#like this is not what's up for discussion in this post. he likes men. in a homophobic way.

[imustbenuts]

Wolfwood is an underdog character screwed by social hierarchy and Japanese cultural subtext more ways than one: a messy half-assed write up.

This is me saying that Wolfwood is in no way the equivalent of 'white' or even near the top in terms of class even when viewed with a Japanese lens and there's at least a few threads you can follow that will lead up to that conclusion. So to try and (badly) cover this topic as best as I can, the sections highlighted in this post will be the following

Colorism and imperialism

Tribes and burakumin

Shintoism and the burakumin people

Wolfwood's entire fucking design

I explode

Colorism

So in short. Asia has a colorism problem on top of a racism problem, but people like me get really frustrated when a more American POV is applied to try and shoehorn the discussion into purely racism. The reason is: history.

So. Japan was super imperialist back in history. And so was China, which Japan took many inspiration from in terms of language, culture, and most importantly, governance.

In order for their particular system of governance to work, both China and Japan ended up having their own respective court systems where the aristocrats and nobility would spend their days indoors as they administer governance. (Or more accurately, to be so educated, cultured and refined as the world outside implodes.) Thanks to this system, there is essentially a walled garden system where the well-educated nobles would spend their time well away from hard labor like farming under the sun.

This meant there is a greater amount of favoritism towards fairer skinned people as opposed to tan, since it became a quick indicator of class and status. Bc only laborers tended the field under the harsh sun, and women got this especially bad, bc imagine her having to tends the field like a peasant. Gasp.

Anyway bada bing bada boom white skin eventually became so associated with beauty and status. The old poverb, "色の白いは七難隠す", or White skin covers seven flaws, refers to women with pure white (sometimes powdered) skin is attractive no matter what their physical flaw might be. Think Geishas and their job of entertaining at private events with a face full of white powder makeup.

This colorism also hits men less, but the idea of status stays.

...Wink. (To note the above gif here for a sec: IMO Vash doesn't qualify as desirable purely because he's a blonde. A foreigner. An Other. But the hiding flaws part might be worth chewing on.)

And now we suddenly are looking at some kind of a vague hierarchical system. And indeed, Japan has had a caste system of sorts in with varying degrees of social mobility depending on which era you look at. The lowest in some era were slaves. And even then, there is another class even lower than that, the Burakumin. Put a pin in this bc it'll be important in the next part.

Tribes and Burakumins

There are actually, in fact, different tribes in Japan even today. Current day, the well known ones are the Yamato people, who make up 98% of the population in Japan. Mostly fair skin, black hair. East Asian.

Then there are the Ryukyuans, who live mostly in okinawa with their own culture, and then the Ainus.

I don't want to get even MORE historical, but those two groups were conquered and forcibly had their culture identity, language, and even land stripped off them. Attempted to have loyalty towards the emperor instilled towards them at various points. One might think the presence of these two might mean that there were more tribes back in ancient Japan, and, yes, you would be right!

Many of them might have been assimilated into what we think of as Japanese people today. There are always variation in skin color, hair color and facial features alone if one pays attention even in Tokyo. Not all East Asian are fair skin and have straight black hair, but an overwhelming majority do. (plus hair dyes and perms wahoo. who's to know sometimes)

One example perhaps is this. Ever watched Princess Mononoke? Did you know that part of the story centers around Ashitaka, who is part of the Emishi tribe, who are a group who has been rebelling against the Emperor Yamato for 500 years? And so he shoots samurais on the regular?

So here's the rub: the Emishi were in fact a real indigenous group who were basically conquered and assimilated. Some did resist during the 11th century, with their villages/hamlet out deep into the north of Japan. They were of course, greatly outnumbered.

These people who resisted the rule all over Japan with different identities, names and culture and survived came to be called the Eta 穢多 (lit. abundance of filth). Later, Burakumin.

Now I mentioned the Burakumins. Burakumin are written like this 部落民, and refer to a strongly discriminated class of people who live in discriminated villages/hamlet. The kanji though, literally translates to "People who falls outside of the order", or, "Outcasts". In other words, even though there's a caste system which basically at least recognizes people as part of a governing system, the Burakumins do not qualify to even as to be human in this system.

And indeed, some of these tribes who had their culture and identity stripped off them are not even people in the eyes of the ruling government. Today, the term refers to the descendants of these people, and they do encounter a lot of discrimination and abuse in their daily lives from social to work. It's so bad that parents do not tell their children of the ancestry to avoid discrimination. Also its possible to know if one is a burakumin just by checking family names and registers jsyk, since they were once location based.

EDIT: those judged to be criminals also become part of this group!

More info by a Japanese guy regarding current day burakumin problem here on youtube.

Oh and also, many burakumin ended up joining criminal gangs like the yakuzas. Put another pin in this.

Shinto and the Burakumin people

Preface: shinto is a very sacred religion to many Japanese people and is still actively practiced today. Be respectful and just know I'm being hyper specific about this singular aspect of shinto. It is a very old religion and history which is fascinating.

But to not talk about this specific topic would be to kinda miss what Studio Orange has been doing to Stampede Wolfwood so I'm just gonna do this super quick. A more indepth messy write up can be found here if you like.

Right. So. Like with many religion, Shinto was also used as a means to convince people to fall in line. One thing that Shinto has is the concept of spiritual dirtiness, which is generated upon contact with death, blood and disease. Being dirty would then draw evil spirits and invite terrible misfortunes, so being clean is important in Shintoism. So important that meat was considered dirty. (With the exceptions of game meat and the whole religion thing applied to them.)

It's so important that certain professions such as Butchers, Tanners, Gravediggers etc were seen as so terrible that no one but the etas, the burakumins would do it. This whole thing then reinforces the hierarchy. And meanwhile the rulers in their court and shinto priests could conduct rituals to purify themselves.

And for me, this is the most insane thing since dirty jobs like that must be done no matter what era it is. Just by being alive, people get dirty and there's no avoiding that.

Anyway. In Trigun and even Japanese media, this gets translated into what I would call The Tormented Ones Whose Hands Are Permanently Stained With Blood.

Nicholas the Undertaker was certainly an interesting choice of writing. At least imo.

FUcK

Ok now to recap. I've established that even without colonization and talking about (american pov) racism specifically, there are still very real elements of Japanese history that is too strong, too deep, to intertwined with classism to ignore.

This is the historical baggage of Japan's colorism. Whether or not if Wolfwood is a burakumin here is not the point, but rather that it borrows from that issue all of its influence in varying shades.

It's the erasure of ethnicity and culture in its totality, or to be so consumed by the bigger ruling group that this thread straight up disappears. And to be considered so unwanted that even their descendants today are considered dirty.

They abolished the feudal caste system in the 1800s by the way. Still dealing with like over a thousand years' worth of shit though.

Now I can finally talk about Wolfwood.

Wolfwood's entire character design and writing choice.

Since trimax wolfwood is the base, I'll start with that.

Dark(er) skin, sunglasses, a business suit and a kansai dialect.

All of those are significant.

Now remember that I've mentioned Fair Skin and Black Hair to be the most defining trait of an East Asian. Even people who say East Asian even casually have that specific image in mind. But Wolfwood with the exception of BLR has always been depicted as just slightly tanned especially beside Vash.

The shade fluctuates all the time depending on the artwork, but it's clear that the production staff knows the roots his character design is touching on in order to elicit that "otherness" from the Japanese audience. Which is all that above. The entire post.

Sunglasses and business suit also has a significance. One might think it's just the outfit of an average Japanese salaryman, and yes, that would be technically correct. More so though, this combo is also the outfit style of the Yakuza. Sans ties maybe bc Ww hates his organization.

This is a picture of a Yakuza group known as the Yamaguchi-gumi. Their leader stands in the middle of this photo, the oyabun/father of the group, Kuzuo Taoka. More info and another rabbit hole here.

The Yakuza are a historically violent criminal gang whose membership often consisted of societal outcasts. Outcasts like the Burakumins, who due to their status in society could not find a proper job, and suffer abuse. Being in the Yakuza meant respect and status, and turned boys into men.

All that was needed is absolute loyalty to the leader, the oyabun or the patriarch of the group. If he says it, white is black and black is white. Disloyalty means to chop one's finger off.

If any of this sound even familiar.... Well, yeah. Unhinged criminal boss Knives and his merry Gung Ho Guns.

Next, kansai dialect. So, Japanese dialects are never properly taught when one attempts to learn Japanese. It's a thing that's not Standard and therefore unnecessary to learn. We learn the -desu's, -masu's, the keigo, but never the '-yan's', the 'eenen', the 'akan' or the chau's. (Or even the many other dialects out there)

I will now ask you to hold the idea that 'dialect' and 'language' can be interchangeable. The implications of the Standard Japanese is that it is the ruling class' language and the most proper form of it above all else. Seeing as the Capital of Japan is Tokyo, and their government centers there, it would not be stretch to also call Standard Japanese Tokyo Japanese.

Which means, Tokyo is the classy city and Osaka, the largest city in Kansai, is not as classy. Not as important. Not as well educated or hold as important of a place to the entire country.

It is also very common to hear Japanese people mask their dialect with Standard Japanese when they're in Tokyo, and then go back to their hometown and code switch. Because it's considered 'hick'.

Which, if you haven't considered is also a thing many of us do, I now present you the gift of this fun knowledge.

I Explode

In closing I hope this at least is interesting to chew on for anyone interested. It's by not means perfect and I might have gaps in my knowledge but fwiw, I hope it's at least fun.

Nightow has stated Wolfwood's ethnicity is ambiguous, which I would also interpret as him saying indirectly that Wolfwood is as valid an interpretation to see him as anything but a privileged guy having a good time in the story of Trigun.

It's possible that his ambiguity of roots is meant to simply elicit the idea of a "stolen child".

One fun thing I do consistently notice is that Fanon Wolfwood almost never is in a comfortable position in life even in AUs, and always somewhat broke. In both EN and JP. Which, yeah. Yeah.

There is intersectionality going on and I hope this post helps people see some of it at least. So thanks for reading! (sorry it got so long...)

Additional cool posts other people have written from their pov:

udon-tea's write up about wolfwood's unestablished canon ethnicity

interesting thoughts about tortoise matsumoto being the base and what they think of wolfwood's possible ethnicity

[oikarma]

terrible things

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: people like to say love is a static thing-it sparks at first sight and never fizzes out. but maybe it just takes on a different feeling, quite like the ever-changing colors of a flame.

a/n: new month new ending! this is the last part to the number one girl series. hope you enjoy <3

part one / part two / part three

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liked by 703,924 others

f1gossipofficial: Max Verstappen was spotted walking Y/N L/N to dinner from electric lady studios! Two things are on our mind: new music and an old flame.

tagged: yourinstagram, maxverstappen

view all 53,681 comments

user1: i feel like this is going to get messy real quick..

user2: MY YNMAX HEART 🥺 ARE THEY FINALLY TOGETHER

user3: hello? what about lewis FREAKING hamilton?

user4: not y/n in her homewrecker era

user5: woah woah she was there WAY before kelly user6: kelly and max announced their split months ago user7: ikr how are people defending her

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@/charmschoolgirl She is definitely releasing new music. So happy! I hope the Grammy's don't snub her this year.

@/its2ayem freak bro 😭 she just said that her and lewis have never agreed to anything beyond friends & he is one of her closest friends

@/genericuser5 who is this diva 💜

@/bananas I lowk felt bad when the interviewer asked about Max. You could like...see it on her face. How she didn't want to talk about it.

@/charlesdannate but!! she said they were on talking terms again!! and they'd reconciled and also that photo of them leaving els!!!!!!! YN LOVE SONG ABOUT MAX?

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liked by lando, jennierubyjane and 3,910,514 others

yourinstagram: TOO MUCH TO LOSE / FEB 2

view all 702,193 comments

francolapinto: mother 🛐

user1: oh next year is going to be HELL for him user2: @/lewishamilton @/maxverstappen idek which one of you she's dating but DO SOMETHING yourinstagram: oh franco...don't you think i'm a bit too old for you? user3: @/yourinstagram y/n bae he dated a mother of like 3 kids or something age is nothing LMAOAOAO user4: franco's mommy kink allegations r never going away

user5: red is SO your color!!

user6: i love how even her looks r maturing? like on burnout it was all schoolgirl, teen, naive and this album is SERVING.

luxurylaw: pleasure to style you !!

yourinstagram: nono it was MY honor

user7: time to wager. is this a baddie (i eat men) album or a breakup (???) album

user8: well she's all cozy w max now so maybe something happened with lewis? user9: @/user8 WHYYY I LOVED THEM TOGETHER

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r/popheads · 1 wk. ago jammies_on_all_night

Y/N L/N - TOO MUCH TO LOSE [MEGATHREAD]

This megathread is to be used for discussion regarding Y/N L/N's second album, as well as articles and reviews of the album. The album, Too Much to Lose, comes out at midnight in PST.

Please keep all reviews to the megathread - I will attempt to keep the post updated with reviews, please feel free to DM me if I've missed any.

Links to any leaks, as well as asking for any, will not be allowed in this megathread.

Album Links:

Spotify

Apple Music

TIDAL

Amazon Music

Tracklist:

we can't be friends (wait for your love)

prelude in e minor

cornerstone

tis the damn season

i love you, i'm sorry

heavenly

terrible things

don't look back in anger

This thread will be updated with important links for release day events, reviews of the album, etc.

ynsgirlfriend: I was expecting another pop-y album but this was so much more heartfelt. WCBF eats so hard. SO HARD.

↳ dannyric03: Love her growth. Also, the way the album goes from distancing herself (we can't be friends, duh) until the time is right and finding so much beauty in what time you have (terrible things). I don't even want to speculate who the album is about. It's...beautiful. ↳ User5: calling it rn. wcbf (wfyl) is going to be a smash hit on the radio

CharliesPrelude2: literally came up w my user after charlie's prelude (based off of chopin's prelude in e minor) SO Y/N ACKNOWLEDGED ME

↳ SalsaBird: LOL. Loved her on that track. Didn't expect them but they were haunting. Honestly, I'm surprised at how insane her vocals are.

