#literally just any fucking representation you can think of

[musical-chick-13]

ALSO now that I'm on the Complaint Train, I would love it if I could say, "This thing might be artistically good on other levels and if you like it, good for you have fun, but the gross way it talks about/handles mental illness is too much for me, to the point where I have to avoid watching/reading it for my own well-being" and people would go, "Yeah, that makes sense, you do you" instead of "Omg, you're so sensitive, lmao just get over it."

[ohnoitstbskyen]

asking sincerely. do you see a romance between jayce and viktor? do you think they ended up being something romantic at the end?

With apologies I am going to only half talk about the thing you are asking me, since I have something else on my mind and you happened to hit the button that makes me vomit it into words.

Coming at this from an aromantic perspective, I obviously don't experience the state of absurd obsessive delusion that you bizarre romantic freaks fetishize so feverishly*, but I am often annoyed by the idea that friendship and romance are either opposites or mutually exclusive. From my perspective, the boundary between the two is at best thin, and more realistically not actually a boundary at all except by cultural construction.

*i am taking an excessively hostile, crass tone for my own amusement i do not mean this seriously please be normal at me, weird allo freaks

I won't get into my full feelings about the end of Arcane, but it seems perfectly plain to me that the script, the imagery and the animation presents Jayce and Viktor as two halves of a whole, not opposing forces but alike to yin and yang: opposites which each contain the other. And at the climax of the show, the greatest peril to life and peace in the narrative is resolved by these two men literally joining their bodies and souls together, and going into eternity holding one another for comfort and strength. They are quite literally soulmates, quite literally the most important people in one another's lives.

I don't think that that kind of intimate emotional connection between men must necessarily be either romantic or sexual - I am aromantic, and plenty of ace people exist, and there is nothing in our natures excluding us from intense connections of love with other people of any gender.

I also think it is willfully ignorant (and genuinely homophobic) to act as though these deep connections are mutually exclusive with sex and romance. As though if Viktor and Jayce fucked nasty and made out sloppy style, suddenly their intimacy is less pure or valid, or tainted somehow.

"If these two men who are emotionally close to one another also fuck or get romantically involved, then friendship is dead, murdered on the floor by a dick-shaped knife; vile sexuality corrupts and debases the true, pure and virtuous love of ✨friendship✨" <- This shit is homophobic at a baseline, queerphobic in general, and frankly as an aromantic man I find it pretty fucking insulting as well.

What, are my friendships with other men just inherently more pure and divine, more meaningful and true than a gay man's can ever be, because I will never suffer the vile temptation of adding romance to my affection? Is that how I should think of myself? And is an aroace man more pure than me still, the only source of TRUE male friendship that a man can ever experience, free from the pustulant corruption of sexuality and romantic desire?

You get this pathetic defensiveness (especially from men, but other genders aren't immune) wherein sex and sexuality and romance between men is perceived as a threat to men's right and ability to experience deep connection to each other. But the emotional castration of men comes not from people imagining sex and romance as a component of our relationships - it comes from people who insist that our emotional lives must be ruled by strict binaries. Sex and romance, OR ELSE friendship. Deep romantic connection OR ELSE deep platonic connection. Pick one and do not dare to imagine both, nor act as though the boundary between them is something that we built by cultural fiat, and which can be dismantled just the same.

And yes, yes, yes, I know there are cultural forces literally illuminati-style conspiring to systemically erase the entire existence of explicitly romantic, sexual male love from media, and I know that homophobic puritanism is on the rise and there are material concerns and a real necessity for explicit representation in fiction, yes I know. Everything is more complicated than a tumblr post can cover, I am not trying to Solve Rainbow Capitalism™ over here, I am trying to express frustration as an aromantic man that this stupid fucking binary keeps getting culturally reinforced by both my enemies and my well-meaning allies, when I think the binary is what's fucking killing us in the first place.

So anyway. My position is that Viktor and Jayce can be entirely aromantic no-homo friends, and they can fuck nasty in the throes of mutual need and obsession, and I refuse to entertain the idea that there is an irresolvable contradiction between those things. Each of those can contain the other, or become the other given time and circumstance.

What the imagery, storytelling and script of Arcane makes clear is that Viktor and Jayce love each other more than life itself. To say that that love must be shoved into the box of either "platonic" or "romantic" is to miss out on almost everything that is beautiful about love. It can be both and neither! It can be a secret third, ninth or fifteenth thing that they haven't invented a tag for on Ao3 yet.

They are giving each other whatever the spiritual mind-ghost equivalent of sloppy backshots are on the ethereal plain forever, they are the most romantic lovers in the cosmos, and they are also the most chaste and platonic life-partner friends you have ever seen, effortlessly intimate and unashamedly tender. They are men who love one another, in every way that love matters.

You can pick whichever interpretation brings you joy, and resonates with what your heart needs, the text of the show is eminently and explicity open to it, and anyone who says otherwise either failed to pay attention, or refused to pay attention on purpose.

[agender-witchery]

I feel like every post that focuses on and celebrates the sexuality of transfems hyperfixates on gock and like. I get it, the majority of transfems are either pre-op or non-op, and yeah those people are so frequently excluded from even being allowed to celebrate sexuality and need representation because, hey, especially for the pre-op folks, that reassurance that you're desirable is needed. I should know, I used to be pre-op and I fucking hated it. I didn't get that reassurance when I needed it most, and I'm damned happy that people who do need it can get it now.

But now I'm post-op and like, what? I just get to feel even more excluded from that sort of celebration? It's mostly just all encompassing, like it is nearly the totality of what constitutes celebrating trans bodies, with a teeny tiny exception carved out for transmasc bodies which I am absolutely not qualified to have an opinion on, not even gonna try, and damn near nothing for post-op transfems.

The thing that gets me the most is porn. Sure, it contributes to the feeling of unwelcomeness that nearly every post that gets slapped across my dash is about The Gock, but I don't seek that out. I'm not out here looking for text posts about how cool gock is, I haven't had one for 7 years. But I seek out porn. And any time I see porn that depicts transfems, even when that porn isn't fetishizing transness, the thing that defines a transfem is her dick. Aside from literally one instance, I never see a girl with a scar on her abdomen, I never see a cross section of a pussy with no womb, I never see someone with two holes and an estrogen patch. It just isn't there.

And on one hand, it feels like I don't deserve to complain, that I'm lucky to have even gotten to have surgery, but on the other hand, fuck you! I get to complain about shit like this, I get to complain that the overall atmosphere of transfem sexuality necessarily including gock, I get to complain that this shit makes me feel like surgery was a mistake even though if I take a couple hours off social media and think hard about it, I don't have any real regrets, I get to complain that when transfem bodies are celebrated, that almost never seems to include my transfem body. I get to complain that trans representation doesn't represent me.

So fuck it. Neopussy Tuesday.

[hylemorph]

Anna and Friedrich in Nosferatu (2024)

In a previous post I mentioned how important I think Friedrich is in the story as a representation of the patriarchal ideal, and how it/he crumbles when confronted by everything that has been suppressed in Ellen (manifested in the unavoidable, terrifying form of Orlok). I also think he is a mirror to Orlok in some ways: he says twice how he just cannot resist Anna, he subtly frames his desire for her as an unwilling "affliction." He also defiles Anna's body and his sacred marriage vows by engaging in necrophilia, because his appetite for her is so consuming - he can't resist her even when she's not even there anymore. Ellen's necrophilic act with Orlok represents her unification with the parts of herself that are suppressed/rejected by the men in her life, good and bad. It's dark and fucked up but metaphorically transformative, and consent is absolutely central. Friedrich's necrophilic act involves no consent, no Anna, and it lacks any metaphorical power. He didn't accomplish anything, he just succumbed to his own horror and amplified it.

Friedrich's unhealthy approach to his relationship with Anna consumes them both, and I think this theme is especially evident in the way Anna's pregnancy is discussed. Friedrich tells Thomas that they are expecting but doesn't want it mentioned in front of Anna or Ellen, probably because it wasn't supposed to be public yet. In victorian times people would rarely confirm a pregnancy before the woman was "showing" both because it was considered a private matter and because miscarriage was way more common. But Friedrich tells Thomas early anyways, because he is excited and proud, which is understandable but also selfish in this context. Furthermore, Anna says that "little Friedrich" is "very hungry, just like his father" and later on after Orlok has fed on her, she passes it off as feeling drained by the baby. Even though she seems happy and loves her family, she associates pregnancy with being drained.

This alienated way of understanding parenthood is also evident in the way Friedrich and Anna treat their girls (Louise and Clara I think?) They obviously both adore the girls, but they ignore their terror and assume the monster they see in their room is totally unrelated to all the other scary shit going on, because they're just silly little kids imagining things, right? One girl literally says "I can hear him breathing under my neck!" and they beg Anna not to leave them alone at night, but they are just hushed and told that they're totally safe. It's exactly the kind of dismissal Ellen has been getting her whole life, and so it's not surprising that the girls are haunted by Orlok before anyone else. It's not enough to adore little girls, they will never be safe until they are heard and believed.

