, caring boyfriend or a son or a brother—and at the same time hold people under a regime so oppressive that people are dying not from only your bullets but the amount of calories being entered into their territory like in Gaza, from depression or sickness. [...]"

"Israel is selling the idea that the soldiers are more important than anything, the soldiers are more important than the lives of Palestinians—not just the life of soldiers, but identity, security, feelings—are more important than Palestinian life."

"Israelis are saying in a very clear voice [...] not only will we oppress Palestinians and do whatever we want, but in a very specific way of saying [...] whatever soldiers do in the occupied territories are right. Whatever we're doing is the correct thing."

AM: I want you to talk specifically about the culture within the Israeli military that fosters anti-Arab sentiment, and racism, essentially. EE: I think the system is not only inside the military, [...] that's actually what being an Israeli means. Growing up in the Israeli educational department, you understand that all the Arabs hate you, that they're actually in a way the continuation of the Biblical amalek, or Hitler, or that everybody there want to throw you into the sea. This is what you're growing up with and you really believe in that. [...] Going in the military, you're already so full of hate and fear at the same time that you don't need much to be very aggressive, violent, and racist toward Palestinians. They see the Palestinian women and the Palestinian men as subhuman. The occupied territories are like an ex-territory, when those human beings are not considered human beings."

(In response to attacks on Israeli soldiers) "[...] I learned [...] that if you will not respect existence, you can expect resistance. And this is how people resist. Israel as a state likes to use the idea that Palestinians only understand force, or power, but the truth of the matter is that Israelis only understand power and force. Every other attempt from Palestinians to try and negotiation this situation in a diplomatic way was countered by more attacks, more oppression, and more occupation, more stealing of the land, more destroying of homes, more settlements being built. We decided to call going into the U.N. 'diplomatic terrorism,' and to go into the ICC 'international terrorism.' We basically describe every form of resistance as terrorism because the sole idea of the occupation is not to be safe; the sole idea is to create an ethnically cleansed piece of land only for Jewish people—with Palestinian workers, of course some Palestinians can stay and do stuff for us—but this is our land. What people maybe don't understand is that Israel is creating the conditions in to the situation of constantly having to 'protect' yourself. We're creating this situation by oppressing millions of people [...] [until] they have no other choice but to resist."

"[...] the truth is that Israel do not hear the diplomacy, Israel do not hear the call of the Palestinians for equality. What we are seeing Palestine is what a lot of people like to describe as the most complicated political situation of our time [but] what is probably the most simple political situation of our time. It's a situation about equality."

AM: Would you say that you support the right of Palestinians to fight their occupiers? EE: Absolutely. I support the right of every human being under an oppressive military rule to resist this rule by any means possible. I do not believe Israel has a right to occupy millions of human beings without every decent human simple basic rights for their name. And I do not believe that Israel will change on its own. At no point in history there was a state or a power that had the power and control over other human beings and benefit from it and just decide to let go of this power on its own. It was always forced on them by the resistance of the people underneath them. All the intervention of other forces around the world. And unfortunately, as I do support the Palestinian right to resist, in any way, I do not believe that their resistance is enough. I do believe that the rest of the world has to interfere. And what's going on in Palestine—there's nothing else we can do except for giving all the Palestinians equal rights and starting a new state, a new equality system for all human beings on the ground."

[rise-my-angel]

the discourse on jace and baela being the oh so perfect targ power couple that never was because mean little alicent and her brood were evil little usurpers is even funnier when you take into account that baela begged jace to marry her and he was like 'nah' and used the war as an excuse to turn her down lmaooooooo. the hot takes on these two being some beautifully in love power couple is headcanon lol

Making Baela bethroed to Jace and Rhaena to Luke was a PLOY to refuse the girls their birthright by way of making them marry the bastards trying to usurp it from them. That isn't giving them power, thats marrying them in a manner that denies what they are entitled to by blood.

The idea too that Jace would be the best of them as King, comes from no proof. We see none of that. Jace lies and allows his mother to take control of the situation with Aemond who was the victim who got mutilated. Jace did not protest the Driftmark debate when by marrying Baela it would force her right away from her. We see him what? Do things for his mothers side of the war she starts?

Is that a good King? A son who lets his vindictive mother dictate what he should be doing and why? Maybe he would be a good King, maybe he would be like the dozens of Kings before and after him that are not good and treat their wives like objects to birth sons and have little value of her life or agency beyond that.

Some of the best Targaryean Kings were still bad men especially when it came to women. People say that Viserys was a good King and loved his wife, well that didn't stop him from having her own midwives hold her down as she screamed in terror nor for him to butcher her like cattle all for the sake of a son that didn't even survive.

People say Viserys loved Aemma despite murdering her in a fashion that was akin to terrifying torture. What hope does it give me that his grandson wouldn't turn into that, should Baela find the same struggle in fertility issues?

Pretending they are some power couple when most Targaryean marriages prove to still abuse and neglect the women in the situation, when we know NOTHING about what their actual relationship is like or how they really even feel about the other, is just pure headcanon.

I have been given no reason to think Jace would treat her well. Maybe he would, but we and team black don't know that. We know nothing about him really, or her, or their feelings on their bethrothal.

Pretending they would be some power couple is based on hopes and dreams. Rhaenyra thought she and Daemon would be a power couple. Someone ask her how well that one's going. Or how well that marriage ends too.

They might be good together, but NO ONE around Jace as he grew up were good enough role models to give him someone to learn from to be a better husband then literally every other man in his family was to their wives. Jace's upbringing literally tells me he is more likely to mistreat Baela if she was his Queen Consort.

No one around him has treated Baela with respect the way she deseverves, why would he start out of nowhere now?

[sailoryooons]

Carmen | pjm x kth (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Human!Taehyung

☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous. 

☾ Word Count: 10,277

☾ Genre: Supernatural, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Hypnotized/compelled decisions and thoughts, implied manipulation, Taehyung is influenced a lot by the natural power/allure of vampires and it scatters his thoughts/makes him do things he normally wouldn’t, depictions of blood, intimidation, The Vibes Are Off, light depictions of anxiety, vampires showing off humans like pets sort of, biting/marking/bruising, explicit language, explicit sexual content, not using lube, spit play/using spit as lube, light degradation, blood play/drinking, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving), hand jobs, ass play, a lot of feelings and sensations, mentions of fear during sex, references to subspace, feeling overwhelmed during sex, crying, power dynamics but not explicitly dom/sub, blood lust, feeding frenzy, feelings of terror, Jimin calls Taehyung ‘Carmen’ sometimes - it makes sense in context, Taehyung is lured to the vampire den, implied obsessive themes (no stalking or anything), hair pulling, voyeurism, scenes of carnage and like a feed frenzy, terror at the end of fucking, idk its a vampire coven and Taehyung realizes whats happening at the very end so. 

☾ Published: October 27, 2023

☾ A/N: Happy Halloween to my baby bat @gimmethatagustd. I love you eternally, and I hope that we live a long and immortal life together. Please accept this as my love for you and I hope I am actually with you when this drops so that you can start screaming at me for hiding the fact that this fic was for you the entire time sofidjfogidjf. Also, Happy Early Birthday. I love you so much it’s actually disgusting and I need to be institutionalized. LARGELY UNEDITED SORRY. 

☾ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Tag List | Song Inspiration | BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween Collab

The boys, the girls They all like Carmen -Carmen, Lana Del Ray

Taehyung knows the woman at the back of the lounge wants to take him home before his first song is over. He’s become better at picking them out early. Of course, most of the men and women want to take Taehyung home, especially when starts singing the slower, romantic ballads. He can see the way they sigh, melting in their seats a little, eyes wide and mouth open. 

It’s hard to pinpoint what makes his eyes keep straying back to her. She is beautiful, to be sure, but something is pressing in Taehyung’s mind as he starts his set, drawing his eyes back to her. Like an invisible hand guiding him each time, reminding him that she is there and watching. 

She stares at him with a pinpoint focus, her dark eyes tracking Taehyung on the stage as he walks slowly, mic in hand and singing the notes softly. His eyes keep drifting back to her, trying to make out her features. All he can garner is that her eyes are alluring and even from a distance, she emanates something. Huger. Power.

It makes his stomach flip. Taehyung likes those who want him, but he loves those who crave him. Usually, it’s the men who are hungry enough for Taehyung to chase him. To go after what they want. To whisper pretty compliments until Taehyung is so lavished in attention that he goes home with them. 

The woman at the back of the room looks like she can charm him - will charm him. It makes his lips turn upward as he croons softly into the mic, feeling the music of the band behind him swell, jazzy notes drifting. 

He loves this. His mother told him that he was born to sing. Her little songbird. His mother is dead now, but he lives on through each velvet note, warm voice pouring over the patrons who watch him with dazed expressions. 

Taehyung feels powerful this way. He could lead them all around the room, he’s sure of it. He could get them up, one by one, and lead them straight into destruction. He’s sure of it. 

Except for that woman at the back of the room, whose presence scrambles Taehyung’s thoughts. He finds it hard to perform, her presence like a weighted stone on his thoughts at all times. He nearly messes up the words to a few songs he is so enchanted. 

Still, he does well. La Vie is one of Taehyung’s favorite places to perform. The clientele is high-end, the staff likes to give him free food and drink along with a decent amount of cash for his performances, and he’s growing a steady income here. 

The only problem with La Vie is that its clientele are often repeat customers, and Taehyung has grown weary of seeing the same faces he’s taken to bed already. The faces who think they own him now, who think that just because they’ve had a taste, they can have a fit whenever his eyes stray in another direction.

And his eyes do stray. 

In the middle of his set, Taehyung takes a cool sip of water while the band plays a fast tune. He nods his head, feeling the rhythm and snapping his fingers. The stage lights are low but he feels the heat through his long-sleeved shirt and slacks, sweat dripping down the back of his neck slowly like a phantom finger. 

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Constantine staring. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he feels the sudden flash of irritation, the urge to curl his lip in annoyance. Constantine is the exact problem that Taheyung has with La Vie, except that he’s the one who got Taehyung the gig - and the manager. 

Taehyung’s throat tightens as he walks back to the stage to finish the last half of the set. The last of the songs are slower, dreamy romantic songs meant to soften the crowd before they dismiss from the lounge for the evening. The sooner he ends the show, the sooner he’ll have to field Constantine’s seeking questions and fawning. 

It presents a problem if Taehyung wants to talk to the woman at the back of the room. 

He decides not to think about it too much. Instead, he closes his eyes and sings his way through the rest of the song, voice carrying old jazz classics and his own written music. Some people would call his smooth voice haunting. Others call it hypnotizing. Taehyung doesn’t know where he stands on the subject, and he doesn’t care so much. He just likes to sing and he likes people who watch him sing. Who listen. 

There are those who come to his performances at high-end restaurants and lounges to watch him, and those who come to hear him. He prefers those who like to hear him, but any will do at the end of the night when he wants to roll around satin sheets and drink rich wine that he doesn’t have the pallet for. 

When he sings the final note of the night, it hangs in the air. This is one of Taehyung’s favorite moments of each night. It’s the last breath before his spell is broken, a moment frozen in time where all eyes are on him, the crowd so entranced that it takes a long pause for them to realize he’s finished.

The brief silence is chased with thunderous applause and people standing. He grins, feeling his chest swell with pride, blood sizzling in his veins as he bows low at the waist. He’s one of the few artists who can get this stiff, rich crowd to stand and cheer, and he knows it. 

He steps to the side and gestures to his band, the applause continuing as they each stand and bow. Though most people might feel tired after a performance, Taehyung is buzzing. He feels the adrenaline pumping through him, and after he steps down from the stage and polishes off ice-cold water, he immediately wants something harder to keep the buzz going. 

Drinks wait for him on the bar top. It’s crowded at La Vie but people make room for him at the bar. An original speakeasy from the prohibition era, it’s low-ceiling and dimly lit, offering a romantic and mysterious air hanging in the room. Taehyung places a folded wad of bills into a glass tip jar, saluting Yoongi behind the bar. The bartender nods, gracious for the tip and a confirmation that the glasses of neat are on the house. 

Taehyung knocks back the first glass. The whiskey burns down his throat. He hisses as it goes, feeling the sting in his nasal passage. He blows out a slow breath and grins to himself, pausing before he sips the next drink to shake hands with a string of patrons complimenting him. 

None of them catch his eye the way the woman at the back of the room has, though. Taehyung sees lingering looks from husbands and wives and smirks at a group of giggling women who are shy and blushing and biting their lips as they compliment him, and he feels a slight spike of irritation when Constantine takes the stool next to him.

Instead of speaking to him, Taehyung focuses on sipping the drink. It’s smooth and perfect, with a hint of orange rind that Yoongi probably burned and waved around the glass. Taehyung looks up to see the bartender cast Constantine a pitying glance before making another drink. 

“You sang well tonight,” Constantine prods. “You have such a way with the crowd.”

“Well, I supposed that’s my job.” Taehyung’s comment comes out flat. He glances at Constantine from the corner of his eye to see that he’s frowning. 

Taehyung is full of mistakes, but letting the manager of La Vie fuck him is by far one of his biggest. He usually has a rule that he doesn’t fuck the people who can interfere with his work, but he made an exception. 

Constantine is beautiful, but a bit of a fool. He inherited La Vie from a long line of family members who have kept it running, and it’s through long-term patronage and reputation alone that it’s lasted this long. Well, that and his two only successful ventures in hiring Yoongi as his main bartender who doubles as his piano player on weeknights, and Taehyung as the late-night performances most evenings. 

People don’t come to La Vie because it’s well-kept or because of Constantine’s good business acumen. They come because they want to hear Yoongi play and then watch him behind a bar all night, sweat running down his neck, dark eyes always filled with a potential promise of more. They don’t get it, of course. Yoongi doesn’t sleep around as Taehyung does, but still, the bartender and pianist is loved and lusted after by most of the patrons. 

Then there’s Taehyung. The warm opposite of Yoongi’s distant, unattainable beauty. Taehyung is full of life, accepting praise greedily, willing to flirt his way through free drinks and extra tips, especially if it lands him in the bed of someone he has been eyeing all night.

Until he broke his rule for Constantine. Pretty Constantine, who said that he was on the same page and that sleeping with Taehyung would be a casual thing. Perhaps it’s Taehyung’s fault for not seeing how mystified the lounge manager was after that first night tangled in sweaty sheets followed by a hot shower the next morning. 

Now, he’s between a rock in a hard place. Offend Constantine and risk being ousted. Keep letting him take Taehyung to bed, and he’ll never escape. 