Sharks1039: Trying to decode this. bear with me. [1/2] 1. we can't be friends (wait for your love) - i feel like this is pretty obviously about max. not exactly, bcs i think we've garnered it was y/n who left him first after THAT night (thanks burnout!!) but the fact that she's learning to live without him. even though she still wishes they could be friends. just my interpretation. 2. prelude in e minor - i don't know. it's beautiful. it's chopin. it's y/n. it's just there and a good transition into the rest of the album? it really cleared up my mind and helped me appreciate the other songs. 3. cornerstone - seeing that person in every place. "thought i saw you at the X, but it was only a lookalike." idk who's perspective this is supposed to be from. the message is imo such longing you look for it everywhere. 4. tis the damn season - i feel like the lyrics point toward max (hometown, etc.) but i also feel like we've never really seen anything in the last 4 years indicating a reunion like that. after we stopped seeing her and lewis (we saw them SM last year) i thought something might've gone wrong? i'm p sure they're still on friendly terms, they comment on each other's posts, etc. but less close. maybe some regret from her side?

↳ ApplestoApples: I KNEW I wasn't the only one who thought "tis the damn season" gave Lewis. They hinted at a sort of romance. Especially when Lewis visited Y/N in her hometown (they took a few pictures with fans who'd spotted them). "It always leads to you, in my hometown" is probably about her thinking a lot about that. Sad they didn't work out. Loved how well he treated her and how happy they seemed. ↳ Sharks1039: @/ApplestoApples how did i not know that. omfg it's so about lewis. ↳ Shakes1039: anyway part two of my yap. [2/2] 5. i love you i'm sorry - "you were the best but you were the worst, as sick as it sounds i loved you first" ??? i don't even know what this means but damn girl i hope you're ok now. 6. heavenly - this is such a love song. lowkey found it a TINY bit jarring when we went from ilyis to heavenly but it's more like. i love you (im sorry) to i love you (i'm not)? that's the only explanation i can think of. banger, though. 7. terrible things - MY FAVORITE SONG. ALSO SHOULD BE YOURS. "i can tell by your eyes that you're in love with me" hello. i bawled hearing this. i'm so glad she's found love because it seemed like the max thing shook her up so bad. "don't fall in love, there's just too much to lose ... i beg you to choose to walk away" oh my god. she still sounds pretty worried about how strong love is and how losing a loved one will hurt... 8. don't look back in anger - oasis cover. live. i feel like given the previous song (terrible things) it's like when you walk away to protect yourself from love, don't look back in anger. and at the end of the day, i think this is an album about max. some people talk about how she has growth through the album but honestly idrk about that. it's just her coming to terms with her actions. it's an album about being in love and all the bad things that happen when you're in love. it's an album about deciding to walk away to not hurt yourself. but at the end of the day, people are overcoming that desire to protect themselves. they want to love, even if it hurts.

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liked by lewishamilton and 1,203,864 others

yourinstagram: hello everyone! happy valentine's ♡ i just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for the support you have shown my music. everyone says this, but the songs i put out are pieces of my heart. they are lessons i have learned and stories i want to tell. some of you have already figured this out, but a little piece of advice:

don't be afraid to love. there are much more terrible things to experience.

view all 291,473 comments

yourinstagram: i mean don't be afraid to love in reasonable circumstances!! 😭 don't be afraid to love if people discourage it, if your heart truly wants it. pls be afraid to love if you're being forced against your will. love you all so much, take care and make good decisions!

user1: she's so real for freaking out over misinterpretation user2: sorry ma'am reading fics of your man as a mafia boss has stopped me from mafia reasonable decisions

lewishamilton: happy valentine's, y/n

yourinstagram: hope the grapes did something for you user3: roman empire unlocked. user4: omfg 😭 not the grapes

user5: hold up. why is no one talking about that photo. it's not in any of her music videos?? she's in that dress in the dlbia live performance but WHEN WAS IT TAKEN

user6: i bet it's max. user7: it's totally max. user8: RELATIONSHIP UPDATE PLS @/yourinstagram

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liked by yourinstagram and 5,019,432 others

maxverstappen: Home is where the heart is.

tagged: yourinstagram

view all 715,893 comments

user1: HARD LAUNCH HARD LAUNCH

user2: it's real omg!!

user3: haven't seen y/n in ages THANK U FOR THE CRUMBS MAX

user4: the way he looks at her...

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liked by 732,891 others

f1gossipofficial: Max Verstappen spotted crying after last Dutch GP. All our hearts are equally as heavy.

view all 13,405 comments

user1: poor man. last year of zandvoort. i'll miss it too

user2: i'm sure y/n will cheer him up! missed seeing her at the last few races

user3: omg what if she's pregnant... user4: girl 😭 i like to think max would've learned from kelly and put a ring on her BEFORE the baby user5: @/user3 yea the last photo we saw of her was like months ago and she was wearing a fur around her waist so we couldn't see much

user5: rip dutch gp.

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maxverstappen: Life can do terrible things. But you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

tagged: yourinstagram

Comments on this post have been limited.

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BREAKING: Max Verstappen has retired from racing. He has reportedly moved back to the Netherlands with remaining family.

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INTERVIEW WITH HUGH L/N-VERSTAPPEN

...

INTERVIEWER: Moving on, congratulations on the Best Actor award!

HUGH gives the interviewer a shy smile. He takes a sip of the coffee in his hands: Thanks. I was so surprised. I didn't think people enjoyed my performance that much.

INTERVIEWER: Well I guess you were proven wrong. How do you feel about following in your mother's footsteps, instead of racing like your father?

HUGH pauses before speaking: I suppose...I sometimes wonder if I would be suited for it. If I could've done more. At the end of the day, acting feels like keeping my mother's legacy. Many people remember her as my dad's wife, or just a songwriter. She went into acting because she loved it. I just wish she was more recognized for it.

[ There is a moment of silence as Hugh plays with the cup in his hands. ]

INTERVIEWER: I know your acceptance speech brought quite a few people to tears. It was very moving.

HUGH nods: I didn't mean to. I just wanted to thank my mom one more time. And my dad, too.

INTERVIEWER: It was a good kind of tears, I'm sure.

HUGH laughs.

INTERVIEWER: Which of your mother's songs is your favorite?

HUGH: Well, my dad used to try singing "terrible things" to me. He's not a great singer, so emphasis on the try.

INTERVIEWER: If I'm not wrong, the song does say "now son, I'm only telling you this because life does terrible things." Is it like a message to you?

HUGH: Yeah. I know the song is about how hard love is and how painful it is. But she did it anyway. What's my excuse? Life is short and there's so much to experience.

INTERVIEWER is handed a note. THEIR eyebrows furrow, looking at HUGH: Sorry, would you be comfortable answering a question about your dad? I know you only agreed to talking about Y/N. We can cut this part out if you mind.

HUGH shakes his head: No, it's quite alright. What was the question?

INTERVIEWER: Well, your father hasn't made any public appearances save for your Academy Award win. It's been many years...would he like to pass on a message?

HUGH: Oh, my dad loves to talk. Let me think. He's old, you know that. I think he enjoys the quiet life. He wouldn't survive in an F1 car nowadays, but he still enjoys driving.

[ HUGH thinks. The INTERVIEWER doesn't prompt him. ]

HUGH smiles to himself: I don't think he'll be showing up at any of my future premieres. Don't expect that. It's been a while, yeah. But he's happy with his years. He said he's close to seeing her again.

INTERVIEWER only nods. There are tears in both their eyes.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: it's over! lowk felt bad for the ending. but i think i like it this way. sorry ynlewis stans. i just think. at the end of the day they would find their way back to each other.

[vivwritescrappythings]

meum cor

marcus acacius x fem!reader

Your father had raised you for one purpose: to be a very rich man's wife someday. As it turns out, that man is Marcus Acacius, the renowned general himself.

a/n: Thank you for this lovely request! Instead of a princess I made reader the daughter of a rich merchant in Rome, but I hope you like it! I am on the fence about a part 2 right now.

tw: fem reader, afab reader, reader is shorter than Marcus, reader has long hair, social norms of ancient rome, vague description of a chariot crash, your imaginary dad is a misogynist, not proofread, Marcus may be poorly written.

word count: 5.1k

masterlist

--

Being born a woman in Rome was being born shackled. Your life depended on being a mother, a wife. The servitude of others would be your shining opus, the symbol of a life well-lived. It was hard to imagine, your mother passed away when you were just a babe. 

In the privacy of your mind, you imagined growing up to become a soldier or a scholar like your brothers. The desire for independence itched beneath your skin. But that would not be your fate. You were committed to your loom and learning to run a household and being a good wife someday. 

After years agonizing over who to marry you off to, your father had finally found a man suitable enough: General Marcus Acacius. 

His decision was twofold: help your brothers get better positions in the Roman army and increase his influence by tying you to one of the most powerful generals in the empire. 

It was no matter that he was nearly twenty years your senior–your father assured you it was a common match. There was nothing for you to worry about, it would be a great honor for your family for you to marry General Acacius. No use in arguing, or pouting, or fighting against it.

Your father’s word was law.

You ruminated over the mysterious General Acacius for weeks. All you could consider was what your future husband was like, agonizing about any scrap of information you could learn about him. He had spent most of the past few years fighting in battles: the conquest of Armenia, of Parthia, of Germania. A man obsessed with legacy. You could only imagine the amount of blood on his hands–how many people had he killed to aid the sprawling Roman Empire? 

At his age he had never been married before. You had expected to be his second wife, men his age looking to marry were widowers more often than not. Perhaps he had been too dedicated to his military career to consider marriage… or you had heard stories of men who preferred the company of other men. 

If anything, that could make him an amicable husband. Simply marrying you for your dowry and allegiance to a merchant, but otherwise left you to your own devices?

You could live a life that way.

The walk to Palatine Hill did not take you and your father long, the fall weather just starting to cool after a long summer. In truth, you had never even spoken to anyone that lived on Palatine Hill, let alone visited a domus there. Each one was more elegant than the last, elegant homes that exuded affluence with beautiful entryways and manicured grounds. 

The amount your father was offering for your dowry must have been staggering. 

Being a merchant had its benefits. You were sure your father offered access to the best imports and potential to take over a few ships if he wished to step down from his post as general. 

Marcus’s domus was mixed in with the rest, your father nodding to the guards and stating his business. They let you pass without issue. Marcus had invited you and your father to visit his home and they would attend the chariot race that afternoon. It was the final step to securing his agreement to your marriage, ensuring that he deemed you suitable enough to take as his wife.

Your father had been frantically preparing you, training you in proper topics of discussion and how to answer any questions Marcus had. The strategy simply turned into allowing your father to answer any and all questions and smiling demurely in the background. Better seen, not heard.

The autumnal sun slanted into the atrium, shining off the impluvium and illuminating the space. It was sparsely decorated: reception benches positioned strategically around the space, a few tapestries hung on the walls. The most intriguing part of the room was the mosaic in the impluvium, an intricate scene of a gold octopus and colorful fish embedded in the tile. You stared at it for a long time while a servant ran to fetch Marcus from deeper within the household.

Before you realized, he stood before you.

You were surprised to see him dressed so simply—he did not look like the decorated general you had expected. The only indication of his status was the deep burgundy cape clasped over his chest, the clasp and embroidery shining gold. He was broad and tall, his head full of dark curls that were starting to go gray at the temples. His beard was going gray at the jowls. But his gaze was focused on you and your father, his deep umber eyes taking you in. There were a few scars on the tanned skin you could see, the permanent furrows of a scowl above his curved nose.

But he was handsome. 

The thought caught you so off-guard that you nearly tripped on air, heeding your father’s beckoning hand to stand near him. You did not realize that you could find a man twice your age to be handsome, or even pleasing to the eye.

“Justus Acacius,” your father began, his voice booming through the atrium as he put on a show of joviality that he did not feel, “I am pleased to see you once more, and for you to finally meet my daughter.”

Your father gestured to you with a sweeping hand. You inclined your head politely, eyes downcast. “I am honored, Justus Acacius,” you murmured, keeping your gaze on the polished stone. The name felt unfamiliar on your tongue: it was the first time you spoke it aloud.

The weight of his appraising stare was palpable, you did all you could to stay still beneath it. The last thing you wanted was for Marcus to think you weak-willed. You forced yourself to stay calm, your breaths slow and even.

Then came approval in the form of a slight nod–nothing more than a partial lift of his chin. You glanced up, finding his expression unreadable. “Welcome to my domus, I trust the way here was not too taxing,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone. You understood how soldiers could fall into line at his shout—it commanded attention.

Marcus turned to your father, clasping his shoulder in a firm grip that spoke of their familiarity. “Your daughter is a beautiful maiden, Tiberius. You did not over exaggerate.” You glanced at your father, eyebrows ticking up in question. You did not realize that he had bragged about your appearance–in your list of accomplishments he tended to leave it off. 

“Come, let us retire to the triclinium. I have refreshments waiting.”

You followed dutifully, taking in the extravagance of his home. The build of it spoke of opulence, prim white stone forming the walls and meticulously carved columns. For all its grandeur it lacked the details, there were a few busts placed in alcoves and the odd tapestry on the wall. They looked old, the fibers slightly frayed–passed down from mother to son, most likely.

“It requires a feminine touch,” Marcus said, noticing how you were looking around. “Something I am certain my future wife will be able to supplement.”

Your father bristled at the way his statement was open-ended, no guarantee in sight that you would be that future wife in question. It seemed that your supposed beauty was not enough to secure a betrothal.

The triclinium was furnished with three low couches around a dark table, your father claiming the couch in the center and forcing you and Marcus to sit apart from one another. The table was littered with fruits, cured meats, and pastries, but you did not have the stomach for any of it. You took a fig to be polite, taking miniscule bites of it.

Your father and Marcus ate seemingly without concern, grazing as they spoke idly of politics and distant lands the Emperors wished to conquer. It all sounded frivolous to you, the impending doom of your marriage looming over your head like an executioner’s axe. You were so preoccupied in your thoughts that you did not realize Marcus had spoken to you until your father had cleared his throat.