Anna as a character apart from her role as wife and mother is a bit harder to parse out, but I think she is also a mirror for Ellen. Ellen's spiritual power is the catalyst for everything that happens, and von Franz says that "in heathen times you might have been a Priestess of Isis." Anna's spiritual inclination is less obvious, but it's there: she seriously listens to Ellen and believes that she is perceiving something real, she just assumes it must be God. Later when she lets Ellen stay with her for the night, she says "God is with us Lenny, I know it." On some level Anna is also in touch with that supernatural, suppressed feminine truth, and she seems to see through the patriarchal facade that Friedrich represents to some degree. But ultimately Anna wants to convince herself and Ellen that the night terrors were just caused by Thomas' absence, and that Ellen just needed her husband back and all would be well. When Thomas does return and Ellen has her faculties again, Anna is very eager to put it all behind them; 'no more talk of demons please, let's just focus on Christmas and being a happy family'. Anna's downfall is that she puts all her faith in the Christian patriarchal narrative even when she can clearly see that there's more going on. Her faith in the Christian God contrasts Ellen's "heathen" spirituality - both women have an innate spiritual sense, but one is more willing to make it fit into the values of their society. Ultimately Anna was consumed by the horror of their alienated position in society just like Ellen was, she just died with less agency.

[aptericia]

Not proud to be here.

--

Ok, here goes draft like 5 of this fucking post. I spent 4 hours tossing and turning in bed last night thinking about this, and then this morning I found a tumblr post that really helped me understand what I was trying to say.

The post talks about how aromantic "advocates" claim that "aros don't take up resources, so there's no reason not to include them!" And if that's actually what people believe, I think I can finally articulate why it is that I feel so alienated in queer spaces.

It's because aspecs in general aren't "welcomed" by much of the queer community. We're tolerated. We perhaps get the luxury of not being contradicted on our own identities, or not being specifically kicked out of LGBTQ-only spaces, but that's the whole point: what we get out of the queer "community" is people NOT doing things, not actually doing things FOR us. And that, frankly, is not enough. We deserve conversations about us. We deserve to have others consider our feelings, even when making lighthearted jokes. We deserve varied, respectful representation in media. We deserve the active deconstruction of amatonormativity in society. We deserve to have space made for us, rather than at most being told we should "go take up more space!" ourselves.

Of course, the reality is that my being aspec is a personal matter that does not inherently affect anyone else. But the same can be said for literally any queer identity. Your being gay doesn't say anything about me, so of course I shouldn't hurt you for it, but why should I help you either? Because your happiness and comfort are important. The same goes for aspecs.

And most of the time, I don't even need anyone to make space for or expend resources on me; I can live fine in everyday, non-queer-specific places without mentioning my identity at all. But it's the queer community that claims it will make that space for me, doesn't, and then acts defensive and morally pure if I call out the hypocrisy because "we're queer too, you can't erase our identities to advocate for yours!!!!"

Again, this post isn't about specifics. I have queer friends who are incredibly thoughtful and supportive about my identity, just as I have non-queer friends who are. I find more solidarity in aspec-only communities, as well as trans/genderqueer ones, although there are still many exceptions. This post is also not about amatonormative ideology, which is extremely common from queer and non-queer people alike. This post is about the reason I've felt so betrayed by the queer community.

--

On a personal note, I remember being so excited when I started identifying as aromantic (and later asexual). Fitting myself into labels has been a lifelong struggle for me; to this day I still can't confidently say if I'm White or PoC, neurotypical or neurodivergent, abled or disabled, cisgender or not cisgender. I continue to struggle making friends because I don't fall into social cliques. To discover that I officially, certainly, was LGBTQ+ lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. And now I'm just so sad to find that despite that, I'm still stuck in the middle. I didn't get rewarded with a community. I still feel alienated from both queer and non-queer people. I know it was silly to get my hopes up when there's such vast diversity in both groups, but it really was a disappointment. Going to my first Pride parade last year was really the moment where I realized this.

[nekrotiize]

It's a controversial take because everyone's stupid but I'm never going to stop calling fandom + shipping culture homophobic. Fandoms are consistently extremely homophobic, and shipping culture is consistently even more homophobic.

Yes, the way fandoms center men so religiously is obviously misogynistic. The only people who deny that are themselves misogynists. But the aggressive centering of men and the resultant fixation on male/male dynamics lends to this slimy coating of homophobia that nobody talks about. The misogyny is an issue, clearly. But gay men are, to most people in fandom, toys. We are sex objects to coo over. It's intensely voyeuristic. Every god damn interaction is scrutinized to hell and back, and the second a man shows any kind of emotional connection with another man, it gets pounced on, and he gets thrown into a mill that flattens him down to one of three deeply heterosexual yaoi tropes that are fandom's only way of processing the existence of gay men.

It doesn't even matter what that man is. A disconcerting amount of time, people will start fawning over the idea of literal rapists being gay with zero critical thought applied. As if gay men being painted as and assumed to be sexual predators isn't a method that's been historically used to literally legally murder us. (What the fuck do people think "Gay Panic" means, even?)

Gay men aren't given the ability to be human beings in fandom. We're not afforded nuance. We're accessories, we are constantly objectified, and no one ever takes the time to consider that we have cultures, and that we are real human beings. We keep getting shoved into the most heterosexual boxes physically possible for the easy digestibility of people who do not want to see us as human beings. Semes- sorry, I mean Tops are the taller, older, more masculine, capable men of the relationship. Ukes- oops, sorry again, I mean Bottoms are the smaller, younger, more feminine, and totally useless women of the relationship. It's painfully yaoi. Gay men in fandom are never given the opportunity to be regular men, because people are too busy turning everything into homophobic, misogynistic fetish porn of our existence to be normal for five seconds.

There's something comedic about how many people in fandom want to say they're progressive, accepting. Safe. How fandom is welcoming of everyone. Look, we've made all this representation! And every time, gay men are sex objects, the women are scapegoated to hell and back, the headcanoned trans men are always skinny white softboys not a single day over 21 maximum, lesbianism is maybe acknowledged 0.5% of the time and largely for brownie points, bisexuals are across the board made out to be overtly horny and often sexually aggressive, fans of color are harassed out of the community left and right, anyone on the aro/ace spectrums is called a freak and a killjoy for not participating in shipping, characters on the aro/ace spectrums are heavily included in shipping content with the excuse of "aros/aces can date/have sex like normal people, too!" with zero regard for what our love looks like, and there isn't a single accepted trans woman headcanon to be seen.

Fandoms are circuses full of dirty little liars with cotton stuffed in their ears and Shipping Culture is a disease.

And if you criticize either of them, the most annoying white liberals you've ever seen will start clutching their pearls because how dare you criticize something that's free?! Don't you know a lack of price point immediately negates any criticism?! Just laughable.

[oklotea]

Guys i'm ngl...... I feel like in certain ways

Sparrow is....

Sparrow is.......

A fucking poser 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Like, his punk rock energy extends to only clothing and attitude, but he doesn't hold onto punk values strong enough to actually rebel against the destiny system. He's shallow in his punk identity, and honestly, that's one of the few sins I truly cannot forgive despite how much I love this guy

If he were a true punk, he wouldn't have judged Raven by her destiny and feed into people's assumptions of her. He would have been one of the first people to question destiny, (even if at the time before Raven's legacy day declaration, things were too dangerous to take action and rise up against headmaster grimm). He would HATE a huge majority of royals and probably steal from them constantly (I would support him I'm ngl). And. And. probably be on the more cynical side of things. With him being one of the first to see just how obviously torturous and unfair the destiny system is, that would explain his loner attitude and how he avoids the rest of his more wealthy and privileged peers.

Idk man!!!!! This isn't to say that I hate sparrow's canon character just cause he isn't a real punk... Sgdhrhehfbsf no, I think a poser Robin Hood is an immensely interesting concept. AND it holds potential for character development, I just won't be diving into all those missed potentials to further develop sparrow's character here

All this just to say...... Sparrow isn't a proper representation of a punk. And I'm pretty sure the show acknowledges this. It recognizes that sparrow is selfish, he has no intention to give back to the community, and instead focuses on stealing from the rich and giving to himself, and we don't ever see him ever truly worry about anyone less fortunate than he is.

I'm pretty we all know this so. Why did I even make this post?!?? Uhhhmmmm!?????

Well, I'm just thinkin about.... A concept for an AU. An AU in which Sparrow is an actual punk character, a rambunctious idiot with an actual cause, and idk!!!!! Shit I kinda hope for in a punk character.

A poser Robin Hood is a concept you can do a lot with.

But a real anti authoritarian punk born into the world of Ever After? Put in a place where the literal RULES OF THE UNIVERSE make it seemingly near impossible to make any true change? And having to cope with that?????

I can make something out of that. And it's a version of Sparrow that the more I think about the more interesting I feel like it would be to explore

Anyway that's it have a good day everyone

[slut4megantheestallion]

JJK Men with a Big boob S/O Headcannons

Warning ⚠️: boobs, tit squeezing, titty fixation, big boobs, black!reader, big boobs representation.

☆: Geto, gojo, nanami, Toji

Geto suguru

● This man loves titties he doesn't really care what size they are he loves then anyways, he loved how big your boobs are whenever he's stressed or tired your tits are like a stress reliever to him just a ball to squeeze snd fondle anytime he wants. He loves touching your boobs it doesn't even have to be sexual he just love touching them.

