#ships were both sides are aware of their desire & longing

[usurperss]

Sorry for being mentally ill now but what fucks me up about Kasseivor are the what ifs. What would have been if we weren't doomed by our fate to live a lonesome life, what if we risked it to give in to our feelings despite being aware of the tragedy looming upon us knowing there won't be a happy end for us in any kind of outcome

[partycatty]

so i made a post about revenant johnny and i’m totally aware you saw it so what about a smut fic with revenant johnny??

i’m not entirely sure how we’d get to that part and i’d like to think we aren’t a revenant. im not entirely sure what the plot would be but i really just need to get my back blown out by revenant johnny

love ya 💙💙

EAYRBAUHRJAJFLAMTLMSMF

revenant!older!johnny cage > join me

revenant johnny meets you after his turning. the carnal desire never vanished.

warnings: kinda angsty, not explicitly consented to, you get SLAMMED TO POUND TOWN AND BACK. NETHERREALM AND BACK. OUTWORLD AND B— oh also lore adjustment to mk9 and mk11 :3

[ masterlist ]

you didn't think recent events could get any weirder, truly. just five years prior you lost the love of your life to a corrupted sindel, and with the knowledge that his cursed corpse sauntered beside a sorcerer such as quan chi, you honestly felt like coming face to face with a younger version of yourself was the most normal thing to occur. your job as a leader of the special forces was to capture and eliminate all threats to earthrealm, including but not limited to your former husband.

now under the command of a previous timeline's raiden among others, you had built enough of an army to counterattack what you lovingly called the zombified versions of your once-friends, liu kang and kitana. kronika was a force beyond your understanding but you knew that losing all you'd come to build would be a loss greater than... well, no. it was everything you'd lose.

at the bow of kharon's ship, you stood with a loaded rifle alongside a band of people you'd grown to admire; jax, jacqui, cassie, raiden, liu kang, kitana, kung lao, fujin, nightwolf, and of course a younger version of johnny. he nudges your side, aiming his own rifle at the sky with a hand on his hip.

"i hope we don't die out there, i'd love to tap that someday," he coos into your direction, perhaps louder than intended and earning horrified looks from everyone - including your fatherless daughter. you stomp on johnny's foot. perhaps you would have fallen for his charms in the past, but dear god was he more punchable than ever in that moment. even still, you miss his quips and jabs. what you wouldn't give to see the color return to his cracked, hellish skin.

"it is an honor to fight alongside most of you," you call out, facing forward as your subtle dig at younger johnny makes him frown. "raiden says it better. may the elder gods protect us."

it's not long before the large boat scrapes against the shore of the island, and your entire army charges into battle. guns, swords, and fangs spill so much blood, you could smell more iron than when you were riding down the crimson sea. your thoughts are cut short when a path opens, and you shoot a glance to your comrades.

"i see an opening!" you shout, pointing. "i'm going in!" a chorus of encouragements and cheers fill your ears atop the war cries, and the one that stands out most is cassie. your daughter's voice raises, slipping into grief mid-battle.

"if you find dad," she cries, praying to the gods that she won't lose both parents. "tell him i love him!" the knowledge that this battle will end in only one of you making it out alive terrifies her beyond belief but she does all she can to keep a strong face and salute you as you disappear in the crowd. cassie knows that a revenant version of johnny wouldn't fully understand, wouldn't fully accept her love, but she couldn't die or have him die without expressing it one last time.

you weave, shoot and slash through the crowd and end up in a castle-like structure. perhaps if you were to rise to the top you could use the position as surveillance or sniping. you could possibly even find a weak point. the building is just distant enough for the war to hardly reach the inside. your breathing and the sound of boots hitting stone are all you could focus on as you turn a corner.

blood rushes to your ears and you could feel your vision become glassy at the sight of the figure at the end of the hallway. even after all this time, you knew that shape. johnny stood in the dead center of the long hall, arms crossed and waiting like he predicted your arrival. maybe he did.

"no, nonono," you pant, leaning against the wall as your brows furrow. "not you. not now." the grief you thought you conquered washes over you.

"well i'll be damned," johnny smirks, pulling his sunglasses from his face and tucking them into his shirt. "long time no see, sugar." he takes long strides to you and your legs feel embarrassingly weak when you slide to the ground, gun clattering to the stone surface alongside you.

"anyone but you—" you're muttering under your breath, trying to ground your spiraling thoughts. "please."

johnny's in front of you now, kneeling down to meet your gaze. his skin is paled and crackling with a hellish glow, and his eyes are a heinous reddish shade. the outfit he wore was similar in style to his usual, but darker in palette and slightly edgier. in any other context, it was a good look.

"you look just as good as the day i left you," he grins, dismissing your grief and turmoil for flirtation. you want to fight back so bad, to shove him away and put an end to this but dammit it was the first time you'd heard that voice, that damn voice.

"why did you leave me? cassie?" you're involuntarily sobbing now, full of conflict. "why are you doing this?"

"you're the one causing this entire problem," johnny's defensive, jabbing a finger to your chest. "kronika's new era can save us. neither of us join the military. can you imagine it? white picket fence, two dogs and a daughter, home cooked meals every night and none of this bullshit—!" johnny's arm extends out to a nearby window, giving you both a view of the demon-human-demigod war on time. "—baby. join me. we could have everything we've ever dreamed of." his tone isn't as desperate and loving as it should be. it sounded... pushy. frustrated that you're disobeying what he wants.

"no," you choke out, tears flowing freely now. "you're being played a fool, johnny." he doesn't like your answer, and instead wraps a large hand around your small neck. he slides you back up the wall and spins you, your front now pressed up against a wall.

"you know what i'd miss more than your stubbornness?" he growls into your ear. his hand pressing hold on the back of your head is brewing a headache that quickly fizzles away when his other hand tugs your hips toward his front. you swallow, afraid to reply. "this sweet ass."

his cold, dead hand plays with the fat of your ass which spills a growl from his lips. instinctively rutting into you makes you spill an involuntary whimper out, craving his touch after so long.

"always a pain in my ass," johnny groans, slapping a cheek and watching it bounce. "i've gone years without it, i was practically losing my damn mind."

"johnny—" you barely breathe out. you're not entirely sure what you were going to say anyway. the warmth of his hardness shocks you as it slides up and down your clothed ass.

"mm?" he hums, transfixed on the way your behind fits his cock nicely. it was clear he wasn't fully listening and instead relishing in your presence once again.

as if he could read your thoughts, johnny chuckles to himself and kicks the rifle away, only stopping his humping momentarily to remove your defenses. your legs slightly part to try and catch the gun with your foot, accidentally giving him more access to your embarrassingly needy cunt.

"yeah, fuckin' speechless," he growls, hissing at the sight of your soaked bottoms. "bet you missed my cock, yeah?"

you could hardly even whimper from the onslaught of emotion. johnny's hand snakes to the front of your neck, forcibly arching your back as he pulls to lean into your ear.

"join me," he demands coldly.

"no."

johnny's hand dips under your waistband.

"join me," he demands again, tone getting progressively more animalistic as he tugs downward.

"no."

your pants are practically torn off as he grabs a fistful and tugs them to your knees with his mind-numbing strength. you weren't sure if he ripped your panties or tugged them off too. you hear something unbuckle on his end, and his hot, wet tip tickles your entrance.

"last chance." even though his hand returned to shove you into the stone wall, you could hear his cocky grin.

"go fuck yourself," you spit, realizing your grave choice of wording.

"i'll do you one better." he slams his entire cock inside of you, and it immediately settles into your walls like it was made to bury itself there for all of eternity. even still, going without dick that good leaves your pussy burning and on the verge of crying for other reasons.

he bottoms out quick, leaning back to admire how nicely he settles inside of you.

"well fuck, look at that," he says with genuine amusement in his tone. "you look so pretty stretched out on me like this, it's a sight for sore eyes."

your fingers claw at the stone, eyes rolling back as you take his full length without verbal complaint. as you pathetically attempt to protest, all you can sputter out are disconnected syllables. johnny's thrusts start off slow but he snaps into you as he reaches the base inches.

"all this whining but you're fuckin' soaked," he laughs, snapping into you harshly to hear you cry out. "you're a horrible liar, you know. you wanna join me, i can f — haah —" his own cocky nonsense is cut short when you clench around him. he lurches forward in shock, moving both hands to your hips to deepen his grip. "i can feel how tight you are for me."

in little to no time, johnny's cock is pounding into you at a breakneck pace, a horrid slapping sound echoing off of the castle walls as they mix with your obscene moans and his deep grunts. you're sure he's piling more unholy words into you but they feel so far away when he's plowing into you like a dying man — well.

his cracked, grey fingers grope you shamelessly, pinching your nipple through your uniform or rubbing rapid circles into your clit. the pleasure is too much too quickly and you feel a warmth pooling in your stomach as your juices coat his shaft.

a gasp escapes your lips with each thrust, your husband quite literally knocking the wind out of you each time he slams into you.

"i missed you," he purrs out, and just like that all hesitation and guilt you had flew away as his words made you cum hard. a glimpse of his humanity poured through at your orgasm, and while it was flattering, you had bigger problems to worry about then, including just how hard you came.

each wave of pleasure was met with an extra thrust for good measure, a pulse shooting to your clit that makes your knees buckle. what you quickly realize however is that your zombie husband isn't done with your body quite yet.

"oh, no no no," he tuts, thrusts getting wilder and filling you to the point of tears. "you're done when i'm done. this is what you get."

your sensitive walls continued to shamefully take every inch he forced into you, and you could writhe and twitch as a drop of drool spills from your lip. this revenant was fucking you stupid, using your body for all it was worth in the moment. you hated yourself for falling for his undead charm all over again. your vision was going black and starry before another orgasm rode up on you again, johnny's back shots doing nothing to soothe the overstimulation that was racking your body. it's not long before he's whining too, which turns into his signature whimpering when he fucks into you harshly, spewing his cum inside of you like he owns you. you cum with him this time, flooding with your own juice mixed with his cum that now coated your walls nicely.

tears still burned in your eyes, and so did your pussy from the unexpected stretch. johnny panted above you, face turned up at the ceiling as he tries to compose himself.

"holy..." he pants, wiping the sweat from his face with his arm. he wraps an arm around you and slaps at your bare pussy, making you yelp and jump back against his dick that's still buried inside. you swallow thickly and nod, too hazy to make sense of it all.

"i..." what the hell were you going to say? what is there to say after all of this? you're dumbfounded, fucked silly but torn apart by grief. as you crane your neck to look at johnny, you find that he's already looking at you with a coy expression. like he robbed you of something. tore your very being apart piece by piece and was proud.

"hope you're not mad at me for the whole dying thing, by the way."

[herefortheships]

Why would you say people ship Beetlejuice and Lydia? I’ve been a fan for so long I’m just like “huh…why do we ship it?”