“Tell me,” Marcus said, turning to face you as he handed your father a goblet of wine before pouring one for himself, “what are your interests? Your skills? I would like to know more about the woman I am to wed.”

He leaned against the cushions, the embodiment of relaxation as he drank. His arms crossed over his broad chest, the muscle moving beneath his tanned skin like snakes. 

You took a breath, opening your mouth to answer before your father interrupted you.

“She is excellent with a loom,” your father proudly offered, the metal cup hanging from his fingers as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “She took over the duties of my late wife when she was just a girl, and, dare I say, the fabrics she weaves are even more fine than her mother’s.”

Your father did not even allow Marcus time to respond, launching into his next point with gusto. “She also is proficient with the flute and knows how to dance. My wife and I had wanted her to become a Vestal, but the goddess did not call upon her.”

“I assure you, Justus Acacius, she is well prepared to run a household in your absence,” he promised, wetting his lips with the wine to hide the anxious set of your mouth.

Marcus listened intently to your father’s praise of your skills, one eyebrow slightly arched. He took a sip of his own wine, the ruby liquid leaving a faint stain on his full lower lip. 

“Raised modestly as well,” Marcus remarked, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk. The touch of humor surprised you, your cheeks warming as you hid your smile. You took a larger bite of the fig so you did not have to school your expression, the ripe fruit sweet on your tongue.

He set his metal cup down on the wooden table with a soft clink. There was a moment of pensive silence before Marcus cleared his throat, fixing your father beneath his penetrating stare. “I am pleased to hear of your daughter’s talents. They will serve her well as a Roman matron.” He paused, the weight of his words sinking in. “However, I would like to hear it from her. Tell me, how would you intend to manage a household in your husband’s absence?”

His cool gaze drifted back to you, dark eyes glinting with curiosity and a hint of a challenge. The pregnant silence held the expectation of your response.

It was unusual. Most men were comfortable to allow your father to speak for you, preferring women seen rather than heard. It was the first time a man had asked you for your own words. You found the image of him that you created in your mind rewriting itself. 

“As for running a household–I am literate,” that simple fact already put you a step ahead of many women you knew, “my father went through the additional effort of hiring tutors to teach me grammar and how to use an abacus. Now that I am of age I have handled my father’s affairs a few times when he left on trading expeditions–both of my brothers are serving in the army so it fell upon me to manage the responsibilities.”

You paused for a moment, taking a breath as you looked up at Marcus. He was watching intently, holding a terrifyingly neutral expression. “As for running your household, I would study your previous ledgers and discuss your strategy of managing your assets before you were to leave.”

The silence of the room was deafening–you could hardly stand it. “If anything, I rather enjoy calculations with the abacus,” you said, babbling to fill the dead air. You could feel your father’s glare without needing to look at it. “At times I have done them simply to pass the time, seeing how much I can challenge myself.”

Marcus nodded slowly, dark eyes glinting with amusement as the corner of his lip threatened to turn up. He downed the rest of his cup of wine, clasping his hands together in front of him for a moment as his gaze dragged over your form.

“I find your honesty refreshing. It is clear you are well-equipped to be a devoted wife and manage a household of this size,” he said as he stood, towering over you and your father. You were holding your breath, waiting for the verdict as though you would receive your death sentence. “I believe this match will be beneficial for all of us.”

And you could breathe once more. 

You looked up at Marcus, trying to reconcile that the man would be your husband. It had not felt real until he acknowledged the match. Part of you had assumed that he would change his mind upon meeting you, opting to marry some Senator’s daughter instead of the daughter of a merchant.

But he would have you as his bride. His wife. 

Marcus turned to your father, broad shoulders squared. “Tiberius, have you ever sat trackside at the chariot races? I was planning for us to use my seats,” he said, taking a step back to leave the room. You knew your father would be pleased by his offer, sitting with Senators and dignitaries had always been his aspiration.

The sun was shining in through the arches leading to the courtyard, high in the clear sky. The races would surely start soon.

Your father accepted readily, the two of you standing quickly. He arranged for your cousin to meet you at Circus Maximus to escort you home–it was inappropriate for a woman of your social class to walk by herself through the streets of Rome. 

“Tell me, my lady, would you care to join us? I have found that a touch of excitement and spectacle can be invigorating for the soul,” Marcus said, his words an open invitation.

You could not help but glance at your father for his approval–he had always considered the races too aggressive for the fairer sex. They had always intrigued you, the sheer size of Circus Maximus always caught your gaze when you were near. Sometimes you could hear the crowds cheering.

After a moment of deliberation your father nodded, albeit less enthusiastically than he could have. “It will be good for the two of you to spend time together in public, it will serve to announce the union prior to the ceremony.”

“Excellent,” Marcus murmured, holding his hand out palm up for you to take. There were callouses on his palm and fingers that spoke of training long hours with a sword and shield. The spread between his fingers was wide, your hand disappearing in his hold as he pulled you up to your feet. “Let us be off.”

–

Circus Maximus was a buzz as you took your seats, your breath stolen by the enormity of the track and the stadium surrounding it. 

You had never seen so many people in one place, the stands roaring. Marcus’s seats were in the first row. Senators filled in the space around you, your gaze drawn to the broad purple stripes on their tunics. If you had known you would be meeting Senators you would have dressed differently. 

It had already taken you far too long to weave the palla you were wearing over your crisp ivory tunic–a band of yellow following the hemline of the rich crimson fabric. Your father had insisted you wear the jewelry your mother had passed down to you, gold bracelets adorning both wrists and a matching choker clasped at your throat. But you still felt underdressed–you would have braided your hair more intricately or added a band over your bicep. 

“My lady, are you alright?” Marcus asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you blinked at him for a moment. You could feel your cheeks warming, sheepish that you were caught in your reverie.

“Yes, General Acacius,” you breathed, a self-conscious smile twisting the corners of your lips. You did not want him to worry about your comfort. “I was simply gathering my surroundings–this is my first time inside Circus Maximus.I hope you do not take offense to my naivety.”

His surprise was palpable, dark eyebrows lifting toward his hairline and eyes rounding. Then his expression melted into a smirk, his head bending toward yours. “Well, I will find great enjoyment explaining the sport to you if you are willing to listen,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear him.

He was close enough that it felt like a secret between the two of you, a chill running up your spine despite the warm autumnal sun. You found yourself enjoying it.

“Of course, if it is not too much trouble.” Your entire life was dedicated to taking up as little space as possible, your father’s devastation over having a daughter known to you as soon as you were old enough to understand what his rebukes meant.

Marcus’s brow furrowed, his gaze tracking to where your father was speaking with some Senator before coming back to you. “My lady,” he murmured, voice a tick lower as his fingers brushed a loose piece of hair from your face, “you will soon be my wife. I intend to bring you to these events, and they will be more enjoyable if you understand the rules.” His hand cupped the side of your neck, warm against your skin.

You tried not to shy away from his touch, his skin rough against yours. A man had never touched you so intimately before. The frantic beat of your heart filled your ears for a moment, you were sure he could feel the hammer of your pulse against his hand.  

“Alright, explain it to me,” you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment as you folded your hands in your lap. You twisted the fabric of your palla over your fingers, not sure if he expected you to return the touch or simply accept it. Perhaps you were thinking about it too hard–too worried about misstepping and causing Marcus to change his mind.

But he seemed pleased, releasing you to turn and face the track fully. “Those gates down there are where the chariots start,” you followed the sweep of his arm with your eyes, “they run around the center barrier, the spina, to reach seven laps around the track first.”

You listened intently, bracing one hand on the carved stone rail as you leaned forward. The spina surprised you with its intricacy, obelisks and statues decorating the center of it. There were water features mixed in with the artwork, gilded columns on each end of the barrier indicating turning points.

“Are there teams?” you asked, glancing at Marcus before looking at the track again. 

He nodded, eyes seemingly lighting up at your questions. “Yes, today the Red and White teams will race,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees as his gaze drifted to your palla. “You are dressed aptly, for I support the Reds.”

“It must have been the goddess Fortuna guiding me this morning,” you said with a grin, almost looking smug. 

Your father pulled Marcus’s attention from you, asking questions about which team he supported and if he had placed any wagers. It was hard to hear his reply, their voices getting lost in the din of the stadium. 

Solitude amongst a crowd was something you were taught to be used to, your mind occupying itself with silly games. You counted the number of obelisks in the spina, the number of stadium sections you could see, the number of people in the lowest section across from you. 

The thoughts of your upcoming wedding ceremony drifted into your mind–would your aunt take the place of your mother? Would she dress you the morning of the ceremony? Tie the Herculean knot at your waist in wool? You could hardly imagine Marcus taking you from her arms during the wedding procession–you and your aunt were little more than strangers. But she was the only woman in your family, the responsibility would fall to her. 

“My lady?” You felt a nudge to your side. Marcus and your father were looking at you, you noticed a vendor standing in the aisle. 

“Yes? My apologies, I was lost in thought,” you said amiably, crossing your legs at the knee.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked, so conscientious of you that it was almost frightening. You were thankful it was loud enough that the sound of your stomach growling was audible. 

Despite your hunger you shook your head, waving off his concern with a polite smile. “No, I am alright.” you said softly. You could see your father’s satisfied expression and nod over Marcus’s shoulder. Refusing was the right answer. “Thank you, General Acacius.”

“Nonsense, you hardly touched the food before we left,” Marcus said, turning to the vendor and shouting a few orders. He had a keen eye… you were not used to scrutiny. He took two clay pots from the vendor, handing you one of marinated green olives so he could pay the vendor. “Eat, and do not be afraid to ask for anything you see that entices you.”

“You are far too generous, Justus,” your father said, squinting in the sunlight as he looked at you. His disappointment was clear. But Marcus did not seem to notice or mind, simply placing both bowls into your hands. The other bowl had toasted hazelnuts and walnuts, the clay pot pleasantly warm in your hands. You placed both bowls on the carved stone step between yourself and Marcus, picking from them idly.  

It was enough to satiate your stomach, staving off the dregs of your hunger until you made it home.

Then your gaze was drawn by a magistrate walking onto the track, a white flag held aloft and shining in the sun. Marcus caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, sitting up straighter. “Once he drops the flag, the race will begin,” he said to you with a glance to make sure you were paying attention.

It was quick. As soon as the flag dropped the gates opened, each chariot being pulled by four horses. The thunder of their hooves almost rivaled the cheers of the crowd as all twelve chariots flew down the track.

You watched with rapt attention, studying the way the charioteers had the reigns of the horses tied around their waists. The first two laps seemed to only be used for gaining speed, the chariots staying in their designated lanes before chaos broke loose.

The gasp that pulled from your throat when you watched a charioteer whip another one that got too close caught Marcus’s attention, making him bark out a deep laugh. You had lurched to your feet with the rest of the crowd, the adrenaline getting to you. “They will try to make one another crash as they vie for a position closest to the spina,” he said to you, a hand gently placed on the small of your back. The press of his palm on your spine brought you a step closer to him.

You watched with wide eyes, the red and white robed charioteers careening around the track without abandon. The horses kicked up clods of dirt with every hoofbeat, spraying anyone that dared be behind them. You understood why they had been spraying so much water over the track–an attempt to keep down the dust. 

The first crash was brutal, two sets of horses tangling with one another. One charioteer cut himself free of the reins with a curved knife, jumping from the chariot and into the greenery that adorned the spina. The other one was not so lucky, the sound of wood splintering and cracking reaching your ears as you clapped a hand over your mouth. The other racers had to dodge the mess, narrow misses of the pileup making you wince.

“It is alright, the charioteers are alright, my lady,” Marcus said, his nose brushing against your hair as he spoke into your ear. You looked up, seeing the other man pull himself from the wreckage to safety. It helped you breathe easier, a nod coming from you.

There was one more crash during the race, a chariot clipped one of the columns and spun out of control. Marcus had pulled you to his side as the laps went on, you could feel his excitement through the way his fist clenched in the loose, draping fabric of your palla. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, brow furrowed as you watched the final stretch. 

The teams were neck and neck, the entire stadium tense until the Reds pulled forward at the last moment. You let out a sigh of relief, your eyes slipping closed for a beat. Then you could hear Marcus laugh, loud and raucous. “Why I believe you must be a priestess of Fortuna herself, my lady, for the Reds have not come out victorious in the past fifteen races,” he said to you, crushing you to his side in a way that made you chuckle. 

You had not expected ease at his side, and certainly not praise. Warmth covered your cheeks and neck as a genuine smile found its way to your face, your gaze casting up through your lashes to meet his. He released you after a moment, clapping your father on the back as they animatedly discussed the race.

There were a few more races that day, each one as chaotic as the last–but they were all Red wins.

–

Marcus had insisted on escorting you and your father back to your father’s domus as the sun began to set on the horizon. Your father’s property was grand in comparison to that of your neighbors, but with respect to Marcus’s estate it was a simple home. 

Your favorite part were the orange and lemon trees growing on the property, filling the air with the scent of citrus as the sky turned pink. Marcus had accompanied you up to the atrium, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. Your father had sent a servant to fetch wine, anxious to continue impressing Marcus.

“I must bring you with me to all the chariot races, my lady,” Marcus said, his dark eyes raking from your head to your toes. “It seems that your presence bodes well for my luck.”

You shook your head, flattered as you covered your smile with your fingertips. “I believe you are too kind to me, General Acacius,” you murmured, unable to hide your grin from your voice. 

You felt giddy, your father and Marcus had spent the entire journey to your father’s domus discussing dates for the ceremony. It was set for three weeks from that day, it would give you just enough time to alter your mother’s wedding gown to your tastes and to set a menu for the feast.

“Tiberius,” Marcus started, deep voice booming throughout the atrium, “would it be alright if I had a moment of privacy with your daughter? I would like to give her a gift so she does not forget me within the next three weeks.”

He hesitated for a moment before obliging, saying he would be just down the hall if you needed anything. You knew he would be standing just beyond the door.

“You have pleasantly surprised me,” he said, a hand running down the bare skin of your left arm until he held your wrist. Goosebumps lifted on your flesh, a shiver running down your spine as your breath caught in your throat. “I had expected this to be a marriage of necessity, but it seems to me that it has the potential to be much more.”

