#reading the discourse around it is Too Much

[ghitathepanda]

Dragon Ball Daima brought back the "Goku bad dad" thing so lemme put in my two cents on the whole thing.

I had recently re-read the entire Dragon Ball manga, finishing the last chapter the Sunday prior to episode 7 of Daima. I didn't really come across moments that made me think of Goku's competence as a parent, with his trust in Gohan for Cell while misunderstanding his drive to fight being his one big mistake. But I specifically pointed out the misunderstanding instead of everything else people think of with the Cell bit because that mistake is what lead to those decisions. If you take into consideration everything that lead up to Goku placing his trust into Gohan, like how Gohan actually WANTS to train with his father, both during the time gap for the Androids/Cyborgs AND for his Super Saiyan training for instance, I think assuming Gohan has BOTH the goal of being a scholar and the drive to fight to better himself (the best way I can describe Goku's drive to fight) is fair on Goku's part. Also, unfortunately, Gohan himself is aware of what Goku had planned for him but was too passive to protest (and also the Earth is at stake so he cannot afford to be selfish). Goku still makes mistakes, yes, but people love to pin the "bad dad" label on him without examining the context, probably because it takes too much time for these people to properly check and it's "funny".

Point is, if you read the original manga and then jump straight into Daima without any knowledge of the "bad dad" discourse, at worst, you'll go "huh?" and probably just think of how he was dead for a good chunk of time and Panzy, having zero context, just assumes the worst out of him. Let's be fair, for someone who grew up in the mountains alone with no knowledge on what is supposed to be normal, marrying a girl who locked in on her desire to marry him because he went pat-pat on her crotch and wants to live her fantasy of a "normal family life" and doesn't count martial arts to be part of that "normal family life", he was going to struggle at being a parent. But here's thing I noticed in retrospect: Goku had always been aware he's not great at raising kids and being a parent... especially under Chi-Chi's definition, but whenever the opportunity to spend time with his children comes around, he does his best to try. If we're to assume the specific phrase "raising a kid", as Panzy said in episode 7 of Daima to be accurate and not a paraphrase on the translators part, Goku was most likely downplaying his contributions to parenting.

TLDR: Goku is aware he isn't great at parenting but dammit he tries whenever he can and also Chi-Chi can be demanding with her desires of a "normal family life"

P.S. Don't take this as me hating on Chi-Chi. I just didn't want to add on to this whole post talking about how I view her as a mother.

[vse-kar-vem]

why are we having queerbaiting discourse as a fandom in the year of our lord 2024 😭😭 we're just as bad as twitter oh my god

[marklikely]

the results of that "is fanfic a book" poll have shown me one thing and its that this site never graduated past that absolutely insufferable phase in 2013 where everyone acted like every book is the single most sacred thing on earth

[obstinatecondolement]

there’s a special kind of grief you feel towards yourself when you’ve been mentally ill for as long as you remember. you see ppl saying they long to return to their old self but you don’t have an old self, or if there was, you can’t remember it. ur “old self” was a child. this self is all you’ve ever known. then there’s the fear that comes with trying to find out who you are without your mental illnesses, it’s all new to you and you don’t know if you’ll like who you’ll be

[andivmg]

My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

[hannieween]

playing dumb | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: loser jeonghan, grad student jeonghan, grad student reader › genres: fluff, smut (18+) › word count: 6.6k

› 🎧easy – jaehyun | cream soda – exo (lol) | feeling lucky – bibi

› this one shot is part of my hannieween fest/kinktober special!

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with little to no plot, dom reader, sub jeonghan, jeonghan is a little pervy, oral fixation, big cock jeonghan, jeonghan is a little bit inexperienced in sex, oral sex, hand job, use of sex toys (cock ring), overstimulation, dacryphilia, early ejaculation, cumming on skin, a bit of hair pulling, dirty talk, a little bit of humiliation kink again, a little bit of praise kink, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism. pet names: pretty boy, baby boy (his) baby (hers)

› acknowledgements: @kwanisms @cheolism @whipped-for-kpop-fics, @junekissed for helping me come up with ideas for this fic, and terminology bits, thank you. i couldn't have done it without u. i love you 🩵

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

JEONGHAN LIFTED HIS ARM IN THE AIR, LETTING OUT A QUIET GRUNT.

“Yes, do you have a question?” the professor asked, seeing his arm in the crowd of people listening to her lecture.

Jeonghan finished yawning, shaking his head. “Just stretching.”  

A stillness blanketed the room as your fellow classmates bore their eyes into the man sitting next to you. Shaking your head, you tried hard not to roll your eyes at his lack of correctness, or self-awareness.

Professor Blackwood resumed her lecture, unbothered by the small interruption. Granted, in her years of experience, a restless student like Jeonghan might be inconsequential.

But he was puzzling to you. One look around the room would be sufficient to determine that he was the one standing out from the students sitting in the sloped tiers of the lecture hall.

It was not only his attire, a pastel pink hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of worn white sneakers. But his attitude… his attitude was your biggest gripe with him. While everyone was immersed in the lecture, writing down notes on their tablets or computers, he was absentmindedly toying with the string of his hoodie. 

Sometimes, he would shift in his seat, letting out a loud cough that broke the stiltedness of the lecture, or would make the most out of the ordinary question to the professor, causing a pause.

You could tell out of the corner of your eye that he was bored, crossing one ankle on his knee, he had started to shake his foot.

You could have sworn you hated him at that moment, but the lecture was boring if you dared admit it. As much as you had wanted to listen to the lecture, compiling notes and questions for it, it had dragged on.

For one thing, political language in works of fiction wasn't something you had much interest in delving into, so it had been a real disappointment for you to learn that it was boring.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat again, sighing through his nose. He could just get up and leave. But he never did. Part of you believed that he was just too much of a pretentious guy to actually leave, as though he did not want to miss the opportunity to be the most annoying person in the room.

You found yourself sighing too out of boredom, making Jeonghan stir on his seat and direct a quick glance at you. You did not need to use your peripheral vision to know that he was smiling to himself, the quiet exhale told you that much. 

“Now moving on to Foucault’s discourse on Orwell’s 1984…” The professor changed slides of the presentation for the third time in the one hour you had been listening and something in you twisted in great annoyance, but you did not let it show.

Jeonghan however had resorted to creating shapeless doodles on the margins of the book splayed on the table. The book was so tattered and beaten that you could not believe it was brand new just a week ago when Jeonghan brought it with him. You had seen him remove the plastic from its shiny cover to proceed then to crack and bend the spine like it was his sworn enemy.

The little or no attention he paid to the books he acquired for the courses was irritating. He would scribble on the pages, underline paragraphs with whatever pen he could get his hands on, and bend the corners of the pages so he would not miss the last one he read. On one occasion, you saw him tear out the first few pages of a book he was reading and then make little paper airplanes.

Even if he wore a different ridiculously oversized hoodie every day, his attitude would catch the attention of anyone who looked around. The rest of the people sitting in the lecture had a different behavior. While everyone, including you, was prim and proper, he was just plain laid back always.

So, why did you have a bone to pick with him? Well, despite his evident boredom, he was top of the class. And you were a little bit of an overachiever. Not only that, ever since Jeonghan discovered how easy it is to get under your skin, he has done it constantly, like it is his favorite pastime.

Jeonghan knew how to get under your skin, and also on it.

You smoothed your hands over your lap, your fingertips brushing at the hem of your pencil skirt. Suddenly, your seat started to grow hot, not quite literally, no. This was a feeling purely set by the thought of Jeonghan being on your skin, just like he was last Friday night.