“Your eyes are beautiful tonight,” Constantine murmurs, dipping his head to catch Taehyung’s attention. “I’d bet they’d look even better rolling in-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a dark, feminine voice cuts in. “But I couldn’t resist introducing myself.”

The hair stands up on the back of Taehyung’s neck. He knows it’s the woman who watched him from the back of the room before he even turns around. When he does, he is mystified. Her eyes are lined heavily in kohl and her eyes are dark as a storm sea, pinning him to his place with their intensity. Her skin is umber and smooth, her face so flawless it leaves Taehyung reeling.

There is something uncanny about her. Taehyung can’t put his finger on it. Her eyes are narrow and sharp, her lips plump and breaking into a slow, knowing smile. She looks like the cat who ate the canary, tilting her head to the side as she continues to examine Taehyung with a feline-like gaze. 

“My name is Evangeline.” She reaches out a small, smooth hand. Her nails are filed into a point and painted a wine red. For a moment, Taehyung has the silliest thought that they look like the color of blood as he shakes her hand. He’s surprised at how cold they are, his palms tingling when she lets go. “I have not heard someone sing Ella Fitzgerald like that since… well, perhaps Ella Fitzgerald.”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, a little confused. “Do you have Ella hidden somewhere that you can listen to her sing whenever you desire?”

“Would that I could. But that’s what… oh what is that spot app, again?”

“Spotify?”

Evangeline grins, revealing wicked, blindingly white teeth. “Spotify, yes. That little intricacy does quite a good job at catching the sound of old artists, but there is nothing like it live.”

Evangeline’s voice is like velvet. Even Constantine goes silent next to Taehyung, staring up at the woman as she slides next to Taehyung. She leans against the bar close enough that he gets the barest hint of scent like jasmine and amber. 

A shiver slides through him as she sips a glass of the darkest wine Taehyung’s ever seen. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth when he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I know most of the patrons by heart.”

“You wouldn’t have. I have not been to La Vie in a long time.” 

Taehyung realizes that she speaks with a specific articulation that hints at an accent. He can’t place it, but it’s like the sweetest music to his ears. “You’ll have to come more often, perhaps.”

“That eager to see me again?”

“I like to pride myself on repeat customers coming to hear me. It would be a shame to know you didn’t find my performance compelling enough to see another.”

“Hmm. Pride isn’t very becoming.”

Taehyung bites his lower lip, trying to hide the smile. “Spoken like a woman who can relate.” 

Evangeline is quick-witted. The rest of the world seems to fade as Taehyung talks to her. It’s strange - he cannot remember what the conversation is about, and he can’t remember Constantine leaving. He doesn’t even recall the patrons leaving the bar until it’s just Yoongi wiping down the counters, eyeing Taehyung wearily as he says goodbye, following the woman out of the door.

Blood rushes through Taehyung’s veins. It’s cold outside, winter fogging his breath. His skin tingles with the sudden temperature change, muted by the soft glow of alcohol in his system. He looks up at the sky, hot breath fogging as he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with that sharp air. 

Something about being drunk in the middle of the night during winter is magical. He can’t explain it, feeling himself smile as he drops his gaze back down to the woman next to him. For a second, he swears her face is sharper than he remembers, a look so hungry in his eyes that it makes his pulse skip.

When he blinks, she’s smirking at him, tilting her head. Taehyung realizes he is drunk, but he craves Evangeline. Wants to hear the way that dark voice of her pants against him, wants to feel her sharp nails on his skin, raking down-

“Have you ever been to the opera house on ninth?”

Taehyung pauses at her question. He feels his brows furrow as his drunk thoughts turn from thoughts of kissing Evangeline to puzzling out her question. “That exclusive club that was made out of the old opera house? What’s it called again…”

“Sanguine.”

He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Sanguine. No, I haven’t. It’s by invitation only and it’s the most exclusive club in the city. I hear it’s open all hours, though.”

“It is.”

“Wait, are you a member?” 

Evangeline sticks her hand out. Taehyung meets her gaze and it feels like he falls forward into it. All thoughts fade from his mind. There is no sound, save that of a high-pitched ringing. Everything but the glowing, otherworldly woman has faded to the back. He only sees her. 

Taehyung lifts his hand, but he doesn’t remember thinking about doing it. He places it in hers, and she laces their fingers. Her hands are bitterly cold, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t either, skin tingling, gaze heavy on her as she tugs him along.

“Want to see it?”

He can’t form words. Suddenly feels like he can’t remember how. He nods his head instead, following her. His first few steps feel heavy and he stumbles like he has had far more to drink than he remembers. Normally, it might be cause for alarm, but Taehyung is unbothered as they walk, Evangeline’s eyes pulling him along as she walks backward. 

The world passes by but Taehyung doesn’t remember it. He is somewhat aware that his cheeks and nose are sticking with cold and that his eyes are watering from the temperature. He tilts his head upward, a little dazed and confused about where he is until he sees the golden glow of the opera house.

Sanguine. It is a massive building of white stone and ornate pillars. The architecture confuses him, a blend of Greco-Roman pillars and gargoyles he’d expect to find in a gothic church. The building is a wonderous feat of dark windows, ornate carvings in the stonework, and height. 

“The gargoyles are a bit terrifying,” Taehyung announces, staring at them fixated on top of the portico over the entryway. “Why the gargoyles?” 

“Some lessons are hard to learn.” 

Suddenly, Taehyung can’t take his eyes off of them. The two snarling beasts seem to be a bad omen and he finds himself frozen to the spot, forgetting all about the woman next to him or the invitation to see the exclusive inside of the most prestigious clubs in the city. All he knows is that suddenly, a feeling like doom has tiptoed up his back to rest on his shoulder. 

Taehyung takes a step back. The gargoyles look so much more like people when he stares at them. Twisted humanoids, crouched while screaming at the sky, showing fangs. His heart beats so hard that he feels his pulse in his throat, panic welling up inside of him, ready to spill out and overflow.

“I’m drunk,” he blurts. “I should go home. I-”

Evangeline’s cold hands grab Taehyung’s face and pull him down to her. Her lips are pressed against his and he doesn’t remember what he was worried about. His heart speeds up for different reasons now, eyes fluttering shut as he melts into her kiss, his hands going to her hips to pull her in closer. 

She tastes like dark wine and something else - a bit like iron and salt. The kiss is slow and dizzying and when she pulls away, Taehyung is eager to follow her into the dark halls of the opera house.

The lobby is dark inside. No light comes through the windows, leaving Taehyung in a complete abyss as Evangeline shuts and bolts the door behind him. A tingle slithers up Taehyung’s spine when she bolts the door and he suddenly feels like he’s never going to leave the opera house again. 

A soft din of voices and music trails to him from the doors leading to the main theater. Evangeline takes his hand and leads up toward the door. He still feels dizzy from the kiss, willing to follow her wherever she goes. 

For now, that’s the main seating area of the theater. She pulls open the heavy door, the rush of gentle voices and piano hitting him. Leading him through the door, Taehyung blinks as his eyes adjust from complete darkness to low light. It’s so dim that it takes him a moment to make out anything at all, eyes drifting up toward a massive chandelier with flickering, gold bulbs. 

The inside of the theater is like nothing Taehyung has ever seen. It has been transformed into a massive lounge with a wooden bar on the far right, manned by two bartenders. Velvet couches, chaise lounges and chairs are placed around the main floor, groups of people dressed in formal wear and dripping with jewels draping themselves over the furniture. 

Everything screams opulence. The interior still has the same baroque, elegant beauty that seems like the original design, mixed with the new additions like the bar and furniture. On the stage is a piano, a young woman playing with her eyes closed, and a cluster of people around her, gazing at her with what Taehyung can only describe as hunger. 

Evangeline leads him into the room. He feels the eyes on them as they go, glancing around nervously to realize that there is an odd mix of people in the room. There are those dressed formally in draping gowns and tuxedos, all of whom are unnaturally beautiful. Taehyung finds that his brain buzzes when he looks at them, each individual otherworldly and… cold. 

The other groups of people look like Taehyung. Starry-eyed and dressed in varying degrees of plain clothes. He wonders if they are guests as well, people brought into the fold by elegant patrons like Evangeline. 

Trepidation settles deep in Taehyung’s gut as Evangeline takes him to the bar and orders him a drink. He is tired, eyes heavy and worn at the edges. The momentary surge of adrenaline after she kissed him is wearing off, and Taehyung feels the layer of dizziness slipping off, replaced by anxiety. 

In an attempt to take the edge off, he sips his drink. Evangeline begins introducing him to groups of people, linking her arms with his and pulling him around the room. Taehyung gives her friends a dazzling smile, though he is overwhelmed by the dark eyes that meet his. The cold handshakes. The almost predatory way that the others smile at him. 

He cannot pinpoint what about the crowd is making him nervous, but as Evangeline tells someone about his singing ability, Taehyung realizes that she’s bragging. Showing him off. Pulling him around the room and gesturing to him with words like look what I found and isn’t he just darling? 

Normally, Taehyung preens with pride under the compliments and the pretty words. He loves it when people are enthralled by him, swept away by his talents. Now, something about it feels off. They don’t look at him with wonder on their faces and awe in their eyes- they coo at him. Look at him like they want to eat him whole. Like he is something they can possess. 

Only one person introduces himself and looks at Taehyung curiously instead of with lecherous intent. “Hoseok,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand. It’s firm and cold. “What do you like to sing?”

It’s the only time he’s been asked a question tonight. Hoseok is hauntingly beautiful, with dark eyes, a slim nose, and cheekbones that seem carved by Strazza. He is dazzling to look at, and Taehyung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he says, “Jazz, mostly. Sometimes classical, but that was mostly in my younger days in school.” 

“Divine.” Hoseok’s gaze slides to Evangeline. “You know he’s… his type.”

“Well, he didn’t find him.” 

Taehyung doesn’t know who he is and he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The pianist on stage stops playing and Evangeline takes Taehyung’s hand, pulling him toward the stage. “Come on,” she gushes. “Let them hear you.”

He lets himself be pulled. Taehyung feels a coil of nerves in his stomach as she yanks him on stage and pushes him to the middle. The room quiets when they see them and Evangeline claps her hands, drawing the full attention of the lounge.

There’s no spotlight, but Taehyung feels hot under the weighted gaze. Again, his instinct tingles, trying to make him aware of something. He just doesn’t know what. He shoves down the feeling and tucks his hands into his pockets, giving a shy grin as Evangeline talks about his voice. 

The crowd of patrons lean in a little when she steps off the stage. Their gazes are sharp as razors and he can’t help but feel like a shy lamb among a pack of wolves. 

Licking his dry lips, he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Evangeline stands near the side of the stage, not a great point of attention as he sweeps his gaze out into the room. He fixes his eyes on the glowing red exit sign above the door and opens his mouth, taking in a deep breath before he starts a slow Sinatra number. 

His voice carries over the hushed silence, deep and swelling. He smiles a little as he sings, watching the face go from hungry to mystified. The whole room seems to lean in, people from the back moving toward the stage, drawn in by him. 

Taehyung goes right into the next song, feeling his anxiety melt away. His audience is wrapped around his finger, their eyes following him as he trails around the stage, more engaged. He makes eye contact with some of them, still flinching internally at the sheer darkness of their eyes, but still singing nonetheless. 

When Taehyung finishes, the room erupts into gentle clapping and whispered praise. He feels pride well up inside of him, flushing with pleasure as he bows at the waist, grinning under the sweet applause. He stands up and starts walking toward Evangeline, who looks at him with a smile like the sun. His heart beats a little faster, grinning widely as she claps for him excitedly and-

“Sing another.”

Taehyung realizes the room is silent. The hairs on his arms stand on end and it feels like the air gets sucked out of the room suddenly. Evangeline’s eyes flash silver for a moment, but when Taehyung recoils and blinks, they’re back to normal, though she looks put out as she steps back from Taehyung. 

Slowly, Taehyung turns to look at the edge of the stage at the owner of the soft voice and his world stops. Whoever this man puts the rest of the beauty in the room to shame. Taehyung feels his pulse race, meeting the dark, sultry gaze of the man who spoke to him. 

Something calls to Taehyung. He steps toward the man, dazed and confused, staring, staring, staring. The man has the most beautiful face Taehyung has ever seen. Round cheekbones with a chiseled jaw, plush lips tinted rose, and siren eyes that glitter as he drinks Taehyung in. This is the son of a god or a god himself, Taehyung thinks. A creature of myth and legend.

“What do you want me to sing?” Taehyung asks, barely recognizing his own voice. His ears are ringing and his thoughts are syrup-slow. 

The man smiles and Taehyung feels his stomach flutter. The man is not dressed in formal attire like the rest of the patrons. He’s dressed simply in black jeans with tears in the knee, a black turtleneck tucked into the waistband to show off his tapered waist, and a necklace that looks to be made of thorns. 

Even dressed casually, he outshines every person in the room. 

“What’s your favorite?” he asks, cocking his head to the side and regarding Taehyung. 

A flush works up Taehyung’s neck. He feels a tingle slide down his spine and a lick of pleasure curl in his stomach at the man’s gaze. His fingers twitch and his mouth feels dry. He licks his lips, trying to think of the man’s question and what his answer should be. 

“Can’t Help Falling In Love, I think.” 

The man grins and Taehyung sees stars. “You think? Or you know?”

“I know?”

“Are you asking me?” 

Taehyung shifts back and forth, shame coloring his cheeks as he looks at the floor. Effortlessly, the man jumps up on the stage. He lands silent and lithe as a cat. Taehyung’s eyes widen as he approaches, his gait smooth, footfalls unheard. “I’m only teasing, sweetling. What’s your name?”

“Taehyung.” 

The man stops right in front of Taehyung. He’s shorter, but somehow Taehyung feels small and delicate in his presence, wavering as the smell of orange blossom and something darker washes over him. Taehyung’s eyelids flutter and he fights the urge to lean in closer to the man, to brush his fingers across his skin. 

“I’m Jimin.” Jimin reaches out and brushes his fingers across Taehyung’s cheekbone. His touch leaves a trail of tingling cold. Taehyung closes his eyes, breath catching. Whatever this spell he’s under, he can’t shake it, gone with just a touch. “I want you to sing for me, Taehyung.” 

“Okay.” 

Jimin steps away and Taehyung makes a sound, protesting. His mind is warring between confusion at his reaction and the need to be near Jimin. The duller part of his thoughts is careening, telling him to pull it together, to stop and leave. But the desire shaken awake by Jimin is so much louder, commanding Taehyung’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin murmurs, gesturing to where Evangeline is standing. “I’ll be right there.” 

