#mine. that is. my cognitive dissonance

[latracyde]

ugh gay people can't ever flirt normally 🙄

this is fanart for @punch-love of his fic love-punch, which you can read here :-) this scene is from chapter 2

(except i was too focused on drawing their suits to figure out how to convey their injuries. like wade's collapsed chest and broken legs. i couldn't wrap my head around what that would look like from over his suit >_>)

sketched on paper and colored digitally

[benetnvsch]

sigh- ok so ,,, some context if u want this to make sense,,, basically I saw this Bungo dog tweet earlier (Please watch it, nothing else will make sense if u don't , plus it is legitimately hilarious to me at least </3)

and just,, mmm had to draw kunikida from it because him ruining furry s0k0ku's family (?) and then being put in this outfit (???) fucking had me destroyed- good for him fkjsdhfkjh-

(i have very mixed feeling abt it overall so I may private it later but who knows ogughhhKDJHKDJ)

[indifferentcookie]

“what’s bad about being strange?” as i contrast this strangeness with a darker, more mysterious strangeness of which i hold an inherent dislike

[britishdisasters]

.

[luminiamore]

my love, mine all mine.

eren yeager x black female reader (bestfriend)

warnings: oral sex, fluffyness, jealous eren, soft sex, eren is kinda a nerd, creampies and a tight grip super soaker

enjoy and happy late valentine’s day!! :))

You were buried in your textbooks at your campus library, the various pages spread out before you. Psychology. An interesting major if you say so yourself. You thought it’d be simple enough: learning about how the human mind works and what makes people tick. It was fascinating, really.

And yet here you were, hunched over on the slightly uncomfortable chair, trying your hardest to remember exactly what your professor meant by “cognitive dissonance” and how it related to human behavior. You could feel your mind starting to wander as you tried to read through this particularly dense section.

Your focus was absolute, trying to absorb as much as you could for your upcoming midterm. The world outside this small corner you had found didn’t exist—just you and your thoughts. The peace and quiet here were comforting. It was rare that you could study without distractions and were determined to take full advantage of it.

You sighed and momentarily leaned back in your chair, the quiet hum of the library your only companion. The chair creaked slightly as you stretched, glancing out the window. Students were scattered everywhere, likely heading to their next class. The soft light from the afternoon sun cast a gentle glow through the glass, and you found a certain beauty in it.

You’re about to head back to your studies when something interrupts you. Someone, actually.

A shadow loomed over your desk, casting a slight imbalance in your peaceful space. A little startled, you looked up to see a tall figure standing beside you. You didn’t need to look too hard to recognize him—Eren—your best friend since grade school.

You blinked, a bit caught off guard. He wore a white wife beater that clung to his frame a little too tight. His jeans looked worn, with traces of dirt hinting at a long work day. A mechanic’s job was never exactly pristine, you guessed. He must’ve just gotten off his shift.

“You studying?” his voice smooth like it always was when he was trying to get your attention.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes softly. “What does it look like?” You gestured to the open textbooks and scattered notes with a slight flush. You mentally, thank God, it wasn’t visible. “Psych is kicking my ass. I’m starting to wonder why I thought this would be easy.”

He leaned against the edge of your table, his arms crossed. His recent gym visits have been seriously paying off, and it’s impossible not to notice. You look away from him and face your laptop, determined not to let him catch you staring. “Maybe you thought you could magically understand the human psyche,” he’s teasing you like he always does.

You shot him a half-smile, unable to resist his charm. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought,” sarcasm dripping from your voice. “But I’m pretty sure I’m about to fail the midterm at this rate.”

He stifles a snicker. “Nah, you’re too smart for that.” He pushed himself off the table, walked around to the chair next to you, and sat down casually. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You tried not to let his proximity distract you, but it was hard. Downright impossible. His scent—a mix of motor oil, the fresh air from his work, and something else uniquely him—was all around you now. It was distracting. Stubborn that you are, you brush it off. Doesn’t mean anything. You shifted in your seat, pretending to focus on the words on the screen. Focus.

“So, what exactly is giving you the most trouble?” his gaze never leaving you.

You exhaled deeply, closing your textbook with a slight thud. “Theories of personality,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I just can’t wrap my head around it. Freud and Jung… are so complicated. Like, how are we supposed to remember all this?”

He gives you an uncommitted hum and starts explaining it to you. Eren had this ability to make anything he said sound convincing, even if it was complete bullshit. You suppose it’s his confidence.

He was close. Too close.

He leaned in when describing Freud, his arm brushing against yours as he pointed at your notes. The warmth of his bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to focus on the words he was saying and not the way his voice sounded when he spoke so close to your ear.

His eyes stayed on you even as you stared down at your notes. They were sharp as if he were studying you more than the material before you. He tilted his head slightly, watching the way your lips parted in thought, the way your fingers tapped absently against the notebook as you processed what he had just explained.

He always thought you were beyond beautiful.

“You just need to simplify it,” he interrupts his own thoughts from going further.

He never hesitated to break the invisible barriers most people respected. You had never minded before. At least, you told yourself you didn’t.

When he finally finished his explanation, you blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by how easily he made it all make sense. For a second, you forgot how smart he was.

“Okay, that helps,” you murmured, scribbling down his words before they slipped from your mind. You could still feel his gaze on you, but you kept your focus trained on the paper in front of you, trying to ignore how your fingers suddenly felt clumsier holding the pen. “I forget you have an almost 4.0.”

Eren leaned back, stretching lazily, the movement drawing your attention to the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt. What is wrong with you today? He simply shrugged, “I’m just that good.”

That twinkle in his eyes—that mischievous glint he always had after saying something cocky—made your stomach flip in a way that annoyed you. You were used to it, used to him, but lately, it felt different. Lately, you were noticing too much.

His voice softened just a little as he added, “But, seriously, you’re gonna ace this thing. I believe in you.”

You forced yourself to roll your eyes, but the small, grateful smile you gave him betrayed you.

“Thanks, Ren,” you said quietly, tapping your pen against your notebook, something you picked up as a nervous habit. You cleared your throat, needing to shake the feeling away. “I trust you or whatever.”

“Good,” he replied instantly, watching you a beat longer than necessary. “But if you fail, I’ll take the blame.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Sure. I’ll blame the nigga who cheated his way through high school but somehow knows more about psychology than I do.”