Jeonghan saw the motion of your hands, your skirt hiked up on your thighs, giving him a view of your skin. He subconsciously stuck a pen between his lips, and you saw the pink tip of his wet tongue, making you press your thighs together. When that did not work, you crossed one leg over, pressing as hard as you could.

The skirt inched up on your thighs. There was a sparkle in his eyes, he was sure your focus was on him now. Memories mixed with fantasies flew inside your head, making it impossible to resume listening to the lecture, now you were lost in wanting, in the need to recreate what you had done on impulse a few nights before.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat, spreading his legs a little. Your eyes widened slightly, the air leaving your lungs upon getting a clear sight of the outline of his growing erection peaking on the gray sweats he wore.

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to pull yourself together, but instead, your fingers itched to reach out and grab him.

He stilled, reading your body language. For a minute you wondered if he believed you to be capable of grabbing him under the desk and jerking him off in the middle of the lecture. As he pushed his hips forward slightly, you saw how hard he was, his boner leaning on his thigh. He was thinking of the same thing you were.

Now, Jeonghan does not know what got into you that night, but he is thankful as fuck that something did.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled softly through your nose. You hated him. You hated that he knew how to get your attention, whether it was with his stupid behavior during class, or tempting you to tell him to repeat what happened that Friday night.

That Friday night.

All you had to do was film a video for a paired task.

Somehow, everyone had already been paired when you went out looking for any potential partners to do the task. “I’m up for it if you don’t find anyone,” Jeonghan had said timidly.

There was nothing more to his offer, and he was the best in the class, so you thought it could be an opportunity to finally put those unconformities you had with him to rest.

Except that, your little attempt at doing the task failed miserably by a long shot.

It never crossed your mind that you would ever get to see his place. A very simple studio, with everything necessary, but it still looked very minimalist, except for the corner where there were stacks of books against the wall, rising up almost to your height.

You wished to say that one thing led to the other. But you did not know what was going through your head when you gave him a kiss.

Jeonghan was sitting on the floor, trying to read from the set of prompts you had prepared beforehand to make things quicker and finish your paired task. Around him on the floor laid the pages of his copy of Frankenstein, which he had mutilated because it helped him find his notes easier.

This is the guy who practically steals the top-grade award every semester. If he went to another program, you would get those awards.

While Jeonghan’s book remained scattered on the floor, your own Frankenstein copy sat on your lap. It was a hardback, and the only modifications it had suffered were adhesive notes sticking to the corners where you had made note of all the important stuff.

You leaned over on the floor, pretending to take a look at the pages sitting beside his legs. He stole glances at you, thinking that you were perhaps looking elsewhere, at your phone, or your nails like you sometimes do during class.

But no, you were pensively outlining the features of his face. Jeonghan had a thing for biting his bottom lip or pushing his tongue on it. There was a beauty mark adorning his cheek daintily. The heavy set of eyelashes made you envy him a little, but the bitter feeling would fade every time his eyes found yours.

Jeonghan was truly one of the most beautiful people you have ever seen. He used his fingers to tuck a rebellious strand of hair behind his ear, stealing another glance at you. He was nervous, you could tell from the way his breath sounded shaky as he let out another exhale through his nose.

You have seen him play with his tongue a lot before. Besides constantly licking his lips, he tends to stick the tip of his pen between his lips, keeping the tip of his tongue pushed out between his teeth. It was distracting, but not for the right reasons.

Sometimes, your mind would wander during class with thoughts about the places you would want to feel that tongue. Other times, when he fidgeted a lot with his hands, you would think about his fingers, his knuckles brushing against places you wanted him to feel.

“Jeonghan,” you blurted, commanding his eyes to you as you leaned over to him, knowing that would give more access to his gaze to wander over your cleavage. “I know you’re not reading that, look at me.”

The intrigue in his eyes was also nearly palpable in the room. Part of you could not really believe what you were about to do, you wondered for how long you had felt like this for Jeonghan. You were about to find out.

“What?” he frowned slightly, his gaze trying to read you but getting no clarity. The tips of his ears were red, and you noticed then, they got red whenever he talked to you. Or any girl for that matter.

“Look at me,” you repeated, but his eyes were already on you, trying to figure you out. There was something about him, maybe it was the stupid clothes he wore, or that he got a nervous stutter whenever you were near him.

Maybe it was the fact that you found it cute that he refused to wear his glasses to school, forced to squint at the board every time. Or that you thought it adorable to find out that behind him he had a collection of mini figurines on his desk.

The truth was, there was something about Yoon Jeonghan. Maybe it was the ridiculous yellow hoodie he was wearing that night, or that he got nervous every time you went near him.

Jeonghan was a loser. And you kind of liked that about him.

“Do you want to fuck?”

His pretty eyes widened in shock, but he tried to mask it off quickly, blinking a couple of times without looking anywhere else but your face. “What?” he asked quietly and very slowly, as if he was not sure of what he heard, of having hallucinated what you said.

“Do you want to fuck?” you repeated, dragging out the words for him with a small cooing tone. As you said each word, his gaze went over the features of your face, his eyes widening once again when you finished uttering the question.

“Wh-what about the assignment?” he stuttered, visibly trying to keep his cool.

“I’m bored. And we could finish it later,” you shrugged slightly, putting on your best confident face. Part of you found it cute that his first instinct was to ask about the assignment, and not why you wanted to fuck him all of a sudden.

Jeonghan paused to ponder, and you could see on his face that the gears in his brain had begun to turn. “Are you kidding me?” he stuttered, licking his lips anxiously. “Is this some sort of trick?”

You replied by giving him a soft smile, tilting your head to one side. “Sit on the bed,” you whispered, close enough to his face that you could see each of his individual lashes.

At the sound of your command, Jeonghan could not resist himself any further. Whatever protest he had thought, he brushed them all away with a blink of his pretty eyes. He rose to his feet, turned away and sat on the bed, his hands placed neatly on his lap.

Now it was your turn to contemplate him for a second. “How would I be tricking you?” you mused, getting to your feet to stand in front of him.

He raised his gaze to meet yours, his mouth parting slightly as he swallowed nervously. “I-I don’t know, I…” he blinked slowly, smiling in pure shyness at his own stuttering. “Why would you want to f-fuck me?”

“Mm,” you hummed, inching closer to him so you could reach out and hold his face. “Like I said I’m bored,” you mumbled, bringing up a finger to touch the tip of his nose. “And you, Jeonghan, are terribly skittish… it’s nagging.”

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat, blinking repeatedly as you dragged the pad of your finger to caress his cheek. “I-I still don’t get why-,”

“Don’t play coy, Jeonghan, it doesn’t suit you,” you smirked, enjoying the way he trembled beneath the tip of your finger. “I think you’re cute.”

“Cute?” he chuckled dryly, his gaze falling far in the room as if he were directing it to an imaginary camera behind you in sheer incredulity. “What the fuck?”

But his eyes found your face again when you sunk your fingers, threading his long dark hair from the crown of his head and then back. “I can’t really ignore the way you’ve been staring at my tits, Jeonghan, and I am in a bit of a giving mood.”

“Oh god,” he mouthed, shaking as his hands clutched the bedcovers beneath him. “Wh-what—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look-,”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a low coo. “You can stare, Hannie. In fact, tonight you can do more than that.”

“Wh-what?” he repeated slowly. “More?”

You nodded, smiling gently at the confusion plastered on his face. Driving that confusion deeper, your fingers coiled in his hair, giving a tug. “Do you want to kiss me, Jeonghan?”

His eyes immediately traveled to your lips, giving you a small nod with his head. “Yeah, I do,” he said faintly.