● whenever you were tense or your tits hurt, he would massage your breasts with your tits out for him. He loves it when you wear dresses, shirts, that show your cleavage he just like watching them.

● Every day, when he's leading his cult, he would imma grope your boobs. He knows that you love it when he touches your boobs no matter how hard you protest him to stop. Whenever you two cuddle up together, he would suck on your nipples just to see your reaction. This man loves your tits till the day he dies.

Satoru Gojo

● This man here is a pervert and he had no shame about it. This man loves your tits he can't keep his eyes off them. He makes it very well that he's looking at them. And he's also curious how you carry so much weight around your boobs.

●His hands are literally always on your boobss, he would sneakily come up from behind you and just touch your tits just to feel the fat and the nipples, squeezing the flesh. This man loves cuddling like just laying on your chest and just playing with your boobies. He just loves how soft and squishy they are. Your breasts are like plush toys to him.

●He can't help but stare when you wear tight skin clothes that just show your boobs. He can't help but just fuck your tits and just imagining cumming all over them, omg he would stare at your boobs and won't even realize he looking at them.

● always grabbing and groping them at any time, I mean, he grabs them when he's hugging you from behind, burying his face into them.

● He isn't the type to let you cover up when your in public together, actually He embraces it because he knows your his and he's the most luckiest man alive, he will literally have the most shit eating grin seeing people's reaction knowing that they can't have that he has.

●Bro even during missions fighting curses this man gets so distracted on your boobs and how hot you look.

● during sex omg! This man really loves your tits. He'll leave hickeys at the your breast in between the valley of your breasts, he loves sucking them when he's fucking you, he doest waste any time suck your nipples circling it with his tongue. Like I said he's for sure a titty man.

Nanami kento

●Nanami is for sure a boobie man, he may be a proper and gentleman but he wouldn't nuzzling his face in some titties. I mean his daily routine from a long day of work is burying his head nuzzling in to your chest tiredly just enjoying how soft and squishy they feel making him feel more relaxed

● He isn't really to open about touching your boobs but whenever he's at home he'll do it, he doesn't want people to view him as a perv.

● He loves spending his money on you that shows that would be a good asset of your boobs, he loves seeing you in revealing clothes (obviously if you asked for it he's a conset man.) But if your aren't into it he'll buy clothes that does show to much skin like baggy clothing, it doesn't matter as long he gets to your boobs in private.

● He is obsessed with your nipples I think that's his favorite part of your boobs to him. He loves how he can touch them between his fingers, pretty much letting him do whatever he wants with your boobs.

● He would for sure massage your tits, if your feeling sore of complain about pains or aches and hoe much weight you carry. He would take you shopping finding you bras, thanks to him you have a whole collection of bras at home. He loves you tits but he loves you regardless if your tits were big, small he still loves you as a person.

Toji fushiguro

● he's titty man like this man has a titty kink, like he would imagine getting you pregnant and just imagine sucking the milk out of your boobs.

● You touch his tiddes all the time, so he does it to you, and now he can't stop. He compares his chest, yours saying his is bigger just to piss you off. He loves it when you hug him, and he just feels your tits against him. omg at this point, you're teasing him not that he's complaining.

● He's a huge titty sucker like he sucks on your titties at the time he just enjoys sucking around them. He would mostly definitely take pictures boobs saved on his phone for... later~

● He likes to play with your nipples when you're bored he just fascinated me. How big are your boobs like he just likes holding them and the way how it feels in his big hands. He loves how you flash his titties whenever he is angry, stressed about something. Like he would get mad, and his mood would drop instantly just seeing your tits on display to him, God he loves your tits.

[glitter-stained]

Look, I'll say it: Zurr isn't a magical demon that took over Bruce's body, it's a vilifying, demonizing take on induced DID. I can't keep seeing people fight to defend Bruce's honour in Gotham War by saying "it wasn't actually him so it's not his fault", reject the Lazarus Pit Madness headcanon because "Jason and he alone did his crimes and he has no excuse", and then we're talking about how Bruce's or Dick's trauma is what made him a hero, one post later on my board it's "the lazarus pit madness headcanon is unnecessary because Jason's behaviour is completely explainable and logical if you just take in account that he has cptsd" (or bpd depending on the post) and then that fanfic I had to stop reading because a character literally was screaming at Jason "so what you died get over yourself but you weren't magically controlled by the pit so you have zero excuse and justification for being angry" and then a post about "wow why is Batman punching down on all these mentally ill people", and then in the replies "are you dumb it's because those crazies are bombing orphanages..."

I'm still thinking about that moment in "dumpster slasher" where Batman is like "the killer is still free while poor Elmore [a homeless guy with substance use disorder and major neurocognitive disorder] is being shipped off to Arkham... This doesn't sit right" yeah buddy I'm sure if you ponder that for a while, the reason why the fact the only mental health facility in your city is also a prison for dangerous criminals with no apparent mental illness doesn't sit right with you will appear to you eventually.

Maybe it's time to confront the fact that the difference between a hero and villain in dc is often whether their mental illness is demonized, glorified or minimized. Or the fact that attenuated circumstances and responsibility exists on a gradient and there is such thing as "altered responsibility due to mental illness" in a trial. Maybe it's not "oh it was this evil Zurr/Batman entity, not Bruce/Batman, so there is no responsibility to be taken and anyone condemning those actions as abuse is talking in bad faith" maybe it's "this is a terrible representation of something that exists and should be treated respectfully" and "I don't have to accept this terribly harmful rethoric and fucked up depiction into my conception of my fav's characterization in such a dislocated, often incoherent canon if I don't want to."

And also maybe it's "if we accept this event/depiction as canon it doesn't mean that we have to either bash the character completely or erase his mental illness into something vaguer/mystical that would somehow absolve him of his place in this situation".

And maybe it's "what does accountability for your harmful actions looks like when your judgement was heavily impaired by mental illness, and what judgement can be placed upon you and who decides where people are placed on that continuum of responsibility and how do we acknowledge and go forward into repairing things when severe harm/abuse was done under impaired judgement and also how do you reconcile all of this with your sense of self, (especially in conditions like bpd/cptsd and especially did where the sense of self is already so altered/complicated) with what your values are, what you want to be, what you are capable of doing and what you thought about yourself before the bad thing happened." I don't know any simple, correct, good answer, especially not a one size fits all. All I know is: the desire to be a good person, and be able to distinctively separate people between bad and good, is profoundly human and, at times when lines of responsibility get blurry, profoundly unhelpful. Most people who are going to hurt you aren't mentally ill. Most people who do terrible things aren't mentally ill, and sometimes people are mentally ill and hurt people and the two have nothing to do with eachother. But it is also a reality that sometimes judgement is impaired and behaviour is altered due to mental illness, and then you need to figure out where to go from there. Acknowledging this while also fighting stigmatisation is a complicated business. It's messy. Mental illness often is. I'm weary of any rethoric that pretends it's simple.

[manicpixieyandere]

WWDITS Managed The Impossible:

Queerbait with QUEER characters!?

What a finale last night huh? While parts of it were enjoyable and funny, it's also hard to miss how incredibly shallow the whole thing feels. Let us explain!

First off, this show refuses to have a single emotional moments. People call it the "shit and fart" show for a reason. The earlier seasons left some room for emotional moments and development but the later seasons completely shit on any nice moment they have with a joke.

We get that the show's gimmick is that just like a sitcom, the vampires never change. And that really is an interesting concept! But in the finale they completely ignore a theme THEIR OWN SHOW SET UP! That the vampire did in fact change this time, just a little bit. And why did they change? Guillermo! Over six seasons we get to see how the vampires grow emotionally or explore new endeavors all because of Guillermo. But the finale completely writes that part away and decides that the vampires never changed, completely undoing six seasons of development.

Now let's get to the thing that ticked us off the most. A show shouldn't be judged purely on whether its popular ship got together or not, but for this show that is a major valid criticism. It's not like the internet was being the internet and made up a random ship that made no sense, this ship had been hinted for YEARS! Despite its characters (both Nador and Guillermo) being canonically queer, their relationship follows that of classic queerbait beats. Theres just enough hints and breadcrumbs to keep the queer audience interested without ever having to even deliver on the queer aspects of the characters. This goes beyond Nandor and Guillermo as well! Ever seen Nadja or Laszlo have SERIOUS relationships with characters of the same sex? No! Anything remotely gay is played for laughs and not real representation. Some moments in the show showed care to its queerness. Guillermo's episode about coming out is great! But the show refuses to deliver on any of the queer plot lines it set up (honestly refuses to even wrap up any plot lines).

Now let's talk about those alternate endings. Honestly IMO the Nadja hypnosis with three alternate scenes in the reruns was genius! Very creative, but dear god did this fumble the bag. If they spent the rest of the season tying up loose threads then this would have been a fine concept. But what ends up happening is it's a non canon time waster in a finale that has too much to wrap up. It is quite literally, a waste of time. They needed to spend this time wrapping up arcs instead.

Theres also the case of the Nandermo scene. During the final alternate scene of the night we get to see human Nandor and Guillermo in one of the audience's "perfect endings". This is such a god damn slap in the face to anyone who cared about these characters. It is quite literally making fun of the audience (very Sherlock of you WWDITS). It's once again for the final time playing Nandermo (and queerness in general) for laughs. They're baiting the ship right in your face and telling you they think your idea is dumb. That it's a ridiculous joke. Ignoring the fact THEY ARE THE ONES WHO SET IT UP!!!