He pulled something from the folds of his tunic, the gold catching the light of the setting sun as he brought your left hand toward him. You realized that it was a ring–an engagement ring. 

“I wanted to see before I gave this to you, just to be sure,” he murmured, his dark eyes focused on your hand as he threaded the ring onto the third finger on your left hand. “Ah, perfect fit. I should not have expected any less from my priestess of Fortuna.” 

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you looked down at the ring. It was not as heavy as you had expected, sitting snug on your finger. It was believed that a vein connected your heart to the ring finger–but for some reason you had never imagined a ring occupying that space. It was simple, a design of two hands clasping on the center of the band. But the gold alone must have cost far too much.

“It is beautiful,” you breathed, a bit mystified.

Marcus’s hand clasped your chin, tilting your head up toward his. “It suits you,” he mumbled, dark eyes partially-lidded as he looked over your face.

His hand shifted, clasping the back of your neck. You were stretched onto your toes, leaning toward him with such fervor that you would fall forward if he stepped away. The air between you was warm, smelling of wine and roasted hazelnuts.

The first brush of his lips against yours was tentative, so cautious. It seemed like he was just testing, treating you like glass. 

You should have pulled away, bashful and flustered and told him that you would have time to continue on your wedding day. That three weeks was not a long time to wait–a mere twenty four days away. 

But you did not, hesitantly placing a hand upon his chest for stability as you stretched further into the kiss. Marcus let out a soft groan, the kiss deepening as his mouth slanted against yours. His beard and mustache tickled your delicate skin, but you found yourself enjoying the sensation. The broad stretch of his hands cradled your jaw, guiding you through the clumsiness of naivety into the kiss.

Your hand fisted in his tunic, pulling him toward you with some urgency. He let out a muffled grunt, a hand finding the curve of your hip. 

He then pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he took in air. You could feel his chest move beneath your hand with each heavy breath. A smile curved his lips, genuine in a way you already found yourself cherishing.

“I will see you soon,” he murmured, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before untangling himself from you. “But I believe if I keep you any longer, your father will be suspicious.”

You let go of his tunic, nodding as you let go of him. He cupped your cheek in his hand, thumb running over your cheekbone before he bid you farewell, stamping another kiss upon your brow before leaving your father’s domus altogether.

The girlish giggle came from you before you could stop it, your hand covering your mouth as you looked down at the ring on your finger. 

Bless the goddess Fortuna for your fate that day.

[wordswithkittywitch]

I just realised that the idea I've had kicking around for years that doesn't have enough plot for a fic has plenty of plot for a tumblr post:

The Holodeck Host Club.

This is a concept of something some of the teenage girls on the Enterprise D were doing in their free time. In short, a group of friends came together to write a holodeck program where handsome young men would serve them cake and tea, wear nice suits, and be vaguely charming at them.

There is much discussion early on about how many hosts they will design for this, what their (admittedly basic) personalities would be and what they would look like.

One girl is into Vulcans enough that another girl gets worried their hologram Vulcan host is fetishisation.

There are many heated debates as to which species would make a good character for this project.

At one point one girl tells another, "We're not debating whether or not Klingons are hot, we're debating whether or not one would work in a host club."

They do program a Klingon host in the end. He recites poetry.

The elder brother of one of the girls keeps walking in on these discussions or just happening to be the next person scheduled to use the holodeck after them, and they suspect it's so he can voice his opinion on how weird this whole thing is because he mentions it every time.

The question of an android host is raised, but despite being randy teenage girls they have the self-awareness to admit there is only one known sentient android and he's their parents' coworker so making a fictional one is kind of sketchy.

This probably ends up becoming a B-plot to the main cast at some point when the host club characters escape into a different holoprogram and try to serve tea and lounge around being gorgeous. The program they escape into is completely inappropriate for this. There is probably a swordfight with an unnecessary billowing shirt.

The girl who was into Vulcans adds Pon Farr to the Vulcan's program and does not warn the others.

I am releasing this concept into the wild. If anyone wants to add on to this, feel free. Scribble what a 2360s host club uniform looks like. Describe a host. Explain how this goes horribly wrong at some point. Go nuts.

[royhasissues]

Marius Renathyr is my Roman Empire

I just... I think about him all the time.

CW abuse/assault

Thinking about Marius' vampirism as a metaphor for the guilt associated with sa. He blames himself for what happened. It's in his language, "I fell to temptation," "I fell to sin." Not once does he consider that he could have been charmed or magically influenced in some way. But the Dutchess is a succubus, so there are ways for her to do that. Yet, he fully takes the blame.

I realize that I only even mentioned this in the comments of someone else's post, but when I watched that episode, I immediately thought it was some kind of charm. I was very uncomfortable with the teasing and the jokes the other characters made because, to me, it screamed sa, but they were making light of it. I know it's a silly goofy stream and I'm not faulting any of them for it, but I was put off by it.

Anyway, Marius is victim blaming. He likely feels that, as a man, that sort of thing can't happen to him. It's just how he was brought up; knightly masculinity and all that. He doesn't realize what happened to him was wrong. He obviously is disgusted with himself because he thinks he failed Lathander. I think that disgust goes deeper though. He feels dirty and wrong. Though he thinks he's the bad person in this scenario, not the Dutchess.

I'm having a hard time articulating my thoughts, but I just read a gut-wrenching DDDE fic on the matter that summed up how I felt on the matter very well.

He's a man, he should be enjoying this.

Anyone else would feel lucky to be in his position.

And since assault doesn't happen to men, this is somehow his fault. He convinces himself that he wanted it and that disgusts him.

I wish I could articulate this better, but it is late and I need to go to bed.

The fic is Osculum Obscenum by PawPunk, but pls be warned, it showcases assault and discusses rape. But the author does a better job at explaining how I feel than I do lol

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Filtered post because IE doesn't want to talk about the subject anymore.

But this is the guy who spent all of Christmas break defending Indian H1Bs from the magahats, is the rank-and-file normie lib really so braindead they think he's a nazi?

IMO, anyone who looks at fractions of a second and thinks it was some sort of coded gesture is probably so deep in the bubble they

a) don't even know about that, or

b) throw it down the memory hole because it doesn't fit the Current Narrative.

We have always been at war with Eastasia.

Cpy: i don't know if he's personally a nazi, but that's not really important--what's most concerning is that he's legitimizing nazism.

"No, it doesn't matter if he's actually X, as we vocally accused him of. What matters is that we think he's benefiting X, somehow. Even though we're the ones who are making the biggest fuss about his supposed Nazi-like behavior in the first place."

It reminds me of how Trump's detractors made dwindling white supremacists relevant to a Presidential election for the first time in decades, and supported antifa on the grounds that Nazis were a major, immediate threat…then they blamed Trump for the alleged surge of nazis.

if a public figure does a nazi salute (ironic or not)

i was assuming you were engaging in good faith, but that's apparently not the case-

On top of the classic goalpost move, we have the classic "anyone who disagrees with me must be acting in """""bad faith"""" (lying)".

If you can't imagine anyone honestly having a different opinion than you, then I think the problem's actually on YOUR end.

Especially in a thread where people were clearly discussing a different opinion, and you just…ignored them.

*Also reminds me of feminists who tried to silence discussions of men's issues as inherently misogynist. Up to and including falsely blaming a mass murderer on MRAs because a single mistaken blogger said so with no evidence.

And then men's issues got popular as a subject, and feminists turned around tried to take credit for helping men, and say MRAs were the ones damaging the perception of men's issues. Which was just another silencing tactic.

Especially since feminists also yelled at non-MRAs and even other feminists who tried to help men.

The funny thing is that the attempted silencing totally Streisanded on feminists.

Basically every subreddit is banning links to twitter over Elon's... either very unfortunate wave, or very bad taste joke. But this is the guy who spent all of Christmas break defending Indian H1Bs from the magahats, is the rank-and-file normie lib really so braindead they think he's a nazi?

[mad-hunts]

barton being awkward at first or even completely throughout a whole interaction whenever he's trying to comfort people is so in character for him TBH and let me tell y'all why because i think it's important to his character:

he can fake a lot of things. barton can fake being nice to people, he can fake being innocent, and he can even fake having a much stronger sense of morality around people if he wants to — but whenever it comes to empathizing with someone on an emotional level... barton finds himself often struggling with faking it because of the nature of it. and this is due to it being different than whenever he's trying to feign something easily comprehensible like innocence. but empathy is something that's usually viewed as innate in us as humans and has to do with love, which doesn't depend on logic. it's something that comes from within, so it doesn't have clear parameters as to how you should do it, so whenever barton tries to fake it in the event that he's trying to make someone feel better; he'll stumble. and so although barton can cognitively empathize with someone, his efforts to actually put himself in other people's shoes fall flat, as he just can't physically imagine himself being in someone else's position probably more than half the time.

so if your muse were to ever come to him seeming upset, barton would likely not know what to do / how to comfort them, at least for a bit before referencing back on how he's seen other people do it. because i hate to say it (i don't, in reality, but y'all know what i mean LOL) but barton does actively mimic behaviors that he sees people do whenever he feels the absence of a certain emotion. he especially does this whenever he's trying to appear charming to other people, but like i said, he'll also try to use what he's seen his peers do as a guide as for what he should do in regards to empathy. and sometimes he may even seem a bit flustered before he's able to do this because he knows that it is expected of him to be able to empathize with people and can identify it in other people BUT knowing how to approach faking it has always been sort of hard for him even as an adult.

but yeahhh, that's just my own two cents about how barton sometimes break character that he is quote unquote ' normal, ' though he does try to mask this around people who aren't really familiar with him as simply being social awkwardness. however, it is part of a larger thing with him as despite the fact that he can blend in with the population REALLY well and also is pretty good at manipulating others, i suppose you could say that barton is still not an expert at ' constructing empathy ' because whenever someone is visibly hurt in front of him... he is more liable to act like he isn't sure what to do, than to put on an act immediately since he is likely to feel nothing first before anything else. and i realize that that is a rather unsettling thought, but i think that he is a lot more suspectible to doing this with people he doesn't know well / who he isn't particularly close to, as he's got a lot more practice with being falsely empathetic towards friends and/or sometimes even family members.

[maaarine]

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself �� smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[televisionenjoyer]

Dean liked men it happened on my screen for like at least 12 seasons probably 15. Dean's siren was a guy. He and cas is the biggest will they won't they in the history of television (they won't tho the cw is homophobic). He was supposed to say I love you on the crypt scene. Like he literally doesn't need to verbally tell us he's bisexual we just know. He may not know but we do. This is an unmovable fact sorry.

it was a bad idea to introduce today's youth to early 2000s television because now you have people out there thinking they made dean winchester and gregory house gay on purpose instead of as a tasteless joke

[whyissupernaturaltrending]

May 16-20, 2024 - DJ Qualls and Ty Olsson are getting married!

"(...) And then, Ty and I were- became, like, inseparable at the very beginning. Like, just immediately, and over the last ten years our relationship evolved to what it is today, and now we're getting married. It's just so crazy that this person who was just my friend, now I think about all the time and he sends me the best messages and he supports me and loves me unconditionally in the right way. Because I would never abuse that. (...) And now we're going to be old men together."

DJ Qualls (Garth in Supernatural), was recently in a podcast "Locked and Probably Loaded with DJ and Kelly" (YouTube link & Spotify link) discussing his experience with Supernatural and his friendships with various cast members. He also talked about his relationship with Ty Olsson (Benny and Eli in Supernatural) and mentioned that they were getting married (quote above).

DJ also recently responded to a congrats tweet [x]:

And to some other tweets as well [x] [x] (and this):

On the podcast, DJ talked about how he'd initially declined the offer to play Garth and it took a bit to convince him. And he ended up finding some of the most amazing friends and his future husband.

Congratulations!

May 18 update: Misha Collins has congratulated the couple on twitter which gained some traction [x]. The post was liked by both DJ and Ty. Stands also had something to say in light of people not realising sooner [x]. She admitted however that she hadn't known about the new until recently herself.

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

some jayvik headcanons to pass the time and ignore the pain

There is a Viktor fan club at the academy. He is unaware. They discuss his projects, his accent, his looks. Meetings are the last Thursday of every month.

Jayce accidentally stumbled into one of the meetings. They barely played off they were talking about his partner. (He still can't find any info on the "book" they were talking about, thinking Caitlyn would be interested.) (He forgets that Victorian-looking men with accents aren't on her radar.)

Jayce also has a fan club. He is aware of it. (They have invited him to meetings). They talk about his projects, his hair, his face, his line of mugs. Their banner is one of his shirts. (He is unaware of this part.)

Viktor is also aware of the club. (He gave them the shirt.)

Jayce and Viktor both hate the cold (Jayce for the snowstorm, Viktor for his leg) so whenever it was winter they were bundled up like the kid from A Christmas Story.

Viktor mixes up metaphors. He constantly uses malaphors (unintentionally) and Jayce doesn't have it in his heart to correct him. "All the ducks are aligning" is his favorite by far.

Jayce tried learning Viktor's native language to surprise him one day. (I imagine it as a mix of Czech and Polish). He ended up saying a mix of a whole bunch of nonsense, so confidently) which made Viktor laugh himself into a coughing fit.

more under cut cause this is getting long

(Viktor couldn't look at Jayce for two days after without laughing.)

Viktor has a sweet tooth, Jayce has a savory one.

Their third year as lab partners, a section of the library caught on fire. The culprit was never found. (It was them, and they both blame the other.) (It was Viktor)

Jayce enjoys suspenseful novels. Viktor, when he can be persuaded, enjoys historical fiction.

Their mortal enemy is the student who's lab is across from theirs. Viktor hates him because he's egotistical with no real skill. Jayce hates him because he always complains they're making too much noise. Their mortal enemy is unaware he is their mortal enemy.

They have a "days without incident" chart in their lab. Incidents no longer include cuts, scrapes, bruises, small explosions, broken prototypes, because if they did it would always be at 0.

Their fifth year, the auditorium stage caught on fire. A group of first years were blamed. (It was Jayce, though Viktor thought it wasn't a big deal.)