You smirked, trying to mask your own nervousness. “Don’t move,” you whispered, looking at his eyes and then his lips before dipping your head to meet his mouth with your own.

As you had intuited before: he was a good kisser. The slow and gentle pressing of your lips against his was matched in an instant in the same manner. Helping yourself with your hands on his hair, you tilted his head back, hugging his lips with your own in a deeper kiss. He hummed, which led you to think that he liked that.

“That was good,” you mumbled, pulling back to see his dark eyes glimmering.

You stopped cradling his head with your hands, taking them to your chest where you slowly started to undo each button of your dress shirt. His eyes followed your fingers as they trailed further down, your shirt parting to show your white lace bra.

“Oh, look at you,” you mumbled mockingly. “Hard already. Just by seeing my bra?”

Jeonghan shifted on his bed, his parted legs gave you the sight of the erection tenting his grey sweats. The tips of his ears could not get redder, and you saw how he trembled slightly due to a hard shudder coursing through him.

You allowed the dress shirt to fall from your shoulders and to the floor, uncovering your chest for his view. His mouth parted, and for a moment you thought he meant to say something but never found the courage to do it.

So you made it easier for him. “Do you want to touch me, Jeonghan?” you mumbled sweetly, tucking a strand of dark hair beneath his ear.

He appeared to be unable to speak, his gaze fighting to stay on your face instead of your tits bulging beneath your bra. “Ye-yes,” he whispered, wasting no time and raising his hands to cup your tits over your bra.

He did it sloppily, his fingers shaking slightly over the lacey hem of the cup of your bra. He licked his lips again, raising his eyes to meet yours, a question written on his bright eyes.

“I’ll give you another kiss if you unclasp my bra,” you mumbled with the ghost of a smirk on your face.   

His throat bobbed, a silent groan escaping him before his hands circled your back, fingers desperately searching for the hook of your bra.

“It’s on the front, Jeonghan,” you whispered with a soft smile.

“Oh…” he blurted with a nervous giggle, moving his hands to the front, looking at the intricate hook before giving it a try and unclasp it. “Ho-how do you do it? Like this?” he asked innocently, his fingers going around the clasp, undoing it by pure luck.

The bra came off, freeing your tits in a nearly obscene way. Jeonghan blinked as you slid your bra down your arms, making you smile wider at the shocked look on his face.

His eyes coasted from your face to your neck, from your collarbones to your chest. It was then that he pushed his tongue on his lower lip, right before sinking his teeth into it.

You grabbed his hands, taking them to your chest. His eager fingers squeezed your tits gently at first, a sigh escaping him when his hands came into contact with your skin. “You’re so warm,” he muttered softly.

“You’re cold,” you giggled, a shudder coursing through you when his fingers experimentally pinched your sensitive nipples.

“Sorry, I could just…” he whispered, making an attempt to remove his hands.

“No, it’s okay,” you mumbled, grabbing his face again, your fingers tangling in his mane of dark hair. “You deserve a kiss,” you said, keeping your touch gentle as you leaned down to kiss him again.

You felt the sharp intake of breath right as your lips touched his, he closed his lips on yours in a wet kiss. Jeonghan moved his hand to your waist, making you stiffen slightly under his cold touch.

Brushing his hair back, you moved a hand to hold his chin, while the other rested on his shoulder. “Are you ready for more?” you asked.

“Yeah, I want to keep going,” he replied with a weak tone.

“If you want to stop, you can say anything and I will,” you told him with seriousness coating your words.

He nodded, considering your proposition before saying: “We could establish a safeword.”

You arched one eyebrow, about to ask him if he was experienced in that. “How-,”

“I watch a lot of porn,” he explained hurriedly, noticing your expression. “I should also mention that I’m clean, and I have condoms… though they’re already expired,” he finished with a frown.

“That’s okay,” you chuckled, letting go of his chin. “I’m also clean, and on birth control. Well, what is your safeword?”

His eyes swam upwards, looking at the ceiling before returning to you. “Quixotic.”

You gave him a bemused look. “Can I ask why?”

“Because this is what it is, unreal. No one would believe me if I ever dared to tell a soul about this...” he said, his gaze trailing from your face down to your semi-naked body in front of him.

“Alright, baby boy,” you sighed, pleased with his reaction. “Are you okay with this, then?”

“A thousand percent,” he blurted, a shy smile adorning his face.

“I’m going to start undressing you now,” you said, carefully grabbing the sides of his hoodie.

“Ye-yeah, okay, go ahead,” he said, and you noticed that the stutter came and went. But he raised his arms, allowing you to remove his hoodie. He wore nothing beneath it, so you encountered his sleek torso.

“Lie down,” you instructed next, running your palms from his chest down, enjoying that his eyes were on you all the time, not losing a moment.

You searched around the room, spotting the mini figurines on his desk. They were hand-painted, and you assumed that they were special edition collectibles. “You have a lot of toys, Jeonghan,” you mumbled. “Did you put them all together?”

“Yes,” he croaked nervously. “All of them.”

“Such skilful hands,” you smirked, relishing in the awed look on his face upon being showered by your genuine praise. “Do you have more toys that you would want to show me?”

“Sh-sh-show you?” he whispered, and part of you believed for a second that he was unable to bring his voice any louder.

“Do you have toys for me to play around with? With you?” you asked, giving him a knowing look.

He gave you a perplexed look. “How did you know I-,”

“It’s not hard to guess, Hannie,” you tilted your head to one side, pouting slightly. “I mean, you don’t have a lot of girls over, do you? Do you go after other girls that aren’t me?”

“No. No,” he emphasized firmly. “You’re the first girl I’ve brought over in… like forever.”

“Mmn,” you hummed, pleased with his answer but not letting it show. “Well, tell me where I can find these toys,” you mumbled sweetly, littering lips with small, taunting kisses.

“In my drawer,” he choked out. “Bedside table.”

“Alright,” you leaned over, placing a sweet kiss on his bottom lip. “Don’t move,” you ordered, getting off the bed and his lap, to circle the bed, his gaze following you.

You smirked when you noticed that the only part of his body that moved was his eyes.

You opened the drawer, finding a bottle of lube that was already spent halfway through, a bunch of condoms that were indeed expired, and toys. “You have a wide variety here,” you pointed, giving him a look. “Do you play with yourself often?”

“Y-yeah,” he closed his eyes in shame. “Like I said, I don’t bring a lot of people over.”

“Mmmn,” you hummed, pretending to be pondering what to pick. Jeonghan indeed had a lot of toys, ranging from cock rings, dildos, fleshlights, and vibrators. “What shall I pick for tonight?”

“T-tonight? You mean there will be more nights like this?” he stammered uncontrollably.

“Only if you behave tonight,” you conditioned with a small smirk, but deep down you knew that he was going to be perfect for you.

And that was almost maddening.

“Pick whatever you prefer, I’m down,” he said, and you saw him grow a little bit more confident.

“I have an impression that you’re into cock rings,” you smirked at him, looking at the variety of cock rings he owned, some with vibrators, some without. You grabbed a simple set of two adjustable cock rings, which were slick and black.

Jeonghan shifted slightly on the bed as you returned to him, placing each of your knees on the sides of his hips. His hands tentatively found your hips, grabbing you over your skirt. “God,” he whispered to himself when you lowered the weight of your body on top of him, sitting on top of him.

It was then that you noticed by feeling his erection just how big he was. You shot him a look that told him you were impressed. “Jeonghan-,”

“I’d advise you to hurry,” he said, trembling slightly under your weight.