Then we also have the weird homophobic rhetoric from the cast and crew. In many interviews there have been statements where people say something like "it's important in this day and age to show that men can still be friends and not everything has to be sexual". Now one question; who the fuck said otherwise? Don't know if you've noticed but queer people are a MINORITY. Most men who know each other, are friends! There's gay men sure, but they're a minority. And this extends to fiction as well. Sure the internet will ship everyone, but an internet ship does not dictate canon. Theres not a lot of queer representation out there compared to all the cishet characters out there.

Frankly we have no idea where this rhetoric of men needing to prove they can just be friends came from. The exact same rhetoric is being used for Jayce and Viktor in Arcane as well. It just screams toxic masculinity not being able to handle being in queer spaces (fandom spaces (especially WWDITS and Arcane) tend to be quite queer leaning). Queer people want representation. That's why queerbait hurts so bad. You think you're finally seen only to be lied to and used for a profit. It's so incredibly disrespectful to the fans.

WWDITS really fumbled its last season and frankly has been going down hill for years. A great lesson on predatory ship baiting so bad it made its canonically queer characters into queerbait. That's genuinely fucking impressive in the worst way possible. Not to mention that random ass MAGA Guide thing (like wtf???).

Not even including the queer stuff this show just failed to wrap up any of its plot lines or give any emotional satisfaction to the viewer.

Anyway this finale really pissed us off, bye.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Greek mythology has evolved over the course of hundreds of years, and with all those… retellings now, it’s gotten me thinking about just how many people have been spreading false details of myths through word of mouth to the point of becoming the most common interpretation, when if you were to look back in history, a great number of them were only recently made up, barely a a few centuries prior. Example of this is King Midas and his turning his daughter into a gold statue. I remember this part having been included all throughout my childhood, only to find out it was never part of the original myth but a recent addition in a book from 1852. (suddenly, the daughter being aptly named “Marigold” makes a lot more sense.) My ask is: which commonly told misconception of this type regarding any Greek myth is most infuriating to you and why?

oh my god misinformation can be INFURIATING smh

Let's start off with the Apollo misinformation.

"He raped Persephone/is a serial rapist!"

First of all, no he did not. LO, toss yourself into an eternal blaze and incinerate.

and secondly- he's not a serial rapist. There's only two accounts of rape, specifically Dryope and Creusa, but that depends on interpretation and the source so if you want to discard it, you can. No one can tell you you can't.

"UwU Apollo's love life is terrible!"

do i even need to say anything?

"Athena hates women!"

hell to the fuck no. the evidence people use for this is the Medusa Myth: Ovid's Version, and CONVIENTLY IGNORE THE ONES WHERE SHE HELPS WOMEN ESCAPE BEING RAPED!! AND THAT OVID IS THE ONLY ONE WHO DOES THIS!!

Even with the ones where she punishes the victim, the older versions do not have that! She made Nicymene her eternal owl companion, for heaven's sake!

"Hermes/Dionysus/Hephaestus is the only unproblematic god! UwU"

uh... *waves Leuconoe/Choine/Philonis around* no matter which version you go with, Hermes/Mercury does rape her...

...and in the Dionysica Dionysus rapes like two women...

...and Hephaestus tried to rape Athena... (oh wow, would you look at that...it's like Athena would have *gasp* sympathy for assault survivors...)

...See the double standards? :/ Ignores Roman/late Greek literature when it's convenient, and then exaggerates it to suit their own needs.

"Demeter is a terrible mom!"

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE NO ONE DISRESPECTS THE QUEEN

"Hades only kidnapped Persephone because Zeus told him too!"

Hades is his own man and wasn't being held at gunpoint to abduct her. He did so on his own merits. From a literal perspective, what was stopping him from just. you know. talking to her. kidnapping was not necessary.

(yes, yes, i know about the symbolic perspective, hence my use of 'literal'.)

"But Hades and Persephone are the only ones who don't cheat!!"

uh, nope. Hi Adonis, Minthe, how're you doing?

"But Adonis was more of a son to Persephone!!"

uh, NO. Even the ancients saw them as a couple!!

"Artemis is a girlboss who hates her brother!"

*kicks open door* OUT!

"Orion's the only man Artemis ever loved!"

how dare you disrespect my boy in this way Apollo was the first man she ever loved and no one will be able to replace him how dare you-

-and how dare you disrespect Hippolytus in this way he did not die in the name of all aroace people to be disrespected like this smh

"Zeus's only quality is how he fucks around!"

look, I've joked about this before but I know that's not all there is too him and that it has a symbolic representation.

Sure would be nice if people focused on that more :)

also anything that villainizes Aphrodite or Hera. god forbid women do anything.

"Clytemnestra is a girlboss who did no wrong!"

OH MY GOD THE DOUBLE STANDARDS.

funny how people fawn over Cassandra one moment and then COMPLETELY FORGET HER EXISTENCE to becry the woman who murdered her!

AND ALSO GO OUT OF THEIR WAY TO HATE APOLLO FOR CURSING HER WHEN THEIR STORY IS LITERAL ABOUT A WOMAN'S AUTONOMY BEING RESPECTED!!

AND GUESS WHAT!! APOLLO AVENGES HER DEATH!!

anything that is "UwU Achilles!" omg i am sick of it.

that bitch had everything coming. he deserved everything he got. Tenes, Troilus, and Hemithea did NOT deserve what he did to them! APOLLO AND PARIS HAD EVERY RIGHT TO TAKE HIM DOWN!

i'm probably forgetting some but here's the one that popped into my head :)

[bargarean]

can i say something absolutely insane. that will make you want to forcefully remove me from the kitchen. i think the jokes about cocaine usage are directly related to the subtextual presence of queerness in deadpool & wolverine

unless i'm missing more, there are two jokes about cocaine usage being forbidden in the movie. one, where it's said that it's the One Thing they're forbidden from doing, that They know all the slang terms for it so they can't slip through the cracks, and that wade wants to do it but isn't allowed. the next is when they meet johnny, wade says to chris evans, "fair warning, gorgeous, you’ll encounter some indelicate language, a smidge of assplay, but we’ve been PROHIBITED from using cocaine. (on camera)." okay? okay.

i don't think any good comedy is actually just a comedy, and if i'm good at anything it's stripping away the jokes and trying to make out what the writers are saying between all of the lines. in the case of deadpool & wolverine, i think it's about the relationship between the studio and the story, and the somewhat inherent tragedy of being a character that belongs to disney especially. this thing takes every chance it can to make fun of the mcu. one of its antagonists is a representation of the higherups, who choose to save the profitable stories, leave the rest to die, and then old yeller the profitable ones when they become too much trouble. the other antagonist is a story who was left to die. and all of this comes together to become a movie about a character who in real life had major elements of his character, his queerness, stripped and left to die when he became disney IP, finding out that his reality is about to be left to die and fighting to protect it.

i note his queerness there not only because it's the basis of this whole post but because the movie wants us to. this is, by far, the queerest deadpool movie so far. but you know what's interesting? there are people who watched it and came out thinking it was a Based breath of fresh air in this Woke Economy. we saw the allusions to sex scene tropes in the honda odyssey fight. they just saw a hypermasculine fight. because, ultimately, the queerness in this movie isn't profitable, so it's being muted and stripped and turned into jokes. god knows disney isn't going to let two of their most popular characters fuck nasty on the big screen. they're going to greenlight a deadpool movie and tell the writers that they can do whatever they want but to keep the queerness at arms length to avoid scaring away half the viewership. but we're telling a story about characters being left to die for not being profitable. so that really won't do. instead, we'll fill it with subtext and layer on jabs upon jabs at the studios who seek profit over a genuine story. and then we'll literally have our not-so-explicitly queer main character save his reality from being old yellered by holding hands with a shirtless man

tldr: it's the one thing they can't do! On camera.

[sailoryooons]

Fang Daddy | knj (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Namjoon x fledgling! F. reader

☾ Summary: Ever since Namjoon turned you into a vampire, there is only one thing that you crave more than blood. Good thing your sire is more than happy to indulge in his sweet little vampire fledgling. 

☾ Word Count: 3,801

☾ Genre: PWP, Supernatural, Vampires, Established Relationship

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

☾ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, blood sharing, depictions of blood, feral fucking, vaginal fingering, nipple play, biting and a lot of teeth and spit and blood they’re vampires, a lot of carnal feelings, dom/sub themes, oral (f. receiving) cum eating, obnoxious use of the word daddy, subspace implications/descriptions, bodily fluids, a lot of feral thinking, explicit language, vaginal sex (reader on top), a bit rough, light degradation, reader is super needy, use of ‘good girl’ I think that’s it. 

☾ Published: October 12, 2023

☾ A/N: This is a pseudo-request because @kithtaehyung and I are unhinged and somehow this is where we ended up. I am not responsible for literally anything this might awaken inside of you because this is actually what Namjoon speaking/existing awakens inside of me - and I made it Halloweenie. This is just straight-up feral sex I don’t even know if it makes sense in parts. This is mostly unedited!

☾ A/N 2: Mildly inspired by this video

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

Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests

“Everything okay, baby?” Namjoon’s rough voice comes through the phone. You squirm, feeling your stomach tighten. “Talk to me.”