Suddenly remembered I hadn’t answered this, and since I can’t sleep right now I’ll answer it! I meant to earlier and forgot.

I personally ship it because I love the concept of monster x human relationships, and especially when one character (usually the male part of the ship when it’s m/f) in this case this character is Betelgeuse, is dark, powerful, often immortal and even terrifying, (in Betelgeuse’s case also unhinged and absolutely crazy lol), and definitely the least you would expect to EVER fall in love, and yet he does fall in love with this other character who happens to be human, mortal, often quiet and also unlikely to fall in love. These two are the least likely to fall for each other, but they do! Then he starts to show a softer, completely unexpectedly romantic side to him that is reserved only for this woman he loves and no one else. She is both his strength and his weakness all at the same time. He is willing to do everything and anything for her.

Often these two characters are complete opposites and at odds with each other (or even enemies!) and yet they find each other in the middle. There is something they find in the other which cannot be replaced or found in anyone else in the world, and as unexpected and unusual and crazy at it is, before they even know it, their connection is forged in a way where they cannot and will not ever belong or fit in with anyone else. They’ve become a part of each other, even when the odds were against them or might be against them forever because they are intrinsically worlds apart. But love just finds them, and they meet in the middle.

I also love this kind of couple a lot when one of the two realizes their connection before the other, like Beetlejuice just knowing Lydia is *the one*, even if he can’t explain to her how he knows or why. This same scenario happens with Spike in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At some point he realized she was the one, and she just got under his skin and became an inseparable part of his being.

Although not always, I believe this type of couple also follows the female gaze, since the male character (as I mentioned above it’s often the male character) shows an interest in the emotions of the female part. This is true in Beetlebabes. He isn’t interested only in her body, but also in honoring her emotions and desires (like Betelgeuse honoring Lydia’s wishes to have a more private wedding and respecting her boundaries by not forcing her to kiss him or something like that, plus making an effort at being romantic by serenading her and giving her an absolutely romantic wedding with a magical dance in the air). These interactions that are more romantic than sexual speak to the female gaze.

I think also that Beetlejuice Beetlejuice had several “Universal fantasies” entwined in the Betelgeuse x Lydia relationship that are just irresistible for many romance lovers and when those are present, our minds just inevitably grab on to those fantasies and identity them whether we are aware of them or not. Our mind just goes yep this is a romance and oh boy what a romance this is and before you know it you are obsessed. If you haven’t read about Universal Fantasies in writing, these are basically just more specific tropes that really speak to audiences in a way that hooks them powerfully to a story, and more specifically to romantic stories. This concept is introduced by Theodora Taylor in her book 7 Figure Fiction (which I’m sure many writers know about since it’s pretty popular but I mention it just in case it’s new to someone reading this).

Another reason lots of people love this ship is just aesthetics as well which is also valid. For me this for sure became one of my top three Burton couples.

[yannaryartside]

SydCarmy vs Lucus

AMBITIONS AND PERSPECTIVES ON ART

This is a long one. Is about the series's themes on pursuing the arts, and the reasons that this ships work as symbolism for it.

When thinking about the reasons Marcus and Sydney were not going to work out (as far as we can see), I read a comment saying: "they are not on the same level" and the more I thought about it, I realized it not only meant they are not equal in culinary expertise, but they also have different ways to "live" their path in the culinary arts, almost opposite philosophies about it. And all of it is explained in their conversations with their (possible) romantic interest. 

WHAT IS AN ART PHILOSOPHY?

When you enter a path in the arts, any part, at some point, you will have to make decisions about how you are going to transit this path because there are very different ways to live a creative life, to make money out of it, and how feel fulfilled about it. Many people will enter their path with an idea of what success looks like, probably modeled after an artist that you admired, the desire for your art to be recognized as good, or as "the best," or even to disrupt what came before you. Shortly, art philosophy is how you value your path in the arts: What makes it good art? What point of your career is gonna bring you satisfaction? What guides you to it?

CARMY AND SIDNEY : "LET'S BE THE BEST AND REACH LOST OF PEOPLE"

They both want to be "the best," their definition of it equals stars, reviews, magazine interviews, and restaurant numbers. The creative impulse is only as valuable as is booming, and a chef is only as good as the size of their kitchen.

They both want exterior recognition and aspire to a big audience, and their satisfaction in their craft depends on that; what makes their unbearable jobs worth it somehow is if "people loved the food." They both have wounds and bonds formed around food and love making people happy with the food, but they have selected a perspective of what "the best" is and is an ambition they run almost blindly to. You can think the burger place on your block has the best food in the world. There are cooks utterly content with that, but the Michelling stars are telling otherwise.

Of course, this is the most tangible way to measure success in arts, the singer with the most loved songs, the book with the most readers. Quality is supposed to be evident by popularity, and they want it, decorated with the prize of succeding in such a competitive industry. They have tried to win the culinary rat race and have regrets about it.

Carmy (motivated by the rejection and abandonment from his brother) worked his ass to unhealthy levels to climb the culinary ladder, living to best everybody around him and run the best restaurant on the planet (which, if we believe his monologue, only took two fucking years). Sydney is presented to us as somebody with equal creative powers, intelligence, and instincts as Carmy, which is particularly obvious in their brainstorming sessions. But she hasn't been offered the same opportunities. Her previous bosses described her as "incredibly talented, impatient, and green." and one friend told her as "always trying to be the best." There is much to say about how her impatience may sabotage her ambitions. Still, it may be because she fears getting stuck, labeled, or never recognized by her talents.

These two have 3 things they prioritize in their art paths:

Creative expression+people love the food

Exterior recognition based on the industry standards (stars and big kitchens)

A rat race (sense of urgency) and your ability to play on it.

What makes your food the "best" is comparing it to everyone else and "winning" in a particular category. 

Not to mention, they are both deeply aware of the logistics and money sides of the restaurant life. It is not like they don't value inspiration, but their ambition is the defining force behind said inspiration. 

MARCUS AND LUCA: "LET'S BE INSPIRED AND EVOLVE"

Luca was introduced to us as someone who was "trying to keep up with Carmy, who was much better than him," the same way the audience feels Marcus is someone trying to impress and keep up with Syd. Luca knows the culinary world, has traveled, and has a privileged position making high-end desserts (possibly in a place with stars). He is the Carmy to Marcus's Sydney. 

Btw, there are some crazy parallels here too:

Marcus and Sydney have a wound/fear related to their mothers.

Luca and Carmy have strained relationships with their siblings (Luca has a sister he cannot find).

Both Carmy and Sydney got into cooking because of early childhood passion

Marcus and Luca got into it by "chance," discovering a passion that they never expected to love this much or be good at.

Mentor x student relationship.

Back to Marcus and Lucas's perspective of art. Notice how Carmy was trapped in a sense of urgency environment, with many people working for him, in NYC, a chaotic city; while Luca seems to work entirely by himself, in a pretty chill environment, in a rather peaceful city. Luca and Marcus thrive on this environment, which is about thought and delicacy, unlike the "efficient, fast run kitchen" Carmy and Sydney established.

Marcus had no philosophy about his craft because he was barely starting. Still, he adopts Luca's philosophy, which has 3 parts:

You may never be the best. Some artists have to let go of the idea of being "the best." There is a lot to say about this. But I want to express this using an example of the craft that I aspire to get into: writing. A friend once told me that some books are not meant to reach millions because they have a very specific audience, and what makes them good is how "memorable they are." More of it, some artists are never recognized in their times. The industry may not be made for them, or it may be just luck. Limiting the value of art by the industry standard is depriving the world of art that needs to be more exploratory, spontaneous, or just free. 

Since industry validation may not be available to you, instead of "being the best" against others, you can decide, "My only competition is me from yesterday." This perspective is super important because it gives you something to aspire to, ensures your creative growth, and allows reinvention.

It is not about skill but being open to the world, yourself, and other people. It is not about fancy techniques or recognition but about being inspired. 

To Luca and now Marcus, the creative process is as good as is honest, and a chef is as good as the effort he puts into it. The "self-exploration" and the recognition of the people surrounding him allowed Marcus to create his desserts: The Copenhagen sundae, for his ultimate school (and Luca), "Mum's" honey bun, Sidney's donut (the first one in believing in him and when he recognized his dreams), and "The Michael" the one that put him to make bread, and the tribute that needs to be made.

[boct-kimerakal]

curious about the pondwater kids?

no? too bad.

here’s a little introduction to them! warning? it’s got war topics and stuff, yeah.

katja loi is the older one, 13-14, roughly. she’s, technically, imperial. after a siege, her hometown came under nation occupation. she was separated from her parents (she’s aware on some level they’re in a camp somewhere - she doesn’t want to think about it) and shipped away from the front, to a ‘boarding school’ - assuming children are more impressionable, it’s a way to build numbers. her education’ll be thick with eusan nation propaganda. figure the imperial children live in dorms, cared for mostly by EULRs. they’re just livestock for the war, unless they get lucky and have a desirable skill.

she’s very, how do you say, cynical. she’ll stay alive at all costs and blames her parents for their stubbornness and their belief in the empire. she thinks both sides are rotten (good for her) but will do anything to survive. on a lighter note, though, she’s an artist! not a very good one yet, she says. she mostly draws to escape the stress of just being alive.

frederic, the younger one, ‘bout 10-11, was in born nation-occupied kitzeh, at the heart of nation operations. parents were die-hard nation patriots from the start. he’s a keep-your-head-down type, he just reads and reads and reads - even if the words mean nothing at all. he dreads his mandatory military service more than anything, even if it’s not in active combat, something about it just scares him. due to a job change, he was moved with his parents and siblings to a more rural area. too bad though, it gets wiped off eusan nation maps not long later. stormed by imperial ‘rebels’ at some point. maybe right after the vinetan blockade, due to the troop and armaments interruption as the nation focuses on dismantling the blockade (so giving the imperials an upper hand on kitzeh temporarily, maybe? dunno) either way, that place? razed.

so he loses his family (as in they’re definitely dead. definitely) and winds up with katja (jumpscare. that’s where her school was.) and, well, i guess everyone dying around you is one way to start a friendship. it’s not a very good one, more like a fearful (in frederic’s case mostly) pact to keep each other alive. katja is a fiercely determined type and swears to him they’ll get away from the war one way or another. frederic figures if he dies, he might as well die trying to ... not die. which is how they end up at the nearest nation military base, trying to stowaway on a ship to rotfront and not even getting close before they’re discovered by an ARAR of all things.

an ARAR who is definitely not a normal ARAR because she actually says nothing and just... hides them. odd. i’ll yap about their dynamics one day, but now you know how they got here?