You emitted a nervous giggle despite yourself. “Don’t tell me you finish fast,” you said with a mocking tone, trying your best to mask your awe. You ground your hips, pressing your ass down on his bulge.

“Fuck,” he gritted with a tiny tone, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you mumbled sweetly, leaning over to prop a light kiss on his bottom lip. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Hannie. In fact, we can have more fun with that.”

He blinked twice, a frown appearing on his face. “What? How?”

You brushed his cheek with the back of your finger, finishing by cupping his chin. “I could put this on you,” you motioned to the cock ring in your hand, “and I’ll have fun making you come again and again until you can’t anymore.”

An exhale escaped him, his eyes widening once again. “Fuck, please, yes, yes, please do that,” he blurted quickly, much as if he could not contain himself.

“Want me to use you, Hannie?” you asked, realizing that you had hit a weak point for him.

His eyelashes fluttered, a small choked-out sound coming from his lips. “Yes, please... use me.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer. “Let’s put this on you, baby boy,” you said, moving from his lap to stand before the foot of the bed. Hooking your fingers on the band of his sweat, you dragged them down his legs, leaving him with his white briefs only.

“Mmn,” you hummed quietly, looking at the way his erection was tenting his underwear.

Slowly, you tugged the fabric down, Jeonghan bit his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on your expression. The band of his briefs inched down, and his cock sprung free, resting on his lower abdomen.

Fuck. He was big, even bigger than you imagined when you felt him. You would take a while adjusting to his size, you knew it. Your mouth salivated at the thought, the thought of riding him raw, the thought of making him come inside you, over and over again. You wanted to make him yours, to ruin him.

“Let’s take this slow, yes?” you said primly, pressing a knee on the bed and between his legs to lean down and press kiss on his pretty lips.

“No, please, don’t take it slow,” he choked out, a hand sneaking beneath your skirt to feel your hip.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” you emphasized with a smirk. “That bad you want me already?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “Suck me, fuck me, I don’t care, just have your fun with me,” he pressed, removing his hand from your hip.

“What if my kind of fun is to torture you slowly?” you tested him, studying him with your eyes.

His lower lip trembled slightly when you slid your hand from his chest down his abdomen. “I d-don’t wanna come too soon,” he said, cursing under his breath when your fingertip reached his pubic hair.

“Could you come untouched, then?” you wondered, quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Right now I feel like I could,” he replied.

You gave him a soft laugh. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” you assured.

“Please do.”

Your fingers inched further down, circling around his shaft. A strangled gasp left him, his breath brushing against your lips, reciprocating your quick kiss as you started jerking him off slowly, exploring his cock.  “You know how many times I fantasized about this?” you asked with a low tone.

“This?” he closed his eyes. “I don’t know, once?”

“You constantly get on my nerves, Jeonghan,” you rolled your hand on his cock, smearing him all over with his precum leaking from its slit. “I wanted to have you like this since you started sitting next to me.”

“Really?” he breathed with the ghost of a smile. “I knew it.”

“You planned it?”

“I didn’t plan shit,” he blurted with a hollow laugh. “I hoped. I hoped you looked at me, I wanted to talk to you, but never could.”

The movement of your hand stilled. “All the things you did to nag me, you didn’t do them on purpose?”

“Not at first, no. I promise,” he smirked innocently. “I just noticed that you would pay attention to me, so I started to do it more frequently.”

Shock buried itself deep within you, making the features of your face go lax, and your mouth opened wide in shock. “Oh, you bad boy,” you whispered reproachingly, switching to a wide smile.

You moved back so you could get a better view of his body, his cock still in your hand. You were stroking him gently, but he was hard for you, his tip reddened and leaking precum as you had never seen another do.

“Yeah,” he said softly, noticing the light shock on your face. “Please hurry.”

“Alright,” you conceded at last, moving the cock ring on his shaft, adjusting it firmly to his girth, then you did the same to his ballsack. “How is that?” you asked with a gentler tone.

“I can take more,” he said, his brown eyes absorbing you.

“There?” you asked, adjusting the ring to strangle him a bit more.

“Ye-yeah,” he breathed, shifting on the bed in nervousness. “Fuck,” he said under his breath when you continued stroking him with one hand, checking him for any signs of discomfort but only finding pleasure on his face.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes fluttered before shutting, and his throat throbbed as he swallowed.

You leaned over, smirking to yourself before you gave him a broad stroke to his long shaft with your tongue.

“Fuck!” he forced out, his eyes snapping open.

You laughed, licking the reddened cockhead, picking up the precum that was leaking from the slit. Jeonghan was a babbling mess, trembling on his bedcovers, breathing raggedly. His face was priceless, scrunched up in utter bliss, his cock covered in your drool.

You teased the swollen ridge of his head with the tip of your tongue, licking it playfully with swift jabs, a hand squeezing his balls gently, the other stroking his long shaft, pushing him further for his early release.

What caught your attention was that he made no move to touch your head or your hair. His hands balled into fists, clenching the bedcovers in an attempt to hold a little longer.

But you continued pumping him with one hand, ignoring the way his eyes widened. Circling his cockhead with your lips, you began sucking it as you would a popsicle, making slurping sounds. You teased him like this, making you with the bulbous head of his cock, holding his gaze with your own.

The expressions he made were priceless, his mouth open, his eyes coasting from yours to your lips on him, to your hand pumping him.

“Ah–fuck, do-don’t—I’m gonna, I’m gonna, g-god,” he murmured quickly but gave you enough time to remove your mouth from his head.

It was too late, a long and pleased sigh left him as ropes of cum spurted from his tip, and just kept coming, dripping from his slit down to his shaft, covering your fingers around him. You cussed with a sigh, looking at the warm mess coating your hand, the beads of cum scattered on his lower abdomen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he drawled pathetically, closing his eyes tightly. “Fuck, it just feels so good,” he said, mouthing apologetic words over and over.

“You’re good, baby,” you hushed, noticing the furious red tinting the tip of his ears in shame. “Can I keep going?”

He gulped before nodding with his head. “Yes,” he croaked, but his eyebrows drew inward slightly. “I want you to feel good too.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, stroking his shaft with your dirty hand, smearing him with cum all over. “I’m having fun.”

“But-but…” he trailed off when you moved, climbing down the bed.

Putting on a show, you finished undressing before him, removing your skirt and your ruined panties with your dainty fingers, leaving your high-knee socks on purpose. You climbed back on the bed, moving towards him, placing each knee at his sides on the bed.

Jeonghan just fell into a deeper fascination. You saw it on his face, how his features fell upon the sight of you utterly naked and on top of him.

“I said don’t worry,” you mumbled, stroking him gently again with your hand, enjoying that his cock was still hard. “I can make myself feel good, and you’re going to help me with that.”

“How?” he croaked.

“Well, we agreed that I’d use you, no?” you cooed softly. “And I want to suck you and ride you until you’re spent.”

His hands searched for you, his fingers caressing your legs, feeling you up timidly. He gave you a tiny nod with his head, unable to utter a word.

“You want that, baby?” you muttered, his cum already cooled in your hand but you just kept going. “You came so much, Hannie… I want you to do that when you’re inside me.”

“I-I… fuck. I want that too—all of that,” he said, now building up confidence. “I want to feel you, please?”

“Not before you come again like this,” the motion of your hand-picked up some speed, your fingers tightening around his shaft.

“No, please, please, I need to feel you,” he closed his eyes, tears falling from the corners when you moved back to wrap your mouth around his sensitive cockhead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no…”

He sucked in a breath, the grunts spilling from his lips only egging you on. You sucked him harshly, tasting his cum with your tongue pressed to the tip, hollowing your cheeks out as your hand kept pumping him relentlessly.