Even the sound of his voice makes the air in the room feel thick. Heady. You can hear everything so clearly on his side of the phonecall: party noise, loud voices, the sounds of clicking champagne glasses and laughter. He tries to muffle the sound of the party, but your hearing is sharper now. Better.

You imagine Namjoon standing in the corner of the party, phone tucked to his ear, head bent down as he murmurs into the receiver. A shiver ripples through you and you can’t help but make a soft sound. The sheets in his bed are too hot against your skin, feeling staticky as you slide your legs open. You haven’t made a move to touch yourself but just the imagery of him makes your core ache.

Namjoon hears you, of course. His hearing is too sharp not to. He hums, almost a growl in the back of his throat. “Is that why you called me, baby?” 

“Yes.”

“I haven’t been gone that long.”

You stick your bottom lip out. A tingling sensation spreads over your skin from the tone of his voice. When he answered, he had sonded concerned. He’d only been gone for about two hours, nothing serious. But now, his voice has shifted. It’s darker, teasing. 

“What do you need?” 

“You.” 

It’s an honest answer. The only one that you ever have, these days. With the way your senses have been heightened since Namjoon has turned you, all you can think about his him. The smooth, warm skin of his neck. The spicy sent of his cologne and natural musk of his skin. His deep, throaty laugh as he lets you nuzzle into him, dig into him, do whatever you want. 

Blood lust keeps you from going to parties with him. You’re not ready. Not this early, and certainly not with Namjoon, who acts like a natural sparkplug for you. Even with him in the same room, your instincts and rational thought blur the line between beast and person. 

“Yeah?” he asks. Cocky. Assured. You roll to the side, hiding your face in the pillow. “Want me to come come and take care of you?”

You nod, but he can’t see you. He hums a question and you open your mouth, feeling the throbbing in your gums intensify at the thought of him coming home. “Please.”

“Okay. Give me twenty minutes, alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you… what?”

You feel the heat creep up your neck, a blooming inferno of pleasure and embarrassment and shyness all wrapped up into a smooth little cocktail. “Thank you, daddy.” 

“Anything for you baby.” Just as you go to hang up, Namjoon adds in a warning, “Don’t you dare touch yourself without me.” 

Even giddy from the threat, you listen to him. Instead of toeing the line of how far you can push him, you lay in bed like a good little fledging. Before you were turned, being stubborn with Namjoon was one of your favorite things to do. He’s not quick to anger, he has all the time in the world for your shenanigans, and he is more than happy to wait until you behave yourself. 

Wait is no longer in your vocabulary. Vampirism comes along with life-changing traits. Better hearing, smell, and site. You’re much faster and you don’t need sleep as much - and according to Namjoon, eventually won’t need it at all. You’re nearly invincible, and once you pass the blood phase, you can return to mixing in a normal diet with your A Positive drinks. 

But something you didn’t expect was sensation. Everything feels more. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. Music moves through you differently, bringing you to tears as you hear notes and sounds you’ve never noticed before. Skin-to-skin touch drives you wild, like your outer layer of flesh has become a minefield of nerve receptors, sparking at the slightest touch. 

It is overwhelming and addicting, and you’ve learned right away that making Namjoon punish you for flirting with rebellion will drive you into hysterics faster than it will drive you to pleasure.

So you wait, just like he asked. 

Hot air clings to your skin. Temperature eventually won’t bother you, but you’re still a fledging. With each day, things that were normal as a human will fade. Some things - like the eating - will return. For now, you feel flustered and shaky, knowing Namoon is coming home. 

Your Namjoon. Your boyfriend. And sire. 

Namjoon explained the convoluted relationship between sire and fledging only once. You have barely listened, to fixate on the bass thumping beat of the pulse in his neck. It isn’t uncommon for fledglings to be attached to their sires, especially since the vampire’s blood flows through the veins of their newly turned companion.

Plus, it’s easier to drink from Namjoon than from a person. Blood bags work fine. Deer work better. But when Namjoon lets you sink your teeth into his tender flesh to taste his most recently meal is divine, driving you somewhere between hunger and lust, trying to straddle both. 

When the door to the loft opens, you sag in relief. Sweat beats on the back of your neck as you sit up a little in bed. Pillows prop you up. You’re in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and smelling like him, reaching to your mid-thigh. 

Seeing him ignites your instincts, gasoline to a flame. Your fangs prick at your gums, the ache intensifying as you feel them slide out gently, prodding your tongue lightly. Your breathing quickens and your eyes zero in on him, unable to tear your eyes away.

He looks good tonight. He looks good always, but the way the turtle neck hugs the wide frame of his body makes your mouth salivate, drool pooling on your tongue. His arms ripple under the dark fabric as he stands by the door, shuffling his shoes off. 

The dark shirt is tucked into perfectly tapered black dress pants, showing off his perfect waist. Namjoon’s dark hair is styled back and out of his face. The silver hoop in his right ear catches the moonlight when he turns to look at you, full lips spreading into a grin. 

Namjoon rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Your eyes dart to the smooth, tan ski no his forearms. You can already smell the blood pumping through him. It’s hot. Fresh. Your fingers grip the sheets as you sit up eagerly, realizing he must have fed just for you. To let you drink. 

His gait is smooth and casual. You say nothing as you stare at him. He crosses the spacious, warehouse-style loft until he’s standing in front of the bed, looking down at you, a pile in the sheets and blankets. 

Slowly, Namjoon dips his gaze down to the apex of your thighs, which are squeezed shut and shaking. Every hair stands up on the back of your neck as Namjoon puts a single knee onto the mattress. It sinks under his weight and he leans forward, hand brushing your knees to ease your legs open. 

Your legs slide against the fabric unde you smoothly, feeling like heavy. It flusters you, but not nearly as much as Namjoon looking at your dripping folds, nostrils flaring. He smirks and meets your gaze, his eyes dark as ever. 

“Let me see your hands.”

You untwist them from the sheets and hold them up. He leans forward more catching your fingers to twist them in the light. Your eyes flutter shut at the spark of his touch, pleasure rippling through you. It makes you go pliant. His tough fingertips turn your hands this way and that, every brush of them against your skin making you burn. 

“Good girl,” Namjoon croons. You open your eyes as he drops your hands. Belatedly, you realize he was checking to see if you’d touched yourself and left signs of stickiness on your fingertips. He crawls onto the bed properly, shuffling until he’s on his knees between your legs. “Does it ache?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

Letting your head fall to the side, you close your eyes. Your pussy pulses between your legs, desire so raw for him that you have to clench your teeth to stop from crying. Namjoon’s hand skim up and down your thighs, each stroke sending you further into a pent up craze. Your heart thunders against your chest, louder and louder until you can hear your own blood rushing through your body, hunger spiking. 

When you open your eyes, you meet Namjoon’s. It’s quiet in the room. Your tongue runs over the tips of your fangs. They pinch tender flesh and you open your mouth a little, flashing Namjoon your pearly little incisors. 

Namjoon’s gentle hands turn to blunt nails scraping down your thighs. “What do you want?” 

“Daddy.”

“Need to be taken care of?” You nod, head starting to get cloudly with want. 

It’s hard like this. To figure out how to articulate. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth and your gaze is trapped on his neck. The subtle pulse drags you in. You don’t think in words so much as images and feelings. Brief flashes of what you want to do as an idea more than a thought. 

Stuck between giving in to a primal instinct and being a thought-processing human leaves you in a stretch of grey that only Namjoon knows how to navigate for you. Because he knows you and what you need. Knows just what to do to get you through it.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He grips the bottom of your shirt - his shirt - and pulls upward. The scrape of the cotton against your skin is like fire. “You remember how to tell me when it’s too much?”

Too much is very likely to happen. It has before. When the thoughts, the feelings, and the sensations are so overwhelming that it suddenly feels like you will blink out of existence.

“Yes, daddy.” 

The nickname drips from your tongue like nectar. You don’t remember when you started calling him that, only that it feels good and that you like the way his mouth twitches upward when you say it. Like the way it makes him a little more feral. 

“Tell me.”

“Indigo.”

Cool air pebbles your nipples. You shiver, exposed, and splay out for him. His dark eyes drink you in. Twisting your fingers in the sheets, you watched with hooded eyes, feeling the arousal drip drip drip between your legs. 

Namjoon’s hands are like embers as he traces your skin. Up your legs, hips, stomach, fingers tracing under the swells of your breasts. His fingers stroke upward, dizzying touch circling your nipples gently. It hurts. The ache for him is deep, your mouth falling open to reveal your fangs as you hiss. 

His mouth twitches as he lowers himself down. The anticipation makes you suck in a sharp breath, holding it trapped until it comes out in a long, wined whine as Namjoon’s tongue flicks at your hardened nipple. 

Immediately your hands shoot up to his arms. He doesn’t mind, letting you dig your nails into his shirt as he sucks generously at your tit, sending you wild. The sensation is overpowering. You feel a ringing in your ears as you press your chest up into his mouth. 

More more more more. 

You don’t realize you’re babbling, saying the words out loud until he’s laughing, dark voice vibrating through your skin as he kisses his way to your other nipple. 

“More?” he asks. “You know how to ask.”