[golvio]

I’m very excited about Fury. I have absolutely no idea what to expect, but here are my two best guesses on how they’re going to turn this romantic:

On the most surface, plot-driven level, it’s about you asking yourself “What Am I?” That’s a big question and you won’t have all the pieces necessary to come to a conclusion until five rounds of experimentation. So why not take a look at it through the most literal, concrete, straightforward way possible by physically taking yourself apart and looking at your insides? And, look! The Princess is unwittingly here to help you! Are you ready to go on a journey of exploration and discovery…For Science? *Magic School Bus theme interspersed with horrible squelching meat noises starts playing as Fury unzips your flesh-vessel like a twizzler*

On a more metaphorical level, if Thorn was the “romance” chapter, then Fury is going to be the “physical intimacy” chapter, given all the bodily metaphors. Granted, Beast was also a sort of physical intimacy metaphor regarding the consumptive nature of carnal desire. But this is going to be very different, as a more “guided” experience.

But, also, death doesn’t stick for either of you the way it would for regular people. Pain, too, is only something you experience as much as you believe you can experience it. Your perception changes what you are physically capable of within the Construct, and in Chapter 3 you’re powerful enough to change the direction of the story if you don’t like where the Narrator is going with it. What would happen if you decided to indulge your morbid curiosity and wanted to explore just how much transformation and unmaking and remaking you could take? What would happen if the swift, brutal process of the Fury unwinding you as punishment became a dialogue as you came back and told her what you experienced, then asked if you could try it again, but sideways this time?

And I keep coming back to Shifty’s description of Fury having a strange sort of compassion within her heart. What if, during the process, the two of you caught a glimpse of something the Narrator didn’t want you to see, some sort of truth about your physical bodies that gives you both a major clue about your respective true natures? What if you being transformed by dying gives you a brief experience of what Change is like? What if, at the climax, Fury unmakes herself, and for a moment she glimpses what’s on the other side as you experience Nothingness together? In an inversion of The Wild, where the two of you get to be a feathered landscape in a distant dream together? The two of you, feeling the jagged edges of where you were torn apart, becoming aware for the first time of the little piece of the other that exists within yourselves, seeing things from the other side.

Like…seeing that one snippet of the dialogue from what I assume is the Tower-Fury route in the trailer, I immediately thought of Rammstein’s “Ich Tu Dir Veh,” describing a consensual but also extremely weird sadomasochistic relationship that doesn’t resemble conventional romance or love at all. In particular, the lyric “You are the ship / I am the captain / Where would you like to go?”

The story is about Shifting Mound collecting experiences to understand herself. It is also about you, The Long Quiet, also sharing in and directing these experiences to better understand both your narrative cellmate and yourself. To me, Fury kneeling down next to you and taking you through every step of the process of being unmade and put back together, and experiencing both firsthand and vicariously how painful that is, to see what makes you tick feels like the general premise of the game taken to its darkest, most logical conclusion. But it also feels like a more worksafe metaphor for an actual BDSM torture session with a first-time domme, while Tower was more about unhealthy power dynamics and dubious consent. Here, there is the possibility of negotiation. Here, she is made something closer to equal to you, as a fellow creature of flesh and blood. She may still be more physically powerful and with a terrifying sort of divinity, but you still make the choices that move the story along, and you ultimately have the last word. She will only go as far as you ask her to go. The process itself involves heavy negotiation and the prodding and examination of boundaries. When it goes too fast and you’ve had enough, you tap into your divine nature and pull away from her, becoming Nothing so that she can no longer touch you, no longer hurt you. Otherwise, Shifty ends the scene and pulls you out so you aren’t stuck in the narrative dead end of eternal torment. A dance must have both partners be willing. She can’t continue unless you let her proceed, if only to see what happens.

I think…during the more “loving” ending, there is going to be some kind of change in the dynamic between you and the Princess that shifts things from a torture session into something much more consensual, if still gory and a little messed up. This thing, which was supposed to be purely physical, suddenly shifting into a profound moment of connection for reasons flesh and endocrine chemicals alone can’t explain. I’m looking forward to seeing that moment, and if the “first-time physical intimacy” metaphor ends up holding water, where it ends up going may or may not make me cry.

[sebastianmichaelisslander]

my good friend i'm curious. because i am Very Normal about characters and i know you are also Very Normal about characters i would like to know. is there any kuro character you love enough/have enough thoughts about to write an essay on them? and why? because i know we have many characters we both love and some we disagree on i'd love to hear a bit of in-depth stuff about your faves!!

I am so, so, very glad I received this ask 😭🙏🏼💐 you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for something like this!!!

Alright, I’m going to talk about one of my comfort characters: Mey-Rin.

And as this blog is for (semi-jokingly) slandering Sebastian, let me begin by saying that Seabass absolutely does not deserve this girl:

I mean, just look at her. 😭🙏🏼

Where do I begin?

First off, I feel like she’d be sharper and more perceptive than she gets credit for. I don’t buy that she doesn’t suspect a thing about Sebastian. She’d know something is very, very off about him from the start, even if he does show her kindness she’s seldom experienced before. I also think that’s the reason she wouldn’t have acted upon the crush she had on him - not just because she isn’t sure of his own feeling towards her, but also because something tells her it wouldn’t end well.

These observational skills are also partly why she’s more emotionally intelligent than she thinks. She truly is the mum friend - very helpful, very protective, and always someone you can come to with your problems. If you’ve noticed, she’s fretting over Finny, Bard, Ciel and Seb at several points in the manga. I also see her as the sort who worries more than she should, especially about those she cares for. This would also make her quite the overthinker - the sort to worry about stuff after it happens as she’s often in situations where she needs to act in the moment.

Although she’s primarily a long-range fighter, I do think she’d know her stuff when it comes to hand-to-hand combat - enough to help her in sticky situations. She’s lived on the streets for a lot of her formative years, so she would know how to remain aware of her surroundings and have a mean right hook. I also write her as more assertive than in canon. Partly because I wish we got to see her shine more, and partly because I think it would be a given if you look at her backstory and what all she’s had to survive.

I also enjoy portraying her as the sort who lowkey has a sassy side, but only once she gets comfortable enough with the person for them to know it’s all in jest coming from her. She’d make a wisecrack and then apologise for roasting them. 😂😭

Now, going back to her and Sebastian because I still have more to say: I’m also not a Sebamey shipper as I don’t like how quite a few fics shipping her with Sebastian portray her as his doormat or some damsel in distress 😭 but even if that’s not the case, just the fact that it’s a canon possibility he’d use her just as he used Beast lowkey puts me off. I’ll still read fics in which he’s a good partner to her, though - they’re fun.

I also like to think that while she is infatuated with Sebastian at first, it eventually turns into an “I admire him and aspire to be as good at my job” sort of thing. I think she developed a crush on him because he was one of the few men who showed her genuine kindness - even if it’s part of his act. I think most of the men she’s come across were the opposite - and that she’d also had some genuinely scary experiences with them (which I have implied in my works with her). I also don’t think she’d trust them in a hurry, even if she appears unbothered by men she meets at first.

About her life after she starts working at the manor: much like any other woman, all she wants is to feel desirable, especially when she gets to dress and live as one properly.

I also think that she’s a romantic at heart who loves the idea of finding someone who loves her for who she is, although she probably feels it’s all but a pipe dream. I think she’s probably had an experience or two before - probably fleeting ones. Living out most of her life pretending to be a man meant she didn’t have many opportunities at all for this sort of thing, even on the down low. So she hasn’t had any proper experiences with romance. I’m remembering the panel in which she’s extremely flustered after Ronald flirts with her, saying that’s the first time she’s been hit on. I like to interpret that as her feeling like this is the first time someone has made genuine romantic advances towards her.

As for her hobbies and any other interests outside of her job… I don’t know why, but I see her as the artsy kind with humanities girl energy. She seems like the sort who’d be a great artist and surprisingly good at painting. I also like to think she’d try to read more after Sebastian teaches her how to, often using a small part of her wages to buy novels (she loves both the macabre ones and the sappy romantic ones, lol). She’d underline any word she doesn’t know, probably asking Sebastian what it means later on.

I’d like to know more about her pastimes, likes, dislikes, and her as a character overall in canon as well. There’s still potential to expand upon a great deal.

That’s it for now on her! I’m going to do Othello next ���� and then Ludger, mayhaps - or William and Grelle. My brain isn’t working today, so apologies for any vagueness or if I didn’t explain myself too clearly dhfjdkdb 😭

[nrilliree]

Tbh, everyone keeps saying they found the chemistry between Matt and Milly very hot but personally, I feel very grossed out every time they were together, even on the bridge of Dragonstone. Idk but knowing the dynamic between them as well as the age gap between the actors, it just grosses me out. As for Emma not having a good chemistry with Matt, I think it was intentional. It was supposed to be wooden and mechanical, because Rhaenyra is no longer a child, therefore an object of fascination to Daemon. Now Rhaenyra is older, a mother of 3. She's much grown but still idolizes him. He uses her again, this time mostly to fulfill his thirst for power for the Iron Throne, whereas he previously desired her for both power and pedophilic attraction. A lot of people ship Daemyra are either unaware or being completely aware that it's a relationship between an abuser and his victim. The power dynamic is off kilter and very skewed. I really hope the scene below in season 2 will open their eyes. Better late than never.

https://www.tumblr.com/softsweetmela/751555613328310272/can-i-just-say-how-refreshing-it-is-to-have-a?source=share

And these people think they are intelligent ? Not only do they sound completely ridiculous, but they also disgust me for being happy to follow and adhere to the showrunners' misguided view of adding physical violence to the Daemyra relationship. And once again, the definition of grooming and pedophilia is available in one click on the internet. It amazes me to see so many of our people use such important and serious big words in a situation that absolutely does not lend itself to it. Also, history books and / or historical research to understand what a historical context is and what it implies are not for dogs.

I would really like to understand what they see as grooming in the show ?

Nothing inappropriate is suggested on Daemon's side as long as Rhaenyra is not of age by the standards of Westeros and our modern standards.

He is literally in a relationship with Mysaria.

He is introduced to us as not often at court and has his own affairs to manage between first his work as leader of the goldcloaks and then his quarrels with Viserys.

The fact that he gives Rhaenyra a simple necklace is not proof of grooming. It mostly seems like a nod to the many gifts mentioned that he always gave Rhaenyra upon returning from his travels, as well as emphasizing their deep connection in comparison to their relationship with Viserys.

Rhaenyra seems to have a crush on Daemon, but Daemon doesn't seem to do anything inappropriate about it.

The only moment where Daemon finally seems to have an real ambiguous interest in Rhaenyra before episode 4 is in episode 2, on the bridge, when he sees 15-year-old Rhaenyra (I remind you that at this age, girls in Westeros are considered marriageable) making her flash and she defeats him.

Then, he found her years later when she was 19 and they spent an evening together where he seduced her and she very willingly let herself be seduced, and in the end, Daemon can't even go through with it his objective which yes, certainly, was not very noble.

But to call it grooming ? WTF ?

Not to mention the fact that Rhaenyra's age, from episode 1, disqualifies her from being able to belong to the definition of pedophilia in the case of Daemon.