Taehyung watches as Jimin glides over to the edge of the stage. He whispers something to Evangeline that Taehyung cannot hear but he watches the change in the woman. She ripples with anger, her lip curling up in a snarl. Jimin says something else to her and in the blink of an eye, her head is bowed, her shoulders coming up as she steps back, cowering. 

When Jimin turns around, he gives Taehyung an encouraging smile. The effect is instantaneous. Taehyung feels giddy inside, joy bubbling up as he returns the smile shyly. Gone is the anxiety, gone is the strange feeling of being paraded around. Now, all he can think about is Jimin’s dark eyes, the way they track him as he moves to the middle of the stage again. 

As Taehyung starts the song, he wonders if this is what Elvis was singing about. If wise men were right and that only fools fall in love. Can love at first sight be a thing? As Taehyung sings the song softly, looking at Jimin every so often, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet, he thinks perhaps this song was written about Jimin. 

It isn’t rational. Taehyung knows this and yet barely acknowledges it, watching Jimin’s eyes shine with something as Taehyung finishes the song. For a moment, no one claps. Taehyung looks nervously around the theater, watching as the eyes of the crowd look at Jimin. Once he applauds, the rest follow. 

Taehyung lets out a relieved breath, smiling and bowing shallowly. Jimin approaches him again. It occurs to Taehyung that Jimin walks like a jungle cat, smooth and somehow lethal. 

“You have the most exquisite voice,” Jimin says gently, shaking his head. “You are a rare treasure, Taehyung.” He holds out a hand. “Join me?” 

Taehyung starts to reach for Jimin before he hesitates, eyes glancing up over Jimin’s head at Evangeline, who looks murderous. “You are far too precious for her,” Jimin growls. “It is insulting that she thinks she could ever have you.”

Instead of answering, Taehyung just nods. His eyelids feel heavy, his heady swimming like he’s buzzing off a fresh glass of liquor. Jimin links their hands together and tugs Taehyung along. As they pass Evangeline, she doesn’t dare look at them, her eyes fixed on the floor. 

At the foot of the stairs, Hoseok is standing, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. He shakes his head when he sees Jimin, falling into step with him. “I told her.” 

“Thank you for alerting me,” Jimin tells Hoseok. Jimin turns over his shoulder where Taehyung is trailing a footstep behind. “I would have missed out on him.” 

Hoseok breaks off from them, walking toward the bar. Someone takes up the piano again as Jimin leads Taehyung out of the main theater and to a stairwell. He says nothing, following Jimin’s lead in silence, steps heavy. It feels like he’s underwater, everything dull around him. 

Except Jimin, who is sharp and bright and alive in his mind. 

Jimin leads Taehyung down a hall and through a door. It opens up into a balcony suite. What was once a private box for watching the opera has been turned into a luxurious room of sorts, making Taehyung raise his eyebrows. 

A lounge area is in the middle of the suite, and there is a single bed tucked into the corner. A wet bar is placed at the back, along with a doorway that leads into a refurbished bathroom. Taehyung pauses as Jimin drops his hand, looking around to appreciate the velvet drapery on the wall and the ornate decor in the room. 

It feels like he has stepped back in time, a mix of modern and Victorian meshing in a way that Taehyung finds wonderfully elegant. Jimin goes to the wet bar and retrieves two glasses, pouring them a finger of whiskey each. Taehyung walks toward him, looking out at the lounge beneath. 

“It’s designed like a bedroom?” Taehyung inquires, eyes drifting back to Jimin, who smiles as he brings the glass up to his lips. His sharp eyes pin Taehyung to the spot as he sips. “Do you… live here?”

Jimin shrugs. “Sometimes.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Instead of answering the question, Jimin gestures for Taehyung to walk with him, leading him to a rich, crushed velvet couch that overlooks the lounge. Taehyung takes a sip of the whiskey but it’s Jimin who makes him feel drunk and cottony.

He sits next to Jimin, limbs stiff. Jimin giggles at Taehyung’s awkwardness, tsking at him as he leans over and pulls Taehyung toward him, pressing their thighs and sides together as they watch the party unfold below. Butterflies flutter in Taehyung’s smile as he looks at Jimin, who is watching Taehyung with rapt attention. 

Being so near Jimin is difficult. This close, he’s even more beautiful than before. Taehyung doesn’t know how it’s possible. Jimin’s lashes are long, framing his beautiful eyes. His dark hair looks silky and soft, tucked behind his ears as he regards Taehyung with a fond expression. 

Heat climbs up Taehyung’s neck and between his legs, a heady feeling sinking deep in his stomach under Jimin’s gaze.

“What?” Taehyung asks, looking down at his lap and chewing the inside of his cheek. He’s never felt so bashful under someone’s gaze before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be shy now,” Jimin tuts. “You were quite confident on stage earlier. I believe the entire room fell in love with you.” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders and Jimin laughs loudly. “Now you’re humble? You are a delightful creature, Taehyung. Tell me, have you ever been to the opera?” 

“No, but I’m familiar with some.”

“What about Carmen?” Jimin asks. He reaches forward and drags a finger across Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung holds back a groan as Jimin starts tracing patterns on Taehyung’s thigh. “Have you heard of that one?” 

“I’m familiar with the Habanera.” 

“Ah yes. It’s about a woman named Carmen who everyone is in love with. She entrances men with her vitality and sensuality. A man named José falls madly in love with her at first sight, abandoning the army, his wife, and his children for her.” 

Taehyung finds it hard to listen. Even through the fabric of his pants, Jimin’s touch is tantalizing. Taehyung’s legs widen a fraction, his spine tingling. He leans his head back, feeling breathless as Jimin’s tracing gets higher and higher, teasing Taehyung before his touch moves toward Taehyung’s knee again. 

“José, of course, is not the only one in love with Carmen. She is infectious, tempting everyone she comes into contact with.” Jimin leans toward Taehyung, so close that his breath ghosts across Taehyung’s throat. He feels his heart speed up as Jimin lowers his voice and continues, “You remind me so much of Carmen. Charming everyone around you with a simple look, with the sound of your voice. So addicting without even a taste.” 

“O-oh.” 

Jimin presses his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung nearly drops the glass in his hand, placing it next to him on the couch as his breathing hitches. Jimin runs his nose up Jimin’s too-hot skin, making Taehyung squirm. 

“I fear I have the same weakness as José and you have hypnotized me like Carmen.” 

“Me?”

Jimin nips Taehyung’s ear and Taehyung lets out a throaty, moan. Jimin’s breath across his skin is maddening, colors swimming behind squeezed-shut eyes. His dick hardens in his pants, blood pumping through him, arousal unfolding like the slow-blooming petals of a flower. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know the effect you have on people.”

“I do,” Taheyung admits. 

“Look at me.” 

It is a command. Taehyung obeys, turning his face to look up at Jimin. Jimin’s pupils are blown wide, hypnotizing, and alluring as he looks down his nose at Taehyung. Desire stirs so strongly in Taehyung that he parts his lips open, making a small noise as Jimin’s touch on Taehyung’s thigh turns to a solid grip, fingers digging in. 

“Do you want me, my Carmen? Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” Taehyung breathes. “Please.” 

“Ask, then.” 

Jimin’s eyes are so hungry that Taehyung is lost in them. Jimin is on his knees on the couch now, pressed against Taehyung. It feels more intimate than anything Taehyungh has ever felt and they’re barely touching, Jimin gripping Taehyung’s thigh, his mouth hovering inches above Taehyung’s.

“Ask,” Jimin growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere in Taehyung’s chest. Jimin might be smaller than Taehyung but the power that emanates from him is intoxicating and sweeping, making Taehyung shudder.

“Please,” Taehyung says again. “I want you. Will you have me? Please.”

Jimin’s grip is iron. “Of course I will. You’re mine.” 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s as Jimin steals a searing kiss from him. Taehyung gasps into the kiss, melting into the couch as Jimin licks into the wet heat of Taehyung’s mouth. Jimin is all-consuming, his lips sliding against Taehyung’s hungrily, his tongue brushing against the ridges of Taehyung’s mouth.

It’s just a kiss and yet Taehyung loses himself in it. It’s needy and torrid, their teeth clicking together, lips sliding. Taehyung grabs the front of Jimin’s shirt, uncaring if he wrinkles it as Jimin presses Taehyung into the back of the couch, straddling him. Jimin’s fingers tangle in Taehyung’s hair, pulling harshly. 

The pleasure-pain makes Taehyung moan. Jimin hums, his devilish mouth moving from Taehyung’s lips to his jaw, biting and sucking harshly at the skin. It feels so good. Taehyung just lies there and takes it, hissing as Jimin’s teeth pinch and pull his skin, followed by Jimin’s soothing tongue, rough and wet.

The ache in his dick grows, especially as Jimin puts weight on it, sitting in his lap and leaning and rolling his hips forward, pressing into Taehyung’s cock and driving him wild. He feels out of control, like the room is spinning and Jimin’s kisses are going straight to Taehyung’s veins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as Jimin licks hungrily at Taehyung’s neck. Jimin drags his blunt nails along Taehyung’s scalp, sending sparks down his neck and spine. “Please.”

“Please what,” Jimin pants, mouthing at Taehyung’s collarbones. “Tell me what you need, my wonderful Carmen.” 

It should be strange to be called by another name and yet, Taehyung shivers at the rasp in Jimin’s voice. Every single part of him is suddenly alive like his nerves are exposed to Jimin’s hands and mouth. Taehyung can’t remember the last time he felt like this with such simple touches. 

Perhaps never. 

“Fuck me,” Taehyung breathes. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Jimin smiles against Taehyung’s mouth. “Oh, I’ll fuck you.” 

A thrill goes through Taehyung as Jimin grabs him and slams him against the couch. His world spins and he’s suddenly facing the ceiling of the suite, panting and delirious as Jimin pins him down, littering his skin with bites and sloppy kisses.

Some of Jimin’s nipping hurts but it adds to the pleasure, Taehyung barreling straight into a slow, pleasured haze as Jimin pulls Taehyung’s shirt off roughly. Cool air kisses his flushed skin. Taehyung claws at the jacket on Jimin’s shoulders, pushing it off of him until he’s free of it, Taehyung’s hands seeking the flexing muscle of Jimin’s arms. 

Jimin’s hand goes to Taehyung’s throat. His hand is small but it squeezes pleasantly as Jimin kisses down Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung grinds up against Jimin, trying to relieve the pressure aching in his cock, a whine leaving his mouth. He feels Jimin’s breath across his skin as he laughs before fixing his mouth on a nipple, making Taehyung keen.

The stimulation is too much and not enough. It feels like Taehyung is ripping at the seams - burst at the seams from the pressure mounting inside of him. What has Jimin done to him to command his body? 

“Everyone can hear you,” Jimin teases, flicking his long, wicked tongue out to tease Taehyung’s already abused nipple. He drags his tongue across Taehyung’s chest, leaving a wet trail of spit as he goes. “Can hear you whining like a little whore. Is that what you want?”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Jimin’s teeth scrape against his other nipple. He nods his head, unable to form a verbal answer to Jimin’s question. 

“Hmm,” Jimin hums, tongue lashing. “Good boy. Let them know you’re mine. They’ll wait for us to have our fun before they start.”

Taehyung has no idea what that means. He doesn’t ask. Instead, his hands slip down Jimin’s stomach and under his shirt, touching his skin. Jimin is cool to the touch, his stomach muscles flexing under Taehyung’s inquisitive fingers. He grabs at Jimin’s hips, but his fingers slip away as Jimin sinks lower down Taehyung’s body, nipping and sucking as he goes. 

Opening his eyes, Taehyung watches with heavy lids as Jimin settles between Taehyung’s legs, looking up at him. His hair hangs in his eyes, which glint wickedly as his nimble fingers work the zipper on Taehyung’s pants. He can’t look away from Jimin, hypnotized by the movement, but the way Jimin grins and pulls open Taehyung’s pants, leaning forward to lick at the damp spot on Taehyung’s briefs. 

Taehyung’s head drops back and he moans loudly, feeling the pressure of Jimin’s wet tongue through the thin fabric. Jimin mouths at the crown of Taehuyng’s cock, sending jolts of pleasure straight to him. He grabs the back of the couch with one and presses his first to the mouth with the other, biting as he bucks his hips.

“So sensitive,” Jimin coos. His hands grab the top of Taehyung’s pants and the elastic band of his briefs and pull hard, making Taehyung yelp as Jimin unclothes him in one fell swoop. “Think you can take it?”

Taehyung nods quickly, making himself dizzy with the force. Jimin laughs and reaches out, gripping Taehyung’s shaft and pumping him slowly. Jimin’s touch is electrifying, Taehyung’s hips canting upwards to fuck himself into Jimin’s palm, head lolling to the side. 

Jimin spits loudly, coating Taehyung’s cock with spit, his hand gliding firmly to the base of Taehuyng’s shaft. “Just like that,” Jimin whispers. “Fuck yourself into my hand.” 

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He does so vigorously, chasing the feel of Jimin’s tight, wet fist and the cool feel of his skin. When Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue kitten lick the tip of his cock, he clenches his teeth, slowly his wild thrusting to allow Jimin’s mouth to explore. 

It’s hard not to bust immediately. He feels his orgasm looming from the barest stimulation. Suddenly it’s like Taehyung is back in high school having his dick sucked for the first time, trembling and trying not to come as Jimin suckles the head of Taehyung’s dick, mouthing at it greedily. 

The room feels like it’s spinning. Taehyung cannot hear beyond the balcony. All he can hear are the wet sounds of Jimin taking Taehyung into his mouth, sucking generously, tongue brushing on the underside of Taehyung’s shaft. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung with a wet pop. “You taste so sweet,” he groans, tongue flicking against Taehyung’s frenulum. Taehyung feels wrecked already, sagging and boneless, unable to do anything against the onslaught of Jimin’s mouth. “Sounds so sweet, just like you sing.”

Slowly, Jimin drags his tongue south. He strokes Taehyung lazily with his hand, mouthing at Taehyung’s balls. Taehyung’s fingers feel like they’ll break as he grips the couch, overwhelmed by the stimulation, crying out, muscles squeezing, head spinning, blood roaring. 

“Such pretty sounds,” Jimin murmurs again, dragging his tongue upward. “Sing for me, my Carmen.”

A broken sob sound leaves Taehyung’s mouth as Jimin takes Taehyung to the back of his throat. The wet heat of Jimin’s mouth is an inferno, his throat tight and soft and oh god he’s swallowing. Taehyung lashes against the couch, hands shooting to Jimin’s hair as his throat constricts tightly around Taehyung. 