“Please,” you gasp, feeling the tip of his tongue apply the barest pressure imaginable. “Please, it hurts.”

Namjoon’s fangs scrape sensitive flesh. It makes you sing, squeezing your eyes shut as you pant through what is barely the beginning of intimacy. You’re already woozy and preening and light-headed and he knows it. Maybe takes a little pity on you. 

Normally, Namjoon likes to take his time. Now, he moves with more urgency. He dives in for your neck, plying your skin with wet, generous kisses as he does. You bare your neck for him, pliant and obedient, knowing that your artery is there for the taking if he wants to.

Blood sharing is intimate between vampires. Even sires rarely share blood with their fledglings the way Namjoon does. It’s only done between the most precious of partners, between two vampires ready to consume one another. To be one another. 

Anything less would be an act of cruelty or desperation, and this is neither.

Namjoon doesn’t bite down, though. He slides his hand between your legs, fingers brushing against your sticky folds to relieve some of the tension. You whimper, nodding your head to unasked questions as his fingers lazily trace circles around your clit.

Pleasure ebbs and flows, your blood rushing. You can feel your heart thundering in your chest as he kisses his way up to your mouth, stealing your lips in a searing kiss. It’s all tongue and fangs, the wet slide of his lips against yours messy and carnal and hungry.

Your hips roll into his hand as Namjoon plays with your cunt properly. You’re relentless, rolling your hips into the palm of his hand, pressing your swollen clit against him for friction. It’s a messy slide but it feels so good, brows pinched, mouth open as you pant. 

Namjoon sinks a finger into your throbbing entrance and you go mad. Your nails rake down his sleeves, tearing fabric as you go. Your legs shake, muscles squeezed tight as he fucks his fingers up into you, meeting your sloppy thrusts. 

It’s feral and heated, driven purely by the inferno burning in your stomach. Namjoon catches your earlobe between his fangs, dragging the sharp points across soft flesh. You let out a loud, wanton sound, unable to control yourself. 

Shaking. Sweaty.  Deteriorating. This is what he does to you with just his hands. His fingers press into your cunt, hitting your spot each time. It feels like pandemonium, walls clenching down on his fingers as you start to come loose around him. 

“Fuck you’re a mess,” he growls, nipping your jaw as you frantically chase an orgasm. The wet slap of his fingers is loud, backtracked by your shaky breathing. “Fucking my hand like a little whore.”

“Daddy,” you mumble, eyes rolled back. You know it’s depraved. You don’t care. You just want him. Anyway you can have him.

Namjoon knows. His mouth goes to your neck. Your breath hitches, waiting as the flat of his tongue laps against your pulse point. When he bites down, you unravel. 

Pain and pleasure unfurl, white-hot. You gush around his fingers, body convulsing. The warmth at your neck sedates you momentarily, knocking you into a state of bliss. Your head spins and it feels like you’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, not even breathing. 

Namjoon takes long draughts. You feel his tongue pressed against your punctured skin. Feel the hot, slow bead of blood dripping down your neck to your shoulder. Every nerve is on fire and alive.

“Want,” you gasp. Namjoon removes his mouth from your neck. You feel the blood running, sticky. “Want want want want want.”

Namjoon kisses you. He tastes like blood, tongues tangling. You suck his tongue into your mouth generously, making him moan deep in his throat. The sound of him drives you further. You surge upward, seeking and hungry, hands tearing. He snarls when you rip off the shirt but he has others. Nothing is more important than him - than this.

Warm skin meets your hands. Vampires recently fed aren’t cold at all, their skin burning with fresh blood and heat trapped between you. Your fingers explore the taught muscles of his chest, the dips in his biceps and shoulders. Namjoon is a work of art, towering over you as he sits up to kick off his pants, movements blinding. 

Your hands don’t remain still, grabbing any part of him you can, mouth latching on. You suck at his wrist, forearm, bicep. Anything you can taste, your mouth is there, searching. You don’t bite, though. Not until he lets you. Not until you have his permission. 

Namjoon ducks between your legs. You gasp, feeling his tongue eagerly sliding up your folds. Your hands shoot to his hair, locking in his silky strands as he drinks you down.

It's feverish. Your feet kick out as Namjoon ravishes you, tongue plunging into your cunt, mouth sucking greedily on your clit. The stimulation is maddening, sending you shrieking toward another high.

He doesn't stop, smacking his lips together, licking, gasping, pressing his face further and further until he's shoving you up the bed, tongue buried inside of you.

Namjoon sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the swollen bud. You squeal and crash down, orgasm washing through you as you come into his mouth.

He devours, tongue lapping, mouth sucking. He leaves nothing spared, and when he finally pulls away, panting and shining with cum and blood, the bottom half of his face slick and eyes blown, you know that you'll never want someone else. Anything else.

The world spins when Namjoon lifts you. You blink and he’s under you, his thick cock leaking onto his stomach. Your mouth waters as he settles you in his lap, his back against the pillow. Namjoon looks like a dark god, his sweaty hair falling into his dark eyes, mouth kissed with crimson, tan skin glowing. 

Your hands go to his face, cradling his jaw. For a second, your touch is soft. Nestled in his lap, you trace the outline of his jaw, brushing your fingers to wet lips. He is yours. You are his. In body, soul, and blood. His gaze softens, as though he sees this too. 

“Mine,” you murmur, thumb pulling at his bottom lip. Your gaze meets his. “Right, Daddy?” 

“Yours,” he agrees, lifting your hips with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. He settles you over the dark tip and you shiver, head tilting back. “And you are mine.”

In a single, fluid motion, Namjoon spears you on his shaft. You let out a shriek, pleasure bolting through you. You feel full, gasping as you’re fully seated in his lap. Namjoon doesn’t wait for you to adjust, pulling you in to lay against his chest as he plants his feet on the bed, fucking up into you.

You go mute. Your body slides against his, your chest pressed against his, your face buried in his neck. You can smell the blood there, and hear the beating pulse like a siren’s call. Drink drink drink. 

You wait, completely distracted by the way Namjoon thrusts into you, jostling your frame into his. His arms are wrapped tight around your waist, your knees digging into the bed. He gives and you just take, eyes rolling back in your head, blood running down your neck, mouth slack. 

Despite his ferocity, it’s intimate. You feel every breath Namjoon takes. Feel his thighs flex underneath you, feel the way your arousal slides down your legs onto his waist as he fucks you. It’s feral but it’s different, a tether of emotion that goes deeper than anything you could perceive as a human snapping between you. 

Namjoon slides down the bed a little. Changes the angle so that he’s hitting you deeper, harder. You clench your teeth, barely hanging on to your sanity as you wait for him to give you permission to bite him. Your mouth salivates at the thought, his blood roaring in your ears. 

You roll your hips into him. It’s a little disjointed but it works, sliding along his cock as he drives you closer and closer to the high roaring inside of you. It’s so close you can feel it burning, nova under your skin. Only Namjoon can do this to you, lighting you up until you’re burning so hot you can’t take it. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. No thoughts trespass here. It is only the shivering pleasure as Namjoon relentlessly takes you, growing. You scoot your face toward his neck, nose pressed against hot skin. You’re trembling, completely at his fingertips. 

Waiting. Waiting.

“Go ahead, baby,” he grunts, fingers digging into the globes of your ass. “You’ve been so good.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice barely audible even to your sensitive ears. “Thank you.”

Finally, you indulge. You open your mouth against Namjoon’s neck, soft and tentative. Your tongue sweeps across salted, hot skin. You whine, feeling his pulse beating under the tender skin. Your fangs scrape against him and he moans, arms tightening around you.

And then you bite down. 

Namjoon moans. You lose yourself in the sweet taste immediately, like cherry wine rushing into your mouth. Rapture. You drink slowly. Soft. Gulping as your veins ignite. Every atom lights up along the way, until you’re a vibrating mass of energy. 

It’s like threads of awareness connect you. You feel Namjoon’s burning desire, his hunger for you. The deep-rooted adoration and love for you, a river that runs down to his marrow. You bathe in it, letting the connection wash over you. 

Blood sharing gives you glimpses to Namjoon that you normally don’t see. Flashes of the way he sees you, his heart fluttering. Snatches of seeing something at a store that reminds him of you. The way you taste to him, the way he wants to hold you and never let go. 

It’s so much. 

You don’t take much. You know your limit, and as your thoughts start to black out, you remove your mouth, gasping. Your head falls to Namjoon’s shoulders, eyelids fluttering. Your stomach coils on the edge of another orgasm so strong that you just let it happen. Let it slam into you, a rogue wave. 

The world blinks out of existence. There’s just the smell of Namjoon. The ghost of his mouth on your temple, and the softest feeling of floating. This is what you crave. The feeling of lightness with the accompanying touch of Namjoon. Because even in this space alone, there is a thread back down to him, a beacon to pull you back.

Slowly, you come back to him. You feel his heart beating against yours. You move your head, nuzzling into him. You feel flaky, dried blood but you don’t care, nuzzling into him. Your Namjoon. His arms are steady around you like a cocoon. 

You have never been safer. More loved.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice raspy. 

“Always.” 

You settle in comfortable silence, wrapped up in one another. Nothing will ever beat this. A thousand lifetimes with Namjoon is all you ever need to do this as many times as you want. 