His smirk widened, and instead of arguing, he gave you a wide smile, looking way too pleased with himself.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The library had started to empty out after a few hours, the quiet hum of students packing up their things filling the space around you. You sighed, stretching your arms over your head as you finally closed your textbook. “I think that’s enough psych for one night,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

Eren, who had been scrolling through his phone while waiting for you to finish, pushed off the table with a lazy grin. “Took you long enough.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, stuffing your belongings into the LV monochrome bag Eren had gotten you for your birthday last year. He sees it as a way of staking his claim on you. He fell into step beside you effortlessly as you walked out of the library, the cool evening air from the hallway AC brushing against your skin.

“You actually gonna remember any of that next week?” he asked, nudging your shoulder.

You huffed. “I’d like to think so.”

He snorted, shaking his head, but before he could get another jab in, a voice called out your name from just ahead.

You both turned in unison.

A guy. From your psych class—tall, almost matching Eren’s height, though not quite—was making his way toward you. His curls were neat, framing his face in a way that made him look effortlessly put together. His skin was fair, and his smile was easy and friendly.

He was dressed in a fitted long-sleeve shirt, the fabric clinging just enough to suggest he worked out but not in a way that screamed it. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were toned. It was paired with gray sweats. He was cute.

His hands were shoved into his pockets, his stride unhurried as he approached, like he had all the time in the world. His gaze flickered between you and Eren briefly before settling on you, his smile widening just a touch as he finally spoke.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to catch you before you left.”

You blinked in surprise, vaguely recognizing him in lectures from a few rows ahead of you. He was one of those students who always had the answer, constantly engaged in class discussions. A teacher’s pet almost. You never really talked outside of the occasional group work.

Your best friend shifted beside you. His arms remained loosely crossed over his chest, but there was a new stiffness in his stance, as if he was suddenly more aware of his own posture. His weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other, his jaw ticking just the slightest bit. You didn’t think much of it at first—Eren was always fidgeting in some way.

You tilted your head slightly, blinking up at the guy. “Oh—what’s up?”

He hesitated just a second as if gathering the nerve, before rubbing the back of his neck with a small, almost sheepish smile. “I, uh… I’ve seen you in class a lot, and, well… I was wondering if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime? Maybe this Saturday?”

There was a beat of silence.

Your brain took longer than usual to process what he said. It wasn’t like people never asked you out, but something about this moment—maybe the unexpectedness of it, maybe the presence of Eren beside you—had you hesitating.

Your best friend, however, didn’t hesitate at all.

You felt the way his jaw tightened, just a tiny twitch, but you noticed it because you always notice things about him. His stance changed, going from casually relaxed to something more grounded, like he was unconsciously bracing himself. Learning Psychology does pay off in some cases.

His voice, when it came, was firm.

“Sorry, we have plans that day. Don’t we, (꣑ৎ)?”

Your eyes flickered toward Eren, surprise flashing across your face, but he didn’t look at you. His gaze remained locked on the guy in front of you, his expression is unreadable. His green eyes, usually lazy and half-lidded with amusement, were hardened now in a way that sent a clear message. She’s unavailable.

It seems the guy wasn’t so easily deterred. He hesitated only for a second before his strained smile returned, a little tighter than before. “Oh. Sunday, then?”

His voice was lighter, forcedly casual—like he was only picking up on the tension in the air.

You barely had time to open your mouth, to form even the beginning of a response, before Eren spoke for you. Again. Are you just invisible?

“No can do,” his tone leaving no room for argument. “She has a midterm coming up that she needs to study for.” His head tilted slightly, almost like he was appraising the guy in front of him, before adding, “Speaking of, you should be catching up on that too, right?”

The question wasn’t really a question, that much you knew.

The guy stood there, blinking, an almost shocked look on his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. His mouth opened slightly before closing again, and for the first time since approaching you, he seemed genuinely unsure of himself.

Eren, more than satisfied with that reaction, barely gave him another second to recover before turning toward you. “We’ll be leaving now,” he said simply.

And just like that, he placed a hand against the small of your back, steering you down the hallway without so much as another glance at the guy he had just dismissed. You walked in silence, your mind racing, but you held your tongue, deciding to wait until you reached your dorm room before you interrogated him on whatever the hell just happened.

The soft click of your shoes echoed in the otherwise quiet hallway. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that Eren had done more than step in to save you from a potentially awkward situation. The way he responded, the way he shut it all down before you even had a chance to speak—it wasn’t the usual playful teasing that he was known for.

As you reached the door to your dorm, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Okay, what the fuck was that?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Eren didn’t even flinch. His posture was relaxed as if he already knew you were going to challenge him, as if he was waiting for it. He didn’t even look at you when he spoke. “What are you talking about?”

You raised an eyebrow, the frustration in you bubbling to the surface. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You practically scared him off and answered for me like I couldn’t say no myself.”

Eren pushed himself off the doorframe right then, he didn’t wait for you to catch up—he just walked into your room, leaving the door hanging open. “I just did what needed to be done,” he shrugged.

His back was still to you, and you couldn’t entirely ignore the way his long, dark hair—extensions, you’d noticed before—swung just below his shoulders as he moved. He always looks so pretty with his hair down.

You followed him inside, refusing to let go of the subject.

“What needed to be done? Are you serious? Eren, you shut the guy down before he could even finish his sentence. I barely had a chance to say anything.” You stopped in the doorway, trying to keep your voice steady before you slammed the door shut.

Eren turned to face you, a grin slowly spreading across his face, like he found it all amusing. His eyes got slightly hooded as he eyed you up and down. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, and all he could think about was.. How could he let anyone else have you?

“Why are you upset? He was making you uncomfortable. It’s my job to step in when that happens.” His gaze flickered over to your face once more, almost like he was daring you to argue.

Before you could respond, he adds, “Unless… you wanted to go out with him?”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief, dropping you bag on the nearby desk before turning back to face him, “I wouldn’t even know, cause once again, you didn’t even give me a chance to respond!”

He groaned, the sound almost exaggerated. His eyes rolled dramatically, like he was irked that you weren’t just agreeing with him. “Oh please, girl. He wasn’t even taller than me. He looks scrawny as fuck. He looks like a pussy. You deserve someone better than that.” He practically waved the whole thing off with a flick of his hand.

You stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words.

“And what? That someone is you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted how it sounded—like you were baiting him.

Eren stepped closer to where you were standing, closing the space between you. His body was warm, his scent—it was clouding you as he looked down at you. There was a beat of silence.