He feels the spit sliding down his shaft, his stomach so tight and his dick so hard he knows he’s about to come any second, every atom buzzing. 

“I’m gonna-” he can’t finish the sentence, shaking his head back and forth. His heart beats so hard in his chest he thinks he might die before he hits his peak. “Fuck, Jimin. Fuck fuck fuck.” 

Jimin redoubles his efforts. Squeezes Taehyung’s balls with his hand, letting Taehyung shove his hips forward, Jimin’s throat squeezing Taehyung until he’s coming hard. Jimin takes it in stride, swallowing down Taehyung’s cum. 

And he doesn’t stop. 

Taehyung’s hands start to push at Jimin. Tries to pull him off Taehyung’s cock, tries to scoot away. The pleasure morphs into overstimulation. It hurts so good that Taehyung is collapsing into the couch, kicking and bucking and crying as Jimin keeps going, his hand pumping, mouth sucking. 

If there is a god, there must be a devil. And if there is a devil, Taehyung knows that he is between Taehyung’s legs, working him to another orgasm somehow, driving Taehyung to madness as he goes. Jimin pulls off Taehyung’s dick with a sticky sound, moaning sweetly at the mess Taehyung has become. 

“You can take it,” Jimin coos. “I know you can. You said you can.” 

Taehyung nods. Tears sting his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. He blinks his eyes open, watching as the ceiling swims into picture, a little blurry from the tears. He takes deep, shuttering inhales, his lungs rattling as he does. When he looks down at Jimin, he wishes he didn’t open his eyes. 

He almost doesn’t recognize whatever it is that is laving at his weeping cock. Jimin’s face is crueler somehow. More beautiful, but terrifying. Taehyung swears the veins around his eyes are darker and the scrape of his teeth is sharper. 

The orgasm must have made him delirious. It’s the only explanation, especially as Jimin works him hard again, Taehyung aching to explode once more. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung and crawls upward. Taehyung thinks Jimin looks like an apex predator for a single, terrifying moment. And then Jimin is kissing him, making Taehuyng’s thoughts turn to white noise as Taehyung presses his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, tasting spit and cum and something like iron and salt.  

Something pricks Taehyung’s mouth. He lets out a surprised sound, his mouth filling with a warm, metallic substance. Jimin’s kiss becomes frenzied. The force of it startles Taehyung, fear wiggling its way into his mind as Jimin presses down on him. 

Jimin becomes overwhelmed. A force that Taehyung cannot escape, completely trapped and helpless, still dizzy and uncoordinated from the overstimulation. It excites him. Taehyung realizes with mild terror that he likes this feeling, likes being overpowered and pushed to the edge. 

He lets Jimin suck greedily on his bleeding lip. He’s too focused on the ache between his legs and the mind-melting way Jimin makes him feel to realize that Jimin is hyper-fixated on his bleeding mouth. He kisses Jimin back as best as he can, though it’s more of a slide of lips and tongue than an intentional kiss. 

“Turn over for me,” Jimin grumbles. He’s already gripping Taehuyng and trying to turn him over. Taehyung struggles to make his limbs work but manages to flip, mostly due to Jimin lifting him and turning him, once again showing how strong he is. “Gonna work you open for my cock.”

A pathetic sound escapes Taehyung’s mouth. His cheek hits the soft velvet. It’s grounding, feeling the gentle scrape of it against his sensitive skin. His cock is pressed tight between his stomach and the cushions, but it’s less invasive than Jimin’s hungry mouth, a brief respite. 

Wet lips trail Taehyung’s spine as Jimin descends. Taehyung’s breathing is ragged and heavy, gulping down cool air as he trembles under Jimin’s rough mouth. He likes that Jimin doesn’t handle him with kid gloves. That Jimin keeps Taehyung to his word, driving him into a manic state. 

Taehyung still feels like he’s on the edge of that mania when he feels Jimin’s fingers slip between his ass, seeking. He flinches when Jimin brushes against his tight rim, the muscles clenching, afraid. Jimin laughs but doesn’t push it, instead peeling Taehyung apart to spit noisily. 

A gentle sigh drips from Taehyung’s mouth. He feels the spit slide, the sensation heightened. Jimin’s finger traces after it, circling Taehyung’s asshole lightly. His toes curl at the light stimulation. It feels good, but it’s hard to control the muscle's instinct to reject and contract. 

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He leans forward, his fingers pressed firmly in the seam of Taehyung’s ass, his mouth pressing butterfly-soft kisses to Taehyung’s spine. 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s instrument. Jimin works him open slowly and gently, at ends with how he was driving Taehyung to madness minutes prior. The swing to gentle and soothing has Taehyung confused and reeling, his brain trying to keep up with the sensations tingling through his body. 

When Jimin slowly breaches Taehyung’s tight ring of muscles, he lets out a pathetic keen. Taehyung is too loose-limbed and fuzzy-brained to do anything but take it. The intrusion burns for a second, but levels out to be pleasurable. 

Cold liquid slides down Jimin’s fingers, easing the slide. Taehyung sighs, relief unfurling slowly as the burn goes quiet and all that’s left is the stretch and the pressure of Jimin working Taehyung’s walls open. Toe-curling pleasure sweeps through Taehyung. He bites his bottom lip, lifting his ass in small, half-hearted twitches to meet the push and pull of Jimin’s fingers.

“Mhmm,” Jimin encourages, teeth scraping Taehyung’s shoulder blade. His breath is cool on Taehyung’s warm skin. “Take what you want, sweetling. Open yourself up for me.”

It smells like sweat and orange blossoms, Taehyung’s skin covered in their mixed scents. His sensitive cock drags against the fabric of the couch, sparking pleasure and pain as he fucks himself into the palm of Jimin’s hand. Jimin’s fingers are small but do the job, pressing against the most sensitive parts of Taehyung, making his breath ragged. 

Everything feels like it’s on fire as Jimin pushes in another finger. Taehyung feels the wet schlick of lube or whatever Jimin has used to make the slide easier. He feels fuller, moaning like a whore as he chases the electric feeling under his skin, coming alive under the careful press of Jimin’s fingers. 

“So good for me,” Jimin whispers, biting Taeyung’s ear. His breath is hot against the side of Taehyung’s face. “Gonna take my cock so well, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” Jimin swears. “I can’t wait. This is what you do to me.”

Jimin pulls his fingers out. Taehyung complains, feeling the empty gape. Jimin shushes him and presses his clothed cock against Taehyung’s ass, letting him feel how hard Jimin is. Taehyung grinds his ass against Jimin’s crotch, making the other moan. 

A shirt flys past Taehyung. He realizes that it must be Jimin’s turning and angling his head to see the man in question. He is utterly divine, his compact body graceful and deadly, lined with muscle and delicate lines. Jimin undoes the belt of his jeans and pulls them down, palming himself over his briefs as he kicks out of his pants. 

Taehyung can’t help but stare, lips parted. Jimin is a vision, his face still masked in something lethal and terrifying that makes Taehyung excited and afraid all at the same time. The mixture is intoxicating, sending his thoughts somewhere distant and fuzzy where all he can do is watch Jimin pull his briefs down to reveal a thick, leaking cock. 

On instinct, Taehyung scoots toward Jimin. The other laughs, giving Taehyung a quick, harsh smack on the ass. His skin stings where Jimin’s hand connects, earning a whimper. Jimin tuts at Taehyung, fisting his cock leisurely as he does. 

“So needy,” he grumbles. “So hungry for cock. You’re just like Carmen, you know? Addicting, needy, breaking down my will to give you whatever you want. This must be how Jose felt, ready to give her everything. Pliable. So willing.” 

“And you? How do you feel?”

Jimin’s gaze is dark and heavy. Taehyung holds his breath, pinned to the spot. He feels Jimin’s cockhead nudge the tight rim of his ass as Jimin settles behind him, looking at Taehyung so intensely that Taehyung feels as though he will wither away. Ashes to ashes. 

“Like I want to give you the world.” 

“Please.”

“You have to give it back. You have to be mine.” 

Taehyung is nodding before Jimin even finishes his sentence. Taehyung will give him anything he wants, as long as it means Jimin will push forward and relieve the aching weight of Taehyung’s needs. He is filled with so much carnal desire he thinks he would do anything Jimin asks of him. 

“Yours,” Taehyung agrees. He tries to push back and spear himself on Jimin’s cock, but Jimin’s grip is iron, holding him in place. “Yours.” 

That’s all it takes for Jimin to sigh, pleased. He pushes in slowly, Taehyung gasping and grabbing the couch at the intrusion. His walls flutter around Jimin’s cock. It’s a tight fit, a slow, pleasure-filled agony that ripples through him. 

Taehyung is hyper aware of how full he feels. It is perfect, his mind turning to static as he lays his face down on the couch, breathing strained and heart hammering. Jimin praises him gently, coaxing Taehyung to calm down with gentle kisses on the back of his neck, shoulders, and head. Jimin is fully seated, his hips pressed to Taehyung’s ass. It feels good, the pain retreating and leaving nothing but bliss in its wake. 

Jimin pulls out, the rough drag of his cock sending Taehyung into a spiral before Jimin snaps his hips forward again. Taehyung lets out a desperate sound, feeling his eyes roll back into his head as Jimin starts to fuck him slowly. 

It feels hot. Jimin cages Taehyung in, his chest pressed to Taehyung’s back, humid air trapped between their bodies. Jimin’s skin is cool to the touch, such a contrast to the warmth radiating from Taehyung. The mix of hot and cold only heightens the sensations, everything feeling sharp and powerful. 

Jimin’s teeth scrape Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung doesn’t know why, but he leans his head to the side, giving Jimin free access to litter his throat with sloppy kisses. Taehyung feels broken under the weight of Jimin’s thrusts, the wet sound of his cock pushing deeper into Taehyung until it’s pressing against the deepest part of him, making Taehyung kick his feet as the pleasure builds.

It’s so good it hurts. Taehyung is reeling, having never felt like this when being fucked. Jimin chuckles darkly against his ear, tongue licking the shell of Taehyung’s ear before whispering, “You take it so well.” Taehyung whines in response, pushing his ass back to meet Jimin’s hips as best as he can. “Such an eager little slut. Everyone can hear you getting fucked - do you like that?”

Taehyung nods his head. Jimin grabs him by the hair, pulling Taehyung upward so that Jimin’s chin is slotted on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung’s neck cranes painfully and he opens his eyes, looking at Jimin’s side profile. 

“I said do you like that?” 

“Yes!”

“Come here, let’s show them.” 

Everything goes off balance. Jimin picks Taehyung up off of the couch like he’s a ragdoll, spinning him so that his feet hit the ground and he’s pushed up against the balcony railing. He barely has the coordination to plant his feet on the ground and grab the railing before Jimin is pressing back in, splitting him apart for everyone to see. 

Taehyung casts his head back, eyes closed. He doesn’t want to look down, doesn’t want to see the faces of the onlookers as he moans loudly, feeling flushed and breathy as Jimin fucks him hard. Taehyung sees stars behind his eyelid, laying his head back on Jimin’s shoulders, his hands gripping the railing as Jimin hammers into Taehyung’s prostate. 

It feels like Taehyung’s blood is on fire. Something like glee unfurls in him at the thought of everyone below seeing how perfect he is for Jimin. That Jimin chose Taehyung and no one else. That Taehyung is the perfect, pliant partner for Jimin. He doesn’t want to see their faces - he’s too shy for now - but he silently revels in the fact that they’ll know from this moment forward that Taehyung is Jimin’s in some capacity. 

His mind hasn’t caught up to what exactly that capacity is, blinded by the way he teeters on the edge of coming again. 

“This is going to hurt at first,” Jimin whispers against Taehyung’s throat. 

There’s a brief moment of confusion. Taehyung is unable to think beyond the thick, heady haze clouding his mind, but then searing pain rips through his neck. His eyes fly open and he gasps, too shocked to scream properly where he feels blinding pain throbbing from the side of his throat. 

Taehyung’s hand shoots up to Jimin’s face, digging in his hair. Jimin’s mouth is pressed against Taehyung’s throat and it takes a moment for Taehyung to realize Jimin is biting him clean through the skin. 

Panic shoots through him. He clutches at Jimin’s hair, pulling tight at the strands to pull him off. Jimin doesn’t budge, his mouth fixed to the tender flesh of Taehyung’s throat. Then Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue. The subtle pull of his mouth, the drag of his blood. 

The pain fades into something else. His neck tingles, fire replaced with numbness. Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as a high unlike anything else hits him. Jimin is still fucking him, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming savage as he takes deep swallows at Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung is vaguely aware that Jimin is drinking his blood. He can’t process beyond that acknowledgement, too caught up in the euphoria glittering through his veins, turning his blood to molten lava. His head falls forward, too heavy for him to hold up, eyes closed and sinking into the feeling. 

His orgasm comes swift and hard. Every muscle in Taehyung’s body squeezes tight with a force he’s never felt. It feels like he might collapse in on himself, a star going supernova before it implodes, sucking everything inward. 

Jimin lets go of Taehyung's neck, gasping as he feels Taehyung squeezes his cock. The wet gurgle of a moan from Jimin’s mouth makes Taehyung turn and look at him. Taehyung is bent over the railing now, sweaty chest sliding back and forth as Jimin’s hips jostle him. Jimin is standing straight, his hands gripping Taehyung’s hips to hold him in place as he fucks him viciously, chasing his high. 

But what freezes Taehyung in place isn’t the powerful body driving him into overstimulation. It isn’t the beautiful, lithe lines of Jimin’s chest and arms or the beautiful way his eyes drink Taehyung in. It’s the blood running down Jimin’s neck and chest that startles him. The crimson smear across Jimin’s mouth, which is parted as Jimin tilts his head upward, tongue coming out to run across his bottom lip. 

A glint of white catches Taehyung’s eyes and his heart stops. Two fangs, stark against the wine-red mouth filled with blood - Taehyung’s blood. His heart skyrockets for a whole new reason and he tries to think but his mind is too slow. Sluggish. Still crawling through the high that Jimin’s bite injected him with. 

“Jimin?” it comes out slurred and terrified as Taehyung watches Jimin lower his face, eyes finding Taehyung. He still looks beautiful with the lower half of his face colored in blood, but he is terrifying, and destructive. Taehyung thinks he might die of fright even as his stomach flips with arousal again. “What…?”

“Look at them,” Jimin grins, mouth a red gash. He grabs Taehyung's hair and forces the boy to turn toward the scene below. “Look how they waited so patiently for me to start. To fuck, to feed. They waited for you - to come and bleed. They don’t indulge until you’re done, my sweet Carmen.” 