“You okay?” you nod against him. Your fingers slide up his neck and face to card through his hair, playing with the strands. Your eyes are still closed, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat. “Good.” 

“A little needy.”

“You? Needy? Unheard of.” he teases.

You grin. The carnal desire from earlier washes away, fed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s really hot.” You hum, continuing to play with his hair but saying nothing. “I’m kind of like your fang daddy, huh?” 

Your hand pauses and you crack an eye open. Namjoon is grinning up at the ceiling, eyes turned to crescent moons as he tries not to laugh at his joke. Gone is the dark, powerful vampire, replaced by the sweet, boyish man that you love just as much. 

“Namjoon,” you chastise, tugging his hair a little.

He giggles. “How about fang father?” 

You sigh. “Whatever you want. Anything you want.” 

He kisses your temple and lets you fall asleep. 

[darklinaforever]

It kills me how many people think that the gender of a fictional character doesn't matter.

We are in fiction, where the characters have arcs, or they embody themes. Obviously for some characters gender matters.

Michael is literally named the new heir and freaks out about becoming a new John /basically taking everything he had.

Michaela can't really have this arc... Unless we strangely learn that the laws in Scotland are extremely different from England located in the Bridgerton universe (and I speak for the universe of the series, where we have no idea if they will stick to reality where women in Scotland could inherit), and I doubt it for the moment.

So no, Michaela couldn't necessarily have the same arc as Michael.

I'm not even sure she could be a Merry Rake. Can a woman be called Rake in show Bridgerton universe ?

The fact is that Michaela will necessarily differ at certain times from Michael.

Already there are always drastic differences between the show and the book, this time I think it will be even more emphasized. (I even doubt that we will have as many nods to the book as season 3 dedicated to Polin's story did)

In any case, the very basis of Francesca's story is that despite the loss of true love you can always have a second chance, which is a clear originality compared to the other romances in this series of books ; well, is already changed with the way the end of season 3 happened.

It seems that the marriage to John was a mistake, that the physical aspect of their relationship will not prove pleasant in view of the Fran's reaction to their kiss, and worse, that Fran doesn't feel true love for John.

True love in Bridgerton often results in great passion and similarities to the story of Edmund and Violet, and Francesca literally matches Violet's reaction when she first met Edmund, but this time when she meets Michaela.

Whereas Fran is never supposed to have this kind of reaction around Michael / Michaela as long as John is alive. Because she normaly truly loves him.

So how could the story be the same after such a change to the very heart of the story ?

It's not just the gender change from Michael to Michaela that makes the adaptation of When he was Wicked complicated and uncertain for some viewers, including me too, it is above all a whole.

But for some obscure reason people refuse to accept it.

Beyond that, I repeat, Michael Stirling is a fictional male character who has been around for years.

That people are disappointed, including me, not to see this character, as he is basically on paper, be adapted to the screen is not necessarily homophobic, assumed or internalized.

Yes, some are, but not everyone. Some of us are part of the LGBTQ+ community and no, we do not all suffer from internalized homophobia so as not to 100% validate such a change !

We're talking about an attachment to an image that we have formed in our mind about a FICTITIOUS character for fucking years !

Besides, I didn't even say that I was fundamentally against it, because I have already explained several times that a part of me was happy to see a main romance between two women on screen in the television universe for Bridgerton (and the actresses are magnificent and on top of that, I'm sure, will have very good chemistry). Once again, representation is always cool, but, is this really the right place to do it ? I'm not so sure.

And contrary to what some say, I'm not saying that LGBTQ+ relationships should systematically be secondary in fiction. No way. I'm simply saying that transforming one of the main canon ships of the books without which the Netflix adaptation would not exist is perhaps not the right thing to do, since there is already a community attached behind these characters...

And seriously, if the creators really wanted a main LGBTQ+ romance dealing with the Bridgerton universe, they could easily make a spin off dealing specifically with this part of society and how they live.

I'm sure many, including me, will watch such a spin-off ! And damn I would love for something like that to happen !

You see, the opportunity to have an LGBTQ+ romance at the forefront without changing the kind of characters mostly beloved by an audience that already exists. Not very complicated though.

Do you realize how inappropriate it is to insult someone homophobic for that things ?! I don't know what kind of fucking bubble these people live in...

And it's scary to say that you can be insulted by a community of which you are a part, simply for not conforming to everything that is judged 100% morally correct for them.

If you have the misfortune of delay, sometimes there are those who unleash themselves on you to insult you for things that you don't have, simply for a fictional character...

"You don't 100% validate that a fictional male character who has existed for years and whom you have loved for years, with a fairly precise image in mind as a result, becomes a woman in his adaptation ? Well obviously, it's is that you are, at worst, a homophobe, or at least worse an internalized homophobe, and in any case that is not tolerable and you are not a true ally and you are problematic who deserves to be hated."

I don't know if you realize how STUNNING this is ! There really are people on this app who need to get fucking treatment...

And anyway why am I racking my brains ?

There will always be stupid people to come and tell me that what I say is always homophobic because if I have a problem with the change of gender of a fictional character through an adaptation well I'm the real problem.

As they say, you can't change idiots.

So stay stupid if you want, but at least leave me alone.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no one could save me but you

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 2 - solitary confinement | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.9k

summary: You're under the care of Dr. Miller at an inpatient mental health facility. He has a vested interest in your "recovery."

warnings: dark, dark!Joel, dark!pyschologist!Joel, unethical healthcare practices, bad representation of mental health facilities, medical malpractice, corruption kink, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, manipulation, past suicide attempt, sexual abuse, abandonment trauma, inappropriate touching, non-con, abuse of power, look it's a fucked up mental hospital fic—if any of that is potentially triggering skip this one, dead dove do not eat

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the handsome doctor with the kind brown eyes tells your mother. 

Miller, she thinks he’s called. Maybe Josh? John? A good Biblical name; she knows that much. 

“She can’t have visitors. It’s like I said on the phone. She’s a danger to herself and others,” he says, brows knit and a frown turning his pink lips. 

“Won’t she get worse being all alone?” Your mother pleads. 

“I promise you she is rarely alone. It’s just that we can only have trained staff with proper safety precautions around her right now. We’ll call as soon as that changes.” Or as soon as he’s bored of you. 

At the end of the night, Dr. Miller enters your room and your hopeful look wilts before it really even has a chance to bloom. 

“Again?” you whisper. 

He squats down next to where you’re sitting on the floor. “Sorry, sweetheart. I called a few times, but no one picked up.”

This is the sixth weekend in a row that no one has bothered to visit you. And it was really starting to wear you down. 

Enough that your little tantrum had you stuck in this stupid room all alone. Now they give you extra pills, and you succumb, numb and dumb in this soft little world, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re so lonely.

Except at eight pm. You can always count on Dr. Miller to stop by and check in before lights out.

You look up at him with sweet sadness dripping from your eyes, which you wipe on the back of your sleeve. “Thanks anyway,” you say. 

“You been good today?” he asks, reaching over to neaten your sweatshirt where it’s slid down your shoulder. 

“Yes, Doctor.”

He smiles. “Good girl. I know you can get through this,” he says, and it warms you, maybe too much.

You bite your lip and look down. 

“What is it, sweetheart?”

You debate fessing up, but he’s been nothing but kind and gentle with you, and the haze you can’t seem to shake makes you bask in the warmth of his attention. Plus, he said you should tell him if anything changes with your mind or body, in case you react badly to the meds.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” you mumble. 

“Why’s that?”

“It… it makes me feel funny when you say that.”

“When I say what? When I call you a good girl?”

You flush and stare at the plain, endless white of the room. But you nod. 

“Supposed to make you feel good, honey. You’re bein’ a real good girl. Might even be able to start takin’ you outside sometimes.”

“No,” you whisper, voice harsh with shame. “A different kind of feeling. Like a real one.”

“All feelings are real. You mean like a physical one?”

You nod.

“Oh, that’s normal. You feel hot and kind of tingly?”

“Yes, Doctor Miller.”

He beams. “That’s great. That’s huge progress, sweetheart. ”

Sometimes, he can’t believe his luck. A pretty little thing like you nearly kills herself to get out of a betrothal made by zealot parents and falls right into his lap. Well, not literally. Not yet, anyway. 

He’s still building the doctor-patient rapport, so to say. 

You’re so confused; it’s making you a little dizzy. “I think I need to lie down,” you tell him. 

He stands up and offers his hand, which you take, but it’s a mistake. His skin is hot and a little dry, the coarseness brushing against your own. His fingers wrap tight around your hand to pull you to your feet, and you realize no one has touched you in three months. Not in any way. No handshakes, no high fives, no hugs. 

Your lip quivers. You think you’d be embarrassed if that was a feeling you were capable of right now.

“C’mon, let’s get you comfortable,” he says. He doesn’t let go of your hand even though the bed is just a few steps away. 

When you’re settled and have pulled the blanket up to your chest, he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Now, I don’t want you worryin’ yourself about that feeling. It’s supposed to happen, sweetheart. And feeling it means you’re feelin’ something, which is what we’re workin’ towards, right?”

“Yes, Doctor,” you whisper.

“If it’s really botherin’ ya, I can teach you how to make it go away. Or I can teach ya how to make it better.”

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and he’s hard as a fuckin’ rock. He takes your hand again, rubbing his thumb back and forth. 