The ring helped keep his erection for longer, but something inside you told you that he could do this even without it. A cunning thought told you that he would be a great sub for you with little training.

“Too much,” he breathed without complaint, there was an elated smile on his face as he sank his head back onto the pillows. “God… ah, please…”

Instinctively, you removed your mouth from his cockhead just as ropes of cum spurted from its reddened tip. Jeonghan tensed and writhed on the bedcovers, choked-out sobs falling from his parted lips. You moved your lips to kiss his shaft, as more beads of cum dripped down. 

“Thank you… Fuck, that was amazing,” he croaked languidly, opening his eyes.

With a shudder in excitement, you noticed the clumped eyelashes, and the tears falling from the corners of his pretty eyes. You realized then, that Jeonghan would become your obsession.

His cock started to go soft in your hand, but somehow you knew that it would not take him too long before he was ready for round three.

“You did amazing, baby. Let’s take this off for now,” you mumbled sweetly, arranging your fingers to get the ring off him, not paying attention to the mess smeared all over him and your hands. The dirtier the better.

And it seemed like Jeonghan shared the same fascination. He bit his lower lip, much as if he could not resist it.

“Can I ask you something?” his tone was low, but timid at the same time.

“Sure,” you conceded with a small smile.

“Did you know that I like you?” he asked, his voice shaking so much that he ended with a mere whisper.

“No,” you replied with honesty, getting a tingling feeling inside you, blooming into a shudder.

“Really?” he cocked his head on the bedcover. “So what would you have done if I had rejected your advances?” 

You paused, sitting on top of his messy abdomen. You coughed up a low chuckle, shrugging with ease. “Then I would have moved on,” you blinked at him slowly, enjoying the dazed look in his eyes. “I guess I hoped that you liked me too.”

He clicked his tongue softly negating with his head as he said, “Insane… this is insane.”

You found yourself smiling broadly at him, your chest swelling with endearment for him. You brought a clean hand to pinch his chin, and he instinctively opened his mouth, biting the tip of your finger softly, the act so innocent that it made you chuckle.

A rush coursed through you upon having his wet tongue on your fingers, but you were distracted swiftly, noticing that he had grown hard again. “I take that you’re ready for me?”

“Fuck… yes,” he whispered with a mischievous smile.

“What’s that?” you arched one eyebrow.

He made a small motion to shake his head. “Nothing...” he said, but then he reconsidered, “So I mangled a copy of Frankenstein and that was it for you? Should I do it more often?”

 “No,” you deadpanned, the conversation suddenly turning serious to you. “I hate what you do to books… But you know what? Maybe.”

“Ah, okay, okay,” he laughed, his breath hitching when you repositioned your hips on him, aligning your pretty pussy with his long dick. “Fuck,” he gritted, shooting you an exasperated look. “Raw?”

“Only if you want it, Hannie,” you cooed softly, grabbing his shaft. “If not, I’m okay with you eating me out.”

“I haven’t actually given head before,” he blurted, anxiously gripping your hips in anticipation, but then he gave you a nod with his head. “I want it, please, I want to feel you.”

You smiled at him. “Oh, you really are perfect,” you sighed, shifting on top of him, enjoying his gaze on your body, right where you were about to meet with his cock. You slipped the tip of his cock between your folds, teasing yourself and him a little.

“Ssshit,” he hissed, moving on the bed anxiously, but his dark eyes were still on your pussy, waiting for you to give him what he desperately wanted.

His hands clenched on the soft skin of your hips, his fingernails digging into you so harshly you knew you would leave marks in a few minutes.

“Don’t make me tie you,” you said, your tone quivering slightly. It was then when you paid attention to your own body, the way you were aching to feel him, to feel the stretch his long cock would make you feel, you wanted to know how deep he could reach inside you.

“Another night, maybe?” he teased, mustering some courage.

Your heart fluttered upon seeing a tint of attitude behind that tiny, but devilish smirk. “Another night…” you conceded, pushing his cock with your fingers so that its bulbous head met your entrance, your mouth instantly falling open when you started to ease down on his long and veiny shaft.

“God,” he whispered.

“Oh, Jeonghan!” you cried, sinking down on him with a raw and drawn-out moan. You continued to sit down on him, shuddering as his dick stretched your walls deliciously, making you take your other hand to stroke your clit in gentle motions to ease the slight sting.

“Well, that is all the time I have for you today,” Professor Blackwood called loudly as your fellow classmates stood from their chairs, dragging them across the floor loudly, snapping you awake from the memory.

You jolted quite embarrassingly, licking your lips in an attempt to bring the muscles of your face alive. Realizing that had been fantasizing about Jeonghan for the remainder of the lecture, you could feel that your panties were soaked, and sticking to your throbbing core.

Jeonghan did not move from his seat either. He was bouncing a knee, sharing the same tension you were feeling, he shot you a knowing look.

“My place or yours?” you smirked. 

› author's note: HEYOOOOOO

it's finally here! i am sorry it took me so long, the last 10 days of october kicked my ass 😭😭😭😭 i am still recovering from those days lol

it also took me a while to write this one because i can't for the life of me, imagine jeonghan as a loser because to me he is the coolest human being on earth. even if he is a loser at times, i just can't, he is the coolest to me :3

also, remember his iconic s-s-s-s-say the name ? that is what i pictured whenever i wrote that hannie stuttered 😭

anyway, that is it. i'll come back with more hannieween fest fics and maybe i'll post lights out soon hehehehe

toodles! thank you so so much for your support! 🙂

support me on ko-fi? 🥹🩵

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[aroace-number-eight]

After I finish the quizzes for the celebration I need to finally do my analysis of the books for real because now that I'm officially reading the books again for the second time (first time way back in 2016) with the knowledge I have now..

Holy shit there's a lot I genuinely didn't notice

[bixels]

The Ryoko Kui interview's reception is such a disaster over a pretty normal (yet still flawed) interview between a non-Japanese fan and Japanese artistic. This is discourse for discourse's sake, and it's no surprise that almost every Twitter user I've looked at who's using this interview to parade Kui around as a goated mangaka standing strong against Western ideology is anti-trans.

Like, I do think the interview was kinda wonky with its focus on fandom culture, which Kui clearly didn't have much interest in. But sometimes that happens. Sometimes interactions between two people, especially a fan and a creator, two people who view and interact with a piece of media in completely opposite perspectives, don't click. Does this really need to get blown up into a "West vs. East culture war" issue.

Anyways, Kui saying "I don't consider my audience's interpretations when writing. I leave it to their imaginations, but I have my own read on things too" is the healthiest, most normal thing an artist/writer who wants a non-parasocial audience could say. Artists and writers use this line all the time. If Kui didn't enjoy autistic Laius or Farcille headcanons, she would have probably voiced/signalled her discomfort, like she did on the topic of Senshi fanservice. Overall, Kui handled the interview really well. Props to her to sticking to her guns and keeping a healthy disconnect from the fandom. While I think the interviewer could've/should've been more tactful and restrained, the flaws in their questions is not a symptom of the woke mind virus trying to wriggle its way into the pure Japanese psyche. It's the sign of an over-eager fan who sees a piece of fiction differently than its creator.

[ineffable-romantics]

Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

First, let me apologise for making people worry. I appreciate all those who reached out and I'm sorry that I couldn't get back to you all.

I have been through a very rough spiral. It was building for months, and I am still not fully okay.

For those who want context, it's under the cut.