It takes several moments for Taehyung to piece together the tableau unfolding beneath him. What appears to be a mess of blurry images and sounds morphs into something else, the edges of his clarity sharpening as Taehyung blinks through the fog of pleasure. What he thought was going to be patrons looking up at the balcony as he’s ravaged is not at all the case. 

Below is unleashed carnal energy. He sees bodies writhing. Scarlet ribbons of blood flowing down necks, in between thighs, down shoulders. His eyes sweep the landscape of bodies fucking and thrusting and bending, of screaming of pinning down, of biting. 

Vampires. 

The word suddenly comes to Taehyung in a moment of clarity, the word ringing out so clearly in his mind that he jerks upward underneath Jimin’s grip. The vampires below chase the humans in the room. Taehyung realizes that all of the patrons dressed in finery are slamming people dressed in plain clothes to the ground and onto furniture, fixing their mouths on them, and ripping their shirts open. 

“Oh my god,” Taehyung breathes, finally breaking free of the murky mist of lust. “What are you?” 

Jimin presses against Taehyung, slamming his hips in deep one more time as he comes with a feral growl. His hands are tight in Taehyung’s hair and his mouth is rough against his ear. “I’m yours,” Jimin answers, voice low. “I’m José and you are my Carmen.” 

Dizziness sweeps over Taehyung, feeling like darkness is racing up to greet him. “Yours,” Taehyung agrees, slow blinking as Jimin’s teeth sink into his shoulder again. “Your Carmen.” 

-

PERMANENT TAG LIST: 

@wobblewobble822 @idkjustlovingbts @teddytaee @jknoah @veronawrites @bts-ruu @tumeperds @ashtonkeller @ivyrosewater @secfir @hoseokshobagi

Please note: typically I would reblog with my tag list, but this drop is scheduled while I am traveling and I am unable to reblog and tag, so I’ve just done it as part of the main body. 

[gotstabbedbyapen]

Might be a bit obscure but I was wondering if you have any HCs about Harmonia?

Harmonia, goddess of harmony!

I started with a couple of random ideas but ended up with a whole story for her lmao

When Harmonia was born, Ares would hold her in his arms and cry the whole night for how adorable she was.

As the only daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, Harmonia grew up with four bothers (Eros, Anteros, Phobos, Deimos) and a bunch of adoptive brothers (the Erotes). She was rarely seen without at least one brother accompanying her.

Harmonia and Hebe had a complicated relationship. Not in a bad way but in a "I'm your brother's daughter but I was born around the same time as you so uh..." way.

Harmonia was the referee/peace-keeper in the house. She was the one settling disputes among her siblings and make them hug each other out after their fights.

But don't mistake Harmonia's preference for peace for her being weak. Peace isn't always achieved in a peaceful way, and with a father who is a war god and siblings being literal embodiments of fear and terror, Harmonia can and will throw hands if you were to disrespect her. Even her siblings don't get it easy.

And you know the rule: when the most pacifist person got pissed, things will get ugly fast.

Harmonia and Eris don't interact much due to their domains being literal opposites. But they absolutely have the "Are you tired of being nice? Don't you wanna go ape shit?" dynamic.

When Cadmus came to serve Ares as atonement for slaying his serpent, Harmonia took one look at this mortal hero and got a big fat crush. But she only quietly admire Cadmus from afar and never dared to come close.

Why? Well in the godly society, apparently it's fine for gods to sleep with mortal women, but goddesses sleeping with mortal men is considered shameful (e.g. Clio chided Aphrodite for sleeping with Adonis and Merope hid in shame for marrying Sisyphus)

Ares knew about his daughter crushing on his servant but was too shy to approach him, so being the awesome father that he is, he became her wingman (or wing-dad)

Ares ordered Cadmus to run errands at places where Harmonia was often around so they would "accidentally" bump into each other. He'd nudged Cadmus like, "Hey, my little girl thought highly of you so I'll make this servitude easier for you. Also, what do you think about Harmonia?"

Aphrodite was also supportive of her daughter getting it on with Cadmus, giving her tips and tricks to win over the guy. "Goddesses being with mortal man is shameful my ass, you go get your man, dear daughter!"

Harmonia aso ried to flirt and court Cadmus with advices from Eros. Sometimes it works pretty well, other times... well, Eros got his ass beaten by his sister.

When Cadmus was done with his servitude and married Harmonia, you can imagine Ares being a shotgun father and the Erotes being shotgun brothers at the wedding.

As one of the beloved-by-all figure on Olympus, Harmonia received a lot of wedding gifts from the other gods. However, unbeknownst to all, Harmonia was given a cursed robe and necklace from Hephaestus (as revenge for her parents cheating when Aphrodite was married to Hephaestus)

It was believed that these cursed gifts were the reason why almost all children of Cadmus and Harmonia were doomed.

On an unrelated but also related note, because Hephaestus' gifts had caused Harmonia misery, Ares grew even more bitter and distant from his brother.

I'm not gonna go through all the things that happened with the House of Thebes. Let's just say all the horrors that took her children away take a toll on Harmonia. She fell into depression, beginning to doubt her own divinity and dreading over the fact that as a goddess herself, she couldn't protect all of her children from their demises.

But after everything, Harmonia held strong. She had her father's bravery and her mother's fierce love, and those two traits was what carried her through the darkest moments and made her the ever-faithful anchor for her husband.

Harmonia was the one advised Cadmus to leave the royalty life and settle for a more simpler but more peaceful one. She wouldn't mind having to live as a peasant if it meant this new life could bring peace of mind to her husband.

When Cadmus was turned into a snake, Harmonia was offered by her family to a choice to leave Cadmus and return to Olympus. She chose to stay with him, even let herself be turned into a snake to join her beloved. He was all the she had left, and she decided: if they had to go, they will go together.

And when Cadmus finally died, even if she couldn't die herself, Harmonia followed him to Elysium.

But since Harmonia is still a goddess with duties, time and time again she would have to go back to the living world to fulfill them or visit her godly family. Those parting trips weren't as long as Persephone's because Harmonia is still a minor goddess.

Anyways, it was an overall happy ending for them.

[hp-confessions]

I hate when marauders fans have to give every Death Eater they’re fixated on a “tragic” backstory, and 90% of the time it’s all the same “oh (insert de) didn’t want to do it, they were forced!” and they’ll give them all abusive parents. Literally all the parents (and adult figures) are written as either abusive (physically and/or mentally), manipulative, narcissistic, all of the above, or just straight up absent. It’s so repetitive and overused that it feels unrealistic and flat out boring. If you need to come up with tragic backstories or completely change everything about characters you (supposedly) like/love, to excuse why said characters have become what they have or done the awful things that they’ve done, just so you can feel better about liking them and have an “excuse” on why you like them, than maybe those characters just aren’t for you. Not every Death Eater needs tragedy and trauma. Some of them did what they did because they liked it, not because they were forced/abused into it. Canonically, some genuinely believed what they were doing was right, that the (innocent) people they terrorized and killed, just for being born different mind you, was good and for a greater cause because they didn’t even see them as people. To them (the DE’s), Muggles and Muggleborns (and anyone that associated with them) were just dirty insects that needed to be killed. Like, they were quite literally out there killing innocents (men, women, and children) for simply being born the way they were. So to keep seeing the same “they didn’t want to do it”, “they wouldn’t do that”, “they didn’t mean to they were abused”, for all the Death Eaters you call your “babygirls”, and you guys pointing fingers at everyone else (which is usually Dumbledore) but the perpetrators themselves is sick and irritated. Most (if not all) of the Death Eaters are/were terrible people! Stop trying to justify all their terrible actions/choices and redeem them. Some are just too far gone (and if you like them, it’s completely fine, but keep them the way they are. No need to make them all sad and sympathetic. Let them be awful).

And on the other hand, the Potters are like the only parents/family that are ever shown to be good. Painted as some sort of saints who can do no wrong, and if you’re with them you’re good, but if you’re not you’re just this awful person. And this is not to say that they weren’t good parents, I love them and think that they were! But good parents ≠ good people. We have no idea what kind of people they were outside of parenthood. I mean, they were really old people, so their views on things were most likely very outdated and harsh, at least to/on other people that weren’t their son(s). For all we know, they could’ve been homophobic, classist, sexist, etc.

And on another hand, Snape’s backstory (which is canonically pretty sad) is completely taken out, and he is always made way worse then what he actually is, to the point were it feels cartoony, cringy, and is just flat out very questionable. Like it’s very clear that you guys want to make him as irredeemable as possible by making him a rapist, pedophile, homophobic, sexist, and every other horrible thing you can name. It’s just so over-exaggerated and overdone that it’s ridiculous and (at times) unbelievable. I get not liking Snape, I don’t like him, but the way you guys go at it is so absurd that it’s hard to read and enjoy. There is no need to change what makes Snape, Snape. No need to add unnecessary (terrible) things to his character just so you can justify why he’s an awful person/character and why everyone should hate him. He is already a pretty bad person, but he is also an interesting character. You guys just don’t want to see it because you are so close-minded and blinded by your hatred for him. And i’m not saying you have to like him, no, like I said, I myself don’t like him, but if you’re going to go preach about all these other Death Eaters being “innocent” and “not having a choice” and then go and call Snape evil and claim that he was all in all the worse Death Eater, when he is like canonically the only Death Eater that had a (sort of) redemption arc (besides like Draco I think?) and actually helped Harry, then i’m going to need you to put down all that fanon and go pick up canon once more. You comparing fanon versions of your favorite Death Eaters to canon Snape (or any other characters) is already pretty invalid. Of course you’re going to think your version of characters is better or correct because you changed them to be better and correct. You changed them into your image of a perfect person. If you need to change Snape completely just to make your version of characters seem morally good or whatever, then once again I ask, do you really like them?

~

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Heyo!!! 😁 I’m not sure if your still taking requests but I've had this idea for a little while.

Could you do Aaron × BAU f!reader where they are having an argument and something had happened in the field and when they got back home (originally his place) they got into a heated argument and Aaron says something to reader like "why did you even coming here with me if we're just going to fight" which the reader responds by saying "would you rather me to go out into the field and not come back to you?" And when Aaron doesn't answer (out of shock or surprise) reader takes it the wrong way and as his answer and leaves which he then regrets what he said. The next day in the office reader won't even look or talk to him and in the field reader is more careless and takes huge risks because of what Aaron had said.

It could possibly end with reader getting an injury and is in the hospital and in fluff or hurt/comfort. However you see fit is perfect!!! 😊

Im in a big mood for some angsty shizz and I have asked a couple different writers about this just to see what different perspectives and ideas they can create with it. So if you are able and willing i would love to see what you put together for this. If not that's perfectly fine too! Thanks luv 🫶🫶🫶

Hiiiii, I'm always open to requests and up for a challenge so thank you so much for this!!! I'll see what I can do for you <3 I hope it's okay.

Word Count: 5k

__________________________________________________

You knew going after an unsub much bigger than you on foot, and alone was a bad idea, well.... you knew it now. But at that moment, the only thought that had crossed your mind was that if you let this man get away, men and women would never stop suffering at the hands of him. You had found him by fluke, so it was now or never.

You weren't expecting to be tackled from behind, I mean, you had been chasing him, right? He was in front of you. But somewhere you'd lost track of the man and just kept jogging in the direction you knew he'd gone in, so when he tackled you from behind it was a complete surprise and you hadn't had enough time to put you hands out in front of you to support your fall.

You hit your head hard, your vision going blurry for a moment as you struggled to breathe under the weight straddling you. He was big and could easily overpower you, you both knew it. His hands flew to your neck as he squeezed, trying to crush your throat under his hands. You gasped, and wheezed, kicked and clawed at him, but he just sat over you with a large grin, knowing your life was in his hands and he was going to take it.

So when the gunshot cracked and he stilled on top of you, for that brief moment where his brain still ticked and his heart still beat, he wondered how he hadn't realised you had been distracting him with your kicks and your gasps, all so you could reach for your gun. The bullet came from your gun. The bullet that put an end to his reign of terror. A single bullet, that saved countless lives.

You hadn't even been able to take a heavy drag of air, or relax for a single second knowing you were no longer in danger before police sirens blared and uniformed officers trudged through the forest, torches on high as they searched for you and the unsub.

"Y/n?" The first voice you recognised was Derek's. You noticed a hint of panic in his tone as he searched for you, unsure if you were close or not.

"Over here" You called, barely able to get the words as the literal dead weight on you rested over your chest, robbing you of air. You heard heavy shoes against the ground and twigs and leaves crunch under weight before Derek broke through a bush, his torch landing on you.

"I got them" He yelled loud enough that his voice echoed and even Aaron who'd been so many hundred metres, panic searching for you heard him and ran in the direction of his voice. Derek jogged over to you, letting out a relieved sigh at the sight before him. You were alive, and the unsub wasn't.

"You owe me a drink for how worried sick you made me" Derek frowned down at you, wiping the sweat from his forehead and placing his hands on his hips to catch his breath.

"Yeah, sure. Now are you going to help me, or leave me here under this rock all night?" You wheezed, relieved to see Derek crack an amused smile, an airy laugh bubbling out of his throat as he bent down to help you.

"You push, I'll pull" He ordered you, eyes jumping back to yours as you scoffed.

"No, you push and I'll pull" You joked, not needing Derek to tell you to push, as if that wasn't what you wanted. Derek rolled his eyes, a smirk on his mouth as he counted down from 3. The second 1 left his mouth, despite being sore and having no energy you pushed with all your might, and with Derek's help were able to roll the unsub off of you.

The second his weight left your chest you doubled over, coughing uncontrollably as air suddenly flooded your lungs. Derek was quick to help pull you up, slinging your arm over his shoulder, his hand rubbing circles on your back as he helped move you away from the unsub and officers flooding the area. He pulled you off to the side before sitting you an a dead tree stump.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked, crouching down to your height and pushing your hair back out of your face. You nodded your head, before immediately stopping as zaps of pain made you groan.

"Yeah, I just hit my head a little hard" Derek frowned before moving his hand to the back of your head, eyes jumping back to yours as he met a wet spot.

"I think you're bleeding."

"What?" You gaped, letting Derek pull you up and sling your arm back over his shoulder as he helped guide you back through the forest.

"Medics are already here, we'll get you checked out" You thanked Derek for finding you and helping you so much. You even shared a couple jokes and laughs with him, but the moment you broke through the forest your face was wiped of its smile.

Standing beside the ambulance, was a very grumpy looking Aaron in a black polo and FBI vest. To anyone else he looked like he did all day, every day- frowning, and bored. But you could tell that his eyebrows being a tiny fraction more furrowed meant he was mad. Being able to read your boyfriend was both a blessing and a curse. Derek helped you over to him, before quickly dipping and leaving you alone with your fuming boyfriend.