Jayce is organized, Viktor is not. Jayce puts things in organized shelves, Viktor puts things where he knows he'll need them next. This is a point of tension for the longest time, until Mel stepped in and told them to either compromise or get two of everything.

They got two of everything.

Jayce designed Viktor's cane (after the first one broke) and his leg brace.

Viktor can play the harp. Jayce can play the piano.

Everyone believes Viktor is the one keeping Jayce under control in experiments. (as referenced in this post) No one knows besides Heimerdinger that Viktor learned lab safety in a drug den. The counsel refers to Viktor as the "sane, calm one" but only Mel and Cassandra know the truth. Both think it's funnier to not deny it.

Viktor stays at Jayce's place most often. Jayce secretly moved most of Viktor's things to his place, until officially asking him to move in.

Jayce also helped design a new back brace for Viktor. It was more comfortable, made of thick cloth, and relieved so much back pain he started crying when he tried it on. This is what got them together, because Viktor kissed him in thanks, and Jayce was like "finally!!" and started kissing him back.

Money was exchanged after the Academy/Counsel found out they became official. Shoola, Mel and Cassandra got a big payout. Heimerdinger had no idea about the bet, mostly because he thought they were already together.

This led to the fanclub war. Jayce fans vs Viktor fans, until a hero came around (Sky) and was like, why not both? (And thus, the Jayvik fan-club was born)

[crystallinestars]

Just Confess Already! Part 2

Drabbles about Genshin men (or you) confessing with the help of a wingman. This is pure fluff.

Characters: Kazuha, Kinich, Ororon, Wanderer, and Cyno.

Part 1 here.

I apologize if the endings sound abrupt, I've edited and rewritten this many times, and at this point I just want to get this finally posted. I also apologize for the length, my writing style has changed since part 1.

🍁 Kazuha

Everyone and their mother at The Crux could tell you and Kazuha had a thing for each other. The way you guys spent most of your free time in each other’s company discussing poetry or music, the way Kazuha always volunteered to help you with your tasks, how you took care of Kazuha when he got drunk, and just the overall subtle romantic tension about your pair tipped off pretty much everyone.

Though Beidou didn’t want to pry into the love lives of her crew, she’d sometimes catch glimpses of you and Kazuha chatting up in the crow’s nest of the ship and noted that the way you smiled at each other was endearing. Otherwise, she paid little attention to it, thinking it was only a matter of time until one of you confessed and you guys became an official couple.

However, that time never came. The two of you pussyfooted around the topic of laying bare your feelings, and everyone at The Crux was getting a little annoyed that you were stuck in the pining phase. There was a limit to how long Beidou could tolerate watching you give each other pining glances without snapping and telling you two to get together already.

One time when you were out on an errand, Beidou and her crew invited Kazuha for a drink. The friendly and cheerful atmosphere prompted some members to share their life stories, and the topic breached romance. Someone asked Kazuha why he hadn’t confessed to you yet, and the drunken ronin answered that he treasured your friendship and didn’t want to jeopardize it in case you didn’t feel the same way.

Beidou could only scoff at his excuse. It was so obvious that you liked him back, and since when was Kazuha such a coward? He could go up against the Raiden Shogun’s deadly Musou no Hitotachi, but had his tail between his legs at the prospect of admitting he loved you to your face? Preposterous! Moreover, she had to tell her crew to settle down because they were creating a spectacle out of your crushes on each other and making bets on which one of you would confess first (she betted on you).

If Kazuha was too much of a coward, Beidou thought, then maybe you’d be braver.

That same evening, she happened to find you alone in your cabin and took the opportunity to bring up the issue of your longtime crush on Kazuha. Though she was no expert on romance, Beidou wanted to help you. She got you to open up and confide in her, patiently listening while you expressed your fears about confessing to Kazuha. You also didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, so Beidou stated outright that he returned your feelings. If you didn’t believe her, then see for yourself.

With that, she pried open a window in the cabin. Over the gentle lapping of the waves, you heard the crew’s laughter up on the deck, and the faint sound of Kazuha’s familiar voice. It was a little difficult to hear what he was saying over the crew’s chatter, and his speech was slightly slurred, but you made out a few words. He frequently spoke your name while reciting a few clumsy haikus. But they weren’t just any random poems about the sea or sky—they were love haikus.

Beidou patted your shoulder and told you to have courage instead of wasting your life wondering about what-ifs and regretting not doing anything.

Over the following days, Beidou sent you and Kazuha out on joint errands in Liyue Harbour. The errands themselves weren’t all that important, but they served as good excuses to give you two some alone time. Kazuha was no fool and quickly deduced that Beidou was setting you two up on purpose, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to spend more time with you.

Beidou hoped something would finally change by the time you returned, and sure enough, when she spotted you and Kazuha walking back to the ship, she smiled. The two of you were holding hands and smiling warmly at each other, a good sign that your once-suppressed feelings were now in the open. Naturally, the rest of the crew noticed the change as well and grew excited when you confirmed that you and Kazuha were now in a romantic relationship.

That night, they brought out the good wine and food to congratulate you and Kazuha on finally getting together. Most of the Crux’s crew joined on the festivities, with some members being nosy and asking you for details on how it happened and who confessed first.

When you admitted to confessing first, Beidou smugly accepted her winnings and took a big swig of her drink before yelling out a cheer. Her crew followed suit in toasting and cheering much to your and Kazuha’s embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. Beidou made sure to make it up to you by distracting the crew with a drinking game and sending you a wink as she allowed you and Kazuha to make a quiet escape from the party. The Crux gang would have plenty of time to tease you in the future—for now, you and Kazuha deserved to enjoy this newfound relationship without others poking their noses where they don’t belong. Beidou would make sure of it.

🟩 Kinich

Kinich’s relationship with you perplexed K’uhul Ajaw. The Almighty Dragonlord couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but something between you two changed. Recently, Kinich had been giving you discounts whenever you asked for his help, and sometimes even did things for you for free. Kinich the Malipo giving someone special treatment? Unheard of! And on top of all that, his servant had been visiting you more frequently during downtime, and there was also that strange glint in Kinich’s eyes whenever he looked at you, something akin to endearment—

Oh.

Kinich liked you.

Oh, this was going to be good!

Ajaw’s diabolical nature wouldn’t let him keep Kinich’s feelings for you a secret. The next time you came to hang out with their duo, the saurian waved his little stubby arms and ran his mouth as soon as you were within earshot. “Hey, human! Our lowly servant has developed romantic feelings for you like some sort of prepubescent schoolboy! Isn’t that a riot?” and cackled, thinking Kinich would be thoroughly humiliated and put in his place.

To Ajaw’s dismay, instead of looking disgusted by the news, you appeared… hopeful? A tad surprised by his outburst, but was that hope shining in your eyes? To Ajaw’s even greater dismay, Kinich lacked any sort of outward reaction to having his crush on you vocalized so brazenly. Instead, the saurian hunter told you to ignore Ajaw’s nonsensical words in his usual calm manner, before smacking the pixelated menace away for a timeout. Right before he got locked away, Ajaw managed to catch a glimpse of disappointment in your eyes when Kinich brushed the situation aside as if it were nothing.

That day, K’uhul Ajaw realized that Kinich’s feelings were not one-sided like he originally thought. You liked Kinich too. The mere thought of you two acting all lovey-dovey with each other was sickening, but the saurian figured poking fun at you and Kinich would be a good source of entertainment.

After that day, Ajaw became even more insufferable. Every chance he got, he’d swoop in with a taunting remark and make fun either you, Kinich, or both.

One time while accompanying Kinich through a dense forest, you slipped on a wet tree root and were sent falling towards the ground. However, Kinich swiftly caught you and pulled you to his chest to help stabilize you. Ajaw had a field day laughing and crowing about how scandalous you were for practically throwing yourself at Kinich like that. Were you that desperate to be in his arms? Disgusting!

The saurian also used every opportunity he could find to reveal all of Kinich’s secrets to you. Did you know Kinich gave you special treatment? No? Are you blind?! Can’t you tell he does stuff for you for free? Why do you think he brings you game and wild berries free of charge every once in a while--to show off how good he is at hunting?! Have you at least noticed Kinich smiled more and acted softer towards you, or are you really that blind? He doesn’t treat anyone else that way, you know! …And so on and so forth, though most of his attempts to out Kinich are interrupted by the man himself locking Ajaw away before the dragon reveals too much.

As fun as it was to watch your pair’s awkward attempts at showing signs of affection for each other, Ajaw eventually grew frustrated with standing witness to the mutual pining that never progressed anywhere. It made the little saurian’s blood boil with annoyance.

Whenever he and Kinich were alone, Ajaw would complain that the hunter should stop being a dimwit and a coward and just confess to you already! How could he not see that you obviously liked him back?! Seriously, how bad was his luck to end up with such an imbecile for a servant?!

Kinich coolly rejected Ajaw’s insistence for confessing his feelings. It was not in his nature to recklessly rush into the unknown—he needed to carefully analyze and weigh his options before coming to a sound decision. As such, his relationship with you was not to be rushed. This didn’t sit well with Ajaw, but no matter what he said, Kinich stubbornly refused to listen.

The Dragonlord’s patience reached a breaking point during one fateful day. It was getting dark, and Kinich had offered to escort you home. Once you were safely at your doorstep, you made the bold move of kissing Kinich’s cheek in thanks. For a split moment, Ajaw swore there was palpable romantic tension between you as your and Kinich’s eyes met (gross). Kinich glanced at your lips, looking as if he wanted to lean in and kiss you (doubly gross) and Ajaw prepared himself to make disgusted gagging noises, except… nothing happened. With a seldom seen blush on his cheeks, Kinich awkwardly cleared his throat and bid you goodnight, preparing to leave.

Ajaw exploded.

“This is painful to watch! You two were clearly made for each other—both equally cowardly and blind to each other’s feelings! Just admit you like each other already; you’re not fooling anyone! Kinich, you cowardly, brainless, insufferable insect—just lean in for that kiss, you obviously want to! And you! Stop waffling and just spit out that you like Kinich already! Agh, watching you two is torture! What did the great K’uhul Ajaw do to deserve this fate?!” he yelled, turning red in the face.

Kinich promptly locked Ajaw away, for which the saurian would later chew him out once he was free, but not before interrogating you and the hunter about whether you finally confessed. Once Kinich revealed that yes, you had talked it out and admitted your mutual feelings for each other and were now in a relationship, Ajaw could finally feel some sense of peace regarding the situation.

Feeling proud of his contributions, Ajaw puffed out his chest and told you and Kinich to pucker up and kiss his feet in worship, for only with the help of the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw has your relationship progressed instead of stagnating like swamp water.

Though the saurian relic continued to be an annoyance, even Kinich had to admit that Ajaw played a part in getting you together. Though not in the form of worship or foot kissing, Kinich did repay the favor by procuring some quenepa berries and other fruits that Ajaw liked, hosting a small feast as a thank you. Though Ajaw complained about being scammed, the snacks did the trick of improving his mood and keeping him occupied while you and Kinich had some precious time to yourselves.

🦇 Ororon

Ever since you and Ororon were children, Citlali observed that the two of you got along well. So well, in fact, that Ororon had developed a little crush on you. He would pluck flowers from a nearby meadow to give you, follow you around like a loyal puppy, and one time, Ororon told Citlali that he hoped to marry you one day.

Citlali couldn’t help but find Ororon’s crush on you adorable, and a part of her anticipated the day when you both grew up and got married. She had no doubt you would make the sweetest couple among the Masters of the Night-Wind.

Ororon’s attraction to you persisted into adulthood. At that point, Citlali could no longer call it a cute little crush— “Love” was a more apt description for how Ororon felt towards you, even if he tried to hide the depth of his attachment to you. He was content to stay as just your friend and not risk ruining the close bond you had in case you didn’t return his feelings. Citlali was a little frustrated that Ororon continued to pine for you without doing anything about it, but she knew better than to force the stubborn boy to do something he didn’t want to. If you were both happy with the way things were, then why change them?

However, during one of her rare trips to the market for some divination supplies, Citlali overheard a conversation between two tribespeople. The topic of conversation was about love, and one of the men bashfully admitted that he thought you were pretty and that he hoped to ask you out on a date soon. This news washed over Citlali like a bucket of cold water as worry seized her heart.

This wasn’t the first time others had expressed romantic interest in you. After all, you’ve always had a bit of a reputation among the Masters of the Night-Wind for being attractive, so it wasn’t surprising others had an eye on you. However, now that you were an independent adult, it wouldn’t be strange for you to look for a partner to settle down with, right? Knowing Ororon, the dimwit wouldn’t ever think to confess, and what if someone else confessed before he did and stole your heart?

Citlali didn’t want to force you to choose Ororon, but she didn’t want things to end without her beloved grandson at least taking a shot at winning you over. The last thing she wanted was for Ororon to be left heartbroken and disappointed all because he let the chance to be with you slip from his fingers.

With these troubled thoughts, Citlali sought out Ororon and announced that he needed to stop dawdling and actively pursue you unless he wanted to watch your heart get stolen by somebody else. Citlali’s sudden proclamation confused Ororon, so she explained that he’s not the only one who is in love with you and that there’s a risk of you choosing someone else to spend your life with.

As she expected, Ororon stubbornly refused to go along with her urging, saying that who you wanted to end up with was your choice and he would respect it. Though he said that, Citlali could see it on Ororon’s face that the mere thought of you falling for someone else hurt him, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for her grandson.

After much convincing and reassurance, Citlali got Ororon to agree to court you and promised to come up with a plan to help him in this endeavour. There was, however, one major problem: how were two socially awkward outcasts supposed to win someone’s heart? Having never been courted herself, Citlali had no past experiences to draw from when designing her plan, but it shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d read a lot of romance novels imported from Inazuma, so maybe if she got Ororon to do some of the same things the male leads did, then it would curry your favour? Regardless, it was worth a shot.