I bought a house in May. It's expensive. I wasn't ready financially or in many ways for that step, but my partner convinced me. I told him as much but I was not heard. Alas, I have a mortgage, full time work, astudent loan, and an ongoing school program to contend with. It hasn't been easy and it caught up to me.

At the same time, a person who traumatised me and I have no way of fully extricating from my life, has moved closer. To keep the peace, I have to associate with him to a degree and he pretends that nothing ever happened. To him, it was nothing.

In June, I moved. It was hard and fast paced. I did most of the paperwork etc for the whole process and obv helped with the physical transition as well. I was responsible for deadlines and checklists for not just myself but my partner.

I was plugging holes in a sinking boat.

At the same time, I had obligations to my family. Every weekend if I wasn't dealing with the house and all that goes into it, I was running around to babysit or see family or whathave you.

In July, I pinched a nerve behind my tailbone. I missed a week of work bc my injury but it took longer for my to recover. I am still feeling it today. It was more than physical, but emotional.

I also got three periods that month. Hormonal can't begin to explain how fucked up I've been.

On top of all that, there are underlying issues associated with other trauma and discontent. I'm realising that I have been loyal and tolerant to the point of my own detriment.

I don't want to hurt people how I've been hurt, so I don't speak up. When people tell me something about myself, I let all the doubts planted in my mind from years of abuse convince me that they're right. I can admit my faults but often times I will think that proof of one flaw means everything about me is rotten.

People forget about me or just don't care. Both or either. They don't put the same effort in that I do. I find it hard to connect because years of disregard and neglect have told me that the other side just won't care.

But I'm not just hurt, I'm angry. I'm seeking therapy and trying to figure this out.

It all boiled over after my last post. Nothing I do is enough. For anyone. Not even when it's a hobby. I was frustrated bc the place I use for escape just made me feel like less than.

Obviously, I don't mean everyone or even the majority. I appreciate the discourse and fun and everything here! There are so many awesome people to interact with and I have missed you all, however, my headspace was bad. Very bad. I had thoughts I haven't dealt with in years.

I put my nose down and just went to work. I didn't wanna talk to anyone. I didn't wanna be in the world.

I did some reading, eventually some non-fandom writing, and sometimes, I just stayed alive.

I don't know if I'm really okay but I'm trying.

To those who have been so patient and supportive, you deserve everything. To those who are silent supporters, you do too. And even to those people who send me the most vile hate, you deserve to lift yourself out of the dark space you're stuck in. Hopefully, I can, too.

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

Something else that I saw another person say but

-> ignores the intent and immigrant-coding historically done with the superfam in favor of telling a queer story that doesn't make sense given the basis of kons actual (not TV-showified) character

like, I have Many thoughts about kon and his gender that I could go on about but as a queer trans person of color from an immigrant family I can say this would not have been a good choice to go with. even while ignoring the clear lack of understanding for kon's characterization its just so obvious she did not put in the work to see what his character even was to begin with and instead just invented her own yj show/newer comics-oc mix character with the name "Conner", who in this version would have been Constance, and called it a day.

To be clear I would love to see a prominent trans girl hero in current comics I think that would be wonderful. But. the way this would have gone down? The destruction of a character already so mischaracterized in mainstream circles, who I love so much, and the ignorace towards what the impact of this could have been? That's not good representation, that's just a narrative mess.

Magdalene Visaggio’s rejected proposal for Kon

[branwinged]

why is there so much anti dragon sentiment in the asoiaf fandom?

i was going to leave this at "fifteen years with no book and two divisive adaptations results in way too much inane discourse". but instead i'm going to talk about metaphors.

i've noticed a desire for neat, didactical, metaphorical readings for everything that makes people uncomfortable about these books. and discomfort with a topic is something i understand, but it cannot be resolved by forcing a reading on the text which may align with your personal or political views, but is actually misconstruing the text. in asoiaf, this usually centres around the targaryens because the incest, the dragons, their alleged magical bloodline, the lost mythic empire, and that someone from their line is prophesied to quite literally save the world - are all divisive story elements. people have correctly identified that despite the power fantasy of their conceptualisation, martin is not writing them as merely self indulgent, aspirational figures, but they've also overcorrected that into 'actually every element of their characterisation reveals one true didactic intent'. so, every instance of incest must be a metaphor for auto cannibalism, the dragons are only a nuke metaphor, the sense of superiority is a stand-in for supremacist ideology etc.

and the thing is, yes martin has sometimes used these elements as such. the dance is a story about the family self cannibalising itself, in part, as a consequence of the institutionalised incest, since under that practice every claimant to the throne was obviously going to be a close family member, which led to all the kinslaying. and the dragons historically have been used to maintain the hegemony of the crown through the threat of terrible, magical violence. this is true. but it's also not all he has to say on the topic. this is one idea he's exploring among a lot of other (often contradictory) ideas. yes, their habit of forgoing exogamous marriage alliances forced them into a precarious position post-dance once they lost their dragons and there is a point being made here about their dynastic decline. but at the same time, egg's failed attempts to forcibly marry his sons (one of whom was gay) out of the family is also saying something about both arranged exogamous westerosi and endogamous targaryen marriages being materially oppressive in almost the exact same ways, and that simply pivoting to the former wouldn't have saved them because the real enemy is westerosi feudal patriarchy, the system under which daughters are exchanged for securing political (or dragon) power and all second sons are subordinate to the first. that in a way, everyone is eating their young. someone very much into the 'all incest as auto cannibalism' metaphor is ignoring this, the way someone who only thinks of dragons as nukes is ignoring the very obvious reworking of them as a symbol of change and freedom in dany's storyline. and this is the problem at hand. the thing about metaphors is that they work up to a certain extent, but often people treat them as the only acceptable reading of a text, instead of something that is in conversation with a lot of other ideas simultaneously being explored by the story. all this leads to, is the flattening of a complex story into a reductive, didactic message of their preference. and, of course, to reduce every fantasy element in these books to simply an analogue for some real world topic, is to take the fantasy intrigue out of the fantasy series.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Hi so, feel free to ignore this, but you're the only person I know who's read all of Animorphs and I'm plugging my way through the zip file that went around a few months ago and I had a question about the mechanics of morphing. In the earlier books it seemed to me like the morphers natural body is unchanged and will be returned to as is when out of morph, but in the last couple books I read (42, 43) I feel like it was implied that the narrator (Marco and Tobias respectively) used morphing to heal their base bodies. Did I misread things or is there some inconsistencies? Thank you for reading!

There are a lot of inconsistencies in Animorphs but no, morphing has always healed their base bodies as well as the morph being healthy each time. This has resulted in almost two decades of wild fan theories about how the fuck the Animorphs age, what "counts" as a body alteration that should be reverted vs one that shouldn't (re: Rachel's earrings and various discussions of haircuts throughout the series, as well as one point where Ax talks about tailblade removal being a potential court martial punishment) and far, far too much discourse over whether or not Jake is still circumcised.

[johnbrand]

The Stages of Arabization

With @next-pharaoh

“Jeez, it’s so bright here,” Henry oriented his phone up in front of the sun, hoping to block out a few of the direct rays.

“Well, you are closer to the equator,” his boyfriend, Alex, joked. “Dubai is a bit farther south than Boston.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “What would I do without that intelligence of yours?” 

“Too bad you don’t have your own.” They both laughed at that remark. The pair had started dating in graduate school, with Alex venturing down the path of mathematics and Henry following the racial trends of Sub-Saharan Africa. Everyone joked it should have been the other way around, given Henry’s geeky, pale exterior fit the math nerd stereotype better than Alex’s lanky, darker frame. But Henry loved his studies, so much so that he had been invited to a conference in the United Arab Emirates to talk on them.