His response comes out slow, “Could be,”

Your breath hitches, almost caught in your throat. You mind can’t understand what is happening, it never can when Eren is this close to you. His eyes are dark, more intense than they’d been a moment ago. Your pulse quickens, and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at his lips for a split second before snapping your gaze back up to his eyes. With the way your mouth opens and closes repeated, it was clear you didn’t know what to say.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Eren’s voice was barely a whisper now, his breath warm against your lips, his hand tentatively grasping your waist.

“Nothing,” you manage to whisper, your voice coming out shaky, unsure if you even believe your own words.

Eren’s lips twitch upward at your lie, you’re so cute sometimes. You’re fucking gorgeous all the time. His grip gets slightly tighter when he feels you don’t push away. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, from leaning into how the heat in your chest turns into something that pools low in your stomach.

“You’re lying,” he murmurs, voice rougher now. His thumb traces mindlessly circles on your skin, and you find yourself losing all self-control.

Your heart is racing, but it’s not from fear. Far from it. It’s from the way he’s making you feel alive in a way that only he could do. You can feel the uncomfortable stickiness pooling underneath your skirt.

His other hand moves up, cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. There’s no mistaking the way his eyes flicker down to your lips again, and there’s a certain hunger in them.

His voice carries that commanding tone you’ve always known too well. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his thumb gently grazing your bottom lip, making you inhale sharply. “Lemme help you get the words out. That okay?”

And when he does lean in, it’s not like anything you ever felt before. His lips brush against yours gently at first, being the tease that he is. Then, without warning, he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming up to slide into your neatly done butterfly locs, gripping it just enough to tilt your head back slightly.

You’re desperate, and your best friend knows it—the way your fingers clutch at the thin fabric of his shirt, practically begging. He pulls away just long enough to yank it over his head. The string of spit still barely connecting you makes something dark flicker in his eyes, his restraint snapping completely. The next kiss he goes in for is more forceful.

You try to push eren back, just a little, but he barely budges—barely even lets you catch your breath. The taste of him is overwhelming, as you manage to get the words out between shallow breaths. “Ren, Are you—Are you sure about this?”

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.” He moves fast, tugging the strings of your white top, pushing it down until it slips from your shoulders, falling to the floor. His lips stay on yours, the sweet taste of your strawberry lip gloss making him crave more. He feels like he might cum, just from kissing you—embarrassing as that is.

You’re the one more concerned, your voice faltering, “But what—Ah! I don’t want to ruin our friend…ship.”

His lips wander further down. Pressing feather-light kisses to the crook of your shoulders before he moves back up to where your sweet spot is. He doesn’t hesitate to harshly grip your beautiful breasts, pulling at both of your brown nipples the best he can while his mouth and brain are preoccupied. The moan you let out is sinful, staggering, really, as you find your brain getting more hazy with each move he makes.

You think he hasn’t heard you when he doesn’t answer right away. Eren gently pushes you back, guiding you to the chair by your desk. He makes you sit with a firm hand and then drops to his knees in front of you, his gaze intense as he speaks again, “You really wanna stay just friends after this?”

He sucks at the skin of your soft thighs as his hands work to slip your boots off. Your eyes widen when he unbuttons your shorts, prompting you to slightly lift up to make it easier for him to slide it off of you. Before you can answer his previous questions, he’s interrupting you, “No bra or panties? Were you expecting this to happen (꣑ৎ)?”

You release a pathetic whimper when he moves closer to your sopping core, taking a deep inhale like he’s trying to commit your scent to his memory forever. You shake your head at his accusation, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe you when he takes two of his thick fingers to spread you open, revealing your tiny clit barely hidden behind its hood.

“You’re making a mess, baby. You need my help to clean it up?”

He needs to shut up. His words, his voice, do nothing but make you wetter. Eren slowly starts rubbing your clit, barely applying enough pressure to give you the stimulate you need and it’s starting to get you frustrated. “Answer Ren, baby. Do you need my help?”

You let out a cute squeal when he blows on your mound, and you’re too depraved to do anything but listen. “Yes! Yes, please help me!”

And nothing if not devoted to you, he listens. Eren places a wet, open-mouth kiss on your twitching pearl. He’s slow with his movements, savoring the honey-like taste of you that’s just pouring into his awaiting mouth. He moves his tongue in slow circles, up and down, drinking the juice coming from your slit.

You’re struggling to breathe, the pressure that’s building up all too quickly is too overwhelming. He’s not just eating you out. Eren is making love to your sweet pussy. It’s breaking you apart.

His ministrations on your dripping sap continue for a minute before he gets impatient and slips one long finger inside of you. And God, you’re tight. Gripping onto his finger so firmly, it’s almost like you never want him to leave. He begins pushing them in and out slowly.

You breathe out, “Eren! Oh my- Goddd.”

The squelches your pussy was singing become louder and more obscene. Your best friend considers that as his starting point to add another finger that is equally big and long. They both curl up to reach your G-spot instantly. The minute he found it, he just didn’t let up. Despite his slow pace, he continues to abuse your sensitive area. You’re gonna cum.

“Are you gonna cum? All over my ‘pretty’ face?” He’s throwing your own words right back at you. You were never shy about telling Eren how good he looked, and maybe that’s exactly how you ended up here.

You’re quick to nod, unable to keep silent as broken moans escape from your mouth, “M’gonna c-cum! Right there- Oh!”

How quickly your release hits you is unexpected. You gush. Streams of squirt land all over Eren’s fingers, and his face even lands on his hair, leaving it a bit damp. He gazes in astonishment as your eyes roll in the back of your head during your dramatic convulsions, and he groans into your essence. He looks down to look at the mess you made and— Oh. You creamed, too.

Fuck. He loves it. He loves that he’s the only one who can make you do that. He loves you. He also realizes that he needs to be inside you. Now.

The movements he makes, from removing you from the chair to your single bed, are hazy. You’re not sure how you got there; your brain is still trying to process the most intense, body-curling orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. But you’re quick to feel something wide and heavy pressing at your still-gushing entrance.

“M’gonna put it in now, kay?” Eren figures giving you a warning is the least he could do before rearranging your guts and mushing your insides.

You beg him to fuck you already by whining and grinding on his leaking tip. After laughing at the sight, he leans in to give you a deep kiss. You’re gasping and mewling in his mouth as you finally feel him push in.

He’s gasping in your mouth. Feeling his mind starting to scramble at the feeling of suffocating cunt. God, you’re perfect. “Is it- Is it in yet?”

He snickers. God, you’re just so cute. “No, baby. Not even halfway.”

You’re whimpering, hiccuping as small tears start to pool in your lower lash line. You’re clenching around him so tightly, and the more he pushes in, he is trying his best not to cum so quickly. He decides to plunge the rest of his eight inches in one go. Fuck you’re so loud, sputtering and wailing at the feeling of being so.. Full. You’re so full.

“Move- Move, please. Oh my-”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He steadily drags his cock away from your cervix, pulling out all the way before he pushes back inside again, hard. He repeats this. Once, twice, thrice more, and God, you “Can’t take it-it.”

He shushes your whines, kissing the tears falling down your cheeks, reaffirming you, “Of course you can, baby. I’ll even help you, yeah?”

His attentiveness is entirely too much. You’re babbling when his hand reaches in between you both to rub your swollen clit in rapid circles. A complete contrast to his way of fucking you.

The pressure in your lower abdomen is building at such a fast speed. Every harsh thrust against your cervix is painful like he’s trying to prove a point. But it feels oh so good.

“You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum, baby. Make a mess, just like you did on my face. Can you do that for me?”

You’re nodding and spluttering incoherently about how you can, how you will. You’d do anything for him. Both of your holes are releasing the most beautiful sounds. Eren presses a messy kiss onto your plump lips without waiting for you to respond, causing drool to escape from both of you. The sheets below you are feelable because of your wetness.

With a few more strokes, your body convulses once more. This time, your best friend has an up-close view of how beautiful you look in your most vulnerable state. Your orgasm gets even stronger when you feel Eren whimper against your lips and his own release, caused by the feeling of your spraying all over him.

His thrusts don’t change its pace as he stuffs you full of his seed. Your eyes look dazed, your makeup slightly ruined, and your lip combo nowhere to be found. He still can’t help but think you look just as gorgeous. He places one final peck on your lips before he speaks once more,

“I’m taking you out on a date this Saturday.”

Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said you two had plans that day.

🏷️: @keraawrites

[dduane]

Erotica and anniversaries

...The big E, first. Here she is. Isn't she lovely?

...Right there upstairs at the Library of Congress, on the second floor. (I noted at the time we passed through some years back—and continue to smile at the memory—that her artist has included his copyright statement right there, to make sure no one misses it.)

...Anyway, where were we? ...Oh yeah: the local takes on erotic writing and smut.

This subject seems to come up every couple of years. What nudged me into revisiting it this time was the notes off a comment to a post earlier today, responding to someone working on an explicit-leaning AU, and discussing the writing of (story) bibles for projects.

Anyway, the notes:

#love that the advice was not just 'stick to porn' or 'don't write porn at all' but 'ah yes; common problem; let me explain to you how to write a series bible'

Well, disclosure here: in my case, it can't really be otherwise. :)

Let this act as everybody's sort-of-biennial reminder (if needed) that I'm not going to be caught condemning people for writing smut, as I've written it myself. (And continue to do so when the mood moves me.)

The post from very nearly two years ago, discussing the issue in more detail, is over here. As you'll see if you read it, there were some folks who experienced brief episodes of cognitive dissonance on learning I was a cheerful writer of explicit material. Some of the surprise was probably due to the fact that a lot of people see me—mostly due to the relatively-higher profile of the Young Wizards books—as primarily a writer for younger readers.

But that's not how I got started. My (1979) debut novel centers a universe where the following exchange between two of the protagonists appears—they then being wrapped up in blankets and afterglow in the wake of a prolonged and enthusiastic post-reunion shag:

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Nor was this a one-off. This book and its sequels contain a fair number of passages in which human (and occasionally non-human) sexualities, both in the abstract and the experientially concrete, take center stage. And the mode in which they're expressed and discussed is intended for adults. Those sequences can probably be described as at least borderline erotica. (I certainly try had to be as graceful about such passages as I can, when and where it's appropriate to be.)

With this in mind, it's worth repeating what turns up in that earlier post, which came off a query to a ficcer about "how do you feel knowing that people may be jerking off to your work?":

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say...

Other people's art in these modes certainly is entertaining for me: and I desperately hope mine is for other people. (Almost all my more explicit writing is published only pseudonymously, which from my point of view is just fine. There's a fair amount of writing work out in the world that [for contractual or other business reasons] doesn't have my name on it. This is just more of the same.)

(Per that, adding here again my own tags from that earlier post:)

#and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:)

Anyway, finally: from that earlier post—on nearly the thirty-eighth anniversary of something happening to me that would, just a year before the event, have seemed wildly unlikely—this note, unusually apposite because of what today is, and what's coming tomorrow.

I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed…) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you’re willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it’s to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-plus-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and more than three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added… let’s just say nuance. 😏

So, happy Valentine's Day to all those who choose to celebrate, in whatever mode.

And to the Man Upstairs:

...See you in a few, sweetie. :)

[actual-changeling]

this one is thanks to a post by @thegroovyfool because she is very much correct - we do not talk about aziraphale's "i need you" enough.

so once again, with a deep breath and a sigh, welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner, where i tear apart the confession scene frame by frame. i'm gonna say, watching this particular clip over and over and focusing on aziraphale's face almost took me out.

let's get into it.

first, how about a little look at our starting point. (any blurry screencaps are due to a LOT of movement on michael's part rip)

crowley is very pointedly facing away from him, he turned after aziraphale said "we can be together - angels!", presumably because being offered exactly what he wants in the one way he cannot have it fried his brain, cause besties it surely fried mine.

aziraphale on the other hand looks openly desperate, which is why he says "i need you." more on that later. let's have a look at how he says it, because michael "microexpressions" sheen is putting in the work.

to me, he seems close to tears, his eyes are glistening in that specific "i'm about to cry my eyes out" way i know from looking in the mirror while crying

he is trying to get crowley to listen to him and to turn around. he wants crowley to face him, which is something most people tend to want during an argument. talking to someone who is not looking at you tends to make someone frustrated and like they're not hearing you/do not care about what you have to say.

aziraphale looks close to despair, his i need you is a plea to crowley to come with him. he is opening himself up not just emotionally but physically, too.

he slightly leans forward, his arms are raised and seem to both slightly grasp for crowley and point towards his chest/heart for emphasis. the pure pain visible on his face knocks the air out of me every single time i look at it.

aziraphale is admitting to needing him, something he has never done before, hell, he has told him the exact opposite on numerous occasions. i don't need you. and while they both knew it was a) a lie and b) a way for him to deal with his conflicting emotional standpoints and cognitive dissonance, it still hurt crowley every. single time.

crowley was there for him no matter what, he knows aziraphale needs him but he came back and remained at his side even when he was pushed away and more or less openly insulted. he endured it all.

aziraphale saying i need you now is pretty much a slap in the face but also what crowley needs to hear. as with everything that happens during the entire conversation, the timing is fucked up and they're talking past each other.

in my opinion, that is why crowley does not react.

only when aziraphale turns spiteful and starts questioning his understanding (aka calling him stupid without outright saying it) does he re-enter the conversation.

aziraphale, however, is upset. now, i will put on my tinhat for just a second and turn up the insanity because there are two more things i want to talk about.

first, the little stutter at the beginning.

"i ngk - i need you."

my question is - why? why does he stumble over these words in particular when it does not happen with any other sentence? the only other time is right after crowley walks away with his "good luck", he stumbles over crowley's name.

so, in short, it happens when he is either caught off-guard or saying something incredible emotional.

and this, everyone, is where i go unhinged in my interpretation.

what if he initially did not want to say "i need you?" what if he was so caught up in getting crowley to stay/come with him that he did not think and almost confessed another three word sentence?

what if he was about to say "i love you" but stopped himself because no, that's too direct, they don't do that, they can't do that. it goes against EVERYTHING they have silently build over the last six thousand years. so he chokes on it. he chokes on it and instead he says "i need you" because it means the same thing.

i need you. don't leave me. come with me. be an us. go off together.

i forgive you. i love you.

they say it over and over again because that's the only way they can say it.

that is why aziraphale is so angry and upset after saying it. he told crowley he loves him, he needs him, and all he got in return was silence.

the funny part is that this code may have worked before, but it no longer does. crowley is too hurt to listen to what aziraphale is trying to tell him, and aziraphale is equally as hurt and also not listening anymore.

the funny part is that it stopped being about love and started being about sides again. my side, your side, our side. choose a side, choose our side, choose me.

the funny part is that beelzebub and gabriel told them what they need to do, i found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

While I'm on a kick of being really open about my sexuality, lets just start throwing shit out there and seeing how people interact with it

People who have followed me from the beginning will know that most of my partners get some quippy little nickname assigned to them in place of a name for the internet, and I want to name that this actually DOESN'T come from where might think (or rather it's still infosec, but it goes beyond "don't post the actual names of people you fuck online"

In the scene I have most cultural context for, people often came to group play sessions with an alias (I have one too lol, and it's the only name I ever introduce myself to partners as, mine has been static for going on a decade now). You would introduce yourselves to playmates under your alias, and often you would continue to use it as a marker of in-scene vs out-scene topics of conversation (e.g. sometimes people will talk about their aliases in third person as a whole entity with their own motivation, life, and power, my mom used to talk about "her friend [redacted 1]" if she ever needed to be able to reference a thing without naming explicitly that she and [redacted 1] were the same person, and there are friends of hers who still call her exclusively by that name in private because they have loved each other for going on 50 years now and [redacted 1] is still their partner and love even if mom isn't and vice versa).

So for example, on here, I will refer to any metamours by the plural-inclusive term The Metamour with very little discussion of which one or how many there are or whatever. But in person, I call one metamour [redacted 2] and another metamour [redacted 3] because they were introduced to me by their aliases first, and I genuinely DID NOT KNOW THEY'RE ACTUAL NAMES until after we had become real friends lol.

Anyway, Youtube Boy doesn't know that his nickname here is Youtube Boy, and that's not his alias in scene, nor his actual name, but critically these terms allow me to side step early uncertainties around terms like "boyfriend/girlfriend/datemate/etc" which may imply a degree of romantic entanglement I'm genuinely uncomfortable with. On occasion during this round of posting, I have gone "well it's CLEARER tho" and tried to type out "my boyfriend" about one of my current partners (partner does not carry this same issue for me, as I have always carried dual connotations of Romantic Oartner and Play Partner, so I feel no discomfort/cognitive dissonance with it's implications) and every time I do it I physically cringe away from the screen and delete it. Maybe he wouldn't feel the same way, and hell maybe I won't forever either! But I have almost never been willing to use a word like boyfriend without fairly explicit conversations about commitment, meaning to each other, and boundaries that just don't come up all the time in play partnerships for me you know?

Anyway, what I'm saying here is that sometimes the point of being a slut is to get to be every iteration of yourself that you love being independently from each other in a space that adequately facilitates that iteration of you. I like the people I play with to each get absolutely all of me that is available to them, and I **LIKE** that this often means I get to spend time as different important aspects of self, wholly and without self-doubt or minimization.

And hell, sometimes I even name the iteratioms and let them become something bigger than just a "version of me" and that can be fun too.

[shadowsofdread]

inspired by the poll about theron shan's romantic chemistry with each of the origin classes, i wanna pose a somewhat similar question because i love thinking about it. it's a big thing in the swtor fandom that people tend to write relationships between their mains of each of the origin stories, and certain trends/combinations tend to be common - namely, sith warrior & jedi knight, jedi knight & jedi consular, sith warrior & sith inquisitor, etc.

so an open question i'm putting forward for anyone to reply to is what are your favorite pairings of classes - platonically, romantically, secret third thing, antagonistically, etc. you don't have to name an "underrated" one, but my question is based more on the chemistry between the classes, like, in general as opposed to specific iterations of that class. i.e., by all means use your OCs as an example of why you like that pairing, but like. i am talking more broadly about archetypes than specific characters. does this make sense. anyway, some of mine:

sith warrior & jedi knight

you knew this one was coming. i think the SW and JK are positioned pretty well to act as foils to one another, and there's something very interesting about how the transitions between Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 of each campaign mirror each other, with the finales of their respective campaigns leaving them on opposite sides of a current or future antagonist - with the SW ending up on that same side as the JK by ziost. i've interpreted this as a shared sense of personal responsibility - through their actions, one way or another, they make the most sense for being the emperor's number one enemy, which may lead to a sort of alliance between the two characters, depending how you spin it. or, hey, maybe your sith warrior is actually loyal to the emperor even still, at least until they are ultimately betrayed by valkorion. in which case, lifelong, bitter enemies. where maybe they should've had a common cause, maybe the pieces should've been there all along for them to fight together, but against all sanity and reason, the SW chooses again and again to stand by vitiate/valkorion.

sith warrior & imperial agent

next to SW&JK, this is the dynamic i keep coming back to over and over again - there's a reason why taizi's met most of @tiredassmage's agents. it's also the one i have the hardest time explaining why i like so much. there's the appeal of like ... hypercompetent pairing with vastly different skills but very good at those skills. it's kind of like a variation on what scratches my brain about SW & quinn in that there's a lot of toying around you can do with sith/imperial power dynamics - made even more interesting depending on the type of agent you're playing, and regardless an agent who has had their literal brain fucked with by the dark council, i.e. the castellan restraints.

sith warrior & jedi consular

listen. have i actually gotten to use this one much in the "playing blorbo barbies with my friends" sphere? not exactly. it's a very new one that i'm still rotating, and i don't know how to explain what it is i like about it but i really, really want to see more of it. i think it could be delicious, brent. please let your warriors and your consulars talk to each other more. one thing i will put forward is i think SW & JC scratches a similar itch to SW & JK to me, but in, like, a slightly different font? i dunno, man. i just wanna see it more.

honorable mentions:

jedi consular OR jedi knight & trooper: it's like jedi / clone trooper but without the ethical issues and cognitive dissonance! /lh

sith inquisitor & jedi consular: could be taken so many different ways, i just don't think enough about SI to do much with it

imperial agent & jedi knight: only really seen a few iterations - two of them being my own - but like. something in here's really fucking good.

[onefleshonepod]

ID: A digital collage of "The High Priestess” tarot card as the Body from the Locked Tomb series. The card depicts the Body as a ghostly figure with both arms raised, dressed in a diaphanous blue-white robe, standing on a large crescent. In her left hand is a sword. In her right hand is a scroll. She is crowned with the headdress of the Egyptian goddess Hathor, a red sun disc with cow horns. At the top is another representation of the Body reaching out of a river, from Mermaids by Arthur Rackham. In the background is the Bird and Pomegranate pattern by William Morris. Behind that, providing the abstract landscape, is Avignon by Ralph Hotere, an influential Māori artist. The image of the Body is from Allegory with a Woman by Luděk Marold. The left side of the card shows the upright meaning of The High Priestess and reads, “Inner Voice | Unconscious | Intuition | Mystery | Spiritual Insight in all caps. The right side of the card shows the reversed reading and reads “Repressed Feelings | Secrets | Hidden Motives | Cognitive Dissonance” in all caps. The base of the card reads "The High Priestess | The Body” in a retro 1970s-style font.

My goal with these tarot cards was to choose characters who embody the meanings of the cards when you think of them, to make the cards intuitive to grasp for Locked Tomb fans who might not be very familiar with tarot. Discussion below:

The Body haunting Harrow is quite literally an inner voice and a representation of Harrow’s subconscious. She’s the perfect figure for the High Priestess card. It’s hard to represent spiritual insight better than with. well. um. a spirit who is a religious figure who also provides insights. The nature of the Body is also one of the central mysteries of Harrow the Ninth.

Regarding the reversed meanings, the Body is also emblematic of Harrow’s secret which is hidden even from herself. My personal interpretation (along with many others') is that Harrow sublimated her forgotten and repressed feelings for Gideon onto the Body throughout Harrow the Ninth.

With my visual interpretation of this card, I tried to preserve or nod to some elements of the Rider-Waite-Smith High Priestess card. As a disclaimer, the hodge-podge orientalist imagery of the RWS deck is a shameful product of its time, but the illustrations are iconic and well known, so I wanted to acknowledge them. I also wanted to use images which evoked the dark wet ghost imagery of pre-Nona art and fanon of the Body.

The RWS High Priestess, and mine, presides over two pillars, representing the balance between them. The RWS pillars can be seen as multiple different dualities (such as good and evil), but are often called are the Pillar of Establishment and the Pillar of Strength. I interpreted the left side (with the scroll) as Harrow’s path of completing the process of Lyctorhood and becoming a fully functional tool of the empire. The right side, where the Body is holding a sword, represents Wake, Gideon, and the path of heresy. Just as the High Priestess’ role is to mediate between the two extremes, the Body’s role seems to be to help Harrow on her own chosen path.

The crescent moon at the Body’s feet, in the same place as in the RWS card, is seen also in many depictions of the Virgin Mary. This is meaningful because (as has been more thoroughly discussed elsewhere) the Ninth House’s worship of the Body and the way this is viewed as heretical and idolatrous by the other Houses can be seen as a parallel to Catholics’ veneration of Mary. I tried to continue the Marian imagery from the RWS card with a subtle blue tint to the figure’s robes.

The pomegranates in the background, also a detail preserved from the RWS card, are a symbol of — well, what aren’t they a symbol of. Many things that resonate in the Locked Tomb series. Death, eternal life, Hell, being torn between two realities… I used the William Morris pomegranates because I love his prints.

Finally, the RWS High Priestess wears the headdress of the Egyptian goddess Hathor, which I kept specifically because the cow horns are perfect: the Body being the Earth and wearing the symbol of John’s first transgression against the Earth while also trying to save it. Hathor’s domain was to help souls transition to the afterlife, and she was often depicted as a cow.

[jensenscomedyelbows]

edit by the amazing and talented and generous @lemondropsonice

SPN FIC REC FEST #11

All-Time Favorites/Free Recs

The only pairing is Wincest

Most are explicit, but those that aren’t are marked accordingly.

THE FIREFLY THAT LOVED METALLICA by fleshflutter

Rated R, but WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH/RESURRECTION. I passionately adore this indescribably poignant story. Get tissues.

LIKE STARING INTO THE SUN by nyxocity

It was never about the girls. It was about them.

A new OFC in each part, until there are no more FCs at all and it’s just them.

There is also a sequel, linked to the original

RUN IT ALL OVER (THE WEST SERIES) by runawaydr3amer

I LOVE this series with a passion not too dissimilar from Sam and Dean’s for each other

When you live a life like theirs, chasing tail isn't always an option. But sometimes you just want someone to touch your dick, and your brother’s hand is as good as any.

THE LAST OUTPOST OF ALL THAT IS by gekizetsu

I’m sure this will end up on multiple lists during this event, as it’s a fandom classic that everyone loves. I don’t even want to try to describe it. 60K words. Casefic. First time. I think there’s some H/C. Beautiful. So so sad. Joy amidst the wreckage and heartache. I love it so much I should probably get the title tattooed on my body somewhere

NOT FOR SAMSON IN THE TEMPLE by maygra-fic

Coda to my all time favorite, see above. You have to read that one first to truly appreciate how this coda maintains the tone, voice, and prose quality. You feel like it’s from the same author, but surprise! it’s not, and that’s remarkable. Mature Sam and Dean. Elderly Sam and Dean

THE GHOST OF SOMEBODY AT HIS SIDE by runedgirl

Prepare to weep. When I need pain, this one guarantees I’ll get it. Author Description: The night before Sam Winchester meets with his 12th grade guidance counselor for the second time, something very bad happens. One of those somethings that takes only a ridiculously short amount of time – in this case, about three minutes – yet manages to change the course of two lives forever. Or: Sam goes to Stanford, and takes most of Dean's heart with him.

COGNITIVE DISSONANCE by Morgan

This one just…stuck with me. The events that unfold are awful for Dean in particular, but I’m sure it wasn’t a great time for Sam, either. Bobby makes an appearance. Angst for daaaaays, and NON CON/DUB CON warning is red-flag-level. Author Description: Sam loses his mind. It's that simple. Dean doesn't know what to do, but he's not going to walk away from this, he's never backed down in all his life. If you're looking for happy endings, don't come here. This shit is dark.

THE SILENCE OF A SUMMER DAY by wanttobeatree

***Everyone who loves the Winchesters should read this amazing future fic***

Rated PG. The world has moved on. This is their legacy. Haha, yes, of course I’m recommending this one again. No sex whatsoever! Weird, right?!?!

@spnficrecfest

RESTRAINT by DarkEmeralds

Free rec. Rated M. 200k+ words. It's not Spn or Wincest or even J2, not really. I guess it’s technically a J2 AU. I’m sneaking it in here because it’s an all-time favorite of mine. This might not be your cup of tea, fanfic wise. I certainly didn’t think it was mine. But but but…it’s absolutely lovely, it’s extremely well-written, the tone/voice/verbiage is accurate for its time, and it has a happy ending that made me cry HAPPY tears when I was finished. If you like historical romance, you’ll like this. It’s set in Regency England! Author Description: The calling card said Tristan Jarrett, Viscount Penrith. Beneath that, in a lazy scrawl, was the addendum Mr Acklebury, be so good as to wait on me tomorrow, number 10, Half Moon Street. Yours, &c., Penrith. Mr Acklebury was not sure how he felt about being thus summarily commanded to paint his lordship's portrait.

[doriandrifting]

Uhm I don’t know how to break it to some of y’all but Noah’s last post was asking people to stand with Israel before he went ghost on social media. In the wake of what happened, I gave him the benefit of the doubt with that post. But I was scrolling through my fyp and saw literal dead Palestinian bodies and the next video was his return to social media with a smoothie ad where he is manually deleting comments including mine voicing how fed I up I was watching that bullshit. Not because I have some parasocial relationship or because I’m disappointed. Just because I refuse to have cognitive dissonance about this.

Like I’m not gonna tell people how to feel or judge anyone for seeing this differently, but I really need y’all to extend that same principle to those of us who literally just think that is some utter fuck shit. Because I do. I’m watching Israeli soldiers doing Tiktok dance trends on my fyp. A sponsored smoothie ad filmed by a millionaire in his mansion amongst videos of genocide after he posted pro-Israel propaganda and leaves up lies about beheaded babies for his millions of followers. All the while I’m sitting at my regular ass job debating putting a bus ticket to Washington D.C. on my credit card so I can go protest because there are people being slaughtered with my tax dollars. I don’t hate Noah Schnapp, but please don’t ask me to care about him right now.

[definitelynotshouting]

Holaaa I love ur hunger AU- I was reading the master post in regards to it and I immediately got the delicious question, does Grian ever get impostor syndrome?? I'm not done reading it so I'm not entirely sure if this has been touched on, but one of my first thoughts was how people call Xisuma grians watcher name, and how he kinda rebranded himself to mask as a player - but in your AU it would be like more literal?

Let me start over my brains getting away from me jkhjvghbjkj BUT since he's an artificial watcher and he was kind of "created" via parasitic takeover, would he ever have a body horror impostor syndrome uncanny valley moment? That feeling of "this body isn't mine" even though it technically *is* his, he's been living in it, he has all Grian's memories, he wears Grian's face, relatively speaking everything about him screams that Grian is him, his identity his name his body - but ever since becoming a watcher he feels like what if he isn't Grian? What if the real Grian *died* upon pupation and whatever he is now just *thinks* he's Grian.

Kinda like Fern from adventure time! A delicious thing for my mind to rotate >:]]]]

A bit late on answering this so you've probably already seen it by now, but yes Grian has MAD imposter syndrome, and thats a theme that will be carried on throughout the entire fic :]]] if you've ever played the horror game SOMA, thats where i got the inspiration for the Watchers copying Grian's memory code into the body of a Watcher larva.

Grian experiences a lot of cognitive dissonance about what happened to him in the fic, and what it means for him as a person now-- part of his current coping mechanism is to say he ISNT the real Grian, but its not that cut and dry. I dont want to spoil things too much, but that idea is smth thats going to be explored really closely as a main theme of the fic once we get out of Arc 1

[idonotbitemythumbatyou]

Hi!! I just saw ur post about garak liking shakespeare, and since i too love shakespeare, i must know: what is his favorite play??

~ @dia-tou-amphistomou

This is such a great question and I'm going to give Garak the gift of my favorite Shakespeare play: Richard III

Richard is one of the greatest villain protagonists ever written. He is gleefully ruthless, effortlessly manipulative, and a magnificent liar. I think Garak would enjoy the ride of his rise to power, and then feel an uncomfortable pang of recognition towards the end as Richard grapples with his own evil and cognitive dissonance.

If called to discuss the play, Garak would have a difficult time selling his disdain for the play and might make his complaints that there was no reasonable explanation for Richard's defeat in the end. But I don't think this is a play that ever came up in the book club, because I don't think Julian is familiar with it.

Here's one of my top five speeches in all of Shakespeare; on the eve of an important battle, Richard awakens from a nightmare (Emphasis mine.)

It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why: Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good That I myself have done unto myself? O, no! alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself! I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

Welcome New Followers Post xiv

gonna make this bullet points of Things to Know because deadlines, but hi! welcome!

-this is not a jewish identity or a jumblr blog. i am a jewish person and a holocaust historian, so my content often overlaps with those realms of tumblr

-this is first and foremost a public history blog. public history and public historians do history for the public. we're passionate about transmitting complex historical topics from the academe to the people, and we're in constant (one-sided lmao) conversation with entities such as: film writers and producers, textbook writers, government bodies, journalists, etc regarding the construction of public memory, and the responsibilities that entails

-you don't have to ask if something is ok to reblog. I appreciate the thought, but unless I turn off reblogs or specifically ask people not to engage in certain ways, you're fine, that said:

-I do see and read all tags, replies, and rbs. I consider them public, and I often respond to them as new posts. If you want to engage with me and don't want others to see, then send me an ask which includes the words "please respond privately"

-You can should disagree with me and tell me when you think I'm wrong! Now, I won't lie, years of existing as a young-appearing hyper feminine (i like skirts and bows and sparkly shoes it is what it is) female, Jewish historian have made me defensive and bitey af, and I often misread neutral tones as "coming for me" tones and respond in kind. I apologize for when/if that happens to you, and I assure that, once I realize you're not coming at me in bad faith, I will feel horribly guilty.

-There is a learning curve here. I don't have any desire to gatekeep my blog (it's the opposite tbh), but I do use high level terms which can have multiple meanings in different contexts. I actively try to avoid using impenetrable academic jargon in this space, but sometimes that jargon is the only appropriate phrasing available. In those cases, I urge you to do some research and poke around and then, if you still don't understand what I mean, DM me.

-I am a white, American woman. I am actively anti-racist, and anti-bigotry in general, but there will be times when I do or say something clueless or privileged. If you see that and you have the energy, please tell me! I want this blog to be a welcome place for all,* and I appreciate call-outs as an opportunity for (un)learning.

-Building on that, this is an anti-bigotry space which I'd like people of all demographics and identities to feel comfortable engaging with.* That said, I don't play nice when some random corner of tumblr rolls up in here and barfs their shit all over my posts.

-I am a cringe millennial. I started this blog in 2011, when I was 21, had just finished college, before I'd heard back from any graduate schools, and before I had much resembling a career. I am currently 34. It's fine. But a lot of you are in your teens and 20s and are just starting on your careers, so like, please don't negatively compare yourselves to me or get self-deprecating when/if you want to contact me. We all learn and achieve at different paces and that's ok.

-My book, The Girl Bandits of the Warsaw Ghetto, will be released in Fall 2025. Trust me I will be screaming from the rooftops and you will not miss the announcements lmao.

-If I don't reply to an ask or a DM, it's not because I hate you. There are 800 reasons why I may not reply, and none of them are personal.

and finally

-I am not your Good Leftist Anti-Zionist Jew. I am not here as a rhetorical cudgel for left-wing anti-Semites who seek out Jews with politics similar to mine to then use as a weapon against other Jewish folks. Don't fucking do it.

*That does not mean that everything I post here will make you feel comfortable. History isn't supposed to make you feel comfortable. Sometimes, it can and should make you feel actively uncomfortable, because that discomfort/cognitive dissonance means you're learning (keep your cognitive dissonance temper tantrums tf away from me, tho). It does mean that I, as an individual, want you all to feel that this is a space where you are welcome to learn and ask questions.

i tried to use bullet points to keep this short, and i failed miserably. on brand.

[crimeronan]

hey what is wwaitsoatl?

oh! it's what we are is the sum of a thousand lies, my most popular toh fic by FAR and the thing most toh people here started following me for. back before i got sucked down the princess luz hyperfixation rabbit hole. it's a fic that takes more work to write than any of my others because it has an incredibly involved drafting & editing process. bc i am a perfectionist.

the premise is a canon divergent timeline wherein belos suspects that hunter lied to him at the end of hunting palismen. and completely wrecks hunter's shit forever. and infects him with curse goop in the process. and darius (who, Very Importantly, does not yet have a friendly rapport with hunter) trips over the kid's half-dead body.

and freaks.

and kidnaps hunter n takes him to the owl house. bc that's the one surefire place of refuge on the isles.

there are a bunch of emotional threads, hence why it's novel-length and not even finished yet despite being about just four characters chilling in a house together.

mainly it's about:

hunter unraveling his cognitive dissonance and cult brainwashing in an AU where he doesn't have all of hollow mind's answers; his feelings are Incredibly complicated and messy & he gets incredibly mean and snarly about it

darius grappling with the fact that his own grief and resentment blinded him to a kid who Very Much Needed Him, darius dealing with the fact that actually he never DID grieve his mentor or his mentor's dead family

darius and hunter developing a rapport in a timeline where hunter very much has Not broken out of all the cop shit that darius disdains So Much. so darius is so fucking exasperated and tired all the time

eda trying desperately to help hunter learn to live with a curse / chronic pain / chronic illness, while having very little faith in herself to begin with

luz feeling Horrifically guilty about hunter's curse and injuries, bc she thinks she should have clocked the abuse and brought him home with her or otherwise stopped it

hunter developing an almost immediate and pathological emotional attachment to luz because of her kindness, which complicates all of his complicated feelings WAAAAAY MORE

eda, darius, AND luz all desperately trying to get hunter to admit that he's been abused and that what happened wasn't his fault. you would not believe how fucking long it takes.

i'm actually really, really, Really proud of it -- it's rare for one of a writer's best works to be their most popular, but this genuinely is one of mine. if not my best work, period. there's a lot of nuance and messiness and emotional complexity and grief and arguing that i'm SO happy with.

also, despite the subject matter, it's often extremely lighthearted. some of the funniest dialogue i've ever written is strewn throughout all these serious emotional threads.

i'd apologize for how long this response is but this story is a heart project and has 67,000 published words on ao3 so far. (the chapter i'm writing rn will likely be another ~8,000 words, then there are a couple more chapters to come.) so there's a lot to say!!

it's my most popular ao3 fic for any fandom, ever, in the 12 years i've been on the site. the response has been WILD. if you sort by kudos, it's the 31st most favorited owl house fic Of All Time, the 7th most popular fic involving darius, and the 5TH most popular hunter & luz relationship fic. again, of all time. which is. insane.

people have been very kind and patient with me having been too sick to work on it for a while. there was a seven-month break between chapters 8 and 9, and if i finish chapter ten soon then there'll have been a nine-month break between chapters 9 and 10. so i don't know how many people are actually going to come back to read it, a lot of ppl have moved on from the fandom and such. but i'm extremely extremely extremely grateful to everyone who's given it a look!