As you said, we could talk about ephebophile, but there is in fact no tangible proof, especially because we are in a different historical context compared to the vision of the age, but also because Daemon was in couple with adult women both according to Westeros society and our modern society.

He was in a relationship with Mysaria, an adult, married an adult Rhaenyra, did not seem to be put off by Laena when she was an adult, and in the cut scenes, Daemon literally fucked an adult man.

So no. Even ephebophile doesn't work. Daemon is simply a man who lives in a feudal society where age is not perceived as in ours and overall he has relationships with individuals of any type of age as long as these people are legal according to the standards of his society (book or show) which... is not technically shocking.

Again, the people who are offended have probably never opened a history book, done historical research, or even taken basic history classes.

That or they are stupid or deliberately obtuse.

Again, the definitions of grooming and pedophile are freely available on the internet.

There is no excuse for such a lack of logic / common sense in my eyes.

I would also dare to add that all this is probably also due to an increasingly ridiculous hypocritical purity culture in media analysis... Which for some reason is becoming more and more important.

It's not for nothing that most people giving this kind of speech about Daemyra / Daemon are mainly TG (so Aegon II stans, among other disgusting things...), Team Smalfolk and or Alicent stans after all...

The fact is that I'm tired of seeing these stupid people show off their science with big words to give themselves moral superiority, while the definitions are very easily found... And I don't understand that so many people can adhere to this bullshit.

TG stans really don't like it when you accuse them of their lack of logic and knowledge of the definitions of the words they so eagerly use. Just look:

They will use any argument, even the most absurd and strange, just to justify themselves and make themselves look better. All the time, they create themselves and their favorites as victims of the system, and they strive to show that TB are just as bad or even worse.

Aegon is a rapist? Daemon is a pedophile and rapist! Aemond is a psychopath, a bully and a murderer? Rhaenyra's children are spoiled bastards who are just like Joffrey, they have no feelings and are completely bully! Alicent is a lying traitor with no real honor? Rhaenyra is a lying whore!

It gets to a point where they have run out of arguments and the fact that "Daemon had an affair with Nettles" is not enough and can be disproved by "Daemon may be Nettles' father" that now they are creating a theory that… Daemon is her father, he knows it and at the same time has an affair with her :P!

They just want to feel like they're the good guys. That's why they slander TB, compare TG to the Stark family from GoT (and TB to the Lannisters), create their strange theories and cast slander, and then react aggressively when you disagree with them. Because they probably know that TG are the "bad guys" and they don't like it.

I block them, but when I see a real absurdity that got into my searches through the filter, sometimes I can't let it go :P They will still be outraged and portray themselves as persecuted victims, so what? Let them live in their imaginary world, the series will end one day and they will be left with nothing.

[spaceratprodigy]

✨ NSFW Alphabet Tag Post ✨

Thank you for the tag @freesidexjunkie 💖💕

Took me a bit BUT your call for me to ramble about Faith and Max ideas has been HEARD and ye shall receive 👀💦💦

–

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

I like to imagine they're big softies just melting into each other. This is something they never thought they'd find in anyone and they want to relish in the comfort for as long as possible. It's unbelievable. Staying close, last lingering touches, helping clean each other up, able to immediately pick up a conversation about something that interests them while they enjoy the intimacy of the closeness, the peace, and the privacy.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of their partner)

Faith loves his hands. She'll hold them, press them to her lips, she wants them all over her. He hesitated in the past to let those hands touch her, ashamed of the pain and violence they were capable of, but she took them anyway. She forgave them. She assured him they would never hurt her.

Mayhaps silly, but Max loves her face. She keeps so much of it hidden at all times, and he will never take for granted again how blessed he is to be the only one to see a side of her she shows no one else. Those eyes of hers, normally so dark and fierce hidden behind her sunglasses, soften so much when she looks at him, they are filled with so much pain and so much love. The way she smiles, the smile that only appears when he has her all to himself. The scars he will gently touch and kiss and whisper promises against her skin how he will never let anyone hurt her ever again.

C = Cum

Everyone is going to have to accept that Faith is downright filthy and making Max cum is going to drive her absolutely wild. And she is going to be just as filthy when it comes to the clean up.

D = Dirty Secret

Probably neither of them wanting to admit how desperately they didn't realize they needed this.

E = Experience

Most people that have talked to me about Max know that my headcanon for him is Inexperienced But Good With His Hands.

Faith has a little more experience and has a much better grasp of her sexual appetite and desires. I know I joke around with many ships for her, but in her canon it really isn't easy for someone to capture her attention and satisfy her needs.

F = Favorite Position

For Faith I don't know she really has a favorite. It depends more on her mood than anything else, different positions hitting different spots filling her with different sensations and all that. She does take charge and top him rather often.

I like to imagine Max enjoys the positions where they're incredibly intertwined and pulled into each other. The feeling of their bodies becoming one, the heat of their skin touching, it's intoxicating. Who knew it was possible to enjoy the company of another person this much.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I think, especially when they first become intimate, they're incredibly soft with each other. They're learning how to love each other in such a new way. There's no rush, no shame, no judgement. It's just them. Exploring every inch of each other, committing every detail to memory. I always imagine Max starting off a bit more serious and embarrassed while he's finding his groove, but in time him and Faith both are so comfortable and natural with each other that their personalities have no issue shining through.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc)

Faith is admittedly not the most well groomed. She trims to her preference but she's rockin out whatever is natural.

Max takes a little more care in grooming himself. I always imagine his routine changing a bit since joining the crew, not being as on top of it as frequently as he was beforehand. Especially if they're traveling. But ultimately, he takes a little more care than Faith does.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

They're very aware of each other. They really want to make sure the other is enjoying themself and feeling just as good as they are. Paying close attention aside, they are starved, passionate, craving indulging in every ounce of each other, they want to be completely lost in one another.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

I'm not gonna pretend like Faith doesn't touch herself frequently when she has the privacy to do so. Girl has needs. Also some frustrations she needs to work out.

I don't really headcanon Max as touching himself, honestly. I feel like he is just incredibly pent up. But I also feel like maybe those kinds of feelings weren't exactly as strong in him and he was too caught up in his obsession more than anything else.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I kinda want to answer this one for the sake of being silly. She has a priest kink and he loves the kind of woman that can kick his ass.

Honestly I feel like there's a lot I could get into here. But it might just be easier to be vague. She really gets off to him being rough and desperate. He is a bit flustered to admit how much her ungodly depravity gets him worked up. Do with that information what you will, there are many layers to what it entails.

L = Location (favorite places to do the deed)

I think they enjoy their privacy the most. But they also don't exactly have a lot of freedom when on the ship or when other crew mates are around in general to be as adventurous. But in some loose ideas and other AUs where they do have that luxury, I allow them to be a bit more impatient and needy. I feel like they deserve to have some alone time in the Grand Colonial Penthouse Suite. I also feel like they absolutely need to have sex in an OSI Church.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, what gets them going)

Honestly? Attention from each other. They're not exactly the most mushy gushy people, and they're very particular when it comes to how they engage with others that being favored in the eyes of the other is exhilarating. Being close, gently touching, saying each other's first name.

I also extend this to them just watching each other. Whenever they're in a fight having to defend themselves, whenever they're watching the other do something they're really good at, whenever they're info dumping about something to each other. Simply just existing together.

N = NO (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

I don't see either of them being into consensual violence if that makes sense. They have their own burdens with anger issues and violent tendencies, that isn't something they want intimately. Especially with Faith having a history of abuse, and Max never wanting to harm her in any way.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Highly enjoy both but I would say that they both particularly get off to giving. The sounds and reactions that come from pleasuring each other cannot be compared.

While I still don't see Max as exactly experienced and needs his practice, I find the idea of him finding a newfound addiction in tasting the sweet forbidden nectar of the gods rather irresistible.

Faith has her own limitations but she knows exactly how to use them to her advantage, and once she gets her hands, and mouth, on him she'll figure out exactly how to play with him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc)

They start off quite slow and sensual when they're learning to love each other. Figuring out their needs and desires, finding all the good spots, what really drives each other wild. And they love every minute of it. They're learning and they're loving this closeness they didn't realize they were starving for for so long. They need this for their trust and passion to blossom, it only brings them closer to be so vulnerable with each other. In time they find their groove and pick up the pace more, but there's something so wonderful in the slow tenderness.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

They aren't opposed to it. They honestly probably have quickies rather often, their spacer lifestyle and the crew always being nearby can really interfere with how much time and privacy they have. Not that they aren't ever having quickies for funsies either. But I do think they would like to have more opportunity for proper sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

I mean, yeah. They've got a lot about each other to explore. Faith is probably the more adventurous one in terms of ideas to try new things.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

Faith has more stamina than Max, but I see it more as because I write him as more inexperienced and a lil more sensitive to the sensations. Once he gets used to her he's able to hold himself together longer and be his confident, cocky self.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Faith would absolutely get her hands on some toys. They're probably mostly getting used on herself tho. For her own pleasure, for making him watch and not letting him touch, for him to use on her. That isn't to say they aren't also being used on him, she'll have a blast hearing the sounds he makes while coming undone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot. They love breaking each other's composure. They both behave with a certain level of calculation, that being able to disrupt that in any way gets them going. Especially once they get each other alone and they let their hands join the game. What is hotter than seeing either of them become a needy, begging mess. And let's be honest, I think she needs to edge Max, it would be good for him, I swear.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds do they make)

Faith is louder than Max ever expected, sometimes even needing to cover her mouth during sex to keep from letting the entire ship hear. She's normally so quiet and composed, but her moans were much higher than her usual voice and she practically squeaked.

Max is usually on the quieter side, groaning roughly into her and swearing against her skin. But if she has her mouth on him or she's riding him she's able to get him to cry out in a tone she's never heard him make otherwise while he's gripping onto her desperately.

W = Wild Card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

I always come back to this idea of Max having a wet dream about Faith prior to them getting together and it forces him to acknowledge a lot of things.

X = X-Ray (let's see what's going on in those pants, pictures or words)

I mean. I write them as a bisexual m/f couple. Faith is always gonna be a woman that enjoys her fluidity. But I think y'all already know I love every interpretation of Max.

Do you mean that or what are they wearing? In canon I don't think their underwear is that exciting. She definitely has lingerie in AUs that she wears for him. Love putting my girly in some black lace especially. Whenever I draw porn of Max I give him sock garters.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Faith has a pretty high sex drive, in her canon she just doesn't exactly get to satisfy it as much as she'd probably like until she meets Max. But even then, I don't think his sex drive is quite as high, not at first especially, but she loves him and she wouldn't change the way he loves her for anything in the galaxy. He's not letting her go unsatisfied, let's put it that way.

Z = ZZZ (...how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Faith has sleep issues, insomnia and nightmares mostly when it's not pain and discomfort making her toss and turn, so she probably isn't falling right to sleep. But she is going to be tired out enough that it's easier for her to get comfortable, especially getting to be in his arms and feeling safe and at ease.

I tend to also write Max as having sleep issues, but that's a different conversation for another day. But I think this kind of release would do him wonders to finally get some good rest. He's used to staying up until he's sure Faith made it to sleep okay, so he'll probably try to hold on tho.

open tag to anyone who wants to jump in!

[cuppajj]

[SLLAU] Recollection

Up late for a midnight snack, Rodimus notices the Lost Light's holoform sitting alone in the observation room, and witnesses a side of them that they have never shown before.

[AN: Sorry about the formatting, tumblr didnt like my indentation at times rip}

The Lost Light was well past lights out, adrift through a cluster of stars as it traversed the endless depths of space. The crew were recharging, and not a sound of activity was heard throughout the vast network of corridors that spanned the entire ship. The engines deep below hummed and the vents that crawled the ceiling hushed airily, a crisp breeze wafting through like that on a quiet night. Only one was gazing out into the stars, deep thoughts behind the holographic optics that passed so easily for solid blue glass. The Lost Light itself had manifested its avatar, sat cross-legged on a bench in one of the ship’s observation rooms. Here, massive windows gave a beautiful display of the outside, a popular spot for those who wished to have peaceful alone time. Lightlost was no different from them, as they clutched their servos together. They were in deep thought; their optics were distant and hazy, their lips a neutral line. No longer following their duties of observing the daytime life of the crew, they were now able to focus on themself and all of the things that riddled their head. Not for long, however, as someone else neared them, noticing them from afar and approaching with both curiosity and building smugness. Before long, Lightlost’s trance-like state was interrupted when they heard a pair of pedes shuffle into their vicinity, stopping just outside the entrance. They turned their helm to find the captain staring back at them, leaning against the wall. "A-hah, and now I get to ask you why you’re up so late,” teased Rodimus, arms coyly folded in front of his chassis. With lidded optics, the holoform chuckled softly. They could tell, with how slow Rodimus’s steps were, that he was very tired; but they’d checked the bridge and his habsuite over three hours ago, and were content to find him safely tucked away in the latter. He wasn’t deprived of sleep, he had just awoken.

“I thought you’d finally stay in your berth the whole night, Captain,” Lightlost hummed, as Rodimus took a seat next to them. “Yeah well, when you’ve run out of midnight snacks, you’re gonna wanna find more,” he stretched his arms. “Captains get hungry fast, don’t you know?” “Ah, a fair point,” they sighed, “though next time, you could ask me. I’d gladly bring you a tray.” “With all due respect, you wouldn’t give me these,” Rodimus held up a box of rust sticks, provoking Lightlost to deadpan. “And it wouldn’t let me walk the halls when no one else does. Well, no one aside from the weirdos who like squatting around the common room, and--wait a minute. This isn’t about me!”  Gawking at the holoform, he set the box down and turned his entire frame towards them, making it clear that he intended to focus on them like he initially wanted. “I’m asking you why you’re here when it’s so late. I’ve never seen you sit and stare out the window like this. What’s going on?” He eyed their frame, “and why are you using your avatar? There’s no one around.” His brief digression brought a brighter smile to Lightlost’s face, optics gleaming with the admiration they always had for him, and for a moment, it was as if nothing was troubling them. But once Rodimus’s question brought their mind back to those troubles, their smile faltered. Their helm turned back to the stars, the purple glow washed over their pale white paint. They’d never had the desire to speak so openly to their crew about their past, valuing the stories they made together above anything else; but it was merely preference, and they wouldn’t deny the truth from Rodimus. He’s aware his crew weren’t the first to walk through their halls, they knew. But their shipspeaker, as old as time, from an era no one but them remembers… how would they approach explaining? “Light?” Rodimus leaned forward, cocking his helm. “Wow, something’s definitely on your mind.” They blinked, snapping out of their thoughts. "Sorry-- yes. I seem to be less put together, so to speak.” Rodimus watched them lean back against the backrest with a rust stick popping past his lips.

“I have sat in this room on multiple nights, not only this one,” Lightlost admitted. “When the crew are asleep, I seek this room out. I materialize my holoform to gaze into the depths of space with the optics of a cybertronian, at the size of a cybertronian. I think, and I… recollect, I suppose.” “About what?” asked Rodimus, voice as soft as them now. “About a time long ago, when someone else sat in this very room,” they said quietly. “When I housed not a crew, but a single being, whom I held to my spark dearly.” The captain’s lips parted. “Your…” “Speaker,” they finished, helm turned to him. Abashed, Rodimus’s lips promptly shut again. With Lightlost, he sometimes forgot that he was still talking to a titan, who didn’t practice the conjunx or amica rituses like his kind did. He didn’t blame himself for jumping so quickly to the conclusion. “Your speaker,” he echoed, pretending it was his original thought. “Not a cityspeaker, but a… ship-speaker?” They nodded. “The first time I traveled the stars, it was with them.” Rodimus hummed in acknowledgment, following their optics to the window. “So they did what you’re doing now.” “When our work was done for the day, I would watch them walk to the observation deck, admiring the depths of space just beyond the glass,” smiled Lightlost solemnly. “I had no holoform, but they treated me like I was there beside them, and we would converse about so many wonderful things… I looked forward to every moment we spent on those nights. It was our time to relax and be in the moment.” “That sounds wonderful,” Rodimus grinned, but his voice was thinly veiled with concern. They exhaled, “it was… I wished it would last forever, though I was younger and more naïve then. I should have known to cherish the moments we had more than I had been, before they were gone.”

Rodimus didn’t miss their falling smile.

“What happened?” He asked, and the holoform’s optics sank to their pedes. “They disappeared,” they murmured after a moment of silence. “One night, I opened my weak and weary optics, and they were gone. I felt it in my spark, that loss, even as I waited for what seemed like millennia for their hopeful return, even as I searched for them and cried their name until I could no longer… I eventually accepted that I was now alone in the vastness of space.”

The captain’s tanks sank. The Lost Light had lost their speaker? It explained why they were so drawn to this spot then, and perhaps so sentimental about it. It wasn’t just a place for them to relive what they’d do with their shipspeaker, but it was also a place to sit and think about the shipspeaker themself. Where they are in the universe if they’re out there, what they could be doing, what their fate was… at least, that was his guess, knowing the titan well enough. But before he could speak up, Lightlost beat him to it, still in their same soft voice. “It has been eons since I last saw them… I have never been as close with someone since.” Rodimus bit his lip. “I’m sorry.” Almost immediately, Lightlost perked up, now aware of both the captain’s low voice and the glumness of the conversation. They sat upright, and their smile returned to their features, vulnerability hidden behind their warm and gentle gaze. They didn’t like it when he was so down, let alone if it was something they had said or did. “Thank you for expressing your sympathies, Rodimus.” they chuckled, servo on his shoulder. Rodimus blinked, confused by the quick turnaround, but returned the smile nonetheless.  The holoform turned their optics back to the window. The purple glow of space wasn’t as strong now, letting half of the thick glass reflect the two of them sitting in front of it. They took notice, optics glued to the reflection longingly. “You remind me of them,” Lightlost admitted. “They weren’t as fiery, but they had all of the youthful spirit and curiosity that you have within you. If they were here, you would like them a lot, I’m sure of it.” “Would they like everyone else?” Rodimus raised his brow ridge, which elicited a laugh from the other. Good—as he was sure they were still saddened underneath, even though they tried to appear the best for him. “Perhaps not everyone, but certainly a good lot of them,” they chuckled. “They’d certainly like Drift, as well as Chromedome and Rewind. They probably wouldn’t go to Swerve’s that often, but I would introduce them to Nautica at happy hour if they did. As for those they wouldn’t like… well, Whirl would drive them mad.” “Whirl does that to everyone,” Rodimus snorted. “Ha! Yes, I was there for the ‘Person You’d Punch The Most’ dress-up party. I’m surprised you weren’t one with the crowd,” they teased. “Would you have been Whirl?” “Rodimus, I wouldn’t have been anyone. After all, if there was someone I wanted to punch, that person wouldn’t exactly be in the best position.” The captain blinked. “You’re still talking about your holoform, right?” Lightlost grinned. “That would be more ideal, wouldn’t it?” Capturing the image of a titanic fist slamming into the ground on top of an average cybertronian, leaving nothing but a crater and a cartoonish bot-shaped hole in the ground, Rodimus laughed himself, causing the holoform to beam brighter. 

The two of them continued to converse, Lightlost eagerly sharing with Rodimus facts about their shipspeaker. How they would race through their halls, surf on comets in an empty part of the star systems they visited, or spend simple time together mulling over map data. Rodimus would listen, asking questions and joking to cheer them up, watching the sadness behind their optics gradually fade away. Eventually, the purple glow from the windowpane began to fade away as the ship reached the end of the cluster, making way for the simple white stars dotting the far corners of the black void. Silence followed as the two left themselves to their thoughts. Rodimus glanced over at the ship’s avatar once more. He noted that they looked at peace as they stared out the window, servos clasped together in their lap. Their EM field, while still harder to read than a real cybertronian, seemed to be calm as well. He sighed, relieved that his company was able to help. However, it was still so strange and new seeing the Lost Light this way. They weren’t the one to share so much about themself, especially if it was related to traumatic events in their past. It means they must trust him enough to share this information, right? Rodimus believed so, as the captain and first one to realize their sentience, he knew how much they cared. But it was still so strange, seeing a side of them that barely reared its head. A sad, vulnerable side, that sat slumped over and spoke with a soft and fragile voice, as if their spark could be broken by the wrong word or thought. He wondered how often they felt this way. How often did they think of their shipspeaker? Have they been imagining them with the crew for a long time? Have they been comparing him to them frequently, too? Is sitting in this room the only time they’re like this, or is this a glimpse into who they really are? “I really like this crew, Rodimus,” the holoform sighed softly, meeting the captain’s optics. “So many have boarded me, but none have been as unique as yours. So much pain and sadness, yet you’ve always come together after everything, and you’ve found community in it. I’ve looked on with such admiration… it’s one of the reasons why I created Lightlost to begin with. I didn’t think it at the time, but I guess I wanted to be part of that community. It seems so foolish, since my purpose is to carry you through the stars, and nothing more… but that’s part of the charm, isn’t it?” Rodimus smiled warmly at their words, but mild confusion laced his voice. “But Light, being a ship isn’t everything, is it? You don’t have to stick to that one thing, I don’t think. I know you haven’t wanted to get involved in the past, but it’s not ‘foolish’ of you to change your mind and hang out with us. You’re not an inanimate object, you’re a guy with feelings.” Lightlost shook their head. “I know it’s not… I’ve known that for a long time. My caution has come from elsewhere.” “Elsewhere?” They nodded. “I won’t trouble you with it, though. I don’t always have that bad feeling, and when I don’t, that’s when I go to Swerve’s.”  Their assuring smile made Rodimus pause, but he didn’t dwell on the thought for long. Neither did Lightlost, outwardly, as with a stretch they stood up out of their seat. “I’d say ‘it’s getting late,’ but it’s well past that,” they sighed. “Do you mind if I walk you to your habsuite?” “Not at all,” Rodimus sat up, his servo feeling around for and finally grabbing the box of rust sticks beside him. He’d been so consumed by talking with Lightlost that he’d only eaten three of them. 

The avatar extended a servo and helped the captain to his pedes, and together, the two exited the observation room and began to make their way toward Rodimus’s habsuite. The captain noted that Lightlost’s grip was tighter than usual, even as they guided him. Like they didn’t want to risk losing grip of him, letting him go even though there wasn’t any present danger, was there? After a quick scan of the area, nothing was noticed.  Of course there wasn’t, he scoffed to himself. No, this was just the thoughts on their mind. That was what was out of the ordinary.

“Captain?” Lightlost asked suddenly. Rodimus snapped out of his thoughts, “yeah?”

“What will you do when this quest of yours is over?”

“I-“ he looked down. Truthfully, he had been so caught up in the journey, that he hadn’t given all the thought needed to what he’d do when everything was said and done. How would the Knights of Cybertron situation go? What would he do about himself? The crew? Would he go back to Optimus? What would happen? “—I, uh, I guess I don’t really know,” he stuttered. After a moment, and a small squeeze on his servo, Lightlost hummed.  “That’s understandable, you needn’t worry about that right now anyway. Perhaps we can talk about it some other time.” Rodimus nodded, scratching his cheek sheepishly. “Yeah, good idea.” Unbeknownst to him was the faint glimmer of hope in the holoform’s optics.

The two finally approached the door to Rodimus’s habsuite, and as the door slid open, Lightlost finally let go of his servo. Stepping to the side and folding their servos behind them, they gave him one last warm smile. “Recharge well, Captain,” they wished. “Don’t let those rust sticks keep you up, alright?” Upon mention, Rodimus popped one into his intake and bit it in half almost playfully. With a grin on his face, he chimed, “I can’t do both, can I?” “We’ll see how the morning report fares grammatically then,” they snorted, almost wiping the smile from the captain’s lips as he remembered the grueling monotony of labor that none but Magnus enjoyed. Right. “Right.” “You’ll live,” smirked Lightlost. “Yeah? Well stop smiling at me like you’re going to laugh!” He puffed his cheeks. “Don’t worry, I won’t be in the room,” they chaffed. Rodimus narrowed his optics, but their grin never changed. “Yeah yeah, all-seeing ship. I know,” he rumbled, shoving the other half of the stick past his lips. “Say ‘I told you so’ when I’m chomping on more than just one box of sweets, ‘kay?” “If that’s your wish, then. I won’t say it out loud. Now go on, you don’t want to lose valuable recharge time, do you?” They tilted their head. Rodimus opened his mouth, but aware that he was on the wrong end of their banter, pouted cartoonishly at them instead. As he slipped past the doorway, he waved his servo. “Yeah, whatever. See ya, Light!” They mimicked the gesture back. “Take care, Rodimus.” The habsuite door shut, leaving Lightlost to stand there quietly. 

Their once coy grin had relaxed, optics softening as they processed the past hour with Rodimus. The young bot was still so full of energy, even after what had happened to him and what had happened around him… They admired it. Admired him for it. They hoped they could feel the same, someday. They looked down the dark corridor, to the unseen habsuites home to other crew members, safely recharging on their own. They replayed their words to Rodimus in their mind, their spark swelling with gratitude and melancholy all the same, the heaviness of their own voice weighing down on them more by the second. What would happen to them, when everything was said and done? To all of them, even themself. They shook their helm, not wishing to dwell upon it. They turned to look back at Rodimus’s door, and after another moment, their holoform dispersed. Rodimus set his box of sweets down on his berthside table, holding his arms above his helm to stretch as he let out a particularly loud yawn. Flicking the light switch off, he shuffled his pedes to his desk and grabbed his tablet. He wouldn’t eat lying down, and he wouldn’t sleep until he finished eating, so he might as well do something fun while he finishes up, right? Morning report be damned, he could wake up on time. He’d set five alarms for tomorrow, and then he would ignore both Magnus and Megatron’s remarks on how awful he looked. As he scrolled, his curiosity about Lightlost and their shipspeaker began to eke back into him. They were a titan, so their shipspeaker was no doubt as ancient as they were; but he couldn’t help but want to know more about them, if the ship was okay with it. If they were so much like him, then what else did they have in common?

He blinked in shock. Is that why they liked him so much? He looked to the door, then the window, letting the question linger.

Moments later, he heard his computer ping. His attention turned back to his desk, where he saw a series of letters blink onto the monitor screen.

// Thank you for checking in on me. Let’s keep this night between us.

And so too did the captain’s optics soften. “No problem.”

[sapphiel]

The Nine Lucifers, a bunch of demons that committed crimes and atrocities to the denizens of the Seven Circles of Hell. More info down below~

Archibald, the Lucifer of Limbo, punished for his desire of a union between Hell and Heaven, a thought no other demon would share with him. After a plea to both sides have failed, he was deemed a traitor of Hell and had since been banished into a separate realm outside of it. But with some strong willpower, and extra spatial awareness, he had managed to turn the realm into a neutral area where any and all entities, be they demon, angel, or mortal, can enter and relax in. Named the Purgatorium, being within its confines will also affect one with a pacifistic spell that prevents any sort of hostile actions being taken.

Jezieka, the Lucifer of Lust, punished not for a crime that she had committed, but her lover's. But it was not an act of sabotage or deception, but a willing sacrifice. Jezieka's lover, Sarah, had a livelihood and a hobby that involved indulging herself in the literal taste of other demons' flesh that she could not bear to end. Jezieka, unable to either help her end her addiction nor ease her worries of losing her life, she offered herself to be branded as the Lucifer in her stead. In an esoteric ritual that the couple had committed to symbolize and sanctify each other's mutual love, Jezieka had offered her eyes to her lover, as a promise that she may never look at another person's face again, and that Sarah's would be the last she'd ever see. Sarah, meanwhile, had offered her womb, promising that she may not harbor another person's love nor lust within herself. Lady Vylke, the Lucifer of Gluttony, and the Lady of Harvest in Villam, also known as the Circle of Gluttony. Her title gives her the authority and responsibility of managing the resources that sprout from Villam, which are then shipped to the other six circles. Her importance to Hell's economy prevents her from being truly punished as a Lucifer, of which she was branded for consuming demon flesh in copious amounts indiscriminately, so much so that those that demand to see her must offer her a gift for her to consume, lest they be consumed themselves. Placed under house arrest, Lady Vylke manages Villam from the safety of her manor, still satiating herself with the occasional unfortunate soul every now and then. Though some say she wasn't always like this, and was a fun normal (as for demon standards) individual for the most part...

Tytus and Dima, the Lucifers of Greed, infamous for their dastardly deeds of raiding ultra secure banks within Fodere, also known as the Circle of Greed. Tytus, hailing from Auctoritas, the Circle of Pride and demonic law, knows his way through legal loopholes to avoid capture for so long, while his wife, Dima, a native of Fodere, knows the ins and outs of high security vaults and locations of potential treasure. But after having the overly ambitious idea of raiding a Fodere bank (which is something not even other Fodere residents would even THINK of doing), they were captured and branded. Forced to stay physically together by a holy bond, the two remain as thieves that trek the lands of Fodere, however they are now always on the run, and sometimes leap between the Circles, but are now unable to keep any treasure strictly to themselves, rather having to share them, much to their dismay.

Ariel, the Lucifer of Anger, found herself being subdued by both angel and demon, after being sent to a vicious state of extreme fury. Supressed and branded with angelic seals, she was exiled from the Circles for everyone's safety. However, despite being tempered by said seals, Ariel is a barely restrained core of seething white-hot rage in each and every single waking moment, always on the verge of snapping but unable to truly unleash her wrath. Stories were passed that her fury was because of a betrayal of a lover... who most certainly must regret their actions to this day.

The Lucifer of Heresy, whose name had been lost to time, urged all demons of Hell to break its treaty with Heaven to overthrow the angels and set demons back to their former glory. However, after being faced with too much backlash and criticism, Heresy had set her sights no longer against the angels, but her fellow demonic kin instead. After slaying one too many naysayers, Heresy was branded and exiled from hell, her disfigurement so great that she no longer even remembers her own face, and her insult to the superiors of Hell so strong that they have wiped her name clean from both records and minds of herself and any witnesses, doomed to be a faceless nameless creature shrouded in darkness.

Red Lady, the Lucifer of Violence, is the embodiment of an instigator. Where there is strife to be had, there will be Red Lady, the start of it all. She thrives off of conflict, creating it whenever she can, and after demonkind had taken notice of her antics, she was branded and exiled. In addition to these, her body had become extremely frail and weak. No longer able to directly cause conflict herself, she has learned to instead manipulate and trick others around her, gaining a metaphorical silver tongue in the process. Now wreaking havoc in the mortal plane, there had been rumors spreading that major events in that realm were actually caused by Red Lady herself, wearing a facade.

Adarahiel, the Lucifer of Fraud, a compulsive liar and manipulator, having spent centuries deceiving her kin with a mask she so meticulously crafted so that she will be perceived as a kind and caring individual, when she was anything but. Now, deceiving the commonfolk is no severe crime, but after tricking the wrong person at the wrong time for the wrong things, Adarahiel was captured, convicted, and branded. In addition, an angelic sword had cleaved her upper body in twain, but instead of perishing instantly, she instead found her two halves regenerating, forming new flesh. Her head, formerly two halves, now two full ones, but one gained the personality of the mask she had created for herself, the other her true self, forced to gaze into and keep company the mask she had fabricated.

Abaddon, the Lucifer of Treachery, the lowest of the low, a soul so ancient that he had grown tired of this existence. He wants to end it all, and see something new, and to achieve that, he must find an angel to bear his seed to create a spawn that bears the blood of both angel and demon. Such a creature would bear strength and power that even gods would fear, and with this power, Abaddon would finally have the means to make his dream a reality. After convincing an angel to bear his child, his plan would've slowly started to come into fruition... if it wasn't for the angel to catch wind of his schemes. After a heated argument, she ended her own life, but scattering the essence of her child away from Hell, onto the mortal plane. Not one to give up, however, Abaddon had set his sights onto where mortals tread, determined to find the child that was rightfully his and use their strength to burn this reality down, and create something new from its ashes. All this child had to do... was let him in.

[qqueenofhades]

Okay – so! Thank you for all that you do for fandom and The History side of tumblr- it’s a LOT.

 I’m struggling with mapping a historical accuracy/fanon vs. canon concept. I hope you can help me untangle my thoughts on this.  Diverse representation in media is very important to me; and I’m also aware of the damage that the ‘colour-blind’ casting can do.  So! I’m trying to reconcile a common fandom perception that Hob Gadling is of South-East Asian decent.   (I know that Ferdie is!- I also have seen zero evidence that he claims Desi Diaspora as part of his identity. It makes me really uncomfortable that fandom might be projecting their desire for ‘Representation’ onto a man who lives outside his ancestral culture.)

What I do know is that Hob is a medieval freeman (?) from the south of England in the 1300s. I wonder at the possibility of his CHARACTER being of mixed race? I know that Briton and Europe and Africa were in trade. I know that People of colour moved freely around the continents!

  I’ve done some research into London population polls from the time, but I’m not certain of their degree of accuracy/usefulness.  They describe immigrants as ‘aliens’.. and most I’ve seen are European. I haven’t even come across evidence of Muslim or ‘Moorish’ people settling in London???!

The written history I’ve read tells me the Europeans didn’t establish trade with India until the mid 1400s. (How it’s possible they didn’t know about each other is Baffling and seems impossible??) Anyway. The crux of the matter is:  would Hob Gadling possibly been of mixed heritage?

I mean yes, technically, he COULD be. The most logical route for that would be to give him some family heritage from somewhere in Spain, or Iberia, which was a fully mixed-race society until well into the 13th/14th century, and was in regular trade and communication with England. The medieval Iberian Christian kingdoms of Castile-León, Aragon, and Navarre particularly were close trading partners and English/Iberian royalty married each other fairly often. It was somewhat less the case by the time Hob was born in the 1350s, but there is certainly enough previous contact to make it feasible. Muslims, Christians, and Jews all lived in Iberia (how much they all co-existed has long been one of the most debated questions in religious/historical studies), and Muslims had a presence in Spain for over 700 years, since the first arrivals in 711 CE following the collapse of the Umayyad dynasty in Baghdad, until their final expulsion under Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492.

The question, however, is if he SHOULD be headcanoned or identified as mixed-race, and while I am the least fandom-policey person ever and respect people's right to enjoy their own ideas in peace, it personally makes me a little uncomfortable. It feels related to the "fandom activism!" mindset where you should ship a more Morally Pure OTP, or your favorite is "better" if they can be somehow identified with a marginalized group, regardless of whether this fits or makes sense for the character. And in this case, Hob’s background as a good-looking white British bloke with an appropriately English-sounding name, as I describe him in AITWW, is central to both his character arc, his major mistakes, and how he has to learn and grow over time. It was absolutely vital to me that in AITWW, he had to explicitly confront the massive amounts of unearned privilege that he enjoyed over the centuries by being born into that body, and how it would be very different for him if he hadn't been. As his friend Julia puts it in their discussion in chapter 13, he had the luck to be born into a body that society automatically privileges and values and places into positions of power whether or not he deserves it, and as a black woman, she thinks immortality sounds absolutely awful. Why would she want to put up with the absolute shit it would be to live 600 years, at least in the Western world/America/Europe, in that embodiment?

Likewise, Hob agrees and admits that of course it's easy for him to want to live forever and maintain enthusiasm for life, because whatever difficulties he has faced, his race and gender have not contributed to them (which is the essence of white privilege in a nutshell). And of course, the urge to make him mixed-race might reflect some discomfort with his actual canon background and involvement in slavery, no matter if he obviously feels terribly guilty and driven to atone for over 200 years after that (as he SHOULD). In some sense, making him mixed-race might seem to mitigate that or give some reason to make him "sympathetic" while he was doing it, and frankly, I don't think 18th-century Hob deserves to get off the hook for being yet another British white man who might have felt bad about what he was doing at times, but continued to do it anyway. I'm not saying this is anyone's motive or intention, but it does trouble me, especially since Hob’s whiteness, the damage of that whiteness, and the way he has to deliberately and extensively unlearn that urge to just live life on easy mode regardless of the damage it does to others is what I find so interesting about his character. In short, if Hob was part of a racially marginalized group already, he might have made different choices, but he didn't, and now he is forced to literally live with that guilt and shame forever. He doesn't get to exonerate himself, and nor do I do it for him.

Lastly, I think this reflects a very modern and somewhat over-simplified way of thinking; to our modern and institutionally-racist-pickled brains, race is the chief category that can be explicitly constructed as Otherness, and doesn't reflect the very unclear way this was perceived and experienced in the 14th century. I.e., you note that immigrants to England "were mostly European" -- which is true, but does not reflect the dizzying array then as now, in which local, national, ethnic, and religious identities were constructed. One unattractive feature of the English national character over many centuries has been their hostility and distrust of foreigners, and this was especially the case in the 14th and especially late-14th, post-Black Plague society. For example, the Flemish were regarded as "morally inferior" since they ran several well-known brothels and red-light districts in Southwark, across the Thames from London (now part of the city), and that meant they were purveying immorality, rather than being there since the English desired their services. Xenophobia was especially rampant against "strangers" of any type, especially against Jews again post-Black Death for sadly predictable anti-Semitic reasons, and even being from continental Europe would not have made someone "English" in their eyes. Even by the Elizabethan era, it was almost impossible for a foreign-born citizen (or "denizen," meaning something akin to "permanent resident") to get licensed as a guildsman in the city of London, and without that license, you could not run a business, practice a trade, or engage in substantial paid work in any way.

Likewise, medieval notions of race were fluid, uncertain, and often linked to religion more than ethnic origin. There are several Arthurian legendarium reworkings, and epic poems such as The King of Tars, where the "happy" ending is that the mixed-race, Muslim, or black hero is converted to Christianity and abandons whatever untrue pagan religion he has been following before. This is often accompanied with a literal physical transformation turning him from black- or dark-skinned (impure) to white (pure). So yes, racial thinking and categories did exist, but it wasn't seen as fixed or unalterable, and again, wasn't really the first or primary way in which Otherness was constructed (compared to say, "Saracen," which functioned throughout almost the entire medieval era as a marker of difference and had varied racial, religious, sexual, and ethnic connotations, but originally came from the term for Muslims).

So anyway: hopefully that all makes sense and provides some context in both my historical and fandom thinking on the matter. Thanks for the question!

[swaps55]

One thing I love every time you talk about Sam is how deeply you understand him as a character. I have two related questions: 1) what strategies or tips have you used on purpose to get to know him better, over all the time you've been writing him? 2) what's the most surprising unintentional way you've learned big things about him?

Thank you!!! Part of it is that Sam lives rent free in my head at all times. There is no chance I could have more than one Shepard. Sam is it. He's a full time job.

How do I get to know him better?

I ask why, all the time. At the outset, when I was first giving him shape, the key question I set out to answer was, "Why does this guy save the galaxy, as opposed to someone, anyone else?" It was not an easy question to answer, and I am more or less still answering it. The other big question that set the stage for a lot of things was, "how does someone without the inherent trauma of Mindoir or the Earthborn background become the Butcher of Torfan?"

Whenever he does something, or reacts to something, or has a particular opinion, I try to ask why. I don't write from his POV, so I really have to stop and think about his motivations, his desires, the things that make him tick. And I think about them all the time. Sometimes the answers are obvious, otherwise they take longer to percolate up. I've learned to be patient.

Using a readmore because I did a lot of rambling.

One of the things that took me a little longer to unknot was why Sam gets so defensive in Cantata when Kaidan asks why he put himself through the N program with the glucose side effect. It was a pretty valid and question, but Sam comes back at him later asking why Kaidan doubts him at every turn, including whether he's good enough for the N program. But Kaidan didn't question that. Why did Sam interpret it that way?

I didn't have the answer when I wrote the chapter, and it always bugged me until I came across another instance where the same thing happens and it finally hit me. Sam interprets worry as doubt. If you express worry, in his head that translates to, "I don't think you can do this." So any time someone worries about him, he gets weirdly pissy. It's not until Kaidan flat out yells, "because I worry about you," to his face, that it clicks Kaidan isn't criticizing him.

I also learned huge things about him kind of unexpectedly at the orchard. I'd always operated under the impression that his fixation on the N program was largely due to the expectations of his mother, but that chapter showed me it really wasn't. His endless quest for approval is definitely because of her, but he went for N7 because he feels he owes his father a debt.

The N7 chapter of Cantata, Facing Giants, was a huge revelation overall, because that's where it felt like all the formative influences on him really crystalized. That chapter showed him in context with his mother and father, and how much they both influenced him so heavily in different ways, and it fell together in ways that were beyond my wildest expectations. I didn't set out to make that chapter a thesis on what made Sam Shepard Sam Shepard, but that's what it became.

But the most surprising, unintentional way I've learned something big about him is probably that time I got a random snippet of dialogue in my head out of the blue that handed me the answer to a question I'd been asking for probably 3 years: Why did Sam want the marines so badly? His mother wasn't a marine, and she's the one he was desperate to please. But his desire to be a soldier came around long before his father disappeared. So...why a solider? I didn't have an answer and it was making me crazy until this exchange between Daniel and kid!Sam popped in my head out of nowhere, in the shower:

"My job is to protect you. Arcturus is safer than being on a ship.” “Who’s gonna protect mom?”

....and there was my answer.

One of the really fun ways to think about Sam is in terms of what I know about him vs. his own self awareness. A lot of the questions that take longer to answer tend to be the ones where he lacks self-awareness of what drives him, like that particular question. If you asked him why he wanted to be a marine so badly he wouldn't be able to tell you. But now I know!!! Wheeeeeee!

[amemenojaku]

What about Reimu for the character ask meme....

I just did Marisa now I have to do the most important woman in the world

General opinion/How much I care about them: GIRL OF ALL TIME. My blog is a Reimu love zone ONLY and no slander will ever be tolerated. Her impact on nerd culture and on the internet as a whole is unparalleled... (ok Miku is up there too but they're sharing the throne) She embodies the series so well and I love her so much for that. It's so good how each new installment offers a different perspective on her personality... it makes me a bit emotional to think that we've never seen who Reimu "really" is. I'm particularly interested in her role both in the current setting and as the latest in a long line of shrine maidens, and how she feels about it all. Of course I also love her silly moments and her carefree side and her desire to just live :) She makes me feel happy and then when I think about her more deeply she makes me feel like there's still an endless amount of things left to do with her character and of fanworks to create which is the best part of Touhou to me!!

A ship I love: Reimari is my favorite for the reasons I wrote in the Marisa post, but in general she's the character I most easily enjoy pairings of. She bounces off others really well and there's a bit of everything for everyone, whatever the genre you prefer I think there's a good Reimu pairing for it! Some other characters I love seeing her with are Yukari (can't go wrong with a classic, the aesthetic is immaculate and it's good food for thought), Seija (this one is uhhh. a lot. don't really have the space to detail it here), Alice (either pure angst or pure fluff like there's no inbetween lol), Akyuu (they are THE SAME and IT HURTS!!!)...

A non-romantic relationship that I love: Her friendship with Shinmyoumaru is really important to me but since I already talked about it at length I'll say Aunn! It's super cute and I love to imagine doggie Aunn snuggling up to baby Reimu when she sleeps, even though Reimu isn't aware she exists... Another excellent addition to the Reimu solar system. This girl desperately needed another pet

The NOTP: Oookay the fandom's gonna burn me at the stake for this but I don't like reisana very much anymore. It's cute and I used to enjoy it quite a lot but stuff happened and now it's just there I guess. shrugs

My biggest headcanon about them: There's so many... I think there were mementos or diaries of the past shrine maidens kept somewhere in the shrine and Reimu found them. She's hidden them somewhere else so they wouldn't be taken away or damaged by anyone.

An idea for a fanwork I would like to make/see about them: I want to make a collaborative Reimu zine with other artists/writers SO badly... I definitely think it's possible to do it on tumblr but I've already ran a bunch of events for the community and it requires energy that I don't have anymore. Maybe one day!

Something that makes me think of them: Japanese indie band chouchou!! Here's a few songs I associate with Reimu specifically: dawn and sign 0

[dracwife]

cherry waves.

ship: sing this corrosion -> heidi/jasper

word count: 1067

summary: during a frenzied moment of weakness, jasper breaks his only rule.

warnings: rated uhm. probably way too suggestive for a fic about a nos in frenzy so. be aware. also there's blood

the waves suck you in then you drown, if like, you'd just stay down with me i'll swim down with you, is that what you want?

"Shit."

The word comes falling from his lips before his fangs even break into the soft flesh they graze. 

Weak creature. The Hunger speaks to him. Do it. 

The fingers that wrap his shoulders hold him close, soft bated gasps with hot breath that clings to his cold skin below. 

His tongue is warm, licking along that same spot, that pulse; He feels his own dead heart surge with some semblance of a beat as the vitae courses his veins once more.

Yet, for all the sweet scent that attracts his teeth closer to his lover's neck something causes him hesitation. He does not do this. He has never done this. It is wrong. He told himself, for that whole long transition after the Embrace that he would never feed from a mortal. He would rather run. Would rather starve.

The Blood, the Hunger, it speaks to him.

They culminate, viscous churning into that Beast that finally comes forth. 

Oh, but you are not in control anymore, dear Damned. 

He swore he would never once harm an innocent.

But is it harm if they beg so sweetly, indulged in such intoxicating ecstasy?

His fangs sink into their flesh.

And from that first savory sip, that hazy and wonderful taste that only a lover can provide Jasper wonders if the irony of something so sinful feeling so heavenly is lost on the universe.

Their head falls back, against the dark pillow and a dazed whine climbs their vocal chords. He can feel it escape through their throat out into the open of the loft, coming tangled in ripped satin sheets and frayed blankets.

His claws tear another hole into them, but he doesn't think Heidi will much mind.

Were he not so desperate, he would feel disgusted. But every last drop of willpower he held was spent already, something about the gentle caress of his dear -- dare he say deliciously -- saporous Kine drew forth both that still very human side of him and at the same time that disgusting thing he desperately buried within the recesses of his every being. And all he can think of now was the taste of their life against his throat where the burn dampens into satiation.

Their whimpers draw him from his hazy thoughts, wanton gasps with every drink he takes as he sighs his own pleasure against their cheek.

For a moment, Jasper wonders why exactly he has never fed from a human before. 

The blood is warm in his mouth, and as it dissipates within him his heart pounds against his ribcage -- a sensation he barely remembers anymore -- and it's as he pulls away for a moment and swallows the Beast once more down to the depths of his very being that it responds in an echoing cacophony of frenzied greed and desire:

Because no other human could taste this good. 

Their hands wander his chest and if it were any other time he would shrink away, were it any other being he would push back, hiss terrible things and slink back into the night to ponder his monstrous nature these nights. 

But this was Heidi, who sang sweetly his name in a murmur as they lay in the euphoric aftermath of the Kiss below him, so vulnerable and so willing to offer themselves to him when he had no other choice.

Their head lulls to the right, exposing their neck more and they pull him closer again, dazed.

His teeth find their wound again, and again he drinks deep; Now though he has much more control over himself. The blood churns in his stomach, and the shame presses his weight heavy against the body below him. His nails drag upwards against their side, up their cheek, almost covering their eyes as he pulls their face away from him and buries his own into them further, feeling sick and powerful and wicked and so, so good at once. 

It's not long, but a few seconds, before he pulls his fangs away again and replaces them with tongue, predator to prey in a blissful animalistic aftermath, a single swipe closing the wound as quickly and easily as it was opened. But he does not move from the crook of their neck. 

Part of him feels embarrassed. He wants to flee like he did when he first felt the Hunger, but as the mortal below comes to again, their wrists grip where his hold them down. 

"Feeling better?" their voice is still low, speech slurred as their brain struggles to coordinate their thoughts coherently. 

"Much." His voice is but a growl, but still he treats them so delicate as he untangles himself from their grasp, pulling away and leaning back onto the bed next to them. He pulls them close, cradling their head and back gently as they come down from the foggy high. 

He worries for a moment he drank too much and he already feels compelled to flee having broken his only rule, but the tug against his tattered dark shirt shakes the suggestion. There they lay, tranquil lovers in a moonlit serenity that filters through the near window. 

They relax deeper into his touch, not so used to how warm he feels after he feeds and he almost resents it.

They mumble praises, affections, absolute devotion and had he not heard them so often before he would attribute it to the Kiss' inherent intemperance on victims. 

"Tell me that again tomorrow night," he wants to say. Because he doubts himself, or because he realizes then how much he misses this -- this warmth, this intimacy -- he does not know. He forces himself to focus on the more pleasant feeling that tingles on his lips still, lips that he licks clean the last of the blood from, and presses against theirs as they look upwards with love-drunk wonder, and he allows himself for the first time since his Embrace to truly be seen, and he sees them fully back. He regrets having to ask so much of them. He kisses them again. Rests his head against theirs. He could wait until tomorrow to debate his convictions. 

For now, he whispers apologies, and holds them close for they have given him something no other mortal has, something he has never given anyone the chance to, and he remembers what it is to be human: 

It is to love, and to be loved.

[ruewrites]

Kinktober 2022 Day 27: Prostitution

AO3

Ship: Asmodeus/Diavolo

Word Count: 1007

Warnings: Smut

A/N: I have been so excited to write this one. Tbh I crave more Asmodeus/Diavolo in my life.

It was that time of year, and the need to take the edge off was starting to become unbearable. All of the lust demons had been excitedly flitting around, ready to not only have their fun but also line their pockets with a bit of extra cash. Extra cash meant new clothes and longer hours spent at The Fall. Of course their own desires had a part to play, but it also assisted in more success in getting others to desire them. Not to mention, requests were a nice ego boost regardless of whether they were in person or online.

Asmo had many requests, so many that he had to put a limit on how many in person requests he accepted and with who. He was picky, and only his most trusted clients got him in the flesh this time of year. After all, just because the Avatar of Lust was paid for didn’t mean he accepted just any treatment, and that was something some demons just didn’t seem to understand. 

Everyone was crawling, and everyone was begging. After all, the season didn’t spare a denizen.

And of course, the future demon king would only get the best of the best. 

Asmo flopped back onto the giant bed, rolling from one side to the other, like a cat unsure of what position they'd like to relax in yet. All the while, he was more than aware of his lord's eyes on him. Diavolo was a kind man, and a large man. Asmo would be lying if he said he hadn't been absolutely giddy when the future demon king sent him an offer over Devmo.It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting it, but the notification still made him scramble to his phone. He could always change his mind, but why would he? Asmo knew he was the prince’s favorite little lust demon, and he had a wonderful personality (among other things). Not only would he be able to buy that new outfit he'd been eyeing, but he could buy out ten whole stores if he wanted too! 

Asmo always got offers around this time of year, and it wasn't his first time with wealthier demons, but it still made him giddy seeing the amount and the name of someone he trusted on his screen.  Speaking of Diavolo-

A small trill left Asmo as two large hands caged him in on either side.  The prince was trying to keep himself composed, but Asmo knew better. He could see the hardness straining against his thigh. He was being polite, for now, but Asmo would get him to unravel soon enough.

"You look very tempting right now."

The words caught in his throat, and Asmo couldn't help but grin. 

"Do I?" he asked innocently. He couldn't help but laugh as the way Diavolo's pupils widened. Asmo was in control now, every card was in his hand. "Don't worry my lord, you'll be getting a taste, it's what you're paying for after all." 

"I'm paying for more than a taste," Diavolo frowned as Asmo slipped out from between his arms. 

He walked over to the bag he brought with him and started to go through it, laying each item out for the prince to peruse.  

"You certainly are," and if it were any other time Asmo would have let this man fuck him for free, "And I'm going to make sure you get your money's worth."

He watched as Diavolo's eyes scanned carefully over the items. Based on his reactions Asmo could craft the perfect experience for him, and they were both going to get their fill. Some of the items he lingered on were a surprise to Asmo, and others were completely unexpected. Whatever the case, Diavolo was his customer today, and he was going to get exactly what he paid for. 

***

Legs shaking and covered in cum, Asmo let out another whine as Diavolo thrust into him yet again. His back ached delightfully so from remaining arched for so long. His front was pressed down into the plush mattress below him. Those large hands gripped at his hips and every touch felt like fire against his skin. One hand snaked down in between his legs to touch and grope at anything he could. Diavolo was a large man, and his length left no part of Asmo untouched. His thrusts carried the perfect amount of force and left Asmodeus in a state of nothing but bliss. His breath hitched once more as the demon prince licked a stripe up his neck. 

"You feel wonderful," he groaned, "I am impressed you can take me, tiny as you are."

"That's what you wanted right?" Asmo purred. A sharp gasp left him, "You picked me because I'm so cute and tiny, and you wanted to breed me with that giant-"

Asmo let out another squeal as Diavolo hit  a particularly delicious spot within him. He squeezed around the demon prince as another load filled him once more. His legs were shaking once again, but that was fine, he didn't need to use them anyways. Diavolo lifted him without issue, and the next thing Asmo knew, he was straddling Diavolo's hips, both of them repositioned on the bed.

"I want to see how I fill you from this angle," the demon prince growled, pressing a hand against his abdomen.

Asmo couldn't help but let out a whimper. He felt amazing. Being a favorite had perks, and Asmo wanted to continue to stay in favor. Walking wasn’t going to be possible for days, and he’d get a free pass from attending classes while he recovered since it was the prince himself who was the cause of his ailment. Like many royals, Lord Diavolo took care of his favorite little playmates, and Asmodeus was one of his favorites, if not his top choice. He would be fed in the morning too and given as much care as he needed. The payment was nice, but to receive pleasure along with it? Now that was his real reward.