Suddenly, Henry received an email notification from one of his sponsors. “Dang, looks like I have to get back to work. Just received an essay to review before the next presentation.”

“How long do you have?”

“Barely 30 minutes.”

“Well forward it to me,” Alex replied. “We can tag team it. I know this isn’t my strong suit but at least I can help cover more ground.”

Henry thought that was a great idea. Without a second thought, he redirected the email and wished his boyfriend goodbye. Alex would send his thoughts over text when he had finished.

“‘The Stages of Arabization’,” Henry recited aloud. He was planning to head inside to read–gingers burnt way too easily in the direct sunlight–but he noticed the writing was pretty short. Barely even a page. Henry was surprised to realize the essay was in Arabic, but he quickly utilized a translator app to resolve the issue.

Stage 1: Islamization  Islam becomes the majority religion or state religion.

Strange formatting, but Henry understood the statement as rather truthful. The historically successful Arabizations of Morocco, Algeria, and Egypt had followed a similar suit. Even some of the countries he had studied had shown signs of this progression.

Stage 2: Linguistic Arabization Islam brings fixation on Arabic language, thus the Arabic language becomes central to the society's identity. Arabic becomes the state language.

Henry found this statement agreeable as well. There was something so methodical about the Arabic language, how it melodically ebbed and flowed in such a way that it twirled through the hearing canals directly into the brain. Anyone who listened to it almost became entranced, as if captured by its beauty and awakened by its fluidity. Henry closed the translator app before continuing on. 

Stage 3: Cultural Arabization Arab cultural practices become common due to Islamization. Own cultural heritage is deemed closer to ages of ignorance and thus gradually forgotten and replaced with Islam.

Henry had followed this trend through his research. Many of the countries he had analyzed over the years had demonized their traditional practices once introduced to Islamic culture. It was like watching a child being given a new toy; the original quickly discarded for one deemed far more superior. These assimilations had even started to appear in Henry’s life. Thobes were the new fashion craze among his fellow researchers, midday prayer rooms had taken over labs, and even the cafeteria had become completely halal.

Stage 4: Ethnic Arabization Planned migration of many Arab tribes and deliberate suppression of the numbers of natives, consequently major demographic shift. Media encourages Arabs to multiply and mix.

This too had arrived in the workplace. Rapidly, it had become obvious that the university was prioritizing hiring Arab and Arab-American employees. Political discourse on abortion had suddenly disappeared, instead dropping birth control from medical insurances and advertising “Reversion Through Fertilization”. Luckily, Hussein had not been influenced much by this change. In fact, he almost felt as if he was somehow a part of it.

Stage 5: Fully Arab State Arabs and the Arabized become elite and majority. Non-Arabized are shunned and pressured to revert until no opposition remains.

Hussein smiled with pride, closing the essay he was sure to give high remarks to. His best friend Ali had a similar response, a text from him glowing with praise about the truth in the writer’s words. The essay was eloquent, thought-provoking, and would become mandatory literature at his lab, and soon throughout the reverting world. It reflected the future, similarly to his own phone screen: masculine, virile Arab men. Hussein felt a divine sense of conformity with Islam, one all were soon destined to see.

[dulcewrites]

I think the thing that shocks me the most about the discourse, if you can even call it that, around book Alicent vs show Alicent, is the idea that people think book Alicent had full autonomy over all her choices and she wasn’t a “victim” like show Alicent.

Now first, I put victim in quotations bc the way people who do not like her have almost bastardized that word. Alicent is a victim, and those things (rape, abuse, neglect) were done to her. That says everything about the men who did that do her and nothing about her. But people are hellbent on throwing Alicent, a woman in a violently patriarchal environment, being victimized back at people as if it is moral flaw of hers. Which is just terribly ironic bc the same folks who say Alicent “did it to herself” or “deserves what she is getting” also seem to think the crux of the story isn’t about generational trauma catching up with itself, how far people will go for power, or even how all girls and women are harmed - albeit to different degrees. But more the fact that Rhaenyra is the only woman to be harmed - and the only harm done is not getting the throne easily. Those same people wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that Rhaenyra is also a victim in the way they shit on Alicent for being. From the father who sets her up fail, to the baby daddy that’s been eyeing her since she was barely 18, to the uncle that grooms her. It takes away from the fantasy projected onto Rhaenyra if she too is surrounded by men that use her and she never escapes that.

Second, it’s funny how F&B gets heralded by some as this exploration of how history is skewed depending on who is telling it. But people can’t read between the lines (you honestly don’t even have to do that much work) with book Alicent. Showing 14 year old Alicent being preyed on, 16 year old Alicent being pregnant with her second child, and 18 year old Alicent being raped is somehow the show needlessly making Alicent a victim. But reading about a 13 year old bathing, dressing, and taking care of a king who mistakes her for the daughter he abused and neglected, and then that same girl, at 18, marrying another king that killed his previous child bride is just girl bossism on book Alicent’s part?

People hate conceptualizing the idea that (even book) Alicent is caught in patriarchal trappings bc to some that takes away from Rhaenyra’s plight…. Bc they can’t wrap their heads around several women *gasp* all going through hardships, and that ultimately people will respond to trauma differently depending on tools/knowledge they have at their disposal. Alicent neither being gleefully evil nor picking herself up by her bootstraps to somehow end years of patriarchal violence is not the neat box they want for her.

[actiniumwrites]

knots

synopsis: lyney has been head over heels in love with you since the two of you were only ten years old. the only problem? you're friends with lynette and not him. so he spends the next 8-9 years pining over you with seemingly unrequited feelings

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: angst to fluff, misunderstandings, happy ending, best friend's brother trope, an insane amount of obliviousness and pining, idiots to lovers pretty much, the ending is kinda rushed

disclaimer: i know character ages in genshin are a rather controversial topic of discourse within the community. i personally think of lyney and lynette to be around 18-19 years old and i do mention age in this fic as it follows a bit of a timeline. if this somehow bothers you, please just don't read or try to start an argument over it in my comments

notes: THIS IS SO CUTE IM SOBBING 🤧 i did throw in a lot of angst though i'm so sorry but i saw the opportunity and took it. the end is fluffy (and kind of rushed sorry) though‼️ the title is also inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo as i think it's very fitting for this fic. thank you for the request! (this is my third time posting this cause the first time it didn't show up in the tags)

Lyney was jealous as a kid. It was hard not for him to be when him and Lynette were first introduced to you and you had barely even acknowledged him. He was only ten at the time, but he was so excited to make new friends outside of the House of the Hearth that he was stunned when you had only really talked to Lynette. You had only ever offered him a small wave and a smile to go along with it before running off with Lynette.

It wasn’t fair in his eyes. He was the one more interested in you anyway, not her. She had merely tagged along because he forced her too. Now here she was stealing his potential friends.

You’d clicked instantly with her. Both of you were more on the quiet and shy side, contrasting Lyney’s sunny and outgoing personality. You both liked the same foods, the same clothing, the same everything. Lyney wanted to share those with you too, but it was hard when his tastes differed from yours and you didn’t seem to pay much interest in him anyway.

And growing up, he’d always been around. You’d hang out with all of them, don’t get it twisted. It wasn’t like you’d ever told him he couldn’t spend time with you guys. In fact, you often spent a lot of time together. You were sweet. You loved helping them with their magic tricks, even though they normally failed since you were all thirteen by the time they really began taking it seriously. You’d pretend to be shocked when they guessed your card, despite knowing exactly how the trick worked. You’d be on standby when they performed more dangerous tricks. Hell, you were even an assistant for them nearly eighty-percent of the time.