"Aaron-" You started to say, but he was quick to cut you off, arms flexing as he folded them over his chest.

"Save it. We'll talk later" He snapped, causing you to rear back at his tone. You knew he would be angry about you taking on an unsub alone, but you didn't know he'd be this angry.

"Are you really that angry-"

"I said save it. Now hurry up and get checked so we can leave" You watched, lips slightly parted at Aaron clicked at a paramedic to give you attention, before he turned around and stormed back over to one of the SUV's. What had been confusion over Aaron's tone quickly turned to anger on your part as well. Of all the people to judge you for running after an unsub alone, Aaron had no right, not when 7 out of 10 decisions he made in the field were stupid.

"You've got a concussion and some bleeding at the back of your head. I'd suggest going to the hospital to get it properly patched up. There's only so much I can do here" The paramedic who had been checking you informed you. You offered the man a tight lipped smile as you stood up and off the side of the ambulance.

"Thank you" You told him before walking off to meet the rest of your team who'd been waiting in a circle at the front of the SUV's.

"Hey" Derek smiled as you stopped beside him. He raised his hand to your head and ruffled your hair like a dog.

"How's your head, Fred?" He asked, and your eyes flew to Aaron who was watching you with a frown, waiting to hear all the injuries you'd gotten. The longer you stared at him, the less you felt like telling the truth, knowing he'd use it against you in an argument. You glanced back at Derek and smiled.

"All good."

"Great. Let's get out of here. I want to go home" Emily smiled, patting your arm before everyone split up between the cars and headed back to the bureau. You were grateful for a local case so you wouldn't have to endure hours of tension on the jet, but at the same time maybe that's exactly what you needed between you and Aaron- time for him to calm down, and time for you to sooth the concussion.

Despite Aaron being your boyfriend, Derek had been the most supportive on of your team. He'd found you, helped you, worried for you, and hesitantly left you at the ambulance, so it wasn't surprising you stuck to him like glue for the drive back to Quantico, not that he minded. It gave him more time to check that you were 100% okay.

When you got back everyone was quick to grab their things before leaving and heading home for the night, excited to sleep in their own beds after a tiring case you'd all worried would go unsolved, but it hadn't, thanks to you. You tried to leave quickly before Aaron could intercept you, but of course, you can't always get what you want.

"My place" Aaron huffed from behind you, before quickening and lengthening his strides until he passed you, refusing to glance back as he stormed to his car. You got in your own car, watching him drive away before you even started the ignition. You wondered how he'd react if you just didn't go to his. He wasn't your boss outside of work, he couldn't order you around, but there was no doubt in your mind that if you weren't at his soon after him he'd call and text every last person in his phone that you had connections with, just to hunt you down and find you.

So you followed him, and soon reluctantly pulled up out the front of his apartment building. You got out, walked inside and took the elevator to his floor before slowly walking down the hall and stopping in front of his apartment door. You didn't even need to knock, because in seconds the door opened and there stood a much too unhappy Aaron.

"I hope the wind doesn't change" You tried to ease the tension, offering a half smile, it wavering as Aaron rolled his eyes and turned around, leaving the door open for you to come inside.

"That's your coping strategy? Making jokes?" He scoffed as you clicked your tongue against your teeth, closing and locking his apartment door behind yourself. You followed him further into his apartment, stopping and watching as he filled a glass with water.

"It's much more fun than what you're doing. Aaron, you're being overdramatic" He let out a laugh before turning to look at you. You took a small step back, not liking the look on his face or the tone of his voice. You wished you'd never driven to his, because you knew just by looking at him he was going to be the mean Aaron you hated tonight.

"Oh, am I?" Your own joking smile fell from your face, quickly mirroring the frown on his face as you nodded your head, subtly grabbing the stool beside you when you felt yourself become slightly dizzy. You were sure you didn't actually have a concussion. A headache, sure, but not a concussion. All you needed was some ibuprofen and you'd be fine.

"Yeah, you are. You're being overdramatic and you're being totally unfair. You know if it was the other way around I'd never give you as much grief as you're giving me right now" You raise your voice, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

"Maybe cause if it were the other way around you know I would've made smarter decisions than you did tonight" You scoff in disbelief at the utter bullshit coming from your boyfriends mouth.

"You know for a fact you're just as hot headed as me, Aaron. You make just as many stupid mistakes and you get just as injured, so don't try to lecture me about 'smarter decisions' cause you know that's a load of crock" You hated how he spoke and treated you during arguments, like you weren't his equal. Like every decision he made was perfect, and every on you made was a mistake.

Aaron brings his hands up, dragging them down his face as a loud, irritated groan echoes around the apartment. "Far out, I shouldn't have told you to come over after a once in a blue moon field day for you. Why did you actually even come? You don't follow 95% of my orders, but what? You do now?"

"What would you rather Aaron, me going out into the field and still coming back to you, even if it is to fight? Or me going into the field and not coming back to you?" Your question stuns Aaron into silence and out of the ever consuming rage he'd felt. All that pent up anger dissipates at the picture you've painted in his head. One with a reality where you don't come home to him. It didn't matter if after every case you fought, all that mattered was that you came home with him every night, safe and healthy.

The silence you had stunned Aaron into rebounds right back at you. Your shoulders sag and your eyes burn as you stare at the man you loved, not saying a single word in response to the hypothetical you threw at him. Not a single word. Not a single word to let you know he of course wanted you to come home to him, instead his deafening silence twisting your brain to think the opposite.

Was he tired of you? Is that why he was so quiet? Because he couldn't figure out a way to tell you he didn't want you to come back to him, so he was going to let you answer that question for yourself?

You didn't know what the hell his silence meant, but all you did know was you were tired, angry, hurt, and a little heart broken. You didn't know what else to say, so instead opted to say nothing. Quickly, you stormed past Aaron, shoulder knocking his hard as you ripped open his front door and slammed it behind you as you left.

If he didn't want you coming home to him, then there was no point staying. It took Aaron all of 30 seconds for his heart to start racing, the pit of his stomach churning in a sickly rhythm as guilt consumed his every being. Of course he wanted you to come home to him, you were all he wanted and all he'd ever need, it was the image you'd put in his brain that he didn't want following him. One where you and him weren't together. One where he went to bed and woke up alone. One where all the love he could possibly feel for another- for you, went to waste.

Aaron felt like an asshole for not having answered you. He knows now that you would've overthought his silence, and knew you'd be thinking Aaron was at home, wishing you two weren't together anymore. In your mind, you'd probably already broken up with him, and that was quite literally the last thing he wanted.

Aaron grabbed his car keys with every intention to hop in his car and drive by your house, and if you weren't in, he'd spend all night driving around the city until he found you. But when his phone dings with a notification of a new, urgent case, he hops in his car, knowing despite how you may be feeling, nothing could keep you away from an urgent case.

Aaron was first at the office, soon followed by Spencer, then Emily, then JJ, and then Dave and Derek who'd been out together being each others wingman.

"These serial killers couldn't even give us one night?" Emily groans, rubbing her eyes tiredly after having been awoken by a phone call with a deeply apologetic Penelope on the other end of the line.

"I had laid down literally 3 minutes before Pen called" JJ huffs, pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ears.

"Somebody better be getting tortured" Dave mumbled under his breath, Derek snorting behind him as everyone started making their way into the conference room. All seats but one where quickly occupied, and Derek was the first, after Aaron to notice your absence.

"Where's Y/n? She get your call?" Derek asked Penelope as she stood in front of the case TV.

"Yeah, I already started briefing her over the phone and sent her the files. She said she was going to stop off and get coffee for every one so to meet at the jet" It was the little things about you that everyone loved. How thoughtful and giving you were, even if it was just coffee. But the fact you knew this would be hard on everyone and personally stopped off to grab coffee to help them all out, made them love you just that little bit more.

The team was quickly briefed before immediately heading out to the jet. You and the team were desperately needed in Florida for a case where first born daughters in large families were being kidnapped in the middle of the night. No bodies, but a lot of evidence of a scuffle at all the crime scenes. So far 5 girls were missing and the last two happened within a night of each other.

When the team got to the jet you were already inside, a paper travel coffee cup with each persons name at their respected seats they tended to stick to. You had placed Aaron's cup at the seat against the back wall window, and despite the fact you usually sat next to him, you were sitting on the couch to be as far away from him as you could. Reid's cup was in your place and Aaron instantly noticed the moment he stepped onto the jet.

You were thanked as everyone took sips from their hot coffees and sat down, Aaron reluctantly sitting down despite the fact his eyes were trained on you not looking at him. He wanted you beside him, but he knew it'd take a lot more than an apology. Besides, the last place he wanted to beg for your forgiveness was in front of the team.

He'd do it... but he didn't want to. So instead he decided to give you space, saving a chat for the first chance you two get to be alone. Quickly everyone started talking about the case, ideas bouncing off each other one after another for the whole duration of the couple hour flight.

When you all landed you got off with Derek, refusing to spare Aaron even a glance. You were ignoring him and that was the way it stayed the whole time the team were in Florida.

There were numerous times Aaron tried to pull you aside to talk but you'd quickly come up with an excuse, or you'd brush him off, pretend you couldn't hear him and go and talk to someone else. It was clear to everyone there was trouble in paradise, but they wanted not input in it so they let you two do your thing all the while working the case.

You even refused to share a motel room with him. When you'd gotten to the motel on the first day Aaron had gone to grab your bag to take it up to the room he assumed you'd be sharing, but before he could you snatched it off the ground, grabbing Emily and JJ's hands before dragging them up to the room you'd stolen a key from Derek to.

Aaron didn't know what to do and spent all night on his back thinking about you. The few hours he did get of sleep were restless and filled of nightmares of realities where you didn't come home to him. Nightmares, not dreams.

You had all made some serious ground breaking damage on the case over the last few days and knew who the unsub was. You'd all put vests on before hopping in the SUV's and driving to the unsubs house.

You knew you shouldn't have been there, getting ready to step out into the field. Since you'd hit your head hard on the last case you have been having intense, painful headaches that sometimes made it hard to see, hear or breathe. Your head has sat heavy on your shoulders and the only relief you get from the almost constant pain is the few hours of sleep you've been getting, other then that it is 24/7 and only getting worse.

Every time you almost regretted not taking this case off and just going to the hospital like the paramedic had told you, you think about the young girls taken from their homes and how much input and time you'd spent trying to find them. Sure, your team was more than capable of working this without you, but you liked to think your presence genuinely made a difference.

So when Derek pulled the SUV up beside the unsub's house, you pushed the thought of your headache aside and jumped out with everyone else, even if too much movement made you feel like you were about to collapse.

Derek pointed you and Aaron around the house, telling you both to go out back and clear the space. Despite still wanting to be nowhere near Aaron, you did what Derek told you to, for the sake of the case and the lives of the girls.

You two snuck around out back before you placed your hand on the back door knob, about to open the door when Aaron stopped you with a hand on your waist, pulling your attention to him.

"Y/n maybe I-" You cut him off, not knowing what he was about to say and not caring. Now was not the time.

"Save it, Aaron" You threw his words back in his face from when you'd taken the unsub down all by yourself. His shoulders sagged as he slowly nodded his head, looking back to the door waiting for you to open it and take charge. You heard the front door slam open and followed in suit, you and Aaron storming into the house and splitting apart.

"FBI-" You'd barely managed to yell before your body was slammed against the tiled wall of the bathroom you'd walked into. Your head met the tiles, vision going blurry as you crashed down to your knees right in front of the unsub. It had felt like your brain exploded inside your head, sending a shock wave of goose bumps and shivers over your body as you struggled to get back to your feet.

You didn't need to worry about protecting yourself though, because right before the unsub could come for you again three gun shots rang through the air. The unsub froze before collapsing in front of you, revealing Aaron lowering his weapon in the bathroom doorway.

"Y/n?" Left Aaron's mouth airily, panic washing over his face as he stepped inside the room and around the dead unsub before kneeling down in front of you. Your eyes were shut tightly, chest heaving as you tried to gulp up as much air as possible. Aaron brought his hands up to your jaw, lifting your head so he could see your face- your pained face. Aaron lightly moved his hands to cover your ears for a moment.

"I need a medic" Aaron yelled, but with his face turned away from you so it didn't echo right into your ears and put you in more pain than you were already in. Aaron looked back at you, tucking your hair behind your ears before lightly massaging your neck with his hands, trying to put your focus on something else.

"Where does it hurt, honey?" He asked quietly as you turned your face, dropping it into the palm of his hand. A pained whimper left your mouth as you leant into him, unable to support yourself.

"Everywhere. God, everything hurts" You groaned, head falling forward and against Aaron's chest as you fought for air. Your head was pounding from your second concussion of the week, and you struggled to talk and breathe, having been winded by the unsub body slamming you against the bathroom walls.

"Please step away, Agent" A paramedic calmly asked Aaron who let go of you reluctantly, pushing himself back up to his feet. He stood frowning, hands clenching and unclenching as he watched the medic talk to and guide you through a few exercises.

You were hurt and Aaron felt like it was all his fault. He felt sick looking at your face scrunched up in pain. He grimaced at the whines and sharp intakes when the medic touched somewhere too sensitive. He took a step back when the medic asked if you'd gotten a concussion recently.

"Yes" You huffed, Aaron's lips parting as his eyes darted between your face and your shaking hands. Aaron felt like he was going to vomit.

He absolutely hated himself for the way he acted just less than a week ago, and the argument you'd had. He should've been proud that you, his tough girl, took down an unsub all on your own, but now all he was thinking about was how hypocritical he'd been and the fact his anger had blinded him from seeing you weren't okay, and that you'd really been hurt.

You had been hurt and he didn't take care of you. He didn't deserve you, was the conclusion he'd come to and he didn't know what to do about it- fight for you and prove he can be someone who deserves you, or let you go and find someone a thousand times better than him.

"She's got to go to the hospital. She's got a concussion and a possible broken rib" The medic had turned back to Aaron who released a heavy deep breath despite the fact his heart was hammering so fast it threatened to burst out of his chest. Aaron wanted to step forward and reach out for you. He didn't care who was around, he was ready to drop to his knees for you, but a few medics walked into the room and helped you out of the unsubs house and into an ambulance.

The team barely talked to Aaron as they got into the SUV's and followed the ambulance to the hospital, not because they thought it was his fault that you'd been hurt, but because they could see he was blaming himself. So they decided to give him some space in hopes he'd come to his senses and realise it wasn't his fault.