The plan was for Ororon to prove his worth as a suitable partner by giving you gifts, compliments, and always being there for you no matter what it was. In Ororon’s opinion, he was already doing all of these things for you as a friend, but Citlali insisted that his actions needed to be infused with romance to distinguish them from gestures of friendship. Her grandson was still reluctant to actively court you, but he had promised to try and try he did. Except, his approach subverted Citlali’s expectations.

When it came to giving gifts, instead of presenting jewellery, woven scrolls, or useful gadgets, the young man gifted you game he had caught in the wild and the best selection of produce from his garden. Citlali could only facepalm when Ororon told her which gifts he planned to give you, but she also knew he put genuine thought into them. Ororon handpicked the nicest veggies he could find in his garden and personally delivered them to your doorstep instead of sending Ifa like he normally would. Citlali told him that giving gifts in person held more meaning, and Ororon appeared to have taken her words to heart.

Ororon also gifted you flowers much like he did when you were little. However, this time he didn’t give you flowers plucked from the wild. Instead, he gifted you potted plants that he had also grown in his garden. “They will live and look pretty for longer,” he told you, then received a flick to the forehead once Citlali found out what he did.

His compliments were no better. Saying things like his vegetables grew better whenever you visited his home and spoke to his plants or your presence being calming for the aphids, was the best Ororon could do. Citlali admonished him for these strange compliments, but to Ororon, that was the highest praise anyone could receive. After all, you were an amazing person, and even his plants and aphids sensed it.

Ororon’s courtship was unconventional to say the least, and granny Itztli worried whether her grandson made a favorable impression on you. To help improve Ororon’s image in your eyes, Citlali sought you out more often to put in a good word for her grandson and get you to see him as a man. She highlighted Ororon’s good points to you, commenting how Ororon is a bit peculiar, but he’s also kind, resourceful, accepting, gentle, and so much more. A truly good kid. He would make an excellent romantic partner, wouldn’t you agree?

Her pushiness flustered you, but it also allowed Citlali to gauge how you felt about Ororon, and she had to contain her excitement when she pieced together that you loved him back. In her giddiness, she urged Ororon to confess.

When the day of the confession came, Citlali hid among some trees while keeping an eye on you and Ororon. She didn’t intent to spy, but the anxiety over how the confession would go made her antsy and she couldn’t sit still at home. She watched as Ororon offered you a basket of his finest produce and finally professed his love. The confession came out awkward because he tried to recite what he practiced with Citlali a few days prior, and he seemed to realize this because Ororon then took your hand and placed it against his chest. Using his own words this time, Ororon explained that he genuinely did love you, and the racing of his heart should be proof enough that you were more than just a friend in his eyes. However, it was alright if you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Citlali had to clamp her hands over her mouth to hold back from squealing in giddiness as she watched you reciprocate Ororon’s feelings. She would later apologize for spying since she knew it was wrong, but it filled her with joy to witness the blossoming of love between you. In some ways, this was better than any romance novel she had read in all her years of living, and it warmed her heart to see you both so happy.

Even if it was a childhood fantasy, perhaps Ororon’s wish of marrying you was not that far off now? Citlali certainly hoped so.

☂️ Wanderer

Nahida was no expert on romance, but she had observed enough couples during her 500-year-long imprisonment to know what romantic attraction looked like. The strange air surrounding you and Wanderer must have been that, she speculated, as she watched Wanderer hand you a box of your favorite foods with the flimsy excuse of having made too much. For your part, you seemed genuinely touched by the gesture despite Wanderer’s grumbling, much to Nahida’s delight. Wanderer’s prickly personality pushed some people away, but not you. You stayed by his side and gave him the companionship he needed, helping Wanderer open up and heal from his trauma.

It was clear you deeply cared for the young man, and a little peek into your mind confirmed to Nahida that yes, you did love him romantically. She couldn’t read Wanderer’s mind since he blocked all her attempts to do so, but she didn’t need mindreading to conclude that he loved you too.

When she next spoke with Wanderer, she carefully asked if he loved you. Wanderer’s response was a gruff “No” and “Stop asking”, however Nahida could tell he wasn’t being honest with his feelings. If he didn’t love you, then why did he treat you differently compared to everyone else? His manner of speech is gentler when with you, and despite all his grumbling he still complies with all your requests no matter how irritating he may find them. Not to mention, he spends most of his free time in your company, goes out of his way to make you little gifts and cook your favorite dishes. Surely all these behaviours were proof that you were someone special to him?

Being effectively cornered, the puppet had no choice except to come clean about his hidden feelings. With scowl and a blush on his cheeks, Wanderer reluctantly admitted that yes, he likes you, but it was none of Nahida’s business and she’d better stay out of it.

Despite Wanderer’s warning, the Dendro Archon wanted to help get you together. She felt confident that if both of you put in a little effort, a beautiful romance could blossom between you. Still, she didn’t want to outright reveal your feelings for each other. She believed that each of you should relay these intimate feelings yourselves. All Nahida would do is give you a gentle nudge in the right direction.

To help her with this task, Nahida sought help from a few Aranara and asked them to keep an eye on you and Wanderer and report any meaningful details that could help her bring you together. Through her little helpers, Nahida learned the full extent of Wanderer’s affections for you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was, especially when it came to you.

Using this acquired knowledge, the Dendro Archon frequently brought up Wanderer in your conversations with her to explain the thoughtfulness behind some of his gifts and words. For as frank as he usually was with people, Wanderer was more close-lipped about the true extent of his feelings, so Nahida had some work cut out for her in making you realize how much he truly cared about you.

For example, the next time Wanderer gave you your favorite food with the excuse that he’d made too much, Nahida revealed to you that he actually spent several days perfecting the recipe before finally giving the dish to you.

That hand-made bracelet he gifted you, saying he got it for free during an arts and crafts event he visited? Wanderer actually made it himself during that event and used beads of your favorite colors. The Aranara watched him spend a lot of time crafting that bracelet with the greatest care, but Nahida left that part out.

In addition, she would subtly drop hints for you to invite Wanderer to hang out more often. For example, the Zubayr Theater was hosting a play and Nahida heard there was a discount if you bought two tickets. Why don’t you go and invite Wanderer to come with you?

As for Wanderer, she discreetly told him that you once mentioned wanting to try out a new drink at Puspa Cafe but had nobody to go with, so why not be a good friend and take you there himself? Wanderer initially objected, but ultimately caved in and invited you to the Café while commenting that a certain annoying sprout said you wanted to try a new drink there, though deep down he glad for the opportunity to spend more time with you. Nahida could tell by the way Wanderer went out of his way to spoil you that day, buying you anything you wanted and keeping you company until the sun set.

Little by little, Nahida softened Wanderer towards the possibility of being in a romantic relationship with you, and helped you gather the courage to confess. Wanderer was unlikely to ever confess first, so the responsibility rested on your shoulders. She could tell you were nervous about laying bare your feelings, but she reassured you that things would go well. You only needed to take that leap of faith.

When you finally confessed, Nahida and the Aranara secretly observed the scene from behind a nearby corner, curious to see how things would go while also quietly cheering you on (not that you knew). When a flustered Wanderer accepted your confession, Nahida was overjoyed. She had fun guiding both of you towards this moment, but the satisfaction of knowing you could finally be together the way you always wished was rewarding in its own way. Even when Wanderer later confronted her about spying on you during your confession and scolded her for it, the little Archon’s happiness didn’t wane. She looked forward to seeing what your newfound relationship would blossom into, and had no doubt it would be something beautiful and pure, just like your love for each other.

👁️‍🗨️ Cyno

It was no secret to Tighnari that you and Cyno liked each other. He had known about your mutual crushes as far back as your student days at the Akademiya where you first met. You became fast friends with him and Cyno, but Tighnari couldn’t help but think Cyno was a bit more special to you than you let on. After all, you were one of the few who wasn’t intimidated by Cyno’s perpetual stern facial expressions and actively sought him out, and who actually laughed at his lame jokes.

Tighnari also knew about Cyno’s crush on you since his friend confided about it to him. Not that Cyno needed to say anything because Tighnari could see his attraction to you clear as day. Cyno’s eyes lit up whenever he saw you in the distance, he tried to act “cooler” in your presence in an attempt to impress you, and Tighnari swore that if Cyno had a tail, it would have wagged like a dog’s every time you laughed at his jokes.

Though he knew about your mutual romantic attraction to each other, Tighnari didn’t want to stick his nose into your love lives. He figured you guys would resolve everything yourselves in due time.

However, nothing changed even after you guys graduated. Your group remained close friends and saw each other regularly, but Tighnari was starting to lose his patience with how you and Cyno hopelessly pined for each other. He had already lost count of the number of times each of you came to him for advice on how to win the other over.

Cyno asked Tighnari’s opinion on a lot of things: Would you like his newest joke? Would you be okay with Cyno volunteering to be your bodyguard for your upcoming desert excursion? Which of his limited edition TCG cards best represented you? Cyno wanted to express how much you meant to him by giving you a card that reminded him of you.

You were no better. Tighnari had lost count of the number of times you approached him with questions about Cyno’s work schedule. Your excuse was that you wanted to plan hangouts with him, Collei, and Cyno during their days off, but Tighnari knew there was another reason why you asked about Cyno’s schedule in particular. He had half a mind to tell you to ask Cyno yourself because it was obvious that you just wanted to spend more time with the General Mahamatra. You also pestered Tighnari with questions about Cyno’s TCG deck. Much like his friend, you wanted to express your appreciation for Cyno by giving him cards he didn’t have yet.

Seriously, you two were a match made in heaven…

Tighnari would have found your mutual crushes on each other endearing, if only he wasn’t stuck being the middleman. As it stood, Tighnari wanted nothing more than to throttle both of you for pussyfooting around your feelings and getting him caught up in being your messenger. He was on the brink of snapping and sitting you both down to explain that your feelings were mutual, so just hurry up and get together already.

That’s why the next time Cyno approached him with another question about you, Tighnari took the opportunity to convince his friend to confess. He and Collei assured Cyno that you liked him a lot, and urged him to tell you his feelings. Cyno was hesitant but did seem to want some closure about whether you liked him back or not, so Tighnari gave him an incentive. How about the next time he played TCG with you, you guys set some stakes? Why not have a rule that the loser must tell the winner a secret? If Cyno lost, he would have to confess.

Cyno wasn’t fond of the idea initially, but agreed after some contemplation, acknowledging that this method would be effective in giving him that necessary push. Still, Tighnari could tell Cyno was nervous about confessing, so he volunteered to come along as moral support, much to Cyno’s gratitude.

That was how Tighnari and Collei found themselves at Puspa Cafe, sitting a few tables away from you and Cyno, hidden from your line of sight. Tighnari tutored Collei while Cyno played that fateful round of TCG against you, but the Forest Ranger kept a close eye on his friend. Though he didn’t want to get too invested in Cyno’s love life, even he couldn’t help but grow anxious as he watched the TCG match end with Cyno’s loss.

Although Tighnari was too far away to hear what Cyno was saying, he could tell the moment of confession had come. Now, the ball was in your court.

You looked stunned by whatever Cyno said, but soon smiled and said something that made Cyno mirror the happy expression on your face and reach out to hold your hand. Though he couldn’t hear, Tighnari knew you had reciprocated his feelings. Even Collei quietly fawned over how cute you both looked. It had been a long journey, but he was truly happy for his friend. Out of everyone, Cyno was happiest with you, and Tighnari hoped you would continue to make him happy for many years to come.

With everything ending well, Tighnari beckoned Collei and discreetly left the cafe before you or Cyno noticed. As happy as he was for you guys, he dreaded the possibility of Cyno coercing them into a TCG match. With how elated his friend must be right now, it was only a matter of time until Cyno called him and Collei over for a new game to celebrate you accepting his feelings. In Tighnari’s opinion, you guys deserved to have some proper time to yourselves to explore your feelings and new relationship without him and Collei serving as thirdwheels. That, and he just really didn’t want to sit through another hour of watching Cyno show off for you.

[tojicide]

SNIPER, SNIPER! ☆ LEON KENNEDY

summary. in leon’s line of work as a contract killer, weaknesses weren’t an option. luckily, he’d eliminated his… all except for one.

warnings. fem! reader, hitman! leon, ex! leon, re4! leon intended. discussion of murder, guns, bullets, etc. a loooot of blissful ignorance, porn with some plot, pet names, oral sex ( fem. receiving ), face sitting, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie. wc. 5.3k.

note. i tend to fuck up a nice “ex who is a raging munch” fic or two saurrrr this is basically my staple now

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Leon isn’t sure why he’s here.

He hasn’t ever bid on a target as sought after as the one that he has now acquired. The target was only described as someone who simply ‘knows too much’ about something they shouldn’t. Vague, he thinks, especially because they remained nameless, genderless, and description-less otherwise. It was odd, for sure, but it was the highest contract that he had ever come by.

As a matter of fact, he’s positive that it’s the highest contract that anyone in his position has ever seen, let alone signed. He’s sure that he’s ruffled a bit of feathers by taking on the job, especially considering that he was still considered fresh meat among the other hitmen that he was distantly familiar with.

Leon preferred to stay out of the unusual politics that came with the underground world, and that meant taking on the jobs that no one deemed urgent enough to complete.

(Plenty of drug dealers, a few sketchy nightclub owners, and an awful bunch of politicians who he is 99% sure put the bounty on their own heads to avoid the scandal that was unearthed about each of them no less than two weeks after they were found with bullets in their heads. He preferred those hits. All men, all guilty of something.)

Nevertheless, he finds himself here, perched on the rooftop of an upscale bar with his sniper rifle angled over the ledge. His scope was perfectly aligned with the entrance of the night club across the street, his right eye narrowed while the other was completely shut.

He sighs, tapping onto his earpiece to communicate with his teammate that was a few buildings over. Alexander.

(Alexander was a tech-nut. He was responsible for ensuring that the coast was clear, that there weren’t an abundance of cops in the area, and that security cameras of the establishment were looped continually in order to ensure that no one could suspect anything more than someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.)

“Reread the target description that was left for me,” Leon quietly commands.

“Aaand what’s the magic word?”

He heavily sighs. For a job like this, he figured that working alone would be the best option, but with the more he learned, the more experience he gained, the people he met—he was proven wrong. A team works more efficiently than a single person, even if the other half of his current team was a bit… annoying.