“Are you—do you mean—” you stammer, panic rising. “I’m not—”

“I know, sweetheart, but I think that’s part of the problem.” He hasn’t yet gotten you to eschew your parents’ programming, not that your mother knows he’s trying to, but he’ll break you of it one way or another.

“It ain’t bad to feel that way. It’s natural. But I think you’ve felt this way before, hmm?”

You nod, looking at the white knit blanket where your hand lays in his. 

“Wanna know what else I think?” he whispers conspiratorially. 

You look up at him, biting your lip. 

He takes it for permission. “You were so scared of gettin’ married because you were afraid he’d know you liked it.”

You shrink under his analysis. This is wrong, wrong; you should not be having this conversation at all, let alone with a strange man. But… he isn’t strange, not really. He’s your doctor. If you can’t trust him, who can you trust?

“So how do you fix me?” you ask.

“A lot like this. Talkin’, like we always do. Could try some exposure therapy, get you used to your own feelings. If you’re okay with it, we could try a little right now.” 

“What?” 

“We’ll start real slow, like how we eased you into group.” Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure you’ll have relapsed a little after this long in solitary. Well, nothin’ he can’t fix again. “But today’d just be me seein’ where your comfort levels are at so we know how to move forward.”

It makes sense, you think. It makes your stomach feel like a washing machine, but in theory, it sounds reasonable. He knows what he’s doing, after all. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay. You want me to get gloves on, or are you okay with my skin touchin’ yours?” He’s slowly peeling the blanket back.

“S’fine,” you say, fists clenching the sheets as you try not to seize onto your dignity. 

He scoots back on the bed. “Just gonna lift up your gown, okay? Nice, deep breaths like we practiced.” 

You focus on a spot on the wall just past his shoulder and inhale slowly through your nose, exhaling in a huff from your mouth. 

He’s drawn the gown up and nudged your legs apart a little. “Slower, sweetheart, take it nice and easy.”

His hand moves between your legs and you flinch, almost snapping your knees shut. His other hand rubs up and down on your calf. “S’alright, you’re okay. I’m not going to go inside just yet, okay? Just want you to see what it’s like to have a hand close.”

He gently, but firmly, cups your mound, and you suck in a breath, jerking in place. 

“That okay?”

You have to take a few more deep breaths and think about it, feeling the weight of his palm against part of you that no one’s ever known. “It’s, um. It’s nice. Warm.” 

“Just keep breathin’ nice and slow for me, okay?” 

He’s looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes, the ones that have made you feel seen and heard for the three months that you’ve been here. The ones that got cold and empty when you told him how the hospital had treated you, how your parents had reacted. 

What your fiance had said when he found out. 

The ones that were warm and clever, little crows’ feet at the corners and a pinch between his brow as he studied you. 

And you relax a little, taking a slow breath that filled you to the brim, letting it wash away as his hand began to rub wide circles between your legs. 

“That’s it, honey, you’re doing great. Well beyond my anticipation, actually.” Well, his expectation. His anticipation was a whole different metric that had his heart pounding. 

“Let’s slide your panties down and see how you react to skin contact, okay? Same thing, just without clothes in the way.”

You bite your lip but nod, wide eyes watching as his thick thumbs hook into either side and tug. You raise your hips a little, allowing him to dispose of the white cotton with ease. 

“Doin’ so well for me. Such a good girl,” he murmurs, stroking one finger up and down the seam of your cunt. 

You whimper, so he stills.

“S’matter?”

“N-nothing,” you say. “Just… it’s so intense.” 

“Want me to get you used to that or do we need to stop for today?”

“No!” you cover your face. “I mean. No, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

It’s good that you’re hiding, because you miss the flash of a smirk. He resumes his gentle stroking as your breath goes ragged.

“Doctor Miller, I feel weird,” you mumble. 

“Yeah? You feel it right here?” his other hand traces fingertips over your pelvis. 

“Uh-huh. It’s… it’s so much. I don’t know,” you choke off a gasp as the tip of his finger nudges open your labia, just the width of a breath, but it makes you dizzy.

You clutch at your temple. “Is this because I’m crazy? B-because my head’s so messed up?” Everything feels like it’s spinning. 

“No, sweet girl. It’s supposed to feel like this. You’re supposed to feel good.” 

“I-I-I—” but you can’t get it out, the last syllable reaching a squeak as he traces just inside your lips. 

He pulls away. “Alright, you’ve pushed through enough for today. You did so well, honey. Tomorrow, I’ll show you somethin’ real good, okay? It should help ya, clear your head a bit.” 

You whine as he stands up. “Doctor, please, I feel… it hurts.”

“I’m sorry. It’ll fade in a moment. You’re not ready, darlin’. Remember how hard it was the first time you went out to the rec room? And it didn’t feel good after?”

You nod. 

“It’s kinda like that. You gotta acclimate. Don’t worry. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

“Doctor,” you start hesitantly. 

“Yeah?”

“When can I get out?”

“Like outta the hospital or outta this room?”

“This room,” you say, lip quivering. You’re so, so lonely, and you know he’s about to go home for the night and leave you here with no one, nothing.

He sighs. “It’s not fully up to me.”

“But you-you said I’ve been so good,” you say, tears welling.

“Don’t cry, honey. You’ll get out, it’s just… ya gotta keep showing me you’re gonna be good, okay? Ya scared some ‘a the others.”

“I didn’t mean to, I won’t do it again,” you say, unable to stop the burning tears from spilling over. You hadn’t. All you had done was throw one book across the rec room at the end of visiting hours, unable to hold back the heartbreak of being left alone again. 

“I know, sweetheart. I’ll see what I can do. Be good, now,” he says, jacket rippling a little as he sweeps out of the door. The lock clunks, and you lay back, lost in his overwhelming wake.

*title from "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak

[hoyotournament]

FINALS!!! Furina vs Kiana Kaslana

(Propaganda under the cut)

Furina:

the girl who saved fontaine. condemned herself to a life of silent pain and suffering without any warning or preparation. she could confide in no one, seek out help from no one, all while bearing the weight of her entire nation on her shoulders. not only did her willpower save everyone in fontaine, but after the prophecy was averted, she was finally allowed to live a normal life.

Kiana Kaslana:

TLDR: she's kiana kaslana what do you MEAN!!!! kiana is a beautifully written character who fully encapsulates what hi3 is about and she's so full of love and guilt and (most importantly) hope. she's a clone who struggles with her own identity/inhumanity and traumas extending from when she was a young child and her guilt but is so so resilient and so so so so compassionate which ultimately reinforces her humanity :)

kiana's character IS the honkai impact thesis statement. i don't even mean it as in she's the literal main character and face of honkai i genuinely mean it when i say she just IS honkai impact. she reflects every single theme that they portray [hope over nihilism (chapter 25 || the flame chasers and just. the previous era in general), having agency over your identity and your own story (himeko, her being k423 and being so linked to sirin, everlasting flames || the kaslana household name honestly, bronya, fu hua, mei, sirin), believing in the humanity's inherent worth (chapter 25, arc city || elysia <- important since as a current era herrscher, she is a successor to elysia AND as kiana kaslana, she is a narrative parallel of elysia), having faith in the youth (himeko, kevin || the other flame chasers! notably su), etc.] her character being so reflective is also sooooo OUGH to think about when you view it as a reflection of honkai's 50,000 year samsara because kiana is a representation of these themes coming full circle (especially since many of these stretch back to the previous era and elysia).

SHE FEELS SO MUCH. she's so full of love and guilt. she clearly prioritizes others over herself and part of her arc is her learning to value and love herself as well!!! she would give herself for the world ten times over because she holds so much affection for humanity!! (WHILE FEELING DEHUMANIZED BECAUSE OF HER IDENTITY AS BOTH A HERRSCHER AND K423) and it's actively apart of her character's growth :'')

dear god her growth… okok. so i think first you have to understand that a lot of kiana's growth obviously coincides w general maturity as she grows from a teenager to a young adult. but aside from that i think people often forget that younger kiana is incredibly self sufficient since her father literally left her with little to no explanation when she was like. what 8? the insecurity she feels at that! the anger she has to navigate while also balancing it with her own feelings of missing and loving him. basically: kiana has struggled a lot w instability and is thus kinda good at navigating it. ex: she isnt shaken by nagazora and literally tries again and again and again to save mei and convince mei to let her help. the thing is this fucks w her a bit though because a big thing that she does as a means to cope w instability is avoiding them (not reflective of real life of course, but in the fictional hi3 this is partially represented in kiana's repressed memories about her actual origins as k423). she can not stand the realization that she killed himeko that she's so deep in denial and doesnt truly realize it until more than 10 chapters after himeko dies! she's so horrified with her being a herrscher she actively tries to not use her powers out of fear, even when it puts her in harms way (the chapter XI-EX CG!!!!!! her literally trying to kill herself!!) she literally runs away from her friends and loved ones because she's so scared of hurting them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! which is why her promise to himeko to not run away is so important!! because it addresses one of kiana's biggest flaws!!!!! this is especially important bc her refusal to continue her avoidance feeds into her arc during the herrscher of dominion chapters where she both faces her own guilt/identity and deliberately chooses perseverance and hope over nihilism!! she is hope!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!