The whole team sat in the waiting room of the hospital, everyone except for Aaron dozing off after the first couple hours without an update of your condition. The second a doctor emerged and looked in the teams direction Aaron was on his feet and walking over. He remained extra quiet not wanting to wake the team after an exhausting case but mainly because if you were alright for visitors he wanted to see you- alone.

"How is she?" Was the first thing Aaron asked making the doctor smile as she nodded back at the room you were in.

"She's alright. You're Aaron I presume?" He nodded, frowning slightly as he wondered how the doctor knew his name. She read the look of confusion on his face and offered him a smile as she stepped away from the door.

"She's been asking for you for about an hour" Aaron's heart swelled, chest heavy as he thanked the doctor and walked over to the door of your hospital room. He opened the door, stepping inside before shutting it quietly behind himself. He turned around and the second his eyes met yours he was at your side.

No words were spoken as he leant down, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, hand holding your head against his chest as he deeply breathed you in. You raised your hand, gripping onto his arm and closing your eyes, basking in the warmth and comfort of his chest.

"How is it that you're the one who's hurt yet all you can do is ask about me?" Aaron mumbled into your hair, finally able to relieve the weight in his chest and breathe now that he has seen you're alright with his own eyes. You chuckled into his chest before wincing, hand dropping from his arm and immediately pressing against your broken rib.

Aaron leant back at the sound of your wince, taking your face in his hands and pushing your hair back out of your eyes. You smiled up at him the whole time, your argument not even in the back of your mind as you thought about how happy you were to see him.

"Doctor ratted me out, huh?" You asked quietly, Aaron's lips twitching up in a tiny smile as he glanced over your face, making sure you were okay.

"Yeah, she did" He replied before sighing and letting his head fall against your shoulder. You both enjoyed each others company in a moment of silence, though you could hear Aaron's brain ticking.

"I'm okay" You whispered, raising your hand to his head and running it through his thick hair.

"I know, you're my tough girl. I just worry" Aaron responded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling back, his dark eyes meeting yours.

"I'm so sorry, honey. For everything. I had no right to get mad at you the other day, and I know that. It's just...you and Jack are all I've got and the thought alone of losing either one of you-"

"It's okay, Aaron" You cut him off, cupping his face in your hands as his eyes bounced back and forth between yours.

"No, it's not though. I was an asshole, the way I treated you, the way I spoke to you. You deserve so much better than that and I promise I'll do everything in my power to be the person that deserves you" You hated seeing Aaron beat himself up over your argument. You felt petty and childish for having turned your back on him all week. All you wanted was to put it past you.

"You don't need to do anything else. You're already there. I know it's scary, me being in the field, but it's also scary for me every time you're out too. No matter what, I trust you'll come back to me. Now it's your turn to trust I'll come home to you...if you want me to" Aaron couldn't fight the laugh of disbelief that bubbled out of his throat as he stared at you like you had two heads. Wasting no time, he took your face in his hands and brought his mouth down against yours hard.

"I would scour every inch of the globe for you, if one night you didn't come home to me. I love you so much, Y/n" Aaron always knew exactly what to say to make you putty in his hands. You kissed him back just as hard, and just as desperately, ignoring the pain from your broken rib.

"I love you too, Aaron."

[breakandbuildfiction]

Another Rant About DPxDC Tropes

I didn’t write out all my thoughts on everything in the DPxDC fandom last time, so I decided to write this follow up with some more of them. This time I will primarily be focusing on how people go about using specific characters and their inter-character relationships.

Watering Down and Glorifying Female Characters:

I’ve noticed that this is a theme across a LOT of not only DPxDC fics and prompts, but across a lot of the fanworks for the individual franchises. People will ignore the flaws and shortcomings of female characters and overblow their positive traits purely to make them look more badass or scary compared to the male characters or to make other characters relient on them. Here are some examples:

Poison Ivy: People like to write Poison Ivy as some cool bad girl bent on environmentalism, that she’s pricily but full of ‘cool aunt’ energy. But they ignore the fact that her entire thing is drugging, mind controlling, sexually assulting, and murdering people in the name of environmental terrorism and in some itterations global genocide. She is not by any means someone a hero should be chill with outside of absolutly desperate situations, and even then she should be the second choice after Swamp Thing.

Harley Quinn: She is literally a psycopath suffering from an obsessive love disorder– that she has done a great deal to overcome– who has no problems maiming, crippling, and killing anyone who gets between her and whatever it is she wants at the moment. At her most ‘restrained’ she is working with Batman to hunt down the Joker– with her intent being to kill him– or is on the Suicide Squad taking some weird comfort in being around equally fucked up people and being assured in the knowledge that her murderous tendencies are being used for some level of ‘good’. She was also a very shitty psyciatrist who in many itterations slept her way into passing college and didn’t even last a full year as a lisenced practitioner before joining the Joker. Yes she is trying to be a better person, but she is NOT by any means a good person.

Black Canary: I think the thing I dislike most about how people treat Black Canary is that they hyperfixate on the pseudo-mom characteristics and emergency therapist role she was given in the Young Justice cartoon. I’ll admit that I haven’t read a ton of her comics, but I HAVE read some and I have watched the Justice League Unlimited cartoon as well. With that in mind I feel like people are tragically focusing on the wrong parts of her personality. She is shown to be stand offish, headstrong, confrontational, brash, and manipulative. She isn’t hero-mom coded, she is a femm fatal back street brawler who is fully open to playing off her allies ego to make them do what she wants if she can and leveraging her power and skill at violence to get what she wants. Yes she is a hero and yes she has a softer side, but god damn!

Wonder Woman: This actually goes for all Amazons of Themyscira but here it goes. Wonder Woman grew up in an extremely isolationist, xenophobic, and misandrist (Even if you ignore the run that said the island’s inhabitants are all literal murdering rapists who drown babies. I don’t think that run has been canon for a while anyways.) island nation that was literally blessed by the gods to never have to deal with things like political upheavals, drought, famine, foreign relations, or any other complexaties that real countries have to deal with. Now, to her credit, Wonder Woman isn’t NEARLY as bad as some of her countrywomen, but that doesn’t mean her upbrining hasn’t influenced her worldview and she certainly has never condemned the policies of her nation. She doesn’t treat men as scum outright by any means, but she DOES ignore the shortcomings of women and sees most if not all the troubles of the world as being the fault of the male sex. Just because the woman is empathic does not mean she isn’t a bitch. Also, base Wonder Woman would and has been dogged by base Superman many times. She is maybe the fourth or fifth most powerful JL member goes by base state abilities behind Superman, Martian Manhunter, Shazam, and maybe the Flash. That said, there are forms of Wonder Woman who would make all other base state JL members look like preschoolers pretending to be tough.

Jazz Fenton: Jazz is not a good psychologist or therapist in her teenage years. If you want to age her into her mid-twenties or later after she goes through a proper program, then by all means make her better at helping people with mental and emotional issues. But as a teen she is god aweful at those things. There is a grand total of ONE instance where she showcases actual skill at being able to pin down and identify someone’s issues and that was with Freakshow, whom in that very conversation she admits to having grown up with many of the same feelings he did regarding envy of ghosts and the attention people in her life give them. She never figured out Danny was a hero due to her skill at psychology or determining the cause of his stress, she stumbled onto him transforming after days or even weeks of forcing herself into his business and him asking and then demanding her to leave him alone. Not only this but, and I feel like this should be a very big thing with how much people love to shoehorn in trans-Danny stuff, she routinely calls people by the wrong name even when corrected by others and is told to her face by the people she is misnaming that she is wrong. Some of her names are even dehumanizing like calling Skulker ‘Ghost X’ like he’s nothing but a test subject!

Also, while I’m pretty sure she would qualify as a skilled CQC fighter, I don’t think she ever improved her aim. So while having her judo throw someone or deck them in the schnoz is good, she would probably miss if she had to shoot anyone with a Fenton Blaster at anything further than point blank range. And no, the Peeler doesn’t count, that shit was a full on mechsuit and shots that had a margin of error bigger than a car.

Valerie Grey: This one is a big one for me and probably the big reason I wanted to write this entire section so here it goes:

Valerie Grey ain’t SHIT as a hero.

Now, as a character, she is perfectly fine. She has a full arc with reasonable and understandable reactions to various events that shape her growth as a character. Granted these events make her into a shoot-first, speciesist, possibly slur-throwing, self-righteous, asshole for a while (you know how the ACAB movement sees cops? That was Valerie for a long time, just without government backing and with an oligarch sponsor instead.) but she did eventually get better after the whole thing with Dani and finding out that Vlad is Plasmious. So again, as a character she is good.

As a HERO however, she is really freaking bad. We never really see her do anything major after her revelation with Dani and before that she never actually wins any fights. Danny is always so far out of her league in fights that the only reason she isn’t dead is because he knows who she is under the mask and holds back because he doesn’t want to hurt her. He was capable of blowing up her original suit in a single blast for crying out loud! And even in her second suit he barely had any trouble keeping pace with her WHEN HE WAS ACTIVLY TRYING NOT TO HURT HER! We also never see her defeat any named ghost, I barely remember her even fighting anyone other than Danny, and she is overall just fodder as far as combat goes.

She isn’t scary, she isn’t intimidating, she isn’t the type of girl who could ‘kick Danny’s ass’, she is at best a pissed off woman with a lot of guns and fancy gadgets who thinks she's hot shit despite never winning a significant fight. 

Heroes are friends with all the Rogues… Except Joker:

Just… why? Why do people want the heroes to be friends with mass-murdering nutjobs? Be it Danny with Ivy who is basically Undergrowth with tits and a pulse, or Tucker with Technus, or Tim Drake with Harley Quinn it doesn’t make any sense! This isn’t a case of ‘Oh, when they aren’t on the job they are cool people’ like with Flash’s rogues. Nor do they have admirable moral codes or anything else. That kind of stuff is exclusive to Flash’s gallery. Why does everyone write hero or retired Danny as being friendly with villains and thinking they are cool people?! Killer Crock has a tragic backstory but he EATS PEOPLE. Scarecrow makes stuff you could call ghost drugs but he conducts routine chemical weapon attacks on civilian populations! Deathstroke is a pedo or groomer in at least two major timelines! Ra’s runs a cult that kills its OWN MEMBERS whenever they fail near-impossible tasks! Just because they aren’t as full on 24/7 creepy fucker murderers doesn’t mean they are any better than him!

On that note, why do people insist on having Sam idolize Poison Ivy or Jazz admire Harley Quinn? I don’t have a high opinion of Sam and how she goes about her activism and forcing her lifestyle and beliefs on others, but she doesn’t go around drugging people, stealing their money, forcing them to ruin their families, and then killing them! And I like to think that even if Jazz isn’t a good psychologist she would have better taste than to idolize someone who broke a very basic tenant of mental health professionals by getting too attached to her patient and went on to COMMIT MASS MURDER and help TORTURE PEOPLE in an effort of turning on her psychotic boyfriend! 

Hating Superman on Kon-El’s behalf:

I get that this trope stems from season 1 of Young Justice, which I will freely admit is an amazing season of a very good show, but I think people forget a few things: 1, Superman’s hatred/distrust of Conner manifests in avoiding him at all costs, not being rude or badmouthing him or anything of the sort, he just doesn’t want to deal with him and what Conner represents. 2, Superman grows out of his hatred/distrust of Conner in like, a year. It was an initial kneejerk reaction paired with extreme awkwardness and distress, but his stance on his clone-son with Lex does get better. And 3, the one who actually hates clones is Supergirl, Kara Zor-El. She straight up gave Conner his Kryptonian name and told him TO HIS FACE that it meant ‘Abomination in the House of El’. She basically named him a slur and said that was all he was. And as far as I am aware, she never apologizes for this nor does their relationship ever really improve beyond ‘we will work together if we absolutely have to’.

Dani and Dan call Danny ‘mom’ ((CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of SA!!!)):

Okay this one is a bit weird for this rant because I will freely admit that depending on if certain other tropes are used concurrently to this one, it makes sense, but by default I say it doesn’t. Ignoring how Danny is by default and in most cases male, his contribution to the ‘conception’ and gestation of Dani or Dan’s clone body (if you ignore A Glitch In Time and have Dan in his original body, Danny still didn’t do any gestation or anything, but things are admittingly different) only went so far as providing some DNA. Vlad did the whole cultivation thing and making sure the decanting happened safely and all that good, very important, stuff. So wouldn’t Danny be the dad in this scenario? Since the equivalent to a regular birth here would be Danny hitting and quitting with Vlad (que barfing reflex at the thought of Danny/Vlad stuff) purposely getting a baby made without Danny’s knowledge for his own benefit and desire for a child? Even if you go by the more accurate real life correlation to SA, Danny still played a male role here because he didn’t carry/grow the baby/clone.

The only reasons I can see for Danny to be labled the ‘mom’ in this situation are; Danny is more nurturing than Vlad– which by a sexist standard means he’s the maternal one–, Danny was the victim in the unauthorized baby making and is thus in the female role– again, a sexist standard–, or because people think ‘single parent’ and immediately assume ‘single mother’. (To be clear, I know that statistically women suffer all forms of SA far more often than men, which is beyond terrible, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen the other way around as well.)

Now, to be fair, if you are also doing trans-man Danny, none of this holds weight and them calling Danny ‘mom’ could stem from that, or because saying Vlad had a kid with a teenaged trans-man makes Vlad look SO much worse and by calling Danny ‘mom’ they are trying to imply that kind of narrative. Which is not a terrible way of writing a story where Danny, Dani, and Dan all hate Vlad, go for the throat and make him look as bad as possible if that’s your goal. I’m just saying that in the default state of Danny being male and Vlad being the one who looked over the cloning pods, Danny is the dad and Vlad is the mom.

[animentality]

Re Gortash’s parents: you ever think about the fact that in all the years since he’s been free of the hells- a couple of decades, likely- he hasn’t killed them? He hasn’t used his connections to ruin their business? Didn’t ask or let slip to Durge that no one would miss them, certainly not any children these poor cobblers might have had? I find it so interesting. For all we know, he’s had contact with them in the interim, maybe hoping against hope that they’d finally see him as worthy of love. And when they never did… well. That’s what the tadpoles were for.

I actually think that he didn't visit them until he had the tadpoles and the absolute plan.

They act as though he just showed up one day, after years of simply being gone, and tadpoled them, and that makes a lot of sense, actually.

Because consider this:

As a kid, your parents are your entire world. They shape literally everything about you, whether you become exactly like them or act out deliberately to be their total opposite.

They shape your world view and how you see men and women and relationships. They teach you how to react to pain, they teach you what pain is, and how to fix it, they teach you patience, they teach you understanding.

Or not.