“Don’t piss me off,” he huffs, shaking his head as he closes one eye to look through the scope again.

Leon can practically hear Alexander’s grin on the other end of the line as he speaks. “Alright, man, jeez. Your g-string must be a bit too tight tonight, but that’s alright, I’m in no place to judge you.”

Before the blonde can even react to that unsettling quip, Alexander continues speaking, only this time, he does what Leon asks of him. “Bounty, bounty, bounty… where is the darn thing? Oh yes, here it is. Okay, it says that the target will be wearing a blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks tonight…. and that’s it.”

Leon hums, mulling over the very few words that were left for him by the person who had posted the contract in the first place. He’d never killed someone based on the description of an outfit alone,  but then again, he’s never gotten paid this much for sending a bullet through a random guy’s brain. He’ll take it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, turning off his ear piece to drown out the voice of the male on the other end.

It feels like hours pass by in which all he does is stare at the entrance, watching as each attendee leaves the establishment periodically. Each time he saw the color red, he’d perk up, only to find that they were wearing jeans, or they were wearing a white blazer, which only left him feeling more annoyed as time went on.

And then, the door opens. He can practically feel the air flee his lungs as he taps onto his earpiece out of instinct. A blue button-up shirt, a black coat, and black slacks.

“Ooh. Pretty. We guessed wrong, didn’t we?” Alexander speaks through the earpiece, which causes Leon to raise a brow.

“What’re you…” his voice trails. His blood runs cold, his palms begin to sweat, and his eyes blow wide. “Holy… fuck.”

“I know right? Not only is she a woman, but she’s miiiighty fine,” his teammate speaks, his voice oddly humorous for the given situation. A moment of silence passes, and Alexander continues to talk, but he can’t hear a damn word.

Leon freezes like a deer in headlights as he watches you emerge from the dim nightclub with a man’s arm slung around your shoulder, though that hardly taints how angelic you look tonight.

Your hair frames your face so beautifully, so soft and feminine. The tip of your nose was flushed given the crisp night air that you’ve just stepped into, your smile was wide and toothy as you walked beside a man that he didn’t recognize.

You’re gorgeous, is all he can manage to think right now. It’s the first time he’s seen you since the moment the two of you broke up six months ago, and you look even prettier than when he pictured you each night to fall asleep. He dreamt of you often, but his lovesick mind was no match for imagining the beauty that you possess.

Suddenly, Alexander’s voice pierced through his haze, bringing him back to the current scene. “Earth to Leon? I get it man, she’s pretty, very much so. I’d hit that too if she wasn’t gonna die in like… two secs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he hisses, his voice sounding just as venomous as he’d intended it to. “You aren’t going to lay a damn finger on her.”

“Woah, buddy. Big talk from the guy with a sniper aimed at her head.”

That is the moment in which everything clicks in the worst way imaginable.

It’s you. His target, the person who knows too much, the one who is supposed to die tonight—it’s you.

And then, he becomes acutely aware of the lines that are obstructing his view of you. His scope. The red dot in the center placed strategically on your temple, the bullet meant just for you waiting for a simple pull of a trigger.

Leon shudders, picking his head up. No. Absolutely not. Completing his task was not even a thought in his mind anymore, not if the target was you. His beautiful, sweet girl.

But he couldn’t leave the scene unscathed. It would raise suspicion, possibly even tie him to you in a way that you didn’t need. If he didn’t fulfill the obligation in some way, someone else would. He’d broken up with you to save you from all of this, and now, he’d unknowingly come here to make you familiar with his lifestyle in the worst way possible.

You were walking away, and it’s then that his trained eyes fall onto the man who has his arm draped over your shoulder in the way he used to all those months ago. His heart aches at the mere sight of you looking so happy in the company of another, but it gives him an idea.

Leon looks through the scope again, and within seconds, a loud gunshot rings through the air in the form of a thundering pop.

His jaw tenses as he hears screaming. They aren’t your screams though, because you’re not hit. They’re coming from the man you were with, because Leon has just lightly grazed his arm with a bullet.

He wasn’t insane. He wasn’t going to be killing anyone tonight, even if he desperately wanted to kick the living shit out of the man who is so close to you.

Well… was close to you. He isn’t anymore. Your date is writing on the ground all because of a flesh wound, and you’re standing above him with the most confused and concerned look on your face.

Leon can’t help but think that the man has no regard for you and your safety. For all this mystery man knows, more shots could be coming, and instead of trying to protect you, he’s rolling around on the concrete like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Such a man baby.

“What’re you waiting for? Holy fuck, uh… you still have the shot. Take the shot—”

Leon pulls the earpiece away, turning it off before he shoves it into his back pocket. He didn’t need to be scolded by anyone, let alone someone as useless as his teammate. He’d beat him bloody for how he had spoken about you if he weren’t already packing up his equipment to head over to your place.

He needs to check on you, first and foremost. He also needs to explain himself which was… going to be no easy feat, he supposes.

You don’t find your way home until about an hour later, keys jumbling about as you push it into the slot, twisting it with a tired hand.

To be shot at was not on your agenda for tonight, but being berated by your date for not reacting quick enough to help him evade a bullet you had no knowledge of was certainly not how you wanted to end your night either.

Annoyed, exhausted, and frustrated, you step into your apartment. When you begin to shrug off your coat, your body tenses. No. Fucking. Way.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, your voice rising in octave.

Leon stands from your couch, approaching you with his hands in the air, attempting to show you that he hadn’t come with malice. You knew he hadn't, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him.

“Baby, it’s just me,” he says without thinking, the pet name slipping out before he could have a say in the matter.

“Yeah, I know it’s just you, that’s the problem!” you continue, hanging your coat up on the rack along with your purse. “Are you out of your damn mind? I—”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “I am out of my mind, and you must be out of yours for still keeping your spare key under your doormat. I told you to move it years ago.”

Your brows knit together. “You little— you know what? I’m not even going to entertain that. How about this? You leave, and we forget this happened, yeah?”

“Can’t do that,” he tells you with a shrug, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I need to talk to you.”

“Don’t do this, Leon, not tonight,” you huff, pinching your nose bridge. “I’m not in the mood, alright? I was—”

“Shot at?” he finishes your sentence. He immediately regrets it, pressing his lips into a line to keep himself from saying anything else.

Your demeanor falters at that. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing as you look at him from where he stands across the room. “How do you know that?”

He takes a moment to answer, his mouth opening without any words coming out. It spikes your frustration, so you speak again. “Damn it, Leon, how do you know that?”

Leon holds his hands up again, pleading his defense before he criminalizes himself entirely. “I was the one behind the gun, but it’s not what you think—”

Your jaw drops. “Not what I think? Not what I think? You tried to kill me!”

He shakes his head, his expression falling. “I didn’t, baby. I swear. Just let me explain, and—”

“You tried to shoot me in the damn neck!” you continue, your hand dramatically clasping into the side of your throat.

Leon closes his eyes for a moment, internally bracing himself for your outburst that he absolutely deserves. He opens them again, simply watching as you spew insults his way. He takes them without any hint of irritation.

“What the hell, Leon? Is that what you do now? You stalk your ex-girlfriend and try to kill her? Not only that, you missed. You missed! That’s almost fucking humorous, because how can you try to do something like that and then miss!”

Leon sighs, waiting for a moment to see if you try to continue, and when you don’t, he speaks instead. “I aimed for his arm, not your neck, or anywhere else that would endanger you—”

“Yeah, and you almost blew his arm off!” You’re more than aware that the statement was dramatic, but you don’t need to have any sense right now.

“It was a flesh wound, he’ll be just fine,” he tells you before he continues with what he was saying before. “And I wasn’t stalking you. Not knowingly, anyway. I would never hurt you. Not ever. Your date was just… collateral. I had no choice.”

He hopes that you don’t ask any more questions about that, because he won’t have any answers for you. It was for the better. All you knew was that his job wasn’t legal. It couldn’t have been, not with the copious amounts of money that rolled in while he hardly worked for half of the month.

The less you knew about what his line of work entailed, the safer you were. The further away you were from him, the safer you were. However, those last words now ring hollow.

“Look…” he whispers, taking a step towards you despite his brain screaming at him to leave. He couldn’t. Not when he was the only one who knew of your compromised position. “I know that much has changed between us. It’s my fault, I know it, but I can’t tell you anything more about my job. I just need you to—”

You need answers that you won’t be getting, and that sentiment alone makes you furious. When he gets too close, your hand moves to the leather harness that he has strapped around his broad chest, pulling a sharp-bladed knife from its sleeve. His eyes widen as you hold the blade up to him, his hands shooting up into the air yet again.

“You remember where I put my spare key, I remember where you keep your spare knife,” you taunt, the two of you standing so close now that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Guess we haven’t changed as much as you think.”

He huffs as the cool blade grazes his clothed chest, the metal so close that it nearly pierces his skin. Even then, you ensure that it doesn’t. It’s almost touching how you press such a sharp object to his heart of all places, he thinks.

Your situation is far more complicated than the both of you can handle right now. You have unresolved issues with each other, and that alone must be addressed before you can even begin to scratch the surface of the threats that now face the two of you.

“I still think you’re sexy when you’re mean to me,” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. “That hasn’t changed either.”

Was it the time for his flirtatious performance? Certainly not, but you were putting on a little performance of your own just the same.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

Leon shakes his head, his eyes narrowing just as yours did. “Disgusting? Oh, don’t romance me.”

“I’m not romancing you,” you huff with an eye roll. Your grip on the knife only tightens, but you have no real intention of using it. “I’m threatening you.”

He hardly finds you to be threatening. He’d liken you to an angry cat, but he wouldn’t dare voice that out loud. He’s letting you have your moment, truth be told. “Mm, even better.”

His calloused hand moves to shadow yours, slowly lowering the knife that begged to pierce his pale skin. You let him, which only gives him more incentive to pull it away from your grasp entirely.

He tucks the knife back into his sheath, moving to unbuckle the harness entirely. “Now, tell me. Who was that guy?”

A random guy you met on Tinder. “My future husband.”

You’re just trying to get under his skin now, and judging by the look on his face, it’s working. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you, taking note of that smug grin that stretches over your lips.

He really just wants to fuck it right off you, but he doesn’t make that known. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah?” he asks, tilting his head. “You gonna let him put a ring on that pretty finger of yours?”

No, you absolutely were not, but you’re enjoying this game. It’s what he deserves after scaring the shit out of you tonight. “Yeah, I am. Thinking about some baby names too, just for safekeeping.”

Leon doesn’t like the thought that you’ve just put in his head, not one bit. His hand finds your left one, bringing it up to his lips as he presses a kiss on your ring finger. “Huh. That’s what you want?”

You tilt your head, noticing how his lips linger on your hand for a moment too long. “You know what I don’t want? To be shot at.”

He hums, giving you a mocking frown. Of course he feels bad about that, but… you both know he hadn’t truly shot at you. Around you, yes, but not at you. His large hands find your waist, his fingers grasping onto the fabric of your shirt and slowly but surely, you find yourself being backed towards your couch.

“Answer my question,” he whispers, his voice now possessing a rasp that it didn’t have before.

You sigh, willingly sitting on your couch, even though you’re doing your best to front as though you’re totally disinterested. “Why should I?”

He shrugs, his lips tugging down as he tilts his head. You watch with blown eyes as he kneels in front of you, his palms gliding over your thighs.

“‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him quite intently as his fingers move to the button of your slacks. You shouldn’t be turned on, but you absolutely are, and the damp fabric of your panties that he’s about to see conveys that pretty well.

“Give me what?” you ask, grinning slightly.

“A ring, a baby… both, neither,” he replies, his fingers hooking beneath your waistband. “Lift your hips for me.”

When you do just that, his eyes raise to find yours. He has a crazed look in his eye, one that you’re all too familiar with. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you,” he whispers, leaning in until his soft lips just barely brush against yours.

Your eyes close, and you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you… but he doesn’t. When you open your eyes, you find him grinning. The same shit-eating grin that you love and hate to no avail.

“You just have to say the words,” he whispers against your lips.

You roll your eyes, your hand reaching out to rest on the back of his neck. He was already impossibly close, so all you truly did was hold him there. “I want to kiss you.”

Leon smiles, nodding his head in agreement. “Mm, like I said. Whatever my lady wants, she gets.”

His lips find yours in a searing kiss, his calloused hands smoothing over the soft, exposed skin of your thighs. Your lips move together in a gentle manner at first, as though you were allowing yourselves to get familiar all over again, but you were both quick to realize that gentleness was the last thing you needed.

Your breathing grows ragged as one of his hands cups the back of your head, tilting you just enough so that his tongue could easily slip into your mouth. The kiss was sloppier, messier, much more desperate. It was perfect, in your humble opinion.

He trails kisses down your cheek, jaw, neck… just about anywhere he could as he begins his gradual descent. His hands palm at your breasts through your shirt, and without hesitation, his hands grasp onto the fabric and yank it open. Buttons go flying about your living room, but Leon doesn’t seem to care with the way his face pressed into your cleavage.

One of his hands snaked behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, and the moment he saw a nipple, his mouth was already distracted once again.

“Leon, that was my favorite shirt!” you scold, glancing down at him.

He looks up at you with hazed eyes, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth before he releases it to reply to you. “Was it?” he asks, his reply lacking any care in the slightest.

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him, but your front doesn’t last long when his tongue swirls around your areola. He reaches into his back pocket, tossing his wallet beside you.

“Buy a new one, shit, buy anything you want,” he whispers against your skin, his hands grasping onto your waist. “Tits are so pretty, baby. I missed you.”

“Is that all you missed about me?” you ask, a huff of laughter leaving your lips while his trail down your stomach.

“Absolutely not, no,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric of your panties. He looks at you as he pulls them down your legs, and he presses his warm lips to your inner calves and thighs as he makes his way towards you again. “Missed everything about you.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s corny—”

“Sh,” he tells you, holding one finger up while he uses his other hand to slip one into your sopping entrance. Your walls clench around him, which only forces a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Let her talk for a bit, yeah?”