Lyney was grateful for it all, but he still couldn’t shake the ever growing crush on you he’d developed three years ago when you first met. He wanted you to be closer with him more than his sister. It was selfish, he was well aware of that, but he was the one with a crush. Not Lynette.

Lyney was the one to pick you up and put a bandaid on your knees when you fell at the playground. Lyney was the one to always share his snacks with you, even when you usually said no. Lyney was the one to always sit next to you when you were feeling a little down and let his knee rest quietly against yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull yours away. Lyney was the one who was in love with you by the time you all turned 18.

When the fateful performance happened and they were revealed to be Fatui to the general public, he was sure you’d leave them for good. You had obviously known they were Fatui, but you didn’t know of the extent to which they acted, the crimes they had committed. In your eyes, they were only in training, because that was all they had told you. As close as you were to them, they could never let you know the full details. It was against the rules.

Lyney was so sure you’d up and leave that it was the second time he had ever truly felt anxiety in his life — his sister being taken was the first, but here you were making him feel that horrible pounding in his chest all over again. He was so sure that the ache in his chest would have to make room for more than just jealousy, but grief among heartbreak. That you’d look at them in fear and never speak to them ever again. That he’d never get to profess his love to you.

You proved him wrong, and rather unexpectedly so. You’d shown up to every second of their trial and helped the traveler out as best you could to exonerate them. You’d stuck by their side through it all and made sure they were alright. He was so surprised you almost made him cry.

When they were freed from it all and the crisis was solved, you’d only hugged Lynette and Freminet. That was the part that stung the most. But at this age, Lyney was too nervous around you. How could he not be? You were so pretty and sweet and kind that he didn’t know what to do, especially when he was confused as to where he stood with you. You were all of those things and more with everyone. Everyone but him.

So he pulls away.

He doesn’t want to. God, he’s so in love with you he doesn’t want to ever spend a second away from you, but you never reciprocate any of it. So perhaps, he decides one day, it’d be best to just move on and focus on other things. Lynette could have you to herself and he’d find someone else, no matter how much he wanted you the most.

And you hate it, because well, you’re confused. Which sounds unfair, and in some ways it is, but Lyney was a special light in your life that you couldn’t get too close to. Not because you didn’t want to. No. Of course not. He didn’t realize that you were too scared to. You were so different that you shied away from him, despite feeling all the same toward him. He was like the sun and if you got too close to him, you were scared he’d burn you.

Lynette pushed you toward him regularly. You never seemed to escape her late night gossip sessions where she told you all about how her brother was practically drooling over how good you looked or how sweet you were. You found it endearing while she found it disgusting. Despite it all, though, you had confided in her about your crush on him as well, but how terrified you were to try to actually approach him. She almost slapped you right then and there.

Lynette thinks you’re both stupid. And she’s right. Because now you’re both stuck in a huge misunderstanding. Lyney thinks you hate him and you think he hates you. Could anyone really blame her for being so annoyed?

“You need to talk to him,” she finally breaks one day, about to pass out in her chair from her social energy running out just from hearing about the entire situation nonstop for the past week. You stare at her mortified as she gives you an unimpressed stare.

You nearly choke on the drink you were sipping on just a moment ago, catching a few passerby’s attention as you do, “Why do I have to be the one to say something?! He’s the one that started avoiding me!”

“Are you dense?”

“No?”

She stares at you for a long minute and sighs.

“You’re both idiots. He likes you. You like him. You were too shy to say anything and now he’s decided to move on,” she explains, unimpressed. Did you really not see it after all these years?

“Move on? What?” you place your hands on the table in front of you, panic swimming in your eyes. It all hits you so fast you feel your heart practically about to burst out of your chest.

“I have to go, sorry!” you jump out of your chair, yelling a string of apologies from behind you as you run from the cafe.

It takes you an hour to find him after your conversation with Lynette ends abruptly. Freminet was nice enough to let you know Lyney had gone down to the outskirts of the main city to work on some magic tools by the beach. It was just an excuse to get away. All three of you knew it, but Lyney wasn’t the type to say how he truly feels in fear of being a bad leader.

You wished he had said something sooner. Though perhaps you should’ve been the one to take notice long ago that his advances were more than just friendly.

You suddenly feel regret build up in your stomach at the way you treated him all these years. You were so afraid of your feelings you sabotaged yourself in the process and unknowingly hurt him too.

You find him sitting in the sand, legs crossed as he quietly fiddles with a few parts for some magic props.

“Mind if I sit?” you practically whisper from beside him. Lyney doesn’t even look at you. It’s cold and and unlike him and must be exactly how you looked all these years. He nods anyway.

You watch the waves crash in front of you. Over and over again as they grow closer with the deepening hours of the night. The stars reflect gently upon each and every one of them yet you can’t get yourself to focus on them.

You fidget with a small flower in your hands. It was tucked away gently in your pocket, the petals sticking out to prevent it from getting crushed. It’s a vibrant pink and even with its petals closed for the night, it still looks beautiful in your hand. It reminds you of all the times Lyney had dropped the very same ones at your doorstep or somehow tucked away on a piece of your clothing without you noticing. You hadn’t bothered to look into the meaning back then. You never knew rainbow roses were a declaration of love.

Lyney still sits quietly next to you, now messing with the hat he had taken off when you arrived. His lavender eyes avoid yours, but you don’t hesitate to drop the flower gently into his hands.

“I never knew the meaning of these,” you turn to him and say softly. Your eyes match your voice and he knows you’re telling the truth, even if he doesn’t want to believe it. When he doesn’t move to touch it, nor get rid of it, you speak again, “It’s uh…it’s for you. I picked it on the way here. I thought you’d maybe like it.”

He finally picks it up and turns toward you, a mixture of emotions pooling in his eyes. You see the anger, the fear, the pain, and the love all at once. You wish you had seen it all sooner.

“Why are you giving this to me?” Lyney asks quietly. It comes off a little colder than he’d like, you see it in the way he winces after. You only stare at him with a sad, but hopeful look in your eyes. You couldn’t take back the past, but perhaps you could change the future.

Quietly, you take it from him and tuck it above his ear. He’d done the same to you one time, only it was part of a show and you thought it was just for the act. Oh how oblivious you were back then. “You know what it means to give someone one of these. Lyney, I…I never meant to push you away all these years. I was just scared because I liked you, and Lynette was easier to get closer to than face my feelings for you. Even if we were just ten years old. It was immature and for that, I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his face brightens a bit, “Do you really mean it? You’ve really liked me all these years? Or are you just saying all this to make me feel better?”

You nod, confirming your words and he breaks out into laughter. A sound you’ve dearly missed. Sadness doesn’t suit Lyney.

“Can I…?” He says scooting closer to you, eyes glancing in between yours before falling to your lips. You nod, a small laugh escaping you as you lean in to meet him half way.

Lyney’s lips are soft against yours as he kisses you eagerly. You reciprocate the feeling, matching his pace until you both pull apart out of breath. You laugh nervously standing up and extending a hand, “Wanna go home?”

Lyney jumps up, his hand in yours and nods. He interlaces his fingers with yours tightly, not letting you go after all these missed out years.

When you return to the House of the Hearth, Lyney turns and places one last kiss to your lips. It’s short and sweet and lets you know that he’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow. You turn and walk away after, wishing him a goodnight as you do. But before you can walk away completely and turns and shouts, “7 PM tomorrow at the Hotel Debourd! I’ll pick you up!”

Lynette appears behind him suddenly, rolling her eyes and waving to you before shutting the door on her twin, “You’re hopeless, brother.”