So my theory is that Gortash never bothered his parents until he got the tadpoles for two reasons.

1) the pain he must've felt after being sold, and after years of being tortured by Raphael, was too great for him to bear revisiting. We know from how he talks to Karlach that he minimizes and condescends and pretends that being enslaved doesn't hurt, isn't a betrayal, isn't an awful thing.

Why do you call it awful? I was enslaved once. I didn't care.

His parents taught him early on, and it was reinforced by a devil who literally bargains with souls, that people are just bargaining chips.

They're tools, to be used and traded and discarded when they're no longer useful.

So why would he go back to his parents, even if it was to ruin their lives?

Because that would be admitting that they hurt him. That would be admitting he needed closure.

A strong man doesn't need to visit his parents and ask why they didn't want him.

And 2)

He is a fucking liar. We know he's a liar.

If he truly didn't care, he wouldn't have tadpoled his parents. He wouldn't be tormenting his mother, by forcing her to pretend that she'd never sell her son to a devil. He wouldn't have erased his father completely.

There is no reason at all to tadpole a couple of fucking cobblers.

But he's holding onto it, and like any megalomaniacal man child with parental issues, he's pushing it down and pretending he doesn't care, when it still hurts.

And that's why I don't think he visited them until he had tadpoles to use on them.

Part of him wouldn't want to re-live his past. Part of him would be terrified of being helpless again.

Of feeling powerless.

Abusive and neglectful parents often fill their children with terror.

Even as adults, abused children still remember that fear. It's settled deep within their guts, and they feel a flicker of it every time a partner raises their voice or a friend screams at them.

Gortash didn't visit his parents because he needed to feel powerful first.

He needed to know he could go back, and not become Enver, that sniveling little boy who used to cry every night in the hells for his mom and dad, who were the only reason he was ever there in the first place.

He needed to be Lord Gortash.

Chosen of Bane.

And...he needed the tadpoles.

He needed to make his parents helpless.

So that he wouldn't feel that way, ever again.

So they say empty platitudes. Truthfully, I don't know if he cares about impressing them anymore.

To me, it's more about...eliminating all traces of Enver Flymm from the world.

Letting that little boy die in the hells...

So in short, anon...no, I don't think he visited them ever.

Not until he had the means to keep them totally helpless.

I also doubt the dark urge ever knew about them, until they tadpoled them, maybe.

Because why would Enver want the dark urge to ever know that there was a time when he was not the Chosen of Bane, the mighty tyrant, the equal of the Child of Murder?

Enver wouldn't just be embarrassed. He'd despise the Dark Urge seeing him that way.

He refuses to look weak or tolerate weakness.

That includes his own.

[aikoiya]

LoZ - The Gerudo's Dark Past

I wonder if the theory that the Gerudo stole away Hylian men might actually have some degree of truth to it. After all, if the Hylians really were as bad as a lot of fans seem to think, then it's unlikely that many Hylian men would've actually consented to sexual relations with a Gerudo. (Like, I'm sure that there were some, but not so many as to be sustainable.)

I mean, a Sheikah Stone says that the Gerudo sometimes come to Castle Town in search of boyfriends, but it never says if they manage to succeed.

Which could've resulted in drastic measures needing to be made for the sake of their own continued existence as a people. Which would likely only further perpetuate Gerudo hate amongst the Hylians.

And in the Japanese text, the wording used was that they go to Castle Town to "go hunting for boys."

This is supported by the fact that a number of men in OoT's Castle Town reacted with open, visceral terror at the mere sight of the Gerudo Mask rather than the expected derision of basic racism. And this was before Ganondorf made his move.

This suggests a more clinical case of Gerudophobia, which would suggest Categorism as a Phobia. And while the game seemed to specifically Play it for Laughs (if only to avoid crossing more over into an R rating), as a fan, I don't have to follow those same restraints & am free to deconstruct the tropes, thus Playing them for Drama & Horror by examining how someone could reasonably develop such a phobia.

Hell, unexpectedly, Darunia literally yells out that he hates Gerudo despite the Gorons likely being almost entirely unaffected by the Gerudo. And the Zora King said that the sight of a Gerudo gave him chills. This implies that the Gerudo might've actually done something very bad, to the point where even the leaders of races unthreatened by them have a negative view of them. However, the fact that the common Gorons & Zoras don't seem to react at all beyond simple recognition implies that whatever it was they might've done wasn't something that affected the Gorons & Zoras directly.

And it can't simply be thievery either unless that thievery was more so burglary or mugging, possibly even resulting in death, & even then, I can't help but think that this would more so result in wariness & avoidance.

However, the Gerudo were also canonically regarded as noble thieves that only steal to maintain their lifestyle. Which suggests that whatever they did, they likely saw it as a necessity. However, this isn't as clear of an indication of them being as blameless as some might want to believe because you can excuse a lot by putting it under the umbrella of "necessary." And there really isn't a lot more necessary for a tribe of all women than having access to men to reproduce with. By whatever means necessary in fact.

There's also the fact that when Kid Link is caught by the Gerudo, they throw him off a sheer cliff into a fast-moving river. Yet, when they catch Teen Link, they instead throw him down a hole, into a cell. Then there's the fact that the Gerudo Fortress had 6 rather large cells at least. Why would the Gerudo need so many large cells if they didn't use them?

I just think there's more to the hostilities between the Gerudo & Hylians of past games than simple "Oooh, the Hylians were racist oppressors." Like, I'm not saying that they weren't racist (Heaven knows that there's a lot of evidence of Hyrule having done a lot of bad things), just that I think that there was more too it. Because just simplifying it down to simple racism on the part of the Hylians & that the Gerudo were completely innocent/did nothing wrong or that Hyrule's oppression made anything that the Gerudo did automatically justified feels… one-sided. Too straightforward. Way too binary.

Especially when you consider how frankly misandristic the Gerudo are even today. Ya'll, they have an entire sexually segregated settlement where men aren't allowed.

The fuck is that fair? Let alone necessary. I mean, if the Gerudo are as boss-ass bitch as the fandom thinks, then they should have nothing to fear from Hylian men.

This suggests that it isn't for their own protection. If anything, there's evidence to suggest that it might be based almost entirely on a mix of superstition & tradition.

Further, it appears that any young Vai that's born outside of Gerudo Town is expected to move to Gerudo Town at 3-5 & not interact with males at all until 18. This includes cutting off ties with their own fathers.

We don't even know what would happen if a family refused to send their daughter away or if that daughter refused to leave. Whether due to not wanting to leave her family or her best friend who happens to be a boy.

In fact, their misandry goes so far that they'll automatically jail any man that enters Gerudo Town without allowing them a chance to explain themselves. And it is unclear if the knowledge that said man is married to or the father of a resident Gerudo would give him any leeway.

However, the fact that they didn't even think to ask suggests that maybe they wouldn't. Like, you'd think that'd be the sort of thing you'd ask a man in this situation. "State your name, whether or not you're here visiting family, & if so, their names." How hard is that? So, either the guards on duty that day were new, had forgotten protocol, male family members visiting wasn't something that typically happened, or there wasn't a protocol for that they. And even in the case of the last one, whether or not the reason was that this didn't happen often enough for there to be a protocol or because they didn't trust men enough to give them that courtesy.

And even then, that just leads to more questions because if it's that male family members didn't visit often enough for there to be a precedent for a protocol like that, then that suggests either 1) shitty, negligent dads, 2) dad had been told not to come & for whatever reason, Wabbin's the only one who cared enough/put in the effort to disobey, meaning all the other ones are either spineless betas or don't give a fuck, 3) the Gerudo often have one-night stands & none of the sires care enough about their own daughters to put in the effort, ergo shitty dads again, 4) one-night stands again, but this time, the Gerudo don't even have the decency to even tell the man that she's pregnant with his daughter, 5) the father's dead & can't come, & I'm sure that there's more but I can't think of them off the top of my head right now. And regardless of the particulars, it seems to suggest that one side of the equation is either absentee, a coward, unaware, or dead, or the other just doesn't want their man there or never told him.

Either way, someone's not walking out of this situation looking good.

Which, I'm not sure which answer I'd prefer.

And that's not even getting into just how very badly this sort of tradition must be for the Gerudo as a people. They are likely extremely developmentally & socially stunted. As shown here:

There's also evidence to suggest that these prejudices may have existed even all-the-way back in OoT.

Which shows that, even if it's been over 10,000 years since OoT, some things might still be lingering.

Not to mention how badly this sort of tradition must've screwed up Ganondorf & every other Gerudo male in the past. Like, holy cow, just think about that for a minute. How that would've actually felt like if you were in his situation growing up.

I just... to me, that sounds like a very special kinda hell...

Not to mention the fact that in OoT, a Sheikah Stone said this.

Which... yeah, that worries me... Like, a lot...

All I'm saying is, please acknowledge that the Gerudo are a people. Which means that they are going to have prejudices & they are going to have cultural practices that aren't going to be okay. They might do things that are bad or even downright evil.

But this doesn't make them all evil by default, just a work-in-progress just like every other culture.

But, honestly, if they were to, say, build up Kara Kara Bazaar into a full-on market town where the Gerudo's husbands lived & worked. Then, allowed the little vai to go on day trips there to interact with their fathers, brothers (step, half, or adopted), male cousins, male friends that lived there, or even just allowed correspondence (which I'm not sure if we know they allow), then I'd have much fewer issues with the Gerudo having a female-only town for themselves.

LoZ Cultural Masterlist 2

[horizon-verizon]

The way TG want to pretend Book Alicent isn’t an evil and repugnant hag is going to drive me INSANE.

In Fire & Blood, when Alicent marries Viserys, Alicent is 18 and Rhaenyra is 9.

By the time Rhaenyra is 13 and Alicent has birthed two sons, Alicent is already spreading harmful and disgusting rumors about Rhaenyra’s “promiscuity”. This is a woman in her mid-20s maligning, slut shaming and sexualizing an orphan girl who’s still in middle school, all to advance her incompetent sons in the line of succession. Criston Cole is 15 years older than Rhaenyra, he became her sworn protector when she was 7 and accompanied her ever since, Alicent is literally mocking and blaming a victim of sexual grooming.

The same Alicent who laughed when she heard about the sack of Tumbleton where little girls and women were raped hundreds times and septas were chased naked through the streets and gang raped by a hundred men.

Just as Aegon II was starting to think about folding it, in the face of oncoming and angry Rhaenyra loyalists, on the recommendation that Prince Aegon would likely just send him to The Wall, it’s Alicent who pipes up with her suggestion that he instead start slicing his 10 years-old nephew to pieces as a warning.

After Aegon III becomes king, Alicent snatches a dagger from a guardsman in an attempt to murder him.

Her urging her granddaughter Jaehaera to slit her husband and cousin, Aegon III’s throat in his sleep traumatized the girl so badly that Aegon’s regents forbade Alicent from ever interacting with Jaehaera again.

It’s clear that Alicent stans can’t separate the character from the actress who plays her. Before HOTD aired, absolutely no one thought Alicent was anything but an awful and abusive stepmother. The parasocial relationship with Olivia is so creepy and disturbing.

Giving Alicent the benefit of the doubt, it's possible that she at least showed much more restraint and never said what it told to be her laughing at the Tumbleton thing, or whatever she said twisted to make her seem worse. I do believe that she said Rhaenyra should have died in childbirth. Why this and not the other? Because wants her side to look as good as possible, and laughing at a MASS terror event is simply not equal to wishing death on a singular enemy. Plus, as a woman, blatant desires or approval for violence in war doesn't go down as well as a woman hating another women for men, even though the latter troubles them if they are directly witnessing that.

But who knows, she may have developed some feelings of regret ever since Lucerys' death and how it went down--bc it's kinslaying and she's ult religious, doesn't want her kids committing blatant sins esp when they are trying to make them all look better than Rhaenyra.

As for Alicent urging and Aegon "folding":

Yes he considered folding, but logically Alicent was in the right to point out that he'd never be truly safe under Aegon III after killing Rhaenyra the way he did and in front of the traumatized boy...whether Alicent is evil or not, this is out of her control and she decided to suggest what she thought would preserve her son's life in perpetuity. Again, I am not saying she is being morally correct or that none of this wasn't partly her fault in the first place or that we shouldn't criticize her greed. I am saying that before we chalk up her suggestions as just malicious or flattingly evil here (before we get to Jaehaera), there is this particular element of her seeing the blatant flaw in Aegon's hope and trying to preemptively preserve his life in lieu of all her children else has died and gone...nothing like show!Alicent. Aegon was stupid-desperate and she always wanted and acted to preserve his life and get him the throne based on her perception of his right to it.

The rest of what you say, yeah, evil, no two tones about it. I want to add, though, that this feels like a deliberate progression into her doing as she does post-Dance against Aegon III; before Rhaenyra's death, she was relatively restrained and deliberate in her actions and even took care to protect the city from the blacks by ways that if there hadn't been dragons she had a chance of succeeding. However, you can see a difference b/t her at the council & when Rhaenyra touches down at the Castle vs her really dumb "bastard blood shed at war" attempt at negotiation vs Aegons return vs her reaction to Helaena's death vs her post-Dance actions. Pattern here is she gets progressively more ruthless or at least takes less pains to disguise it or beat around the bush and it's bc she feels herself slowly losing her kids and reacts by becoming even more determined to secure the throne for Aegon, bc then he'd/she'd have the highest authority and be less vulnerable. Kinda the only way through is up sorta thing and it resembles a sunk-cost fallacy except no bc she'd be right that they need to win in order to finally be "safe".

Again, I don't like her and I don't feel bad for her, but she's not out here just trying to destroy Rhaenyra for the fun of it--though I am sure this fuels and inspires much of her actions in lieu of her offense at her not reaping the "promised" benefits of birthing a prince/another woman having what she'd have. She is going by her twisted values and eventually wants to also protect her kids and the "ratio" of that at any given time is pretty negligible in the very beginning, as we don't really know, too, how much she truly believes Daemon would murder her kids--either covertly or overtly.

Finally, when all her kids are gone, she's willing to potentially sacrifice her granddaughter to destroy the "carrier" of how those kids died in the war's duration, projecting her regrets and making it everyone else's problem--her final "unraveling". For her, she's willing to do this to her granddaughter even though she loved her kids simply bc she couldn't live with her own regrets. And girls are more disposable in the value system most of them had, esp with Jaehaera having disabilities--perhaps a "she's going to suffer anyway", and she rationalized that Jaehaera would be always spared from certain death for Aegon's murder bc she is so feeble and a child.

So there's an interesting progression here in Alicent's psyche that belies the thought of her having simple malice against the blacks.