He hardly gives you a moment to reply before his head dips, his tongue curling up to stimulate your clit before he sucks on it entirely. He unabashedly moans into your cunt, introducing another finger into your entrance simultaneously.

Your head falls back, your hand delving into his hair to hold him impossibly closer to you, even though he seriously would get closer if he could.

“Sweetest pussy,” he murmurs into your heat, his voice rumbling against your wet cunt that he continued to eat like he would die if he didn’t. “Do somethin’ for me?”

You pick your head up to look down at him, nodding without question. He opens his eyes to look at you in return, pressing a kiss onto your mound before he turns around so that his back is now pressed against the front of your couch, still sitting on the ground.

“Sit on my face,” he suggests, tipping his head back onto the couch cushion.

He reaches for your hand to pull you forward, and you pivot on your knee, your front facing the back of the couch. He lays a light smack on your ass before he pulls you down the rest of the way to make you sit on his face.

Your hand reaches down, clutching onto his hair yet again while you cry out in genuine bliss. His tongue softens as he gives you long, deep licks into your pussy, wanting to taste every inch of you on his tongue.

And when your hips start to rock, he seems to be even happier. Much more incentivized too. He lulls his tongue out of his mouth, flattening it to let you ride his face as you so pleased. You made a mess of his chin, his mouth, his nose—he hardly cares.

(In fact, he doesn’t care. Not one bit. You might even have to pay him to care.)

“Y-You know,” you whine, grasping a bit firmer onto his hair while your hips continue to roll on his tongue, “I’m still mad at you.”

He nods his head, which only stimulates your cunt even more. “Mm, yeah?”

It felt so good. Everything about this was absolutely ecstasy, you can feel your eyes pricking with tears from how stimulated you’re growing.

“Yeah,” you choke out, resting your palms on the back of the couch to brace yourself. “I’m really fucking mad.”

Leon can’t help but grin, his hands brushing along the plush of your thighs. “I’m not too sure, sweetheart. Not with you riding my face like you love me ‘n all.”

“Shut… shut the hell up,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as your movements begin to grow even more crazed the closer you get to your release. He was right, but that didn’t mean you had to admit that.

“Okay,” he complies, his eyes fluttering shut while he starts to greedily make out with your pussy, feeling the way you pulsate on his tongue. “Shuttin’ me up real nice with this pretty little pussy. Cum on my face too while you’re at it, pretty girl.”

Not nice enough, but you cry out anyway, your head falling while your legs tremble on either side of his head. “I… Leon, ‘m cumming,” you say through an airy moan.

His movements slow as yours do, his tongue eagerly reaping the benefits of its labor in the form of your sweet release. He lets out a content sigh, pressing a few sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

You slowly rise up from his face, and he turns around to face you again, licking his lips, not caring about the rest of your thin slick that coats his face. You chuckle, running your hand over his face to wipe it away.

“So…” he drawls, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re still mad at me? Tell me more.”

“Later,” you reply, hooking your finger into the loophole of his pants to pull him closer to you.

With a chuckle, Leon pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly on the floor of your living room. He gently nudges you until you’re laying back on your couch, his hands then moving to undo his belt.

“Ah, I see,” he teases, pushing his pants and boxers down in one motion. He kicks them away before he settles in between your parted legs, his hand pumping his cock.

You raise your eyes from his cock to his eyes, and you give him the most weary expression alive. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” you say.

It’s been too long, you were certainly not used to his size anymore. Leon knew it just as well as you did, but he didn’t want to make you nervous by saying that.

His brows knit together as he leans down to kiss you, his fingers moving a bit lower to prod your entrance. “You flatter me,” he says against your lips, his head dipping a bit lower to kiss your neck. “But there’s no need to worry your pretty head, baby. It fit before and it fit just right, remember? I’ll take care of you just like I did then.”

You nod your head, one of your hands cupping the back of his head while the other rests on his strong shoulder. “Okay… yeah, okay.”

He nods too, moving one of his hands to meet the one that you have resting on his shoulder. He intertwines your fingers, pushing your hand back onto the couch while he uses his other one to slide his tip along your folds.

“I promise,” he whispers, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

He always has. Even after the events of tonight, you know that he always will.

“I love you,” you say without thinking. A flush rushes across your face, and you close your eyes in utter embarrassment. (Seriously? A confession of your undying love while he’s actively entering you? Time and place.) “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he whispers, pushing his cock further inside of you until he bottoms out. “Mm… I love you so much,” he replies without a care in the world. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Your eyes soften at that, and a small chuckle leaves your lips. “Well… that’s good, isn’t it…?”

His eyebrows knit together, laughing softly at your awkward reply. “You’re such a dork, baby,” he whispers, dipping his head to plant a kiss on your lips while he rolls his hips into yours. “A pretty one, though.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he presses a kiss on your lips, and they stay shut, even when he opts to just rest his forehead on yours. “Your dork,” you say, a bit breathlessly with a smile on your face.

“Mhm,” he nods in agreement, a toothy smile stretching across his face. “My dork.”

Such a lovely interaction that you nearly forgot that he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, because the moment he falls silent, your eyes widen. “Oh, God…”

He smiles, kissing your cheek while he continues to thrust inside of you, his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy in a way that made him feel like he was finally home.

“See?” he whispers in your ear, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re taking me so well, pretty. So well.”

That makes you chuckle, but your laugh doesn’t last for long when the head of his cock rams into you even harder. Your hand smooths out along the expanse of his back, dragging your nails back up.

“You’re crazy,” you gasp out.

Leon smiles. “Crazy about you, sure.”

You laugh through an airy moan, tilting your head to the side as your eyes flutter shut. “Sooo corny,” you whisper.

He shakes his head with his same toothy grin, using his free hand to tilt your chin towards him again. His thumb brushes along your bottom lip before he kisses you, and it is just about the sweetest kiss that you could have ever asked for.

“You love it,” he murmurs in reply, a bit breathless as an overwhelming heat pools in his lower stomach.

You shake your head. “I love you.”

Leon clicks his tongue at that, giving your hand a squeeze. “And I’m the corny one?”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh. He loves hearing you like this, so happy yet so utterly ruined by the way he feels inside of you. He knows that the feeling is mutual, which only amplifies how much he’s enjoying this. Having you again.

He softly moans in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Pussy was made for me,” he rasps, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

After a few more strokes, he truly begins to lose himself. His cock twitches inside of you, and he dips his head into your shoulder. “Mmh, ‘m gonna cum,” he rasps.

He pulls back, but you only pull him closer. It’s been so long, he hadn’t truly thought that you’d be okay with that. But here you were, his favorite girl. Always surprising him. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, wrapping your free arm around his neck while the other gives his hand another squeeze. “I love you more.”

He grunts when your walls clench around his length, his lips pressing a longing kiss to your shoulder. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon. I need it, honey, please.”

You’re in no position to deny him or yourself. Your body trembles beneath him, a gorgeous moan ripping through the air while he buries himself deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum while you find your own release on his cock.

The two of you lay there for a moment, out of breath and entirely engulfed by one another. He slowly pulls out of you, pressing a few chaste kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, until he eventually kisses your lips.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him. You chase his lips once more, giving him a tender kiss before you lay your head back down.

“Now, as for why I’m still mad at you…”

note. yeahhh i need him bad in a way that’s concerning to feminism. anywhoooo interact if you enjoyed i rly like writing for him :D thank you so much for reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[bbokicidal]

A Simple Analysis. | OT8 [SKZ]

Warnings: I'm gonna be straight discussing these men and their pp sizes so if you don't want to read about that then just skip this post, no biggie.

Notes: I'm just theorizing what I think they're like 'n I included some good 'ol references. Please note - these references include pictures/videos of the boys AS WELL AS pictures that are NOT the boys but are references to what I picture in my head when I write smut for them. I also need to thank @skzms because I Lowkey could not find bulge pics/vids on my own and their post really helped me out w that.

Extra Warning: There are twitter links in this post, so you know what that means!! Watch at your own discretion losers, I don't want ppl in my inbox whining that I use refs that 'don't look like them' like obv jfc let me hop on bub quick to ask Chris for a dick pic smh.

Extra extra warning: I like slowly lost the ability to think the more I wrote this because all I was doing was looking at SKZ cock so I mean. forgive me.

Chris

HEA. VY.

Heavy Heavy Heavy !!!! I said what I said !!! And if you want to know why, you can simply look at this video!! If I'm being totally honest here, I don't think he's massive down below but I do think he's a little above average at least. Maybe -- mm... six and a half inches? Pretty sure it's pretty, pink, and always leaking pre because he gets hard so easily.

Also, pretty sure it's relatively thick. I mean, we've seen it a few times before in his pants/shorts, so... definitely enough to make you whimper when he's splitting you open. <3

I'm not even gonna like. explain why I think this bc I'm pretty sure we all know but it's veiny as fuck and you cannot argue w that.

And his favorite thing is when you mention during sex how full you feel just bc of how heavy he is. :]

In conclusion: Pretty pink fat cock that is more than enough to make you feel incredible each time you fuck. <3333

Minho

This man is... packing. p a c k i n g.

Packing like I'm pretty sure it's not like thick thick but it's thick enough and it's probably more on the purple side than the pink side, and it's so fucking long--

Not as heavy as Chan but definitely bigger. Bigger, longer, one pretty blue vein running up the side. Literally so perfect and just the right size for your hands to fit around. Also not too long to the point where it hurts to take it but definitely... big. Seven, at least. At. Least.

And his favorite thing is when you whine about how he's fucking you so good that you might die. Dunno why that comment specifically gets to him, but he makes sure to fuck you a little deeper after that.

In conclusion: pretty cock for a pretty man and so fucking yummy.

Changbin

Okay look people might disagree but I think Binnie's a lil on the smaller side !!

Now look. I'm not saying 'bah this bitch has a small cock' I'm just saying it's not a cervix-kisser like a few of the men on this list. It's just right!! It's the perfect size to be perfectly comfortable when fucking and he knows that 'n he's happy with it. (I'm thinking five, bc five is a comfy size.)

However.

He will ABSOLUTELY split you wide fucking open with how thick he is. This man has the chubbiest, pink, mouth-watering, pussy-dripping, eyes-rolling-back, tears running down your thighs, cock ever !!! He's gotta prep you for so fucking long and there is always soooo much foreplay to you two having sex because he's just so thick that if you don't prep lots it's gonna hurt a lil and Bin really really just wants to take care of you. :(((

And his favorite thing is seeing the way you struggle to take him in your mouth because of how thick he is. :]]]]]

In conclusion: best cock on this list. <3

Hyunjin

Hoh. My God.

Hyunjin,,,, ... Hyunjin's packing a fucking rod of a cock, I can't even lie to you. I'm like 90% sure it's at least eight inches and if it isn't then I'm dead. Y'all thought Minho was big? LAWD have mercy, Hyunjin's got a fucking PIPE on him. A third leg, if you will. Shit slaps his thigh when he walks if he don't wear briefs.

SO. PRETTY. I keep saying all their cocks are pretty BC THEY ARE I JUST KNOW IT but Hyunjin's cock is actually fucking gorgeous like it's the type where even if you're someone who's like "I don't like dick pics" and he sends you one?? you're like "omg y'know what I've had an epiphany"

Not like heavy or thick like the others but soooo long, soooo pretty, soooo mouth watering. The type of cock that has you actually drooling and getting fucked dumb every time he puts it in you.

And his favorite thing is when you do just that ^ and go all quiet n whimpery during sex because your brain is mushy.

In conclusion: Monster cock and no one can convince me otherwise !!

Jisung

Mm, okay. I think it's -- average?? But see I dunno why but I'm picturing a little on the thinner side. (AND NO THAT ISN'T MY SUB JI SUPREMACY MINDSET SPEAKING) but just bc it's a little thinner doesn't mean it's not heavy !!!

And even though it only might be like - five and a half, it's still so cute and so pretty and so fucking tasty!!!

Also like a firm believer that he jerks it at least twice a day, sorry not sorry.

And his favorite thing is when you blow him because you just take it so well and he loves seeing it all disappear down your throat <33 mm mm mmmm !!

In conclusion: Mmmm,,, cutest cock on the list <3

Felix

Y'all keep saying Felix has a little cock just bc you enjoy Twink Felix and look - I too enjoy Twink Felix but I also believe in frat boy Felix supremacy SO -

Big dick Felix in the building !!!

Pretty sure he's above average. Like, 6 or 6 and a half, maybe?? SO pretty, cut, pink, so so cute, so fucking yummy looking.

Easily like, the slickest cock on the list. And if you know what I mean, you know what I mean. if you don't that too bad ig.

The type of cock you wanna like. put in your mouth forever and just never stop giving him head fr.

And his favorite thing is when you jerk him because sometimes he just doesn't have the energy or care but he wants it. Plus your hands look so much better on it than his do. :ccc <333

In conclusion: Pretty, big, hefty cock that fills you up soooo good. Also constantly leaking cum n making a mess but you didn't hear that from me !!!!

Seungmin

Y'all,,, I'm not just saying this because I'm a Seungmin bias but,,,

This man has a fucking. rod. Not like Hyunjin-length rod but rod that's like at least seven inches and I refuse to believe otherwise because have you seen the,,,,

Fucking!!Monster!!Of!!A!!Cock!!!!

Thick! So thick! So heavy! Rivals Chris w how heavy he is !!

And his favorite thing is when you choke on it because raaahhh!!! (im not okay)

In conclusion: 2Min Monster Cock Squad

Jeongin

Holy God y'all.

Think I mentioned it once in a post where I was like, "P sure Jeongin has a big dick because as soon as he hit 21 he had this massive boom in confidence n I'm p sure it's bc his dick grew like 6 inches"

Sooooo,,, pretty sure he's also in the monster cock squad.

Like, at least seven inches, again. So big, so tasty. The type of cock that makes you pray to God it won't rip you apart because I just know he fucks hard, bro.

And his favorite thing is when you actually scream during sex because of how good he makes you feel. <3

In conclusion: Jeongin big dick supremacy, we all know he's packing a fucking log of summer sausage in his boxers.

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie