#no pressures no cares just fuckery

[talentforlying]

big time nap time, but i am test-driving hellblazer/nbc constantine muses over on @debtsunpaid tonight and will be doing more constantine shenanigans here both later & tomorrow!

[angrelysimpping]

Soul Mate AU

Soulmarks: tattoo like in appearance, soul marks form on all involved parties when the youngest member reaches their age of majority. Touching someone's soulmark without their consent is considered incredibly taboo and violating. Touching someone’s soulmark when baring the matching mark is supposed to be incredibly pleasurable for all parties involved, more so if it is the two marks that are touching.

ref link, tho I'm gonna put the same soulmark descriptions under each character anyway 

Contents: DoL relationships; Avery's anger issues; public stuff; doctor/patiant, mildly; talk of cutting (Kylar's section); teacher/student, mildly; farm fuckery (aka, Remy's whole fucking section); cat Bailey AU; FUCT Robin AU; Yandere Avery AU; Eldritch PC AU

Words: 2608

Alex

(93)

Geometric shapes. Bold, dark lines. Elbow to shoulder on their right arm. 

Loves touching your soulmark. Loves you touching their soulmark. Loves all of it.

Higher dominance Alex is likely to brush their hand down your soul mark whenever they have the chance. Even if it might be considered “rude” to do so in front of others. 

Lower dominance waits for more private moments. A teasing stroke over your mark while shielded from prying eyes, shivering if you return the favor and ghost a hand over their mark. 

Loves cuddling in the morning, pressed against each other, absentmindedly tracing the lines of your matching marks. 

Avery

(153)

Thin, delicate, lace like lines across their collar bones. Ends in thick, jagged lines going down their sternum 

God, there’s so much pressure on you to act absolutely perfect if you actually want Avery to let you walk around with a matching mark. 

That said, they like touching your mark.

At low anger, they’re tender, tips of their fingers gliding over the marks. 

They may even let you touch their marks, though not often. It’s very rare for Avery to allow it. Something about you touching their marks makes them feel out of sorts, out of control. So, it’s only when they’re drained from work that they indulge in the lazy pleasure of allowing you to take care of them in this way. A hand tucked between their legs and your tongue tracing their marks. 

High rage Avery presses down on your marks hard enough to make your vision blur, pain mixed into the act that would normally bring pleasure. But, you won’t make them do that too often, will you? 

Bailey

(215)

Thin lines that crisscrosses their lower stomach in an intricate pattern and circles around their upper thighs. 

It’s a stupid situation, trying to wrangle one of their brats in their own fucking office, it that’s Bailey’s life: stupid situation after stupid fucking situation.

Except when you headbutt their stomach, shirt having ridden up from the physical activity, and your skin brushes over the marks that had only recently bloomed across their skin, it somehow gets worse. 

What do you mean that the pain they brace themself for never comes? Or, it does, but mostly covered in strange euphoria. 

But, Bailey knows what that means, new anger sparking within them and fueling their ability to pin you down, to tear at your clothes, to expose your mark. 

Your mark that matches Bailey’s.

And they press down on it, thumbs digging into the soft of your thighs as you squirm under them. They hope you feel more pain than pleasure.

They have to keep you, they think. Who knows how you could be used against them if others find out? 

And what are you to them, anyway? Important, one way or another, apparently.

So, fuck you. 

Varey rarely touches your marks after that and forbids you from touching their’s.

Yet, sometimes, you’ll wake up with Bailey’s hands pressed against the mark, palm flat and fingers splayed, dark eyes fixed on that point of contact.

Briar

(108)

One thick line running over the knuckles on their right hand. 

Oh, new lil star walking into Briar’s lovely establishment with marks that match the one that just recently bloomed across their knuckles. How interesting. 

Enjoys taking your hand in theirs, ringed thumb rolling over the mark on your knuckles, watching you shiver at such a simple action. 

Especially likes touching your marks in public and letting others see how it affects you. 

That said, not keen on you doing the same to them. When especially tense, they don't mind the pad of your thumb following the line across the ridges of their knuckles while in their office. Lets their head tilt back, eyes shutting as their muscles relax. 

Black Wolf

(83)

Jagged marks under their left eye

It's actually quite easy to overlook their mark, looking almost like a scar. 

Brushing your thumb over the mark has Black Wolf relaxing, regardless of if they’re the alpha or not.

When they’re the alpha, they’ll climb on top of you, rutting against your thigh as you trace the mark.

When you’re the alpha, they roll over, wanting you to straddle them as your fingers linger.

As for them, they like licking your mark, regardless of how close to your eye it is.

Darryl

(88)

A thick ring around their left pinky

So nervous when they realize they share a mark with you. 

Covers up their own mark and it takes them a while to build up the courage to tell you that you have matching marks.

Very gentle the first time they touch your mark, asking if it’s okay in a voice barely above a whisper, fine tremor running through their hands.

Nervous when you first touch their mark, but doesn’t regret it a bit.

Likes hooking your pinkies together, a cross between holding hands and a pinky promise. 

Doren 

(103)

Looks like the letters of a dead language encircling their right wrist. 

Will not let you touch it in public, and that goes double when at school.

Also won’t touch your mark in public.

Well, they might if it’s to calm you down if you’re having a particularly rough day, though behind the privacy of a closed door or secluded corner.

Very gentle when they touch your mark, brushing over your wrist like it’s something fragile, breakable. 

Only really allows you to touch their mark when at their apartment, though if you’re holding hands then it’s easy to pretend that it’s an accident if you press your marks together and make Doren stumble a little.

Eden

(139)

Thick, almost painful looking lines over their left breast and going up their neck. Stops under their jaw. 

Don’t touch their marks. 

Don’t do it.

Even though you bare their match, their mirror, do not touch Eden’s marks.

At least, not until they trust you.

Even then, you’re risking your ass to touch Eden’s marks.

They like it, though it feels incredibly vulnerable, thus, don’t do it.

You can get away with it during sex, usually. Unless they’re punishing you. Then you’re gonna get slapped. 

Also more likely to get away with touching their marks when they’re falling asleep, little shiver of pleasure running through them as they drift off.

All this said, they’re touching your marks whenever the fuck they want.

Especially loves grabbing you by the chin and rubbing their thumb along the marks under your jaw. Double so if you’ve been acting like a brat. A good reminder that you’re theirs, no matter what. 

Great Hawk

(59)

Small intersecting circles under their right eye.

Please touch their marks.

So proud of their marks now that they’ve come in and they adore you paying any attention to them.

Chirps every time you touch them, all puffed up.

Often nuzzles your marks. Loves brushing against them with their feathers. 

Favorite time to have their marks touched or to touch your marks is when flying together.

Gwylan 

(75)

Very complex markings running down the length of their spine. 

It’s rare for their marks to be visible and is at a loss for words when they find out you wear their match.

Doesn’t really like them touched, to be honest. It’s weirdly intense, with it being along their spine and all. 

Only really likes it if you run a feather light finger down their spine. Not too much pressure, just enough for them to feel it. 

Also not big on touching your marks, either. 

Harper

(102)

Thin, barely noticeable spirals on their tongue.

God they're so fucking ecstatic to touch your mark at all fucking times. 

Every time you see Harper, they wanna check your tongue, rubbing their thumb over the marks. 

You're really lucky they haven't yet found a way to do away with the gloves yet when in the hospital. 

If you're ever in the asylum, they're not wearing gloves.

Would adore you touching their marks if they weren't on their tongue. Makes it kinda hard to remain “professional.”

That said, when they get to kiss you or coach you into kissing them, they nearly cream their pants from your soul marks touching. 

Kylar

(80)

Soft, faded looking lines that weave up their right arm like tendrils. Starts at their wrist, ends at their elbow. 

Touch!

Kylar's!

Marks!

Please!

Touching each others marks calms them down so fast.

Aggravates their jealousy like nothing else if you refuse to let them touch your marks. 

Always gets a soft look in their eyes when touching marks. 

Babbles about it when hysterical, rubbing your marks almost painfully hard. Why are you acting like this when there's proof right here that you are meant for them?

Maybe they should make sure your marks are deeper, more prominent, with their knife…

Leighton 

(109)

Bands around their right knee

They’ll know you’re soulmates long before you do.

And they’re not telling you, either.

Likes the spark of fear in your eyes when their hand first cups your knees, the confusion when pleasure runs up your spine when their thumb brushes the mark. 

Lets you stew, thinking something wrong  with you, like you’re a pervert for feeling pressure when Leighton, someone who isn’t your soulmate, touches your mark.

Would probably let you go on like that for a while, only revealing it as a power play. 

Doesn’t want you just randomly grabbing at their mark, but likes when you place your hand on their mark when giving them head.

Mason

(77)

Looks like gills on either side of their neck. 

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t touch them at school. 

Don’t look at them.

Don’t acknowledge they’re your soulmate.

Their authority as a teacher is already undermined by their age and now this? One of their students is their soulmate?

Please say this is a bad joke. 

But, at the pond, when they’ve gotten to know you, maybe. 

Lets their eyes close as your fingers brush over them.

Hesitant on touching your marks but will if you insist. 

Remy

(161)

Small, dark spots behind their left ear. Some might say it's a cow print pattern. 

Fuck you.

They’ll never notice it if you drop into the riding school. Nor if you’re just Alex’s silly little partner.

No, the only way Remy finds you’re soulmate is during new cattle intake. 

And they’re pissed.

They’re always wearing their gloves, so at least you don’t react when they find it.

They’ll keep you in the dark about your matching marks. 

And then they keep you isolated until they figure out what the fuck to do with you.

Obedient cattle will find out eventually when they tug their gloves off, cupping your face and letting their thumb brush over your marks while you eat an apple out of their other hand.

Disobedient cattle find out when Remy has finally had it with you, ripping off their gloves and pressing their thumb against your marks so hard that it's more pain than pleasure, making your knees buckle and your will to fight flicker. 

Regardless, they won’t let you touch their marks. 

Robin

(85)

Thin, soft, intricate swirls in the middle of their chest. 

IT’S THEIR FAVORITE THING.

It’s so comforting, their best friend sharing their soulmark.

Huge boost of confidence anytime one of you touches the others marks.

Very flustered the first time due to the placement but gets more comfortable with it as time goes on.

Not big on touching soulmarks in public but only because of the placement. 

Low confidence Robin might be persuaded to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

High confidence Robin might try to persuade you to touch soulmarks in semi public areas. 

Sydney 

(98)

Two thin lines starting at their shoulder blades and ending at their hips. 

Even though soulmarks are considered a divine symbol of love between partners, Sydney is hesitant to touch yours or let you touch theirs.

The higher their purity, the more likely they are to wait until you two are bound by the temple before touching soulmarks.

The more corrupt they become, the more likely it is that you can coax Sydney into taking off their shirt and letting you trace the marks on their back.

At their most corrupt, Sydney will slip their hand up the back of your shirt in somewhat public places to stroke over your marks. 

Whitney

(126)

Fluid, swirling lines on the inside of their right thigh. 

I hope you like wearing skirts ‘cause Whitney wants you in one at all times so they can hike it up and grab at your marks. 

And they will do that wherever they feel like.

At low dominance, they’ll stop if you tell them to at least?

Also, if you don’t wear a skirt, they’ll try to get their hands down your pants whenever they feel like messing with you and your marks.

And hey, Whitney is your soulmate. Shouldn’t you want to do shit that’ll make ‘em happy?

That’s what they’ll say, anyway.

As for touching their marks, they’ll only let you when alone. 

Even at low dominance, they’ll try to smack your hands away if you try to touch their marks when out public. 

Wren

(89)

Small swirls on their left ankle. Easily mistaken for an actual tattoo instead of a soul mark. 

Likely to kick off their shoes and press their foot against your mark under the table while playing blackjack as a way to distract you.

Gets flustered if you do it back to them, but tries to hide it behind wide smiles and low laughs.

Does sometimes daydream about having you laying under them, holding your foot, thumb brushing over your marks before dragging your leg over their shoulder and ducking down to give you head.

But, as your relationship is, it’s limited to playing footsie during card games.

BONUS

Cat Bailey

(83)

A bit better about touching marks but still isn't big on it.

Purrs every time you brush against their marks but don't ever mention that you noticed. 

It's really when they go into heat/rut that things change. They're more likely to grab at your marks, to press you against their's. 

Don't ever mention how sometimes you'll wake up to find Bailey resting with their cheek against the marks on your stomach, eyes closed, purr rumbling in their chest and tail flicking lazily. 

Fuct Robin

(68)

Less into soul mark touching, really.

Sure, they still like it, but it makes them feel out of sorts, like they’re still the fresh 18 year old in a cramped orphanage room fumbling around with their partner they were when you first got your matching marks. 

Though, they’re much more touchy with your marks. Likes sleeping with a hand pressed to the marks on your chest. Stops nightmares.

Yandere Avery

(89)

Hope you don't get cold easily because Avery isn't allowing you to wear anything that covers your marks when you're home. 

Out and about, they make you cover up more, but any passerby can tell your marks match. What, you didn't think you were leaving the house without them, did you?

Touchs your marks all the time: right when they wake up, when they first get home after work, before falling asleep. All. The. Time. 

Also more likely to touch your marks out in public, but only very rarely. 

Eldritch PC

(71)

The soul marks have added tentacle motifs now, lol.

More intense for when your partner touches you.

Doesn’t mind the intensity: 

Alex

Darryl

Doren

Eden

Great Hawk

Leighton

Robin

Pure Sydney

Cat Bailey

Yandere Avery

Less likely to touch because of the intensity:

Avery

Bailey

Briar

Black Wolf

Gwylan

Mason

Remy

Whitney

Fuct Robin

Likes the intensity: 

Harper

Kylar

Corrupt Sydney

Whitney

Wren

Black Wolf

Great Hawk

Fuct Robin

Yandere Avery

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Honestly I'm always struck by just how much the lighthouse fuckery and everything about it tells us about Ed, it's such efficient and clever writing!

He's absolutely fucking brilliant, a real genius - Ed is able to count down to the fog's appearance with a margin of error of seconds, and has obviously been keeping count of the date in his head. He's also very obviously a very intuitive and clever sailor and is excellent at playing with multiple moving parts to organize a solution

Despite being so fucking smart, Ed actually gives up VERY easily. He's used to success coming the first time, perfectly, every time, and when his one brilliant plan doesn't work, he's shocked and gives up immediately.

Ed cares SO MUCH about the people depending on him. Like the first thing he says after he realizes is to tell everyone he's sorry. The weight of being a captain and having everyone trusting him for a solution is really getting to him

The striking thing about his plan is that his mistake was small but crucial, and it would've been easily corrected if he'd been open about it from the start. But he was looking forward to the big reveal! He likes the illusion of mystery and infallibility! (and, honestly, can't blame him for not telling anyone - when he tries to talk to Izzy about the clouds early on, Izzy fails to get that it's important and just starts nagging at him.)

When he's pressuring Stede to show him what being Blackbeard is like, he's being a bit harsh (I get the sense it's a very cathartic moment for him, to have just one person experience what it's like to be him for even a few minutes), but, crucially, he's doing that under the impression that there is no real danger because he thinks he's already solved it. When he realizes they're actually in trouble, Ed immediately takes full responsibility and does not expect anyone to help him come up with a plan - he's so used to handling things entirely on his own

It's just so good. I love it.

[miasmaghoul]

Heat of the Moment

Rating: E

Pairing: Ifrit/Aether

Word Count: 2.7k

Contains: transmasc Aether (use of cunt/clit/cock and tits for his anatomy), heat/rut cycles, masturbation, rough sex, biting/marking, multiple orgasms, knotting, heavy breeding/impregnation kink and mostly implied quintessence fuckery.

Ifrit has a problem.

He'd woken with a sharp gasp, had rolled out of bed sweaty, tense all over and so hard his sleep pants threatened to split at the seams. Still sleep heavy and dazed but filled with an urgency he would know anywhere, three humps against his palm was all it had taken for him to spill with a rough grunt. He'd watched the stain soak into his pants with barely cracked eyes, groaning deep in his chest. He'd given his smooth sack a nice squeeze, still-hard cock throbbing, and with a deep sigh Ifrit had pulled it out over his waistband. 

The beginnings of swelling at the base told him everything he needed to know. 

Read it below, or on AO3!

Ifrit has a problem.

He'd woken with a sharp gasp, had rolled out of bed sweaty, tense all over and so hard his sleep pants threatened to split at the seams. Still sleep heavy and dazed but filled with an urgency he would know anywhere, three humps against his palm was all it had taken for him to spill with a rough grunt. He'd watched the stain soak into his pants with barely cracked eyes, groaning deep in his chest. He'd given his smooth sack a nice squeeze, still-hard cock throbbing, and with a deep sigh Ifrit had pulled it out over his waistband. 

The beginnings of swelling at the base told him everything he needed to know. 

It's been just over an hour since then, and he's made it as far as the shower. The water's long since gone cold, raising goosebumps as it trails over his skin, but Ifrit doesn't care. He's burning from the inside out, leaning heavy against the tiled wall and panting through grit teeth. Tugging at himself with both hands, pausing only long enough to squeeze the burgeoning bulb of his knot. Ifrit's hips move in mindless ruts as he chases the white rabbit that is his orgasm; it's the fourth one so far, each one harder to reach than the last, and he hunches as his stomach clenches. So much pressure built up inside, hot claws dug deep into his guts, he's already close to rubbing himself raw. Ifrit hisses as he polishes the head, and finally, finally feels the dam start to give.

The images flying through his brain make little sense, bright bursts of skin and sweat and the glorious sound of flesh meeting flesh. Every orgasm clears some of the haze, brings him closer to discovering what, exactly, his rut wants this time around, but Ifrit can never be sure just how many it'll take.

“Fuck, c'mon, fuck,” he rasps, voice lost in the rush of the water. He grips himself tight and fucks his fists, eyes clamped shut and mind racing. His heats are always frantic, always demanding, but Ifrit knows the load he's about to blow won't fix that. There's only one thing that will, and all he can do is hope that this release is the one that brings him the clarity he so desperately needs.

“Oh shit.” 

Ifrit gasps, head lolling forward as his balls draw up. He clenches his jaw so hard it cracks, toes curling against the tile, and with a drawn out groan everything goes white.

As he shoots all over the shower door, thighs twitching, a truly divine image burns itself into his addled mind. One of plush thighs, kiss-bitten lips and a decidedly round belly.

“Aether.”

Ifrit has a problem, and now he knows just how to fix it. 

He barely dries off, just towels his shaggy hair with shaking hands and stumbles to his closest while he has the presence of mind to dress himself. It won't last long, he knows from experience, but he manages to throw on a tank top (backwards) and a pair of basketball shorts from his workout shelf before the itch settles in again. Ifrit tucks his aching length up against his stomach, and cannot possibly be bothered to check if the shorts hide the ridiculous bulge he's sporting. 

The walk to Aether's room isn't one he remembers, but the next thing Ifrit knows he's pounding on a door that certainly isn't his own. He can smell his prize straight through the wood, stronger than usual, and Ifrit thinks if he has to wait a second longer to get what he wants then he'll just break the fucking thing down and take it.

The lock tumbles, the hinges creak, and the only reason Ifrit doesn't storm right in is because of the hand that grips his tank.

“Finally,” Aether growls, dragging him bodily inside. Ifrit trips over something unseen, catches himself on a bed post. “What the fuck took you so long?” 

The tone of it, the ferocity, slaps a little sense back into Ifrit's rut-dumb mind. He fixes Aether with a scowl, chest heaving, and finds the other ghoul looking as crazed as he feels. He's sweaty, the hair coating his chest and belly matted with it, every inch of his very much naked body flushed and quivering. Ifrit's gaze catches between his legs, hones in on the throbbing, ruddy length of his fat little cock and the glistening slick already coating his thighs. His nostrils flare, soaking in Aether's scent, and somehow it smells like - 

“I said,” Aether snaps, licking his lips, “what the fuck took you -”

Ifrit snarls, crosses the distance between them and pins Aether to the door before he can finish, crushing their mouths together in what can only technically be called a kiss. It's brutal, sharp and starved and wholly desperate. Aether moans into it anyway, digging his claws into Ifrit's biceps and drawing out a hiss. He bites Aether's lip in retaliation, getting a handful of his hair and yanking his head away. They're both panting, and the sight of Aether licking the blood from his lip makes Ifrit feel more than a little insane. 

“You're in heat,” he manages to bite out, shoving his face into the crook of Aether's neck and sucking down his intoxicating scent. It's sweet but bitter, sharp but smooth - too good to be true. “How are you -”

“Your fault,” Aether spits, getting both hands on Ifrit's broad chest and shoving him away, forcing him to stumble back to the bed. Aether gets a hand on his throat and pushes him to the mattress, straddling his waist and giving Ifrit a nice eyeful of his dripping cunt in the process. “Could smell your rut coming last night,” he rasps, grabbing the collar of Ifrit's shirt and tearing it straight down the middle. “You set me off.” 

Ifrit doesn't know what that means, nor does he have the presence of mind to care. Especially not when Aether grips his pecs, rocking his hips just enough to drag his stubby clit over Ifrit's abs. The shiny trail he leaves behind makes Ifrit's vision tunnel, and he reaches up to grope Aether's chest. It's fuller than usual, his tits firm and obviously tender judging by Aether's gasp and they way he shudders when Ifrit tweaks his puffy nipples.

“Fuck, If,” he breathes, shuffling back just enough to grind against Ifrit's clothed cock. The heat of him is maddening, and Ifrit's eyes cross. “Need it in me, need you to -”

He doesn't have the chance to finish before Ifrit knocks him off balance, and in a flash Aether's pinned to the mattress with his ass in the air. Ifrit keeps him there with one hand on the back of his neck, the other shoving down his own shorts.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ifrit swears to himself when he finally gets a hand on his cock, the thing now gone angry red and leaking all over. “I'll decide what you need.”

Aether does not argue. Instead, he works himself into a deep arch, watching Ifrit over his shoulder and huffing into the sheets. He reaches back to spread himself open, needy cunt winking and already begging to be filled. Ifrit growls as he grips himself, dragging the head through Aether's slippery folds. The wet sound of it fills the room, makes him dizzy, and the punched out sound Aether makes when he lines up only makes it worse. 

“Kiss it,” Ifrit demands. The other ghoul makes a fascinating sound, something between a moan and a whimper, and when he feels Aether's entrance clench against his tip his eyes roll. “Good boy.” 

He pushes in without another word, gripping Aether's soft hips as he splits him open. Aether howls through it, grabbing at his own hair and babbling nonsense with every thick inch that stretches him. They're both gasping by the time the swell of his knot meets Aether's cunt, his thighs trembling and Ifrit's stomach flexing. Despite the torturous pressure between his legs, Ifrit leans down and rests his forehead between Aether's sweaty shoulder blades. Gives them both a moment to adjust.

Aether doesn't give him the chance, clamping down around him and sucking air through his fangs at the sting it provides. 

“Don't make me wait any more,” he slurs into the bed, reaching back to grab at Ifrit's thighs. “Give it to me, you have to -”

Ifrit sinks his fangs into Aether's shoulder, into a spot already scarred with past marks, and Aether goes limp beneath him. 

“I know what you need,” Ifrit rumbles, licking at the new punctures. He drags his tongue over scalding skin, up Aether's throat and dipping it into his pointed ear. Aether makes a gurgling sound, and Ifrit throbs. He pushes himself upright, pulls out until just the head sits inside, and braces himself with one foot on the mattress. “But you're not gettin’ it until I say so.”

He slams back in all at once, knocks the air out of the ghoul before him, and doesn't hesitate to start up a rhythm of deep, driving thrusts. Doesn't so much as pause when Aether tenses around him, shuddering and moaning almost immediately through the first of who knows how many orgasms Ifrit will wring out of him. It's mindless, animalistic and urgent on both of their parts. Feral in a way Ifrit has never experienced - he knows how this will end, what his bestial nature demands, and every time his fat knot meets Aether's wicked body he feels one specific urge grow. 

On instinct, Ifrit's hands move from Aether's hips. Sliding forward to clutch the soft swell of his stomach - massaging, kneading, like he's trying to feel himself deep inside. The same image that had flashed through his mind in the shower resurfaces, clear as day, and Ifrit pauses on a forward thrust to grind his knot in just a little deeper. He barely notices Aether wailing through another release, despite the flood of slick that drips down his balls and pools on the sheets, too caught up in his single minded need to -

“Gonna look so good,” he grunts, broad palms settling low on Aether's belly. “Fuck, you're gonna look amazing all stuffed full.”

Aether chokes out something like a curse, pained and pitchy, but he untangles a hand from the blanket anyway. Shoves it between his legs, past Ifrit's groping hands, to rub at his most assuredly sore little cock. Shaking fingers graze the underside of his knot and Ifrit's knees quake.

“Say it,” Aether begs, voice thin. “Say...s-say you'll - oh shit, fuck, cumming!” 

He buries his face in the sheets as he falls apart yet again, sloppy cunt working to pull more of Ifrit inside him. Craving the stretch of his knot, the impossible fullness that will come with it. Ifrit cants his hips, biting the inside of his cheek and pressing harder on Aether’s belly. He knows just what the other ghoul needs to hear.

“Gonna fill you up,” he huffs, the urgency inside building to fever pitch. “Right here,” he digs his fingertips in deep, and Aether lets out a pleasured sob. 

“Please,” he just barely manages, voice cracking as he tries to shove himself back onto the knot he yearns for. Halfway inside now, Ifrit's whole body twitches, and he knows he's reached his limit.

He drapes himself over Aether's back, jabbing at that one spot deep inside that makes the other ghoul shake and drool, and breathes hot against his ear.

“Gonna knock you up,” he snarls, and Aether gets so much tighter. Ifrit's balls draw up close, heavy and full and in dire need of emptying. “Gonna give you every last one of my pups, fuck -”

It's impossible and he knows it, a delusional desire that manages to drive away every ounce of reason and replaces it with a dull buzzing that sounds an awful lot like take, take, take. Ifrit humps away like an eager dog, pushing in deeper and deeper, scrabbling at Aether's sides. He can feel the rush of his rut reaching its crescendo, the highest high, blinding pleasure that promises to leave him as wrecked as the ghoul beneath him.

“Tell me what you need,” he orders, thrusts going stilted and erratic, and Aether's stubble scratches his cheek when he turns his head. The nonstop clenching of his slick walls would be enough all on its own, but Ifrit can't help himself. “Tell me, tell me.”

“Make me a mommy,” Aether whimpers, and with a distant roar and a slick pop Ifrit's world goes dark.

— — —

It's ages before he comes back to himself, the room gone still and silent save for some gentle, even breathing. He doesn't recall moving, but they're on their sides now. Ifrit's spooned up against Aether's back with one arm slung around his waist - Aether's holding his hand, he realizes in a delayed sort of way, and Ifrit can't help his soft chuff of delight. He hums to himself, nuzzling the back of Aether's neck and pressing a kiss to his damp hairline. 

“I know you're awake, big guy,” he coos, tracking more little kisses over to the already bruising bite mark he'd left earlier. “You're not snoring.”

Aether lets out an exaggerated honk-shoo and Ifrit snorts. It quickly morphs into a hiss when Aether wiggles against him, tugging at the place where they're still tied together. Ifrit presses his face into the juncture of his throat, and Aether starts to purr.

“That was wild,” Ifrit rasps. His throat feels so raw, voice strained, and he wonders what noise he made to cause it. Maybe Aether will pour the memory into his head later if he asks nicely. He props his chin on the other ghoul's shoulder. “How're you feelin’?”

A vague gurgling sound is the answer he gets, and Ifrit takes that as a good sign. He lets the silence blanket them once more, until Aether brings the hand on his stomach to his lips. He kisses Ifrit's knuckles one by one, lacing their fingers together and sighing happily.  

“I'm so glad it worked,” he mumbles, a certain sleepy giddiness in his voice. Ifrit raises a eyebrow where he can't see it. 

“Huh? What worked?” 

“Omega's heat trick,” Aether replies, tracing a vein in Ifrit's hand with his thumb. “I didn't think it would.”

Ifrit frowns at the back of his head, but doesn't move more than that. His knot will take ages to go down, and dislodging it now would suck for both of them. 

“Trick?” Aether nods. “What trick?”

The quiet laugh the other ghoul lets out does funny things to Ifrit's insides. Like a chill, but in his blood.

“You think it was your idea to breed me?”

Aether squeezes his hand, and all of a sudden the image that had haunted him since the shower flashes through his mind; Aether on his back, legs held up and open, his wrecked hole leaking and belly already swollen as he begs for another litter. 

It's gone in a blink, and Ifrit gawps at the back of his head. Aether yawns, holding Ifrit's hand against his belly again and giving his knot a squeeze that makes Ifrit yip. He can feel some of his cum slip out around it, and the thought of Aether being so full he's overflowing makes his head spin. He grips tighter around Aether's soft middle, and if he didn't know better Ifrit would swear he's gotten a little bigger.

“How…what…” 

“Sometimes a goodnight kiss isn't just a goodnight kiss.” 

Aether says it in a playful tone, and Ifrit isn't mentally present enough to do more than stare at him. The gears in his head chug along, and the memory of soft lips pressed to his temple the night before floats through his mind. It had come with a faint tingly sensation, one that he'd written off as something like static.

That same tingly feeling flows into his palm now, creeping up his arm to wrap around his brainstem, and Ifrit as feels his eyelids droop Aether laughs.  

“Now let me rest,” he mumbles, hunkering down into his pillow. “I've got pups to grow.”

Ifrit's out like a light before he can respond, but even in sleep his cock pulses. 

[demisexual-in-distress]

get my huskerdusters in this bitch

ok so I havent made a post of my own in a fuckin while but I needed to say this.

Angel Dust is a feminine man, okay, right, got that. Husk prefers to present more masculinely. Ofc, go off kings, great. Before I say any more, and I've only said 2 things, I want people to understand I AM ALL FOR GENDER FUCKERY, ESPECIALLY IN FANDOM! Make that man wear a dress! Give him some makeup, I don't care if it's out of character! Genderbends are really fucking cool! However, when it comes to huskerdust, some things are looked past. Some of the things they've done with Angel in fanfiction and fanart wouldn't be okay if he was a woman, they'd be considered misogynistic.

I used a bunch of tags in this post talking about this before (please read that post itself too!!)

Angel Dust is not a woman. We all know this by now, unless you've been living under a rock since the pilot came out. And, if you've been following hazbin hotel, I'd like to assume you're all for rights no matter what gender you identify with and, most likely, are a feminist.

So why and how is this being done to Angel Dust, a(n, as of current knowledge,) CIS MAN?

In so many fics and fanart, Husk is painted as the savior. Angel is a damsel in distress, even though we've clearly seen that he knows how to defend himself. Angel was in the mafia. We heard him in episode four, "I can handle myself, baby." He clearly doesn't need Husk to protect him, and never has. And Husk, as far as we know, has never really taken on that savior role, or ever really needed to. It isn't pressured onto his character. This isn't to be confused with his protective nature, which derives from his parental tendencies.

Sometimes, even, I've heard people use terms like "Mrs" or "Mommy" (not in a kinky way stfu it was regarding fat nuggets and his parents) to refer to Angel Dust, when we know he's not a woman. Again, I'm all for headcanons, but this is in situations where such headcanons aren't applied.

Still don't get it?

It reminds me a lot of the lesbians thing where people ask, "Who wears the pants in this relationship?" or "But who's the man/woman?" If you're watching Hazbin Hotel, I'm also guessing you are either (A,) really fucking queer, (especially if you're making huskerdust fanwork lol) or (B,) a big fucking ally. You should know that THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS, THAT IS NOT RIGHT!!! There is no "man" or "woman" of the relationship when it comes to queer love! The fandom has pushed heteronormative and sexist roles on a gay relationship. Whether that was the intention or not, it's what's become of it. I hate it. I hate seeing people make Angel some sort of housewife, unable to protect himself and in need of a savior, just because he presents femininely. No matter what gender he considers himself, Angel can present as feminine. It doesn't make him any less of the man that he is/considers himself.

In the end, it's some strange form of misogyny. The only reason people aren't calling it out is because Angel is just a femboy, he's not a woman.

Does that make sense?

[poppy-metal]

"trust me to always feed into fem!jordans delusion that the strap is real. knock me up daddy"

No because for real, she asks you things like "I'm gonna cum, you want it, baby, want me to cum inside your pretty little princess cunt ?" and they want you to beg for it.

Alternatively, Jordan fucking in female form for the first time, this being only the second time you actually have sex with them. And you're not ready for how much they want you to beg them to fuck you. You get used to it pretty quickly, though. Hearing her moans and groans of pleasure, cut by "You wanna cum, baby ? Want me to knock you up ? Cum inside that freshie cunt ?"

And you can only say yes, because, how the fuck could you say no ?

(also, I don't know which ones are taken, so I'm gonna start signing my requests with this emoji (solely because I feed into the French cliché of the bread addict [it's true, people, baguette is a part of every of my French girl's meal, every day]) . Do tell me if it's already taken. Love you, and take care ❤️)

- 🥖

they enter demon mode fr. they're fucking awful for your little pussy regardless but when you validate their gender fuckery? make them feel strong and fucking powerful in their fem!form? its over for you, i fear.

knees folded to your chest, toes curling in the air, feet swaying, bed rocking, chain dangling in your face over for you. "fuck - this fucking - " the rough slap of their strap pounding into the wet flesh between your legs you almost miss the filth spilling from their lips, just barely registering, "you love this dont you? love my fat fucking dick beating up this pussy?"

but you do hear it, and you encourage it, nodding your head widly on your pillow, eyes filling with overwhelmed tears of pleasure. "y-yes, daddy fuck. fuck my pussy please - oh - oh! its so good, daddy fucks my pussy so good-"

"gonna cum in you." they pant, black hair fanning around their pretty face in contrast to the pained - almost angry way they're looking down between youd bodies to watch the black silicone cock plunge in and out of your slick hole. "daddy's gonna give you his fucking load - fuck it right into this tight." thrust. "little." thrust. "cunt."

your hands slide along the flexing muscles of their back, moaning at how the tendons there move and jerk under your fingers - somehow knowing that - feeling the strength - the work they're putting into fucking railing you never fails to blank your brain. such a strong supe, one of the strongest ever. and you're the one they take to bed every night. you're the one getting your little pussy destroyed. no one else.

you spread your legs wider at the thought, inviting the pounding cock to pound even deeper into your silken wet depths. cunt slicking and clutching and fucking gurgling shes so fucking turned on by jordans strap - by jordans fucking.

"uuhhhh, yeahhhh daddy - y- yeah. want your cum, want daddies cum in my - in me, please, please, please-"

"fuck, baby -"

"daddy!"

"yeah - "

"shit. oh fuck, im coming. oh fuck - you're so good. you feel so fucking good, jesus christ - milk my dick, baby. just like that - milk daddys dick -"

even if its just their strap, the orgasm they have against it from the constant pressure of it pressing into their clit from fucking you makes them feel like they're filling you up. it helps a fuckton that they actually know what it feels like to have your warm walls milking their real cock. makes it that much hotter.

they kiss you open mouthed and downright filthy ad you both come down. your sweat cooling, their necklace pooling between your tits as they brush kisses over your face.

you squeeze their waist with your thighs.

"im feeling triplets with that deposit."

"fuck that."

[son1c]

Hi, I love your blog!! Your art and ideas are so cool!

I know it took Starline hundreds upon hundreds of tries to worm his way into Sonic's mind, but I was wondering how much time did it actually take Starline to make Sonic stop actually fighting him and believe in the fake memories. Weeks? Months? (kinda curious what was Sonic's thought process during the whole thing, but that feels like another can of worms lol)

Also I had an idea how Starline could make Sonic reluctant to leave Snowpoint even more - what if he made Sonic's "friends" have very emotional reactions to the idea of Sonic leaving? Maybe Cherry could be sad because he feels like Sonic is abandoning him, Sonic's "rival" could be pissed because no one else can keep up with them so snowboarding won't be as fun anymore etc. None of them know WHY they're freaking out so much,, it's irrational, but they can't help it. Above anything else, Sonic cares about his friends. If him leaving makes them so upset, then why WOULD he leave? He's happy here, after all :)

-🍑

i was thinking that instead of the typical "the more exposed to this thing you are, the more resistant you get to it", the warp topaz would work in the opposite way. so, "the more exposure you get, the weaker you become". i recall starline saying something about giving surge and kit a weakness to the hypnosis, and while that could mean he literally programmed one in via the cyborg fuckery he did to their bodies, it could also mean... this. so!

that being said, i definitely think there was like, a hill (or mountain, heh) or difficulty irt the whole thing for starline. like, just getting sonic to SIT STILL was hard enough. he literally had to bolt his feet to the floor. sonic's anger alone probably would have protected him from whatever starline was trying to tell him, at least for awhile.

but as time wore on and sonic had to weather hundreds and hundreds of exposures to the hypnosis, it would've gotten harder and harder to completely dismiss it. even when starline left to go do whatever the fuck it is he does, sonic would've been left there with nothing but those words he'd heard repeated over and over and over and over.

and that's the real trick. even before putting him in snowpoint, starline had him completely isolated. and he could think to himself, "none of what he's saying is true," but at the end of the day, it's starline's word against... no one's. cuz sonic is on his own this time.

more sessions. starline's lies repeat endlessly in his brain. he can see that damn topaz even when he closes his eyes.

it's not true. none of it. but...

he does love his friends.

and starline KNEW when he crested over the top of that mountain and the uphill battle finally ended for him, because it was when sonic haltingly repeated what he was telling him for the first time, albeit a little bit off. "i'm hhhappy in snowpoint. i d-don't wanna leave my friends."

so, how long did it take to get to that point? days? weeks? no. 2 months. of constant exposure and drilling and pressure. and sonic STILL refused to crack in exactly the way starline wanted him to. such is the will of the hero...

but yeah, i might extend the timeline a little. 4 months instead of 3, so half could've been with starline, and the other half "happy" in the town. :P

[genderqueerdykes]

hai!! im looking 4 some advice ..

i'm an intersex trans woman. however, due to life experiences, genderweird fuckery, & DID, sometimes i feel like a trans man. but at the same time i feel like my manhood is through the lense of my womanhood if that makes sense? the closest ive gotten to describing it is "transfemmasc trans guy/butch". but also i have a hard time figuring out how to let these two sides of me "co-exist"; i worry that people will choose 'one' of me over the other. so i guess i'm asking how i can let my womanhood and femininity coexist with my manhood and masculinity without neglecting either of them due to social pressure. thank u :)

good question, thanks for asking!

it's good to remind one's self that masculinity and femininity don't cancel each other out, nor do manhood and womanhood, so fortunately, they can exist alongside one another without invalidating each other. when it comes to certain people, when you're trans, they'll find a way to misgender you no matter how you identify. and sometimes, strangers will misgender us on accident with no ill intent regardless of how we try to present, how many pronoun pins we wear, and so on

it's important to be addressed properly by others, but generally i say focus on building an environment where you feel comfortable with these things first and foremost. even if it's just when you are at home, if you're able to validate your feelings and identity on your own, it helps so that you may not need as much of that from others. people close to you should be talked to to make sure they're addressing you properly, and if they choose not to, that's on them

every person on this earth has a completely unique experience with gender and identity, so it's natural that it will be difficult for others to completely understand our identities, especially when they are unique to our situations, like having DID, being intersex, and so on. you are going to have an extremely unique experience with gender, and it's alright to explore it how you see fit. how others think and feel about it isn't important, that's important is you finding ways to present and be referred to that make you feel the most like yourself

i hope that makes sense! take care, best of luck. it can be very hard being an intersex trans woman at times, but you're not alone. i am an intersex trans woman too, and i have DID as well. it can be hard to navigate these things but we have to take them one step at a time. gender can certainly be confusing when it comes to plurality, that's for sure! let us know if you have any more questions

[muffin-man-marq-lynch]

"Did I restore the feeling now, huh? Is this your boy?"

Once again every single thing MJF does compels the fuck out of me. I had mostly expected a heel turn, but I forgot how meta he likes to play, and holy shit this could be incredible?!

Bestowing love, affection, care, trying to be a better mentor as a Prodigy That Was to Danny Garcia and help him relieve some of the pressures he's under, having him reject the Dynamite Diamond Ring but then LOSE the match because of it is such a heavy thing

The DDD is the only thing Max has left to his name, the only Title he has a real claim to in his legacy, it's synonymous with him really, he's the only person in AEW who's ever won it, and he's always done so by cheating for it and with it. To have someone he's viewing as a younger version of himself basically reject it but then immediately fail because of it? That's an actualization of Max's worst fears that he's not good enough to win without cheating. He immediately goes to Danny when he's crying, exposed, vulnerable, (there were so many comparisons to them made the last Dynamite, just two little guys) and hugs him and tells him 'It's not your fault.'

Besides the direct staredown at the audience and the fantastic layered connotations of 'MJF is fighting what he sees as a younger version of himself now, what are his motivations, to protect himself or fulfill his self-loathing' this is also going to be an incredible bit of meta fuckery like MJF always used to do (I can tell, he was looking more alive behind the eyes even just ringside) where he's going to challenge Us as the audience for Bitching & Moaning that 'MJF just seems like he's going through the motions these days' and 'MJF hasn't been good since...'

Besides the overarching themes, I can't stop looking at that white-tank top he'd been wearing ringside all match, which should have been a dead giveaway things were going to get messy. Not his style at all. But GOD there's just... something familiar about this... Maybe it was the image of Max with a younger version of himself against a white cotton version of his chest, wiping the blood across his face?

Or maybe it was somewhere else?

Congratulations guys, I think we're finally getting a Closure arc for the CMJF Feud.

[ravioligobbler9000]

Finished Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier last night and oh my god how do I even begin to describe this book... It is SO good.

The way our perception of Rebecca is completely changed by what Maxim says and what he says is basically the only insight we have on what actually happened, and the way he is really unreliable so we will never know who is actually the bad guy in this story.

How the main character has no name cause this story isn't really about her, it's about Manderley, it's about Rebecca.

I love that Manderley itself feels like a character and how it seems to have control over everybody... When Manderley ends, the story ends.

And the fire is a curse as much as a liberation, Rebecca's last victory, her last curse, liberation from all of her schemes, liberation from the pressures to maintain a historical family estate, freedom from memories, from the past and from the ghost of Rebecca.

I must confess that at first I, like many, thought this was a romance book, our main couple being haunted by the memories of Maxim's ex wife and her beauty, but upon thinking further, this book takes a situation so bizarre, our main character stuck in this really weird marriage, Maxim acting cold and distant and never telling the narrator what she did wrong, while also not giving her insight into his past for her to understand why what she did was wrong, treating the narrator like a child, which she basically is, the insane 20 year age gap, and I absolutely love that at first glance and not thinking much about it, the author makes us think this is normal, even after the revelation towards the end of the book, Maxim is the good guy, and Daphne du Maurier makes such a great job of making the reader irrationally root for him, cause after all we want what the narrator wants. But then you think about it and, is Rebecca really the bad guy? Is Maxim really the good guy? Did Rebecca really deserve what she got for what she did? At what point does Maxim turn from a tired man who just wants real love and someone faithful, into a murderous manipulator who just hated the way Rebecca stood up to his lack of emotion by doing what she wanted, so he made up all this story about how she was a sociopath to justify what he did to her??

Also Mrs. Danvers.... Oh my god Mrs. Danvers who was insanely loyal to Rebecca, who knew of Rebecca's insanity and disgust towards men and embraced it and loved it, who had a sort of weird one sided psychosexual relationship with Rebecca and who makes the narrator's life a living hell because of her loyalty to Rebecca, the chokehold Rebeca has on the world even after she is dead, and the fact that her whole life was devotion to Rebecca, and it shows by that ending, if her Rebecca can't own Manderley, no one can. All the scene's with the narrator and Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca's room, especially the window one, that were just perfectly written, perfectly suspenseful, show us just how Rebecca was the mastermind, she was pulling the strings even after her death, she bended everything to her will, even the weather, how can someone else ever possibly be the Mrs. de Winter of Manderley?

Just as a final thought, I love the gender fuckery of it all, the main character is a sort of Haruhi from OHSHC, she couldn't care less if she looks like a boy or a girl, cause frankly it isn't even important for the story, she asks Maxim not to love her, but to treat her like a companion, a friend, "a sort of boy". And I think that's really cool, after all, gender doesn't matter in this story, only Rebecca, and we also know Rebecca wasn't big on gender roles either haha ("should've been a boy" as said by Mrs. Danvers)

I cannot squeeze anymore thoughts out because I also haven't had breakfast yet BUT I absolutely loved this book and I will so absolutely read it again, I'll shut up now, I've rambled enough :)

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Like I'm really asking why gege introduces characters just to off them. I hate saying its bad writing but I'm seriously looking like, why though. I really feel he got inspired by Togashi and is trying to come up with some banging plot twists and mind fuckery but it isn't slapping the same. Like "He can't keep getting away with this!!"

It is bad writing! I can talk about it for hours. It's a shame cause Gege writes so extremely well but suffers from telling more than showing.

When Gege takes his time, he writes amazingly! He has great symbolism and wordplay, good characters, and good plot elements, but then rushes all of it. In his defense, it must be hard to write on a weekly schedule especially under such pressure and under a company. I did add a tldr at the end cause I have so much to say.

But I noticed since around the Zen’in and Maki chapters that Gege’s biggest struggle as a writer is writing build up. I’m not the best writer myself, but it’s such a huge problem in his writing.

To preface, he does have good build up in certain characters:

Geto and Gojo’s relationship and downfall is done so exceptionally beautifully. There’s a reason there’s so much discourse with their relationship and fandom tears about it. Itadori and Megumi’s relationship mimicking theirs is also done very well.

Miwa and Mechamaru, as side characters, also have the right level of relationship build-up for their roles in the story.

Gege can even write deaths very well.

Junpei’s death sets up Itadori’s first failure, Sukuna as a non-ally, and sets the tone for the show that the good guys can lose.

Nobara’s “death” was unneeded for Itadori’s collapse. But as a character, I do feel she was completely fleshed out and finished.  She was a character who knew who she was and embraced that without failure or doubt. The only growth I could see for her character development was to gain more empathy for others and become more open minded (something she seemed to realize at her death). But that’s another discussion.  

Nanami’s death (although sad) was probably the best-done death in the series. He’s a fully fleshed out character, we know his motivations and his regrets, we were attached to him just as much as Itadori. Then, Gege adds on the juxtaposition of Mei Mei and Ui Ui to his death.

Spoilers below cut.

Where he goes wrong:

Gege tried to recatch the feeling of losing Nanami in Hiromi; but we got so little of Hiromi, it didn’t make an impact like Nanami even though Hiromi’s introduction is really good, and we see that Itadori starts to look up to him.

Choso, I believe, got caught in between being an important character that fans love and being a character that probably would have the least consequences out of the people who got stuck in Sukuna’s domain (i.e. Itadori and Maki) to die. So, his death would actually matter to the fandom; but after so many deaths, it’s too late to make the fandom care, it only brings anger.

I have a feeling he’ll do the same with Todo now.

The most ironic part is that Gege probably had the best character development moment since the Culling Games by choosing NOT to kill a minor character.

In this case, I’m talking about Remi and Megumi.

If we look at the Culling Games as the arc developing Megumi before he gets taken by Sukuna; we notice that Megumi is entering his serious, cold-hearted era. He’s making the sacrifices necessary to save his sister.

In this case, we see Megumi repeatedly killing other humans without stopping to think or any remorse. We touch this subject with all of the first years.

Itadori: struggles with killing humans, becomes regretful about doing so, hates himself for killing humans because of Sukuna. Then, he eventually resolves to do what is necessary as a cog.

Nobara: resolves this with her Bus Riding analogy. She won’t get bent out of shape when it comes to protecting herself or over strangers.

Megumi: He has the exact same thought process as Nobara. He kills humans when they attack him. However, we are also aware Megumi tends to have more sympathy for strangers and enemies than Nobara even though he likes to act like he doesn't.

Despite Remi leading him into a trap, he comes to see that she isn’t that bright and is being taken advantage of. So, even though he doesn’t like her, he feels sorry enough for her that he protects her, tries to talk reason into her, and gets hurt in the process despite her initially betraying him.

It isn’t until she attacks him, that he officially marks her as “scum”.

Megumi later hunts Remi down as easy points in the Culling Games and because she’s someone who is an enemy. Remi even describes men as wolves as he hunts her down and is confused and panicking about the situation since she’s never had to think for herself.

I’ve seen these scenes used to describe him as not being a kid anymore and basically using it to downplay his depression over losing Tsumiki, the mahoraga and bum memes.

But Gege uses Remi as a way to still display Megumi’s stipulations over killing others and his connection to Tsumiki as someone who helped him develop his moral compass and keeps him grounded.

Did Remi attack him? Yes.

But she was no longer posing a threat and actively running away from him, making her a non-enemy again. Megumi deciding to let her live is actually a solidifying moment in Megumi’s character, his relationship with his sister, and re-establishes him as a character who despite being outwardly cruel and distant at times has empathy and kindness for people. It shows this holds true when he has no reason to be kind to them and even good reason to kill them. However, this is something a) Megumi would have probably regretted later or b) set him on a worse path. Most importantly, it confirms just how much Tsumiki's ideals and expectations of him as a person means to him, giving reason to why his soul becomes weak enough to possess towards the end of the arc.

This is actually such a good example of his writing once again being amazing. Gege is aware that choosing to let someone live, even minor unimportant characters, works just as well as choosing to let someone die in terms of character motivations and development. Something that he doesn't give to Itadori for some reason, other than maybe the slim chance Nobara might live.

However, because the culling games swaps to purely fights after this, it’s a missed opportunity to continue exploring Megumi’s downward spiral and relationship with his sister before losing her. Sure, it would've been nice to see Tsumiki as her own person as well, but Gege does a good job in making Megumi's feelings about her known like when Megumi only chooses to go with Gojo because of Tsumiki.

However, this makes his exploration Maki and Mai, another sibling dynamic, lackluster in comparison.

This issue probably bothers me the most in Maki’s story and the story of the Three Big Clans.

After Shibuya, Gege has a chance to world build without Gojo as the issue. After all, the issue with Gojo being sealed was the dismantling of Jujutsu society.

He missed the chance to expand on the big clans and jujutsu societal structure as a whole. He has touched on the clans and their love of bloodlines, but he has not touched on how they function with each other and jujutsu society as a whole especially as they try to power grab and go against each other with Gojo’s absence rather than solve the Kenjaku problem.

We have no idea about the Gojo clan except that Gojo is the leader and main political figure. Kamo’s clan was slaughtered very quickly. As well as the Zen’in and higher-ups.

The manga could’ve used an arc focused on the downfall of Shibuya and the consequences, but we go straight to the culling games with barely a mention on Nobara.

Now with Maki, Gege once again sets up his relationships and character structure beautifully Mai and Maki. Their ending is also very well done.

However, there’s a lack of interaction between those two plot points. Gege consistently gives us just enough to make inferences but very little else.

We don’t see the twins react to one another outside their initial meeting and Mai’s death. We understand both their motivations, but we get no further insight into their relationship or them having another discussion on their choices.

Imagine how much harder Mai’s death would’ve been if we had scenes with her together with Maki; the possible hope of them repairing their relationship. Even if they were still fighting and didn’t make up, Maki would receive more character development if it was shown that she would one day make things up to Mai and her failure to do so. Also, it seems like Mai suddenly knows everything about why twins are bad luck, and Gege once again exposition dumps us about this information. The fact that it isn’t until Maki kills her mother that she finally says “She was so happy to have Mai and Maki” also rings very hollow.

The same with Maki and Naoya. We know Naoya is an asshole, and that he made Maki’s life hell but due to our lack of insight to clans and chapters to absorb the new characters, it’s lackluster. Naoya could’ve easily been swapped out with any other jerky character; the same way random sumo wrestlers helped Maki unlock all her potential.

Choso and Itadori suffer from this as well due to the month time skip. We care about Choso, and we know how much Choso loves his brothers, but I personally feel like I didn’t see Itadori truly accept Choso as his brother due to that time skip. Yes, he calls him Aniki, but I didn’t really see where the connection came from on Itadori’s end other than Itadori sympathizing with Choso’s feelings and his guilt over the fate of his other brothers.

I’ll probably get a little backlash for this, but the same can be said for Megumi and Gojo. Yeah, dad Gojo memes and fandom art are cute. Some of the games and light novels let us know that Gojo legitimately cares about Megumi, but we don’t get opportunities to see Megumi return that affection. In Japanese, Megumi only speaks casual to Tsumiki, and it’s said in interviews that Tsumiki is the one that mostly took care of herself and Megumi.

In the long run, I feel like if it was between Itadori and Gojo dying, Megumi would care more on a personal if Itadori died despite knowing Itadori for only 3-4 months. I could be completely wrong, but Gege doesn’t give us the insight to know for a fact Megumi’s feelings towards Gojo. I’m sure he cares about Gojo, but dad is pushing it.

Even Sukuna is suffering from this. Gege wants a story about a powerful villain, but he fails to realize that you still have to make the reader’s either a) care about that villain or b) interested in the villain from a character analysis point of view.

However, all we learn about Sukuna has been through telling. We learn about his twin, we learn he was an unwanted child, we learn he was a god to humans.

The most we got of a flashback was Yorozu’s crush on him, and Sukuna was rejecting her so hard that we didn’t really get any insight on how Sukuna feels about his past. Gege doesn’t give us anything to work with to care about Sukuna. Sure, he’s hot; sure, he has fan theories and fanfic that build upon his character, but in the sense of the manga, I really don’t know why I should care about him other than power scaling and his character design is cool.

Don’t even get me started on the month time skip either.

Tldr; Gege likes to tell more than to show, and we just got to rely on taking his word for it because he’s the author. He sets up beautiful plot points; he’s an amazing author when he takes the time to build upon them, but more often than not he glosses over the build up for quick emotional shots.

[ladyosiriscreates]

Goodness I just read your amazing Soap one shot! So good! Could I ask for Gaz taking care of an unwell female reader (totally not based on my current situation at all)? Thank you 🖤

I kept looking at this so many times in just pure disbelief. HELLO GREATSTORMCAT I love reading your drabbles they're truly a treat to read. Also I love Gaz he is one of my favorites. Rudy Parra is also my beloved. and if you would like something NSFW from him just leave another ask/idea and I will write it because I have FEELINGS AND IDEAS.

I'm in a Sickbed, but at least it's Yours.

Gaz x Fem!Reader for the opulent @greatstormcat (3.2k words)

Tags: Illness, insecurity, fluff, comfort, so much fucking comfort, this man was made to love someone, mutual pining that just boils over,

You had known it was coming. The dregs of winter that brought along pressure drops that threatened to blow your sinuses through the rest of your head. Fever, aches, chills and the incessant fog around your head that clouded everything and led your body to exhaustion… man fuck that.

For the first few days, you thought you might be dying.

But today, you certainly wished it was so. Because surely it would be a greater mercy than whatever fuckery your body was fighting off. 

And that was what led you to now, standing in the kitchen of an apartment that wasn’t yours, wearing soft pajamas that certainly didn’t belong to you, and staring at a fridge that looked familiar- but also wasn’t yours. 

“...C’mon luv, you’ve been staring at my closed fridge door for the better part of fifteen minutes. And as fucking hilarious as it might be to see you disassociate to the hum of it, I’m half afraid you’ll keel over if you take another step.” Came a kind voice, soft laughter permeating the hazy, unpleasant fog of ick that hung around your brain. Turning your head, you met the warm, impossibly dark eyes of one Kyle Garrick. Your long term friend.

Friend.

Why had he always been just a friend?

You two had revolved around each other from the moment you met, always within each others orbit though barely ever colliding.

For that matter… how had you gotten here? And when?

“Gaz?” You slurred, voice light as you grabbed onto the counter. “Don’t think I’m home right now.” Gentle arms encircled your body, coaxing you into his chest despite your weak protests. “No you can’t, ‘m sick, and if you get sick i’m damn near certain your team’ll hunt me for sport. And I promise that is not how I’d like to be hunted.”

But your protests fell on deaf ears as you were lifted into his arms. Which seemed to be for the better with how the room spun as he did. “S’alright, I’m on leave for the next two weeks anyways. I can afford a little bit of sickness. But I believe you when you say you’re not home.” He teased. “Not a whole lot goin’ on in that pretty little head?”

“Well it fuckin’ hurts.” You retorted with a scoff, arms easing around his shoulders as you nestled into the crook of his neck. The gentle scent of mint and earth churned at your senses, weaving their way through your stuffed sinuses to bring comfort to your humming mind. “You think my head is pretty?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” Kyle chuckled in return, shaking his head as he took you past the threshold of his own bedroom and laying you against his bed, sitting at its edge. But you didn’t let go. Like a lifeline you clung to his neck, keeping him bent over you before pulling your head back to meet his gaze.

Perhaps it was the soft light cascading through the window, pale gold in the setting sun, but he shimmered in your vision- elegance and refined beauty. “...If I were more selfish a woman, I’d tell you what I’m thinking.” you whispered, eyes flitting in a triangle between his own eyes, and the lips that were now pursed.

“If I were more selfish a man, luv, I’d keep you in this bed- my bed, and never let you up from it. But maybe that’s just your fever talking…” He soothed, reaching up to untangle your arms from his shoulders and laying you back down. When you protested, he cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing small circles into the feverish skin. “You don’t know how worried I was when you texted me.”

Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly as you glanced around. “I… texted you?” Surely not- but actually… where was your phone again?

“I’m not sure what you were trying to say, but the words help, medicine and sick were all in it. And all misspelled. You had me worried, and the state I found you in wasn’t much better. Laying under a heap of blankets and groaning to yourself about how death would be better than this?” He teased, but beneath the lighthearted nature, even now you could see it, that concern. The genuine care he possessed. Selfishly, you wished it was only for you.

“So you came?” you asked, unable to hide your own surprise.

“Of course.” Gaz whispered, huffing out a small laugh. “I always come when you call. Kinda wish you’d call more, sweetheart.” 

Finally, you allowed yourself to surrender back into the softness of his bed, suddenly enveloped by an almost overwhelming sense of him. “I have a fever.” You explained quietly.

“Yes, I know this.” he replied.

“I’m hoping it’s high enough I won’t remember this tomorrow, depending on how it goes.” You muttered, lifting a hand to drag across your congested and stuffy nose- what a great way to start things. “...I hate you. No. wait. No, that's definitely not right.” You scoffed, clenching your jaw. “I hate… when you’re not around. I hate being apart from you. I hate the way you make me feel when I know you’re just being kind and genuine. I hate wanting you more than a plant craves the sun-”

Kyle’s eyes grew wider as you spoke, these words the clearest to fall from your tongue since he’d picked you up this morning. And though it seemed you weren’t done speaking, he carefully stole your hand from your face, placing your fingertips to his lips for a moment. “My turn?”

“Your turn.” came your reply, meek beneath the sudden warmth of his voice.

“I hate being apart from you too. I hate feeling like we’re in this dance but always with different partners, and at most I can catch your eye from the other side of a ballroom- but your card is always full and I’m never sure if there’s more room for me.” He hummed, massaging your palm as he held your hand delicately within his own. “I hate that you keep me at arms length because you’re afraid of seeming weak, that the world has made you so afraid to be vulnerable- while you still crave the ability to be so.”

His words floated through your sick-addled brain, finding yourself eager to drown in the sound of his voice. “It’s hard..”

“I know luv. But I want you to let me in. I want to be there for you. I’d drop everything and run if you called my name for even a moment.” He promised, reaching up to push sweat slicked strands of hair from your face.

“I’m a mess.” You argued.

“Then let me help you clean it up. I’m by no means perfect either, as much as you might try to put me on a pedestal. Seeing each other clearly is the best thing we could do, because…  I… I want more. Maybe I always have. But falling into step with you is easier than falling into anything else.” he exclaimed, glancing toward his window at the golden light that began to fade, growing warmer as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. “I won’t say I can fix you, because I don’t fucking think you’re broken. The fact you’re still here is proof of that.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, the feeling dulled by the fog of exhaustion that had snuck its way around your body. “Am i dreaming?”

“Do you want to be?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“...I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“Me too, but honestly- I’m more terrified of going through life wondering what this could have been if I hadn’t told you.” Kyle admitted, his weight making the bed dip, your body rolling slightly in towards him.

“Kyle…” you breathed, forcing your eyes open, desperate to meet his. “Tell me again when I wake up in the morning. Promise me it isn’t a dream then… because if you say it again, I’ll believe you. God, I want to believe you.” You exclaimed, voice pitched as your lids fell heavy again. “My walls have always been made of glass when it came to you… and you, fucking… stupid, handsome, pure as sunlight you… carried a hammer with you all along.”

Kyle nearly gawked in return, your words painting a most vivid landscape and technicolor sky. A lilac sunrise when he hadn’t known purple was his favorite color.  “Luv, I’ll tell it to you every day until you have no choice but to believe it. So for now, sleep. I’ll bring you back some medicine and warm ginger tea…”

“But… you don’t even like tea?” you mumbled, a bit of surprise coloring your tone.

“Yeah, but I like you. You’d be surprised at the pieces of you I keep with me when I wasn’t able to have the real thing.” He explained, resting a hand atop your head so that he might soothingly stroke at your hair, the repeated notion lulling you into slumber. “...but I’ll admit none of it compares to having you here and now.”

When morning came there was a soft weight on your chest- warm, but not unpleasant. Different than the weight of stuffiness and congestion, of the phlegm and cough that had been plaguing you. As your eyes opened and you shifted up to prop yourself on an elbow, you found Gaz beside you in a chair, his head resting on your hip as he slumbered. It couldn’t have been comfortable, draping himself over the edge of his own bed. But like a flood the memories returned, gentle touches and words spoken beneath a setting sun. Every piece of him draped in gold and idolatry.

You pressed your hand to his cheek, before turning your head into your shoulder and coughing. Not truly the way you would have preferred it, but the end goal was the same as he lifted his head, giving you a dizzying smile as he pushed himself up on his arms.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. Get some better sleep last night?” He hummed, voice a bit warmer and gravelly than usual.

For once you’re happy that you don’t currently possess a hold of all your mental faculties,  as otherwise you very well may have jumped him right there. But instead, like a reasonably more dignified moron, you found yourself nodding. “...I’m in your bed.”

“Astute observation skills, you should be a detective with that level of perception.” He taunted, reaching to the bedside table and bringing back a mug of now cooled, half drank tea. “It’ll be bitter as hell, but let’s get a bit of fluid into you before you try to get up, sweetheart.”

“Kyle, I'm in your bed.” You stressed again. 

“Yes and it’s about time, really.” He sighed, grin cheeky as he watched you go through phases of surprise and confusion. “Alright, alright, calm down Inspector Gadget. You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm thinking that hard.”

With a steady hand you stole the mug of tea, that even cold, you could tell was your favorite, made just the way you’d prepare it- how long had he known such fine minutiae of your being. How long had he been memorizing the way you existed so he could mimic it for your comfort. “...am not.” You muttered, giving him a half-hearted withering glare over the mug of tea.

The bed dipped again as he sat upon it, pulling you forward by your shoulder before pressing his lips to your forehead. Time itself seemed to suspend, small bits of dust hanging in the air as you relished in the feeling of soft lips and a gentler hand upon your forehead. “I think your fevers finally broken… which makes sense, you seem a bit more with it this morning. I’m relieved.”

Dumbfounded, you lifted your gaze to his lips as he pulled back, before finding their way ever higher to meet the amused deep brown eyes that could churn you like the earth itself. “I feel a bit better today.” You finally admitted, finding your voice again- as thick as it was. “I can probably head home-”

“No.” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “Shoulda known the first thing you’d try to do is free yourself like you think you’re a burden at my side.” Kyle sighed, clenching his jaw for a moment before standing up. Fear struck you, like a white hot iron at your spine. You didn’t want him to leave.

The fear was only present for a moment before you were lifted by your hips and pushed back against the headboard, Kyle climbing atop the bed to straddle your waist and pin your shoulders. “I need you to pay attention, sweetheart.”

Inhaling sharply, you could do little but nod, meeting his gaze with wide eyes and blown pupils. If you weren’t still sick, the places your mind went would trail ever darker. Even now, you could imagine the feel of his lips attacking every sensitive spot from your throat to inner wrist.

“You told me I had to tell you this again, and I should have known you were serious.” He exclaimed, one hand climbing until he cradled your chin between his thumb, pointer and middle finger. “I’m in love with you- and trust me, falling in love with one of my best friends hadn’t been the plan, but God above it was so easy. You are so easy to love, not just for the positive attributes you put on display for everyone, but for the pieces of yourself you show me when we’re alone. For the way you allow yourself to crumble and break just a little bit when you’re with me. For being my safe space. So yes, I meant it last night when I said I wanted you to stay and be with me. Because I’m in love with your dense ass. Just like you’re in love with me. I hate being apart from you. And I hate that we overthink ourselves into these goddamn ruts and it’s kept us apart for even longer than-”

His words were more than enough, but the mounting desperation in his voice, his gaze was enough to spurn you, hands reaching up and cradling his cheeks. “You’re right.” you interrupted softly. “I’m in love with you. Your diligence, your determination… I love all of it, Kyle. When we’re out with friends all I care about is seeing you, because if you’re enjoying yourself then I feel like I can enjoy things too. You make my soul sing, and when it does it’s just trying to mimic whatever you’re humming.”

Kyle’s face broke into a grin, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he pulled your forehead to his. “We’re idiots.” He admitted. “Took us far too long to get here.”

“What matters is that we got here- and I-” unceremoniously the moment was shattered as you abruptly turned away and coughed, groaning through the interrupted moment. “Fuck.”

“You fuck?”

“I take it back, I hate you.” You groaned, hearing the musical rumble of his laugh as he let up off of you, popping out two pills from the packaging on the bedside table. 

“No you don’t.” Kyle teased, taking a sip from your mug and tossing the pills into his mouth before grabbing your chin and inclining your head. There was barely a moment to question it before you were met with the feeling of lukewarm tea and medicine pouring past your lips. It was nearly seamless, only a few droplets slipping from your lips as you swallowed back the tea. But for a moment, you both lingered there, the taste of ginger and orange stinging at your lips before leaning into him, unwilling to part with what you’d finally found.

No, you didn’t hate Kyle Garrick. There was little he could do to truly anger you, so hating him was out of the question. He accepted your surrender by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his arms as he deepened the kiss. It was warm, making up for lost time. Like two galaxies finally collapsing into each other and spinning into something beautiful and new. You didn’t part until you were breathless, which was unfortunately much sooner than you would have liked.

“You’re gonna get sick.” you whispered.

“If that means I get to stay in bed with you for the rest of my leave, I think it’ll be worth it.” He promised, slowly slumping over onto his side before drawing you into his embrace. He massaged slow, soothing circles into your lower back, his other hand keeping your head tucked against his chest. “I made some soup for you last night, pots on the stove so I can get it simmering again soon.” Kyle murmured. “Stay with me? Ride this out- just stay for the rest of my leave?”

Your laugh, as small as it was, seemed like true music to his ears. A heavenly chorus to a man who hadn’t believed in years. “I’ll stay. Maybe I’ll get the turn to play caretaker once you get sick from kissing me, dumbass.”

“All part of the plan.”

“There’s no plan, Kyle.” You snorted, though your gaze was warm and soft as you both stayed trapped against the sheets.

“Well… just existing with you is good too.” He promised, lips turning up as he brought your foreheads together.

The next two days were spent in a most confusing sort of reverie. Anytime you moved, Kyle shadowed you, his hands covering and guiding yours. Grabbing things before you could think to want them, even carrying you from his bed to his couch as he bundled you up before situating himself beside you. He kept you hydrated, setting timers for your meds and keeping you nearby when your weakened body slept. But as your body grew stronger, the telltale signs of illness began to take their toll on Kyle.

You laughed, as three days later you were nearly normal, and he was standing in the kitchen, head bowed and lips pouty as he looked at you beneath thick lashes.

“I did warn you.” You chastised, moving forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No regrets.” He grumbled, spinning you in his arms to rest his head atop yours, and keep his hands on your waist. “Think of it as a return on investment.”

“Then I guess we’ll be investing forever, hm?” You teased, chuckling softly as you allowed your weight to lean back into his.

“Rich in love and rich in life… I love you.” Kyle sighed, somehow looking forward to the rest of the week and a half ahead of them, even with the misery of illness looming over him.

“I love you too, forever and always.” You promised.

“Forever and always.”

[carrymelikeimcute]

Thinking about 1x04 and the way it absolutely goes to TOWN on what being a captain is, and how Ed, Izzy and Stede all struggle with it, and each other.

This is a great episode for watching Izzy spiral - he tries to force Ed to stop mucking about and do some captaining (failing to realise that Ed has a plan, he just isn't explaining it to him).

After this lack of input, Izzy is apparently desperate enough to ask STEDE - demanding information about the ship from him (which Stede obviously doesn't have) and to come up with his own 'plan' which is 'everyone either fights or they die' - which is as blunt and simplistic as it gets. But it's also the polar opposite of Stede's 'we talk to them' - neither plan is going to work, but for wildly different reasons.

BUT then, when Ed appears and Lucius is giving the countdown, Izzy seems to be learning just as much as Stede is, what it MEANS to be a captain. To have this pressure on you, this responsibility. Izzy is crumbling under only a sliver of it already, as is Stede.

When Ed says the line 'The crew's going to die, you're gonna lose all your men and it's all gonna be your fault - all the men who trusted you...' The shot is of Izzy looking at Ed.

Earlier in the episode, we see Ed brush off Izzy notifying him of the losses they took in the skirmish with the Spanish. I see this moment as Izzy realising that Ed does care, but he cannot allow himself to stop, even for a moment, to let that emotion in - because he needs to be their captain, all the time.

When Black Pete arrives to say that Blackbeard is a genius - Izzy is confused. Then, when the secret 'fog' plan appears to come to fruition, Izzy is annoyed - seemingly with himself, for his own lack of faith, for not listening and for making rash decisions, like threatening to resign. It's clear (in my view) that he WANTS the plan to work though - he doesn't want to die and he wants his captain to be RIGHT.

But, while everyone else is happy and relieved, Izzy looks if anything, hurt - because he's been left in the dark. He's first mate and he has been excluded from the plan - and I'm not sure if this is because he didn't go along with the 'sausage clouds' thing earlier, or if Ed was always going to keep it from him, but either way it shows that they aren't communicating well, as a unit.

And when Ed's plan is shown to have the fatal flaw of it being a leap year, Izzy looks crestfallen, because not only is he now probably going to die, he's also seeing Blackbeard - THE Blackbeard - stumble. (And in a stumble he could have avoided earlier if they'd been listening to each other). It's sort of embarrassed and broken, that look, like he's seeing this human failing for the first time.

Interestingly, Stede asks if leap years 'change things much' highlighting a key difference between him and Izzy - Stede has little nautical experience, Izzy has a lot - but Stede has the imagination to come up with a plan like the lighthouse, and Izzy, even with his knowledge, doesn't have the creativity to use it effectively. But, as with the fog plan - creativity also needs pragmatism.

During the exchange between Lucius/Frenchie, Izzy is centred between them, looking down/into nothing, clearly aware that 1. he is going to die and 2. Ed is just waiting to die. And While Stede is going after Ed, Izzy it appears, cannot. He either doesn't know what to do to get Ed through this, or can't bring himself to try.

The lighthouse fuckery works - showing Stede and Ed think along similar lines. Izzy is noteably absent from the entire thing. Where he is/what he's doing remains a mystery. (From what we see of him in S2, I theorise he's probably sitting somewhere dark and staring at a wall, having it out with himself, but that's just me).

Finally, we get the last scene with Ed/Izzy. And as soon as Ed approaches, Izzy apologises - which again, I consider to be due to introspection during the fuckery but w/e - Izzy actively refutes what he said by saying he doesn't think it, but it's not clear if he thought it when he said it, and has changed his mind, or never thought it to begin with. Ed even sort of meets him halfway by saying he was 'right' - about what we have no idea. Possibly just that they needed a plan, and he needed to share that plan sooner.

Ed offers Izzy the captaincy, despite the previous day showing that he is absolutely NOT captain material - which feels to me like a way to get Izzy to stay. To buy some time and keep things as they are. Ed is trying to keep all his plates spinning while he works out wtf he wants to do.

Lastly, Izzy calls after him to reassure Ed that he's 'still got it' but it feels...conciliatory. Much like the offer of a captaincy, it's a bit of flattery, a balm for a wound - I think he wants to mean it, but he's still not 100% sure. And Ed gives him a confident smile and turns away before letting it drop - which is when we see Izzy's answering smile, like he's now convinced that Ed is still Blackbeard, he's still got what it takes - but Ed's the one doubting himself now, more than ever, but he looks...slightly resigned to me? Like he's at least at this point, trying to convince himself that he really means it when he lays out his plan.

This episode man, it's just...the relationships between Stede, Ed and their respective 'marriages' is...a lot to pack into this one ep.

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Y’know given Hua Cheng’s shapeshifting and Shi Qingxuan’s shapeshifting and He Xuan’s shapeshifting and the kingdom of Xianle prizing androgyny and Xie Lian’s total blasé attitude about when people confuse him for a woman

I feel like maybe my Wei Clan don’t… do… gender?

Like. I think after a few generations of being surrounded by all this gender fuckery from all directions — especially when you know the girls would be raised with just as much freedom and indulgence as the boys — I feel like eventually everybody’s gender identity would be best described as a shrug. The Wei know what gender society Expects them to be, and for their own convenience they typically just go along with that, but it doesn’t actually have any weight for them.

Wei Changze doesn’t like the way makeup feels on his (their?) face but he likes when he gets to leave the Jiang sect and go home for holidays and stuff because it means they get to wear pretty dresses.

The family’s perspective on other peoples’ genders is that like. If you tell me your name is Familyname Givenname, and your favorite color is orange, and you really like lychee, and you are a woman, It is not my place to say “no, you’re wrong” about any of that.

Like, gender to them os very much a societal role, and those roles don’t apply to them, but it’s sort of like… occupations? This musician is a woman. She does musician things, like compose her own music, and perform for audiences, and maintain her instrument of choice. She does woman things, like manage the house’s finances, and cook, and wear makeup. Those are all fine, good things for a person to do, and we wish her as much success in her career as a woman as we do her success in her career as a musician.

The only time Wei Changze ever cared much about gender was after meeting Cangse Sanren, when he felt the spark, realized instantly she was his destined one, and then just as quickly realized he was gonna have to somehow explain this stuff to her and oh god people who aren’t of Xianle get Weird about this what if she thinks it’s creepy or gross oh no

(Of course CSSR is super interested and curious and lowkey turned on and it is the complete opposite of an issue)

It is so, so much weirder for Wei Wuxian, who was kidnapped and presumed dead for the first seventeen some-odd years of his life, and was very much raised As A Man. Not only does meeting his long lost family send him down an identity crisis for all of the obvious “what do you mean I’m half-undead Ghost Royalty” reasons, but it ALSO sends him down a gender crisis, which happens right on the heels of his sexuality crisis re: realizing that LWJ is his Destined Other, which then tucks neatly into yet another crisis because LWJ already barely likes him (them?????) will he be able to handle it if Wei Wuxian is also kind of a girl sometimes??? Would he like it better if Wei Wuxian is always a girl???? Is that even and option or does Wei Wuxian need to stop doing gender entirely??????? He doesn’t know how to do that???????????

(Wei Wuxian does not, in fact, need to make any changes or choices with regards to his gender if he does not want to, nobody is gonna pressure him, but the kid is going through a lot in a very short amount of time and the spiral is probably going to be cathartic, so let him have a breakdown. He deserves it.)

(Of course, LWJ does a lot more than “barely like” WWX, and once the gender thing is explained to him he does a lot more than just “handle it.” He is supportive and eager to learn and understand and, of course, as always, kind of horny about it. He ends up deciding he has a Thing for WWX in slinky nightgowns, and they have lots of weirdly tender, nasty, disrespectful sex about it.)

[torc87]

So I was having thoughts on Episode 4 and wether Ed was actually planning on killing Stede and retiring or if he was lying to Izzy to manipulate him into staying.

I think, considering who Edward is and how he thinks, he was being honest.

He did have a plan, an impulsive one, to kill Stede.

Here's why.

I don't think that he chased Stede or rescued him with that plan in mind. He was mostly just going 'ooh, new, different, interesting, shiny!'. He was bored. Stede was new and different. So Ed wanted to meet him and was willing to fight the Spanish to do so - they can't kill him, he hasn't satisfied his curiosity yet!

I don't think it was about kindness or heroics. Ed was just curious and Stede was interrupting the boredom. Plus, if Izzy told him about Stede's fuckery on the island, here was someone who might understand Ed. After all, Ed is lonely as well as bored.

But then! He meets Stede, and here are all these cool things Stede owns that Ed likes. Yes, here is someone who is on his wavelength but I don't think that had time, in one days acquaintance, to matter MORE than Ed no longer being bored, or his longtime desire to be 'those kinds of people'.

And then Stede suggests retirement.

New idea to Ed. He can just stop being Blackbeard. He can just be Ed, and people can treat him like Stede is doing. He tests it out - let's switch clothes!

I don't think he had a full plan yet. But he is a tactician. New goal - retirement, his brain starts thinking how to get what he wants. And Ed gets what he wants by fuckeries.

He plays with it, plays at not being Blackbeard, at letting someone else take the pressure. I bet he liked it. Being able to tell Izzy to push someone else. Not his problem. He's tired.

Then they come up w the lighthouse idea and it's fun for him again! Success, praise, but - he's not Blackbeard during, he's Stede Bonnet in his fancy clothes, helping Stede create the flame, playing a supporting role.

Here's what retirement could be like! And then Stede at one point says that he would give all his stuff up to be Blackbeard.

Ideas, ideas.

Ed is a Master Tactician.

I think he had the plan in mind when he suggested the skill swap. He learns what he needs to fit into society the way he wants. Steals the riches from the ship that he wants.

Did he click w Stede and like him? Probably. They had a few like-meeting-like moments by then. But it was a day. One day vs years of being bored and wanting something new.

So then Ed tells Izzy the plan.

And I don't doubt it is a manipulation. "I need you", "you can be captain after me" - Ed is absolutely manipulating Izzy into staying and helping. He can't kill, remember? So if he plans to kill Stede and replace him, he needs Izzy.

And jumping ahead, as soon as the plan was fully off, after the duel, when Ed was absolutely certain he no longer wanted Stede dead? He could care less about Izzy leaving. He no longer needed him.

Going back to the moment he told Izzy of the plan, though. The reason I absolutely think it was the truth?

Ed is a Master Tactician. He thinks three steps ahead.

So what was step two if he was lying to Izzy? He knows Izzy is like a dog w a bone once he is convinced of something.

So what was his plan for afterwards once Izzy actually expected him to kill Stede and retire?

If he was lying to Izzy to get Izzy to stay, it's a fuckery. And a fuckery has steps. Step one - lie to Izzy, convince him to stay. Great. Done.

So what's the next step? How does he plan to cancel the fuckery? Deal with Izzy's understandable disappointment or confusion?

He's a Master Tactician. He must have thought about what would happen next? Two steps ahead, right?

Except there is no next step. He is caught flat footed when Izzy and Fang and Ivan demand he kill Stede. He doesn't have a reply ready. The way he would, if it was a Fuckery he was playing on Izzy.

He had a reply ready, seemed to expect Izzy's behavior, the entire time he was keeping silent about his plan with the fog. He wanted the admiration of the entire crew, so he raised the stakes till last minute, made it seem like he didn't care, like he would be willing to die.

Master Tactician. Good at understanding how other people work. Great at manipulating people, eliciting the response he wants - fear, awe, admiration.

So what does it mean if he is caught unprepared?

When he doesn't have a response ready? Hasn't predicted the behavior of his mark?

Must not be a fuckery he is in the middle off.

Bc Izzy's behavior is not unexpected. Him drawing in Ivan and Fang may be, the pet accusation might be unpredictable, but if Ed was trying to trick Izzy, was lying about planing to kill Stede, he would know a confrontation of some sort was coming. It's very much in Izzy's character to do so.

So why wasn't he prepared?

Bc it was not a fuckery. He was being honest with Izzy about killing Stede, so he didn't think he would need a plan to deal with Izzy later. Then he got to know Stede, got to feel that meeting of the minds, feel less lonely, not bored, started to fall in love with him after the French Ship Burning, and didn't notice as his plan stopped being something he wanted any longer.

So when Izzy confronted him, he was faced with the fact that he had changed his mind without noticing. And since he didn't realize, he hadn't prepared a plan to deal with Izzy about it. And as we saw from him walking off with "if you know how to swim, jump now", Ed is not great at reacting when his plans fall apart. It takes him a bit to recover and plan again, and he flails in the meanwhile.

Flailing, like agreeing he will kill Stede and pulling his knife out to do so.

So that's why I think it wasn't a lie. Bc Master Tactician, two steps ahead, Edward Teach, didn't Have a plan to deal with Izzy when he didn't kill Stede like expected. So not killing Stede must not have been IN his plan.

[safflowerseason]

I also haven't done a comprehensive book post but I'd love to hear your thoughts! If anything, it's just made me have 10,000 more questions than I did before which was already A Lot. Also Justice 4 Mischa/Marissa always.

You sent this before we got Mischa Barton dropping major bombshells!! Now so much has changed!! 

I said this briefly in earlier comments but my overall take on the book now is that, while it had lots of insights in other areas not related to Mischa Barton, it ultimately demonstrated the limits of the oral history approach. MB’s specific revelations also demonstrate why an oral history was probably not the best way to really get “behind the scenes” of what happened on this particular show. Like, in my experience oral histories are generally pretty fluffy and they kind of allow everyone to share memories and their recollections without much pushback…which is basically what happened in the book. If you interview as many people as Sepinwall did and absolutely everyone refuses to go on the record about two co-stars dating because they know just how fucked-up it is…that is a story that requires a *totally* different angle than a fluffy oral history, especially one that's such a direct collaboration with the showrunners. I’ve been thinking about the book recently published by Mo Ryan called Burn It Down: Power, Complicity, and a Call for Change in Hollywood. That’s the kind of approach you’d need to do her story justice. 

At the same time, I do maintain that Sepinwall emphasized that what happened with MB’s exit was not her fault, in spite of his past (sketch) history with the show. He gave a lot of detail about network fuckery, Schwartz’s failures as a show-runner in S3, and he also showed that Brody and McKenzie were actually the ones being assholes on set, not MB, but that no one in charge cared because to Schwartz they were the two most important characters - ie, MB was considered expendable and the men were not. 

As for Schwartz…I already thought he came off pretty terribly in the book but now, like, oh my god. I don’t know how anyone but ESPECIALLY women could work with him ever again. I think it's so gross to claim that you're going to be open and honest about everything that happened on your show when you know this HUGE SECRET. Like I *get* why nobody wanted to go on the record about this and of course it's fundamentally Ben McKenzie's or Mischa Barton's news to share, but then don't PRETEND that you're going to fully explain what happened twenty years later when you know it's not the full story. Jesus Christ.

What makes me so mad is that the only reason Schwartz was so comfortable “taking the fall” in the limited way he did for what happened with MB and the show’s decline in quality is because it hasn’t actually cost him anything, and sadly I don’t think MB’s interview is going to change that. Nobody important in Hollywood cares because it was so long ago and it was his first show and one actress’s mental health and career prospects are a small price to pay for letting a man do whatever he wants on a set. So he didn’t risk anything by going on the record about all this. 

As for the non-MB parts of the book, of course I enjoyed reading everyone’s perspectives looking back, especially in the first year, and the little random fun stories that were sprinkled throughout. Chris Carmack came off as a pretty decent guy to me, and Adam Brody clearly has done a lot of reflection on that era of his life and how he acted at the time. I love Kelly Rowan and Peter Gallagher so much and I enjoyed their take on things (also intrigued by the comment that they weren't super tight on set?!) And I thought the book was a great overview of just how many factors and voices and interests went into making a single piece of television during the peak years of network tv. Like, so many different execs in charge of different things, all putting competing pressures on the show…it’s easy to see why television was so formulaic in that period. The O.C. in its earliest and best days really didn’t fit the mold for anything on TV, and as the book laid out why that was kind of the show's undoing in a way (in addition to Schwartz f*&king it up).

That was a lot and seems like enough to be getting on with for now, haha. Ultimately what I really want is a two volume exposé on the toxic culture of Hollywood in this early 00's era and how so many young women were chewed up and spat out by the system, with Mischa Barton's story as a prime example. She deserves justice!