#so ive gotten really far behind with posting these

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Poems: Day 6 (January 6th)

Godly Poison

I sowed and cultivated these plants myself

I brought them to life to bear fruit and flower

with my own bare hands and the loving patience of a proud parent

angel wings

autumn crocus

belladonna

calla lily

daphne

death camas

doll's eyes

foxglove

hemlock

larkspur

laurel

monkshood

moonflower

moonseed

mountain arnica

oleander

pokeweed

privet

ruti

snakeweed

and when the tide told me the time was right

I prepared and presented a feast full of my children

to Him

He who

says what He ought not say

touches what He ought not touch

takes what He ought not take

I admit

I took pleasure in His pain

as He once did with mine

blood pouring from His mouth

His body thrashing and convulsing in his chair

fear and sheer terror invading His wide eyes

I smiled through it all

and when his heart finally stopped

mine soared and I finally felt free

I know

one day

I'll be forgiven for what I had to do

and I know

He is not destined for any kindness

in the next life

- - - - -

Here's the link to the corresponding writing prompt post

[thankyouivy]

MORE JEALOUS REID!!! MORE!!!!

i think ive re-read your last blurb like 10 times I NEED MORE

R’s ex wont stop texting her so Spencer finds a way to let him know she’s doing alright (def more then alright ;) ) without him

OK THANKS ILY

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND! I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE THIS PROMPT!!!

OOPS ITS BEEN A SEC. I’ve been super busy with finals and family stuff this holiday season!!! (merry Christmas and New Years if you celebrate!!) I'm trying to feed you heathens before I start working on the alphabet blurbs, prepare yourselves!!! this might be my fav blurb I've done so far….

Warnings: Smut (18+), exhibitionism, harassment from an ex, revenge in the form of recording good sex, oral sex [f rec], fingering, exobitionism, piv sex, marking/hickies, spencer says “good girl”, possessiveness, spence being a thigh man, vocal sex, dirty talk, praise, begging, riding, squirting.

!!the link with this colouring is to a p0rnographic image depicting a scene in the fic, be warned!!

———

Show Off - Spencer Reid X Fem!reader

You’ve been laying on his chest with your hands carding and tugging through his hair while since he got home.

Spencer’s hands caress your sides as you lazily make out, hands running over the soft cotton of your underwear and the warmth of your smooth skin. The only sounds in the room are the quiet, content hums and whines coming from your mouth, and the wet smacking of mouths licking into each other, but suddenly there’s a buzzing from under the sheets, which startles you.

You know it’s your phone, Spence always keeps his ringer on, so you both ignore it the first time, letting it go to voicemail. But when it rings again, you huff and fish for your phone under the covers, flipping your hair out of your face while using one arm to hold yourself above Spencer as you decline the call and place your phone on the bedside table. You look back to Spencer with a lust-filled gaze, leaning down to finish what you started, desperate to have some uninterrupted alone time with him after he’s been away for a few days.

Two minutes later, it’s buzzing again. You groan in annoyance, grabbing your phone off the nightstand to turn your ringtone off before, again, going back to Spencer.

Not even a minute later a series of ding’s are coming from the nightstand. You let out a frustrated whine, burying your head in the crook of his neck as you grumble.

“Work?” Spencer asks, voice raw and breathy from the previous heated moment. You shake your head and mumble something incoherent about “the jackass” into his neck. “He’s still calling?” Spencer asks, chuckling lightly at your nickname for your ex-boyfriend.

“Mhm” you groan, pulling your face out of his neck, the notifications still coming from your phone. He smiles sympathetically at you as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your jaw. “No matter what I do I can’t get him to stop! I considered changing my number, but my boss said I can’t ‘cause all my files and data are listed under this one. It’s gotten worse since I started posting photos of us on Instagram.”

“I can ask Garcia to blacklist his number from your phone?” Spencer breathes, rubbing your back in an attempt to relax you and try to think of a solution. “Penny already tried... it worked for a little, but you know you can’t blacklist disposable cells,” you frown.

your phone dings again, and before Spencer can stop you, you’re snatching your phone off the bedside table and frantically typing something before tossing it off the bed, and onto the carpeted floor in frustration.

Spencer chuckles at your dramatics before climbing out of bed to grab your phone off the floor, looking down at the screen. “‘Trying to fuck my FBI boyfriend who has a gun.’ really, sugar?” He huffs out a laugh, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand soothingly over your leg.

“Worth a try,” you shrug with a giggle. “It’s honestly just getting inconvenient, every time I get a notification I don’t know if it’s something important, or this dumbass,” you sigh.

“Remind me why you ever dated him?” Spencer teases, receiving a shove to his shoulder as he looks down at the phone again. “huh.”

You peek over his shoulder at the screen, draping yourself over his back, intrigued at his intrigue, “What is it?”

—

22:23 - Missed call from ‘Fucker’

22:24 - Missed call from ‘Fucker’

22:27 - Missed call from ‘Fucker’

22:29 - Fucker: hey babe

22:29 - Fucker: miss you ;)

22:29 - Fucker: and those tits of yourss

22:31 - Fucker: wyd?

22:33 - You: Trying to fuck my fbi bf who has a gun

22:33 - You: Stop calling.

22:34 - Fucker: ur dating a fed?

22:34 - Fucker: he fuck like one 2? know u miss this d

22:35 - Fucker:u know u want me

22:36 - Fucker: u miss how i make you feel he dont make u feel like that and u know it

22:36 - Fucker: admit it

—

“Well- he’s got clear narcissistic tendencies and incredibly high ego…” Spencer mumbles to himself. “And a tiny dick,” you add with a giggle, kissing at his neck.

Spencer frowns at that, and you can practically hear the cogs turning in his head. He’s half upset at the knowledge that you ever had sex with this guy, and half upset that it was clearly not pleasurable for you, at all.

“You know… even though pathological narcissists often portray themselves as shameless, that is part of the act, they are extremely self-conscious. Humiliating them often results in them losing control of the image they've built, which causes avoidance and denial. So… theoretically, if I were to out-do him in the area that seems to boost his ego the most, which is clearly sex, he would back off.” Spencer explains, pulling you into his lap.

“Baby, even though we both know its true, if I told him you’re better in bed, he’d just deny it and get more aggressive.” You smile at him, kissing his cheek and wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands fall to your waist.

“That’s true, so what if we had some… evidence... to back it up?” Spencer asks, blush appearing on his cheeks as you let out an exaggerated gasp. “Doctor Spencer Reid! Are you suggesting we film ourselves having sex to scare off my ex?!” You playfully hit his chest in mock-shock.

“I- yeah- yes-, b- but only if you’re comfortable with it- there’s no way he would share it, so there’s no risk o-” he stutters before you cut him off with a kiss.

“Yeah?… You wanna prove you can fuck me better? Got a big dick, long fingers, a good ass tongue, and know how to use ‘em, huh?” You ask seductively, slowly grinding yourself onto him in slow, teasing circles.

Mouth open in a silent groan, he looks down at your hips grinding on him before looking back up to you, open mouth turning into a smirk. “Worth a try,” He breathes, pushing his hips up into yours, swallowing your whimpers with a kiss, pulling you in by the the back of your neck.

Not breaking the kiss, he undoes your bra and pulls it off, running his hands up your sides to your chest. “Well he got one thing right; these ‘tits of yours’ are gorgeous.” He gropes your chest with his large hands as you giggle.

He stands up with you in his arms and flips you around, tossing you on the bed and climbing over you, sucking on the pulse point of your neck. “Can’t believe you used to let him touch you like I do,” Spencer growls into you, kissing over the mark he’s made.

“trust me, baby, he never touched me like you do- ah!”

You’re breathing heavy and whining as he teases you, no doubt trying to get you all worked up so you’ll show off just how desperate he makes you.

His hand traces shapes along your hip bone while moving lower down your body. He begins kissing along your chest, sucking and nipping as one of his hands dips beneath the band of your panties.

He teases you, laying his large hand flat over your lower stomach, applying a bit of pressure as his slender fingers dip into the crease of your inner thigh, touching you everywhere but where you need him.

You whine and wiggle your hips, desperate for some sort of relief from the swirling need in your core, but to your dismay he just continues teasing, pulling his hand out from your panties and running his middle and ring fingers over the mound of your clothed pussy.

You gasp as his fingers run down to the damp spot over your entrance. A groan muffled by your chest falls from his mouth as he attempts to press into you through the fabric before his fingers come back up to your clothed clit, moving in slow circles, pressing hard against you as your hips buck into the friction of the fabric.

“Spencer,” You moan, but it’s more like a plea, a plea for him to do something more, anything, really.

He chuckles at you, deciding that he’s done teasing (for now). He hooks his fingers in the band of your panties and pulls them off your hips and down your legs with a little help from you.

He moves down your body, sitting in between your thighs, torso hovering over your pelvis to get a good view of his work.

You let out a whine at the lack of touch. “Mm, impatient are we?” He mutters, running his hands over your upper thighs and spreading them wider. He grabs your phone off the bed and swipes over to the camera, keeping the camera flipped to the sheets, and hits record.

Humming in delight, he spreads you open with this thumbs, “Always so fucking wet for me,” he praises, gently rubbing up your pussy with his middle and ring fingers, pressing against your clit.

“Baby,” You gasp into a moan as your opening clenches around nothing and your clit pulses at the sudden touch. Spencer’s pupils are blown wide with lust as he gazes at you letting out little gasps and moans, completely enamoured by your body, bottom lip stuck beneath his teeth. “Fuck, sugar.”

One of his hands pulls your folds open while the other one plays with you. His middle finger runs up and down your folds, collecting your slick and rubbing it over your clit before teasing your entrance.

You whimper and push back against his digits, desperately trying to get his long, thick, skilled fingers inside you.

Slowly, he dips his middle and ring fingers into you, curling them slightly as he pushes them as far as they will go inside you, making you cry and writhe against him. His other hand works slow circles over your clit as he begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you faster and faster.

Little uh, uh, uh's fall from your lips as he pumps in and out of you. He bites his lip in concentration and lust, the wet sounds of your pussy reverberating around the room only heightening his arousal.

"That feel good, baby?"

"Mhm!" you cry out, eyes clamping shut in pleasure.

“Yeah?” he teases, smirking as he watches your eyes flutter shut once he starts rubbing that spot inside inside you that makes your vision turn white. Your jaw hangs open as strained moans leave your mouth, your hips arch off the bed, and your hands grip the sheets as you reach your first orgasm.

Spencer groans as he feels your muscles clench around him and your release gush around his digits, his hard cock twitching and leaking in his boxers. He slows his pace, helping you through your high with the consistent stimulation his gentle touches bring you.

“Good girl,” He whispers in that sexy grainy voice of his. You giggle breathlessly as you reach to stop the recording, looking down at him just when he pulls his fingers out of you.

Bringing them up to his mouth, he lets his tongue fall out, moaning in delight at your taste as sucks your arousal off his fingers, “Fuck, baby, I need to taste you.”

You wiggle your hips in anticipation as he hooks his forearms under your thighs and grabs your waist, his large hands almost covering the entirety of your abdomen. He lowers himself down, kissing and nibbling from your knee to the base of your thigh.

He roughly sucks and bites at your inner thighs, wanting to make marks that last for at least a week, marks that you’ll feel whenever your plush thighs brush together. He switches thighs while absentmindedly rubbing at your clit; too softly to get you off, but just enough to make you needy.

Just as predicted, you become a whiney, needy mess in a matter of minutes. You’re only knocked out of the pleasure-filled haze when Spencer pauses his attack to lean his smug face against your abused thigh and mumble, “He never went down on you, did he, sugar? ‘s that why you were so confused the first time I told you I wanted to?”

He phrases it like a question, but you know he already knows the answer. You avert his eyes when you nod your head, blush appearing on your cheeks as he coo’s.

“Awe, poor baby… ‘should show him what he was missing, yeah?” He mumbles, nipping the flesh of your thigh, his fingers still working gently over your clit. You whine, bucking into the sensation as you nod your head. “Go on, sugar, set up the camera,"

He goes back to sucking bruises onto your thighs as you prop the camera up on the plant pot that lives on your bedside table, angling it so the focus is on Spencer, and hit record.

Once you lay back down, he tightens his grip on your waist, keeping you in place as he licks a fat stripe up your pussy.

You let out a startled moan, slipping a hand into his messy curls and tugging, earning a groan from him. He kitten licks around your clit and down to your entrance, pulling away momentarily as your back arches off the bed to mutter, “god, you taste fucking incredible.”

He switches between flicking his tongue over your clit and lapping at the slick pouring from your opening, listening to your sweet cries. His tongue increasing its pace as wet, lewd, sounds from his mouth lapping at your pussy fill your hot bedroom.

Spencer watches from between your thighs as your eyes roll back, fluttering shut as your pretty lips part, letting out a strangled cry of pleasure as he suckles on your swollen clit.

Your squeezing your thighs around his head as you rock your hips into his face as you yank on his hair. Spencer groans, holding you in place as your thighs tremble, never stopping his attack on your cunt as your orgasm courses through your body.

He takes his time working you through your high and then cleaning you up, savouring the taste of your arousal as if it's not permanently stored in his mind through his eidetic memory and the sheer amount of times he's used his mouth on you.

He licks at you until your whimpering and physically can't take the overstimulation anymore, pushing his head away from your sopping cunt. He grins at you, lips and chin wet with a mix of your slick and his saliva as he licks his lips and pants, still catching his breath.

He crawls up your body, licking up your neck to your jaw, placing a sloppy kiss on your lips before throwing a smug look at the camera and stopping the recording, tossing the phone into the sheets as he goes back to kissing you, his soft lips mixing with yours.

You whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, that warm feeling in your core returning, and you know only one thing will calm your needy body.

You reach down, fingers tracing the lines of Spencer's toned stomach, dipping into his boxers, and gripping his cock.

He hisses at your touch, "fu-uck- we- we don't have to, sugar, you don't need to- I can ju-"

"I wanna. I want you..."

You hook your heel around his hip and flip the two of you over, so you're on top, biting your lip and moving so you're straddling his upper thighs.

You pull his rock hard cock out, stroking it as you watch Spencer's head fall back against the pillows, mouth open in a silent moan.

You fish for your phone in the covers while you continue stroking him, loving the way his eyebrows knit together and his chest rises and falls sporadically.

You grab your phone and move up further, so your pussy is right at the base of your boyfriends dick, his hard cock resting on your tummy, the tip hitting just below your belly button.

You snap the photo, and grin when you see the filthy image. Your perfectly manicured hand is placed delicately over the base of his cock, his tip is an angry red, and has a bead of precum collecting and threatening to spill against your stomach as you show off his length.

It's perfectly sinful, and you can feel yourself getting wet just looking at it. You can't stand to wait any longer, lifting your hips off him and grabbing Spencer to direct his tip to your core.

You rub his tip through your folds to lubricate it, just like Spencer always does before entering you, with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and he swears he could cum just at the sight.

Your hands find purchase on his pelvis, bracing yourself as your eyebrows knit together and your eyes flutter shut as you sink down onto him.

Finally bottoming out, you feel perfectly full, the light stretch his thickness brings you feels incredible. His hands find their place on your defined hip-bones as you breathe, getting used to the sensation.

Once you know you're ready, you flex your thigh muscles and lift your hips slightly, and with the help of Spencers hands on your hips you start to create a steady rhythm, fucking yourself down on to your boyfriends fat dick.

"Baby," Spencer gasps, sounding like he's had the breath punched out of him. You manage to smirk at him, despite the moans falling from your mouth as you start to thrust your hips down faster and faster.

"So beautiful like this, sugar- god, look at you, fucking desperate for it, taking what you need from me- fuck-" He goans, dilated pupils gazing at you with nothing but lust. You feel to tight and warm around him, Spencer can't help himself; he begins thrusting his hips up to meet yours, hitting that one spot inside you perfectly over and over again.

You yelp out a moan and twitch as your orgasm flows through your whole body, like giant waves rolling over you. Your toes curl and your nails scratch even marks down his toned chest, earning a hiss from him.

Your thighs stutter and begin losing the rhythm you created, hunching forward over his chest. Spencer takes the hint and plants his feet firmly on the bed before he begins thrusting up into you at a quick pace, forcing a yelp out of you as you fall onto his chest.

You can hear his whimpers and groans in your ear as he chases his orgasm, biting his shoulder to hold back your screams.

"Ah! hng- harder, please...," You moan into his neck, and Spencer's resolve finally cracks. He grips your hips harder and forces your hips down onto him, forcing his cock fully into you every time.

You gasp brokenly and surge forward to kiss him sloppily, moaning absurdly loudly in between kisses, scratching and yanking at his scalp.

"I- I'm so close! Spence- please-," You moan into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red crescent moons in their wake.

"Shit- me too sugar-"

"please! please... wanna feel it in me..."

He groans, looking down at where he's thrusting into you, reaching down to toy with your clit as you attempt to fuck yourself down onto him, despite how Spencer's caged you in.

"Spencer-," you cry out as you cum for the final time, completely at his mercy. Your pussy clenching and fluttering around him as you gush around him.

His hips lift off the mattress, pulling you flush against him and rubbing your clit impossibly faster as he pumps you full of his cum, jaw hanging open in ecstasy as his high washes over him. You all but scream in pure pleasure, your body spasming as more liquid spurts out of you.

When you come down, you feel the steady rise and fall of Spencers chest as he pants under you, not even daring to move off him. Spencer's hand cards through your messy curls, as you catch your breath, grinning down at him.

Once the two of you catch your breath, he pulls out of you with a choked breath and you roll off him with a whine. He quickly pads over to the bathroom to grab a damp cloth to clean you up and some water for the both of you.

Before he can even start to clean you up, you stop him. He gives you a quizzical look when you hand him your phone, but you just bite your lip nervously. "I- um- I never let him fuck me without a condom, he'll hate it..." You mumble, and you swear you can see his cock twitch when his eyes widen.

Without another comment, he blushes and snaps a picture of your fucked out body on top of the wrinkled sheets. You body is shining with a thin layer of sweat, your hair flowing across your shoulders and the pillow under your head, Spencer's cum dripping slowly out of your sopping pussy.

He cleans you up and makes sure you drink water, changing the sheets while you get ready for bed in the bathroom, and then happily holding you as you fall asleep in his arms.

Before falling asleep himself, he opens your phone and sends your ex a message.

—

23:25 - You: *Attachment: 2 images, 2 videos*

23:25 - You: She is doing just fine without you.

More of my stuff can be found here.

~ Ivy 🪴

[tonydaddingham]

so i had the bright idea of rewatching s1 today whilst im working from home, now knowing what i know about s2, and so i can ruminate a little more on s1 with the additional context. ive barely made it past five minutes

im pretty sure ive gotten most of the frames accurate from this bit, and im sure it might just be a bit of demonstrative cinematography (which ya know, *chefs kiss*) but at the same time i love going into full year 9 english teacher mode about this shit, and i think there is something to comment on (which someone already might have done but w/e). in any case, this bit of dialogue is very noticeably layered with shots of crowley and aziraphale, but intercut with the shots of adam facing down the lion:

like, i can't help but feel that there is some symmetry in this and either other people have spotted it and im very behind, OR we havent spotted it and s2 spoilers have helped unlock it✨

so who is meant to be who here? for my money it would be that adam is mirroring aziraphale, and eve is mirroring crowley - in so much that at a really shallow level, aziraphale is a platoon leader, a guardian, fought in the war etc. crowley, regardless of his rank, is a starmaker, and let's face it the boy has the structural integrity of a strand of dried linguine. so we could look at it on that level (ignore the lion for the moment ill sort of explain that if it isn't already obvious)

but also we now know that this scene is not their first meeting, and that aziraphale and crowley do in fact remember each other and know that they have met, and in aziraphale's case is probably the teeniest bit shy bc damn heart eyes as an angel, heart eyes as a demon 🥵 but my point is that this is after the fall. after (as far as crowley tells it) crowley fell for 'just ask[ing] questions", and "just hung around the wrong people".

now i have my thoughts on why crowley fell: tldr because it would require another post - both reasons he gave above are bullshit and obvs conflict with each other, so i think that he doesn't actually know why he fell and has just guessed his transgressions so he can rationalise it, that god actually never had an issue with him asking questions, and instead it was actually god's plan to make him fall so he could represent the 'evil' side of free will on earth, as aziraphale's counterpart, and essentially ensure that humankind stays eternally 'in balance'

ANYWAY so the fact that in the lion sequence, 'crowley' is being shielded by 'aziraphale' against an unknown entity; but does this mirror a flashback, or is it foreshadowing? again, id put my bets on the former visually, but the latter... lyrically? idk the word but regardless take the dialogue:

"What if I did the right thing;

with the whole 'eat the apple business'?

A demon can get into a lot of trouble;

for doing the right thing."

so let's rephrase this:

"Was it the right decision to fall;

was I right to choose this for myself?

to choose the right to choose?

Because i feel like i could live to regret it."

so is crowley in essence already asking if aziraphale is on his side? is he asking if falling was the right thing, the good thing, to do (regardless of whether god gave him any choice in the matter)? But was he given the choice, first true free will? did aziraphale try to protect him during the fall, so crowley could get out in time (but ultimately fail? or at least bought Crowley enough time to find a back staircase and fall gently and peacefully, 'saunter vaguely downwards'?), and then get assigned to earth to be the 'good' side of the coin for humanity?

and is crowley asking if aziraphale will continue to be with him? in whatever romantic, platonic, acquaintance context you want - is he asking aziraphale if aziraphale will fight for him again, for them both? aziraphale made his decision, enacted his free will, in giving the humans a sword, and thus brought the concept of war and horror to earth, even if that was never his intention - so now swordless, and now only condemned to watch humanity as it strides out on its own (or was this the plan all along?👀), is aziraphale willing to do it? does he have the power, the strength, the will? would he stretch his finger over the line to fight on their side?

maybe im asking the wrong kind of questions, but all ill say is that in the above sequence? at the end of the dialogue? adam kills the lion.

i think 'their side' began in the job minisode, yes maybe, but also maybe the idea of it, the understanding of it, was planted here.

[kaddyssammlung]

Im the stc lore anon. Im very aware of the old interviews. In fact thats exactly part of why i get so frustrated with the fan interpretations of lore. Because its one of the things in my view that debunks the romance about sleep theories. Its just very frustrating feeling so strongly about my theory the fan lore is not canon while seemingly most of the fandom assumes the fan lore is absolutely 100 percent canon and just needs some more puzzle pieces to unluck the True Story. I used to believe the fanmade lore, but i no longer can do so especially when ive seen various bits of concerning behavior in the fandom where i think people take it wayyy too far. I think the only "canon" interpretation of the lyrics is the real person behind the masks life story, otherwise theres no "canon" and we are supposed to do whatever we want. But i think things have just gotten wayyy out of control with the its about a romance with sleep theory. What makes me actually hate it is how much people insist the people on stage are "characters" (i regularly see disclaimers saying "dont worry im just talking about the characters not the real people" when i really dont think they are "characters" in the way people think... this is not an anti fanfic/shipping/headcanon about real people stance btw i dont care about that as long as you dont go too far, i just dont like the insistence theyre "characters" because that feels so dehumanizing) and how rude people are if you dont agree with the fanlore (the vitriol aimed at alternate interpretations is really disgusting, especially the "why are sexualizing the lyrics, youre a bad person" crowds vitriol and insistence theyre the Good Fans while if you dont agree you deserve awful things). Otherwise, i just get *personally* annoyed with how often i come across the "its totally canon that its about sleep theories" when i dont want to *personally* hear those theories at all. I hope im making sense, and maybe im being an asshole in how im expressing my views idk. I just really feel like an outsider in this fandom and get so happy when i come across people who actually agree with me because it makes me feel less alone and like im not stupid or whatever. Just have fun, let the music mean something special to you, and remember the band (and their fans for that matter, going back to the vitriol thing) are human beings, thats what ultimately matters. I just think the lore as the fans see it has gotten into concerning territory. Wont leave any more anons about this for now because i dont want to drag this out more, i just saw your replies/post and wanted to respond in hopes what im trying to say will finally come out right (im not always the best with words, im very blunt, im very opinionated, etc)

Good Morning or Guten Morgen or Happy Timezone

I get your point and I don't think that you're an asshole.

I think you are struggling with something that many struggle and the fans that you call out also struggle with that: it's acceptance. Or accepting what is; in that case it's fan's who act a certain way or have different opinions or see things in a different way.

Acceptance is a mastery. It's something that is very hard to achieve.

Your situation reminds me of something that I could not accept for a long time in that fandom. So I'm going to talk about that.

This will probably be a long post so I'm hiding this and also mental health topics will come up.

I always had this assumption that everyone could see what I see when I look at Vessel. I'm talking concerts photos and “peeled Vessel” and the things that get revealed when the paint comes down. To me his scars are one of the few things that I can observe and so can everyone else, right?! There are so many even the ones from a certain attempt on both his right and his left forearm.

Well...right?! They are right in your face....

No! They are right in my face. I got into weird arguments about this topic. Which is a weird thing to argue about because this topic is a very painful one and also a strange one. There is a giant stigma around it. There are even “mental health professionals” on YouTube who refuse to talk about that topic and pretend that it does not exist because YouTube does not like these topics. It's a weird topic.

But it was exactly that what got me into the lyrics so much. I wanted to figure out the story behind what I could see.

All I found was myself and the parts of me that I denied that even existed. I stopped searching for the story and started to face myself instead.

I found a great new spiritual teacher because of that. She teaches acceptance and also sacred neutrality.

It's been almost a year now with her teachings and me finally accepting that not everyone can see what I see when I look at Vessel.

There will always be humans out there who call all of this an assumption. To them he did not self-harm and does not have scars from a certain attempt. To them that's an assumption while for me it's a fact.

Those fans are not worse then me and I'm not better then them. I can accept that they just have a different view on everything.

It's the same with lore interpretations or the way that some treat them in a (your words) dehumanizing way.

I can accept all that I just don't read it or interact with them. I let them have their view on things and I have my weird view on things.

I argued with fans that said things like: I don't even like their music or listen to their music but....

They are a thing, too btw.

When it comes to Sleep btw. To me it's an entity. They are very real btw. I learned how to deal with them, too. But I can totally understand that many humans out there just don't get topics like entities or idk...I mean I saw fairy-like beings right in front of me one day. 99% of humans would probably just say that I just made this up. I can understand that or rather I learned how to accept that.

When I first heard about Sleep I thought about that day and the fairies. I just thought...maybe that guy is a bit weird like me?!

We all had different experiences that shaped us. And also some fans really are just 14.

One of the reasons why I left the big Discord for example was because they allow all ages. I had an argument with a nine year old! That's when my alarm bells came online and I thought to myself: no...not okay! Some fans act a certain way because they are actual kids.

Like I said....I found a place within me to accept all that.

But it took a lot of facing myself to find that acceptance. And it's a process that is on-going.

Maybe this helps you...maybe not....maybe it clarifies something...maybe not.

I'm learning everything from her btw. It's energy work....energy work means you work with your soul, your higher self, higher dimensional beings....all theses things.

One thing that I forgot....accepting something and agreeing with it is not the same thing. I can totally disagree but still accept that something.

[zeravmeta]

Super Sankta 2 Exu sounds like an excellent idea Zerav. For maximum meme, she's a John Wick style Guard- just uses guns to bash in people's skulls.

Super Sankta 2 Exu whose going John Wick style on people is funny but my concept for Exia Alter was always based on like, the concept that Skadi Alter first introduced that we all thought at the time was gonna be the standard fare for alters

My Ultimate Sankta vs Exia 3 concept was based around the idea of a "Bad End" Exia the way Skadi Alter is, where Exia would be further mechanized ala Executor and become an emotionless seraphim-type unit who would essentially be the ultimate Sankta weapon. This would happen as the result of Laterano having some kind of big event that would cause them to pull all remaining Sankta from all corners of Terra for their promised day of ascension where they would leave Terra and all its problems behind, with certain Sankta (Like Exia) essentially being the vanguards and protectors of these people (I essentially just took the idea of the Rapture and assigned it to the Sankta), with the event concept in question being Penguin Logistics invading this holy land to save their girl.

So like. you can imagine how hard ive been popping off with all the new lore reveals we've gotten over the past 2 years. That said, this concept is a little outdated, and just leaving it at that would be no fun

So here's my pitch for how Exia Alter 4: The Quest For Peace would go with modern foresight (added read more because reasons)

The Popes basement computer in Zwillingsturme just let out a directive that they need to gather their best Sankta to fight against the end of the world. This is in conjunction with the last few events squarely tying together Iberia's Seaborn plotline with both Laterano and Siracusa and their dividing faiths. Now, all of this is in conjunction with the hints we've been getting that Penguin Logistics is going to split up (Lappland and Mostima have already flown the coop, and currently the rest are in Siracusa helping Texas the Amogus, but that will likely not last especially bc Exia's own anniversary line all but majorly hints at this split happening because they all got different stuff going on)

If Penguin Logistics splits, Exia will well and truly be left without a support system.

Now, Exia has always been kind of off as far as Sankta go, because for all intents and purposes she shouldn't be out of place: We see just how Sankta tend to act in Guide Ahead, and Exia didn't really seem all that different. Yet, when we look at her history and actions (she was basically kicked out, she was super accident prone which made other Sankta hate her, as part of Penguin Logistics shes constantly drunk, Texas herself says that Exia being an optimist makes her different, etc), she's actually Really different.

Almost like she has an abnormality compared to other Sankta. Me and a few others (check out @annierosaart post here) have speculated on her being different, but we also don't really know WHY: Even if she was suddenly disconnected from the Sankta empathy powers, we don't see any indication of how, and unlike Ezell we don't have any sort of 'wake-up' moment for her.

But given the weirdness about her and her lines, I think I know what the exact nature of her abnormality may be (and heres my pitch) when looking at the most relevant characters who have abnormalities, namely Executor and Arturia, because I think she falls in line with them (shameless plug to my old exia/executor buddies post):

Executor's abnormality is that his emotions are incredibly muted compared to others. He isn't heartless or emotionless, but more that his heart and mind runs on rationale and logic first and foremost, which almost disqualified him from being canonized had he also not been Laternos single most competent man because saint fedex is entirely disconnected from caring about petty things like being racist.

Arturia's abnormality is that she is receptively empathetic to the point she has nothing within her. She can remove the inhibitions of people, and this is in service to understanding them, because she lacks an understanding of herself: She has a grand dream of an empathy for the world even beyond the Sankta Empathy power, and to accomplish this she draws out the emotions that people hide. As a result, she reflects the emotions of others within herself and thus is incredibly empathetic to the point she's also lacking in emotions and a self.

Exia? I think that her abnormality is that she's too emotional, that the emotions she feels are far more amplified compared to others.

I believe this for a couple of reasons: All the weirdness surrounding her aside, whats the one thing that's always defined Exia? Her Rapid Casting EX. It's always been memed about, but simply firing a single bullet from a gun is akin to casting an Arts attack, with guns serving as a type of wand in these cases. Exia is the only character within the series whose been noted to be so fast with her arts and casting.

This post here does a phenomenal job expanding on this point, but Arts are an expression of the soul, they're influenced by emotions and become stronger with them because they are ultimately expressions of the self, which all characters in and of themselves having a "unique" arts inherent to them. Hell, all of Leithaniens arts are based around using musical expression, while Sarkaz are noted for their arts based on souls and memory, with the literal main heroine of Arknights having an empathy based arts superpower.

Exia, having Super Emotion as her Sankta halo abnormality, could explain why shes so good at gun, even without Oripathy, because said emotions are boosting her casting ability. Remember, anyone can use originum arts, it's just that oripathy is needed for them to be able to do it without a casting device.

This heightened emotion could also possibly explain her crush on Mostima, and even why Mostima is so weird/cruel about her: Mostima was simply a childhood friend alongside her and her sister, and yet when she left for Lungmen, Exia was hot on her trails and then waited 4 YEARS to be beside her and meet her again. She joined Penguin Logistics specifically because of Mostima. It's incredibly likely that Exia might have just had a small crush on her that then spiraled heavily because of this, and Mostima (with her chronic backstory-itis letting her find out that the whole Sankta and halo thing is a scam from her op files and events) might even be aware of this aspect of Exia, and may have wanted her to get over it, always leaving to try and make Exia move on but also always coming back because she needs to look after Exia. After all, if Exia had heightened extreme emotions, what are the chances she could die of grief? She already gets drunks regularly, and despite being cheerful and optimistic, Exia is wearing a mask hiding an incredibly depressed individual.

It could also be possible that the reason why Exia never noticed this is because while it doesn't let other Sankta feel her emotions, she can still feel that of others. She's always confused as to why back in Laterano people always accused her of being disingenuous, because can't they feel her emotions? Well, if she has Super Emotions, it could potentially be overloading her halo, so while she can receive signals, they can't be felt by others. Moreover, this mechanical aspect blends in well with her E2 art, where she is the single operator in the game without an animal/living motiff

Even other Sankta have birds and/or human statues and robotic elements (funnily enough, Executor Sniper only has crosses but even then he is clearly being themed as specifically an angel), but Exia? She has her guns, becoming wings as a ring forms with them. She's literally ascending while her wings become darker.

So what does all this mean?

Well, the Pope's basement bonzi buddy just sent out a directive for the Pope to gather the best Sankta to fight against the end of the world, and who else to recruit but a vulnerable, lonely Sankta who was kicked out for being TOO destructive? Exia's profile does make mention that despite appearances, she is also incredibly pious just like other Sankta, and if the Pope himself came knocking, wanting to give Exia a place back in Laterano, and in a high ranking, respected position no less?

She would jump at the chance, not only to be beside her sister (and possibly Mostima), but also to be accepted back into Laterano society.

Executors own halo has a mechanized element to it, where he also gains more parts to it when he goes from normalest man to saint fedex, so he likely underwent some kind of modification to go along with his promotion, especially because he also now carries an Nier Automata companion cube with him straight from the machine

If Exia is to be canonized, she might be adjusted in a similar way by The Law.

She might even be fully altered into becoming Laterano's perfect weapon to fight against the end of the world. The Witch King himself describes this approaching threat as a void of infinite knowledge which seeks to eliminate them, an unshakeable truth of existence that drives people insane.

The Creator must perish.

What better weapon to fight against such a thing than one who feels her own emotions so strongly she cannot be swayed? Or better yet, an equally as unshakeable, emotionless machine?

[tremendum]

twin suns ; striding behind you

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part four of the Twin Suns series  ;  prologue  ;  part i ; part ii ; part iii

pairing: au (canon-divergent), western-inspired Din Djarin x fem!bounty!reader (afab, w use of woman, girl, etc) rating: eventually explicit. slow slow burn. (18+. mdni.)  

warnings: canon-typical violence, allusions to past abuse, fear, descriptions of reader's injuries (there are a lot of them), dehydration and hunger (mention of eating), temporary blindness still, mean!Mando but also soft!Mando???, insecure reader (scars, etc), allusions to past assault and past SA(nondescript), brief mentions of trauma, slightly possessive themes, partial nudity, hints of a size kink. reader hates men <3.

synopsis:  “'aren't you used to danger, bounty hunter?' you spit, indignance sprouting from the rotting seed of your fear. his back is turned, but you still hear him. 'not the kind of danger that you are.'"

word count: 6.7k! 

notes: im back from the graveyard to post this next part! my Din brainrot is returning and ive been finding time between my two jobs to write more :) pls lmk if you like this installation! yay things are kind of picking up now wahoo

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every step forward draws a heated exhale from your marred lips.

the harsh desert winds carry whispers of sand across the vast expanse of Tatooine as the hunter leads you towards the distant silhouette of Boba Fett's palace; it stands menacing as you squint against the faintness of your sight.

your throat aches, your head pounds - each step, a creaking of your aching, dehydrated bones. the dunes you don't have to see to understand - they stretch endlessly, a canvas of muted browns and grays beneath the suns that reflect rays sharper than needles. 

'the journey is long, and the desert does not forgive hesitation.'

you grit your teeth, silently agreeing with the strange Rodian who had beckoned you towards the Diamyo's palace. it feels like your body is failing you under the intense heat; how the Mandalorian can stand it in so many layers is beyond you. but in your bitter moment of self-pity, you lose sight of the mounds of uneven terrain that billow below your boots, the heat beating down on your head so hard your eyes almost shut unwillingly as your feet meet resistance.

without warning, you find yourself falling forward - a billow of pain shoots through your wrist as your palms meet the abrasive sand.

your head pounds, dehydration and hunger taking its ravaging toll on you as you land. a soft gasp escapes your lips as the ground kisses you harshly, unforgivingly; a strike of panic over you as your twisted, marred hands are once again slammed against the weight of your body joined by the Hunter's binders. 

you're delirious - fear grips you in a way nothing ever has in your dehydrated state. a screaming ache in your throat and the throbbing in your skull coaxes your lips into the next sentence, your voice hoarse and scratchy. "if I could just have some water, please-" 

the footsteps in front of you halt in an almost menacing manner - wind echoes dauntingly in your ears as you brace for the expected harshness of a beskar-laden hand, your body tensing and ready for the impact of his hand.

all of the hunters reach their limit with you - he'd made it this far, without laying his hands on you; but they all do, at one point or another. you can only hope it doesn't go further.

his voice from days ago echo in your mind. there are far worse people in the galaxy that could have gotten to you.

"s-sorry." you stutter, pulling yourself to your knees and holding your marred hands out to protect your face should he lash out.

you yourself are surprised by the very real fear that is dousing your twisted spine in a wash of ice - but the Mandalorian is already furious by the interruption of returning you for bounty twice; one more step out of line like this and he may just kill you himself. 

you really are delirious. you think, perhaps, you've been too outlandish in your capture. he's not the kind that will break by your snide comments or sly ploys for escape. perhaps submission - you grit your teeth at the mere thought, like a wild stallion bucking in fear of a stable - is the sole way for you to survive.

to escape. 

there's a pause in the air, a moment of suspended anticipation - one in which you shield your face from him further for fear. yet the expected rebuke, the cold demand for resilience, does not materialize, and instead you bathe in a hot, heavy silence that sparks just enough fight in you to try again. 

you slump back on your haunches, eyes shutting as you swallow through sandpaper. "I need water. just a sip, sir, please-" 

"-stop." he orders suddenly, voice surprisingly strained and harsh. your eyes open and you're met with a burning glare, his armor deflecting the immediate rays as he stands over you and observes - a weak being, cuffed and on her knees to beg for water. 

your heart thunders wildly as he pulls a moleskin pouch from the depths of his cape and holds it out for you. "-and call me Mando." he orders, voice still strange. nodding, your hands shoot up to grab at it, your throat singing and dust catching in the crooks of your eyes as you let out a sigh of thanks, a slight whimper that almost loses itself to the commotion of your shaking fingertips. 

the pouch falls to the sand between your knees as you let out a breath of disbelief - in your weakness, you'd fumbled it.  "I'm sorry, I-" 

"-it's okay." he says quickly, a gloved hand raising the pouch from the dust to hold up to your lips. the uncomfortableness of his voice is forgotten instantly as the liquid breaches your open lips.

the water is - by contrast to everything else around you - so pure and clean that you almost start to cry. 

it trickles into your dry mouth and you greedily suck it down your esophagus, hands rising to cup the back of the pack and tilt it slightly, wary not to squeeze and take the whole of its contents. 

the breath you take after several gulps of water is like waking up in a meadow of fresh fruits, flowers, a cold pond at your fingertips. you let out a shaky laugh, swallowing another sip offered to you by your captor. "thanks." you say, resigning to the realization that the only way he reacted was when you were desperate - on the verge of collapsing. 

disdain coils in you.

slowly, you feel strong gloved hands encircle your shoulders, guiding you back to a standing position. the Mandalorian's touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the ruthless reputation that preceded him - a stark contrast to the experience of the last days in captivity.

you're once again left with the bitter confusion of a rug being pulled from beneath you as the hunter pulls a few pieces of jerky from his utility belt, holding them out tersely. 

your hands dart out to grab them quick as the lizards that skitter into their hideaways when your bootsteps near. you stay like that, eating the jerky like a rabid animal and taking a few sips of water that the Hunter offers you intermittently, avoiding the unyielding armor that can't mask the underlying patience in the Mandalorian's actions. 

a few minutes of terse silence and your stomach less nauseated, the Mandalorian starts suddenly, making you jump back in habit. he doesn't strike you; instead, he removes the thick cowl off his own neck and reaches towards you.

he must see your confusion, apprehension - because he stops, sighing. "you need to cover these wounds up. the exposed sun is not good for them. we will get them mended at the palace." he explains, voice evenly as he starts to lay the thick fabric over your conjoined wrists, wrapping so your skin is no longer exposed. 

you don't know what to say - but he gives you no time to think as he turns and starts off towards the palace in the distance once again. you follow him in shock, blinking down at the faint outlines of your arms, mimicking his stride though in much shorter steps.

as you trudge behind him, protected from direct sunlight through his bulking, massive frame, you grin bitterly - you've become the man's own shadow this time, striding behind him in the light of the afternoon.

the rest of the trek is plagued with silence. you'd expected cruelty, a reinforcement of a status as a captive - but instead, there was a curious patience, an unexpected kindness that left you questioning the man who strides in front of you, helmet occasionally craning to his right to check on the floating pod containing the child that floats by his hip.

he should be furious. you're nothing more than a burden -  the sudden moment of patience a shock from the cold exterior that has you staring in disbelief at your boots. what had changed? the answer eludes you as you follow him, disoriented in more ways than one. The Mandalorian's actions, or lack thereof, became a puzzle; you can't see the expression on his face, but the absence of anger resonates through the silence between you.

until he decides to slow his pace, turning his helmet to the right. "it wasn't my intention to starve you." he says, voice stoic and almost awkward. "I often forget that others do not eat when they are concealed." 

he looks away. "if it happens again, remind me." 

you swallow, lifting your head. an odd request. you'd seen glimpses of this bizarre kindness within him - gently stroking the child's ear, bringing you in to his ship after the wreckage and ensuring you stayed upright and didn't let the blood swell in your brain. letting you rest in his cot. 

most of these things, means to your end. 

perhaps it's this moment that gives you the clarity to vie for an ounce of freedom. 

"uncuff me." you say, voice sounding much less meek now that life has been breathed back into your sore lungs. if he has any emotions, your blindness renders you too incapacitated to notice them. he doesn't stop his stride, but he does turn his head. 

"no." he says it as if you're stupid.

you sigh, straining to push your shorter legs faster in order to catch up to him and the floating pod. you're not fully discouraged, despite his demeanor.  "you know I'm too weak to do anything." you insist. "it'll do you good to uncuff me before we see the Diamyo." you warn, straightening your spine as he turns slightly, pace slowing until you're just a step behind him, still pushing to keep up. 

"is that so?" he asks, sounding completely uninterested. your innards churn at his tone, your tongue running over your teeth before you nod. "I show no risk anymore. he'll find me if you don't find me first." and it's the honest truth.

silence for a moment.

"you're danger." he utters, as if the two words explain it all. you sneer at him behind his back. "aren't you used to danger, bounty hunter?" you spit, the indignance growing once again, sprouting from the rotting seed of your weakened fear only minutes ago. 

his back is turned, but you still hear it. "not the kind of danger that you are." 

you stare at the faint shadow of him, unsure of what to say. it's silent, the shifting sands beneath your feet echoing the enigma of your chains, the impending danger that awaits you once the Hunter has returned you for the bounty.

now on slightly more steady legs, you can't help but wonder what kind of man lurks behind the unyielding armor—a question that remains unanswered as the walls of the palace rise through the dune sea. 

you reach the impending building as the suns cast your shadow and the Mandalorian's far behind you.

your footsteps echo through the halls of the palace, your body cooling slowly. The Mandalorian pushes past the droids who tried to guide you; he makes turns and walks down the stairs with too much confidence.

with an inkling of trepidation in your heart, you feel as though he's been here before - it does not bode well for you.

as you stumble after him, the burns upon your skin ache slightly and you fight to see with the dim lighting. 

but soon, you're walking into a great space, the air of which you can feel upon your beaten shoulders as you let your arms, still swathed by the Hunter's cloak, fall to clasp against your restraints. 

there's a large platform of slabbed cement before you in the faint light that leaks through cracks of the shades on the opposite of the throne room. 

two figures shrouded in the darkness of your blind vision watch you and your captor enter. the one on the throne is bulky - bulkier than you remember the cloaked figure of Boba Fett to be, though as your gaze flickers to the more feminine figure perched on the arm of the throne, you know this is not him either. 

your footsteps fall silent in front of them, and soon a droid is announcing the Diamyo of Mos Espa, Boba Fett. 

you blink heavily - as if this would wipe the mugginess of your vision as the figure sits forward slightly and your heart drops.

the man in front of you, Boba Fett - fully clad in beskar armor and a helmet so similar to your captor's that you nearly consider turning and running. 

you try to mask your shock. Fett's Mandalorian? confusion and fear shock up your spine. 

panic strikes heavy in your heart as you and the Hunter stand completely silent and still, your heart thrashing frantically. Boba Fett - in Mandalorian armor... confusion must lace your features, because hands faintly rise up from the shadow of the Daimyo, and a moment later he removes his helmet with a soft hiss. 

you suck in a breath as the scarred, familiar face comes into view just barely under the lighting and you're almost certain that his eyes land on you. 

"it's been a while." he says. 

his voice is the same as you remember, and the fear stuck in your throat quells only slightly at his greeting. 

"yes." you agree, jumping in shock when the low, deep voice of the Hunter speaks at the same time as you - "it has." 

bewildered, you shoot a sideways glance to the Mandalorian beside you.

your inkling was correct, Mando must know Boba Fett too.

you swallow shakily, knowing how terribly this seals your fate - of course they know each other. apparently, Boba Fett is a Mandalorian now - for all you know, they could have been raised together. 

but the Hunter's helmet has shot a similarly shocked glance towards you and for a brief moment, you stare into the t-visor of your captor. 

in a bout of fear and anger you turn, meeting the gaze of the man who had once been your savior. from what you can make out, the years had carved lines on his face more than when you'd last seen him, and you faintly wonder how different you look to him. 

you had been, after all, just a child back then. 

you speak again, a mixture of nerves and trepidation in your voice. "sir. I didn't think I'd see you again. even when I came on-planet."

Boba Fett's head inclined slightly, a nod that spoke of the gravity of the situation. "times change. I wouldn't have summoned you here if it weren't necessary."

you're sure your eyes held for a moment, the unspoken understanding passing between you. it had been a long time. 

the Mandalorian crosses his arms from beside you. "what business do you have with us?" the hunter speaks up, clearly tired of the stiff small talk. "do you want the puck?" 

this had been your fear, too. Fett could have easily summoned you to the palace to buy your bounty from the Mandalorian; he has good enough reason to buy you to his custody.

yet at the Hunter's words, you swear you see a twinge of confusion from the two: Fett shifts, as does the figure to his side - a silhouette which, with the grace of her helmet sitting below them in a ray of bright light, you finally recognize as the sharpshooter Fennec Shand. you'd heard of her in town during your time on the run. 

"I have favors to call in." he says simply. your heart pounds twice as heavy at the mention of the favors- yes, he does. he is owed a lifetime of favors from you.

but the hunter is not so swayed. 

"call them in later. I have problems to attend to." he sounds impatient, voice laced with the strain of a time crunch.

Boba stares at him, leaning elbows on his thickly armored thighs. "you and your lady friend here," he nods towards you sardonically, "are in a bind, am I correct?"

you gape in offense at his casual tone, addressing you as anything other than a captive - irritation floods your face but is soon replaced with a strike of fear fluttering down your spine, worried of the Hunter's reaction to such vocabulary. 

"I don't play games with my bounties." his voice sounds equally irritated as you feel. it's final - deep as it exits his helmet. your stomach flips. 

you almost snap back - that's a lie, Mando. you and I both know it - but, for fear of speaking out of turn, and for fear of the man before you, you stay silent.

"bounty?" the silhouette sits forward and a plaited length of dark hair swings into your faint vision.

the room is suddenly plagued with a pregnant silence that you don't dare break, your mind churning.

did they not know of the situation you've found yourself in?

"she has a bounty on her head." the hunter says finally, as if surprised that they were not privy to this information. you shift on your feet, your head still pounding, eyes sore from straining to see in such dim light. your whole body aches.

"she may be a bit worse for wear, but she doesn't look like a prisoner to me." Shand retorts, nodding to your figure. 

at the woman's words, you huff a bitter laugh. worse for wear - you'd be surprised if you have more bones intact than dislocated right now - you're blind, you have a nasty hydraulic burn on your cheek..

you shake the cowl off your arms, revealing the cuffs which bound you as the fabric drops to a heap at your boots. you barely glance down at them before back up as Fett lets out a low hum. both heads upon the throne shift to the man beside you. 

"you have nerve, Mando, bringing a bounty into my palace," Boba Fett remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. to your shock, Mando inclines his helmeted head in a nod. "she's more trouble than she's worth." you instinctively shoot Mando a withering look but before you can defend yourself, he continues. "when you summoned us, I assumed it was to pay her bounty."

Fennec Shand - ever observant - leans forward slightly, her sharp eyes finding yours somehow through the mist. she seems more interested in you than in the talk of the Daimyo's business.

"last we heard of you, you were supposedly walking free. stirring trouble." she tilts her head, revealing her eyes in a panel of light. the insinuation makes you chuckle bitterly. defiantly, you stare back. "then your people in town got it wrong. I was never free. I've been a captive since I set foot on this planet, even before him." 

Fennec raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Boba that even you don't miss. "our messenger mentioned he saw her just a few days ago with your speeder," Fennec remarks, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism as she focuses on Mando this time. "that doesn't sound like a well retained bounty."

you stifle a laugh at that, craning your head away from Mando to conceal your smirk as a feeling of triumph fleetingly passes over your body. you recall the anger that'd seeped through the Mandalorian when you'd tricked him, taken his speeder - then, found the child... 

"ma'am, to be fair, it took him a long time to find me. I can be very slippery when I want to be." you say coyly, highly aware of the cold stare from beside you. 

"-after all, the line between lawmen and the outlawed can be deceiving." you send a pointed look towards the wall of beskar on your side.

a sharp silence through the room; tension thick in the air as a strike of fear gloats among your abdomen. what kind of pendulum swing is your attitude on recently? 

"Mando." Boba addresses the man, causing the aforementioned to nod, shifting his weight. the throbbing of your head is gradually increasing once again and you find yourself in desperate need of a sip of water, and maybe a few hours of rest. 

"I didn't expect to have to cash in on the favors owed to me, but times have changed." he shrugs, "I hear the Crest's seen better days. I can help with the ship. in return, clean slate. functional vessel. and no more pirates."

in a swift moment of realization, your eyes widen. you aren't the only one with favors owed to Boba - this was about you and Mando, separately. he truly had no idea you were his bounty.

your surprise is short lived as he continues speaking, the pirates echoing in your mind. your eyes flicker at the mention and you can't help but shoot a glance sidelong at your captor, once again unable to read his helmet. uncertainty swirls in your gut; the Maracavanians are more than just one ship, and you know they will likely stop for very little to find you.

you are, after all, very valuable to them. the looming threat of their presence haunts you, bearing weight on your tired shoulders. your head pounds. 

"-in return," Boba Fett continued, "I need your skills - both of you. when I sent for you, I was not aware of the bounty on your head, nor the hand that held the tracker. there's a settlement on the edge of the Outer Rim. they've found some trouble with some smugglers calling themselves the Ivory Cartel; they're pushing the spice trade back into the area, and the Marshall needs help bringing them back in line."

Din's helmet tilted slightly. "I don't do charity."

Boba Fett chuckles, the sound reverberating in the room as you shift on your feet. "we've been through this song and dance before, haven't we?"

the Mandalorian crosses his arms, but says nothing.

Boba continues, "I hear you're intimately familiar with the area, Mando. Freetown."

the irony of the settlement name is not lost on you, and you can't help the scoff you let out as you cross your arms. you hear the short exhale that escapes the helmet the same time as you, but cannot decipher what it means. 

"Marshall Vanth mentioned you know each other." silence spurs him on, "only a few days, then you can turn her in. I'll ensure you have safe passage - no one coming after you. we'll consider it a debt paid in full."

you expected this; for as long as you've known the man before you on the throne, you wouldn't exactly say he is your biggest ally; in fact, part of him would surely love to see you rot in a cell. and you can't blame him. 

yet this seems like some sort of mercy - for him to not just take your bounty off of Mando's hands and immediately turn you in to the several other vying parties. indeed, that would benefit him well, and it'd likely satisfy the Mandalorian. they'd be rich beyond what they could imagine if they turned you in to the Maracavanya. 

the thought itself makes you feel ill. 

fear of your fate should you fall into the captivity of the Maracavanians grips you, far more deadly than when you will be taken by Mando to whoever casted your puck.

this fear, gripping your skull and breathing its evil thoughts into your mind, drives you to step forward slightly. "and what guarantee do we have that you'll uphold your end of the deal?"

the visor next to you stares in surprise at your words and you hold your gaze forward, steadfast. to an outsider, you imagine it is odd for a bounty to agree to be turned in after such desperation to escape; though knowing Fett as you once did - and after what you did back then - what the Macaravanya would do to you if you were their captive... you shiver, fear gripping your throat. 

your life is owed to the man before you, no matter what your past says. and if your life is to end soon - and it very well may depending on who has cast your bounty - you'd like to have paid most of your debts out by the end.  

Boba Fett's gaze shifts to you through the dim of your vision. "my word is my bond. you of all people should do well to remember this."

your face burns, chin dropping to your chest. the Mandalorian remains silent for a moment, contemplating the proposition - after all, you're his captive, and you'll have to go with whatever he decides. the weight of the favors owed hang in the air, memories of a young girl stranded on a desolate planet with a pack wrapped around her middle, her brother stumbling behind her, men in all grey following with whooping sounds as they stumbled over tumbleweeds to get away. a cloaked figure and blinding pain-

finally, the Hunter nods, speaking and pulling you from your thoughts. "fine. we do the job, our debts are settled."

Boba Fett inclined his head, acknowledging the agreement. "you'll leave in the morning."

you send a meek nod to him, feeling once again faint, as though the strenuous walk has caught up to the rest of your body, which is still reeling from the water and jerky after so long without it. 

you're escorted, after a brief hesitance by your captor, away from the group; with a grumble of irritation from the armored giant and a rough few pokes on his vambrace by gloved fingers, your bound wrists fell free, the skin marred and blistering.

fear flares up in your stomach as a droid brings you down several twisted hallways and staircases. what are they speaking of without you?

were they talking about you? 

surely there isn't much the Mandalorian doesn't know about you, depending on how much of your information was on your bounty profile, but Fett knows many things about you others don't. a darkness coils through your veins, lingering in the back of your mind; a steady reminder to trust no one. no friends but tumbleweeds. 

perhaps you had overestimated the reach of Tatooine's rumor mill. or, perhaps, you really were that good at hiding. and the Hunter was that good at hunting. 

the thought doesn't make you feel any better. 

you enter a room where the droid gestures to the large glass in the center of the room; your eyes widen, taking in the large bacta tank, inviting and horrifying the same. 

on the other side of the room, a refresher awaits, and the droid instructs you to use what you need and it will provide you the bacta process to ensure you have a restful healing.

you stare, shocked, between the droid and the tank; things like these cost an unimaginable amount of credits. you bite your lip.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you start to flush, "I don't have enough credits, I-" 

"nonsense," the droid speaks, its voice oddly comforting, maternal. "Master Fett has requested our guests are healed and take as much time as necessary. you will need your strength and health." 

you blink, stomach flipping with nerves. "okay," you whisper, padding slowly across towards the fresher and sealing yourself inside. 

your heart pounds, stress pulsing through you. it takes you forty-five seconds to even bring your eyes up to your reflection, your nails digging hard into your dusty, pained palms. 

it's horrible. truly. 

faintly, you wonder if it's just the residual blindness that makes you look so awful. maybe the shadows under your eyes aren't as prevalent in full vision - or the cuts and bruises that show evidence of the crash landing on your skin. 

to be fair, you look still like yourself - same eyes, same skin, same scarf concealing most of your hair, save the sticky tendrils which glued themselves to your forehead and mouth on your trek. but your face; it's gaunt, absent of the life it used to have. your eyes look empty, your features splintered by a broken nose which holds a crusted bloody split across the center. 

your cheekbone similarly has a cut that's swelled one eye socket, a bruise blossoming and singing of broken vessels of blood within your eye. your hands, as they rise to touch your aching face, are mangled and horrifying. dry, caked with dirt in the splits over your palm, your knuckles are sticking out in an unnatural pattern. the hydraulic burn you'd sustained on your cheek is raw and angry still, exposure to the suns making it rough and bloodied. 

fuck, you will need this bacta is you're to help pay off your debt. you can't help the inkling of curiosity as to what it is that the Mandalorian owes Fett for - he doesn't seem the type to run off for secondary missions when he has his bounties. especially, you think with a smirk, bounties as irritating and conniving as you've been. 

it is extremely odd, this new situation. 

you're sure this has not once happened to the Mandalorian before, judging by his reaction: obligated to work alongside one of his bounties - who has willingly agreed - in order to earn ship repair to turn her in. 

you squeeze your eyes shut, bewildered by the complexity of the situation; you're overcome once again with the urge to run, run, run. 

run.

you snap your eyes open, staring into the mirror again. 

your body screams of exhaustion, lack of sleep, hunger, pain. a surge of sadness floods over you at the realization that you've looked like this far before crossing paths with the Mandalorian.

this cycle is nothing new. it may be the oldest thing in the book.

in fact, considering how the last few stints went with other hunters went - horrifyingly, though you always ended up the one holding the smoldering blaster - the Mandalorian has been uncharacteristically considerate. 

so unimbued by your teasing. irritated constantly, serious - but admirably capable. dangerous. your eyes again find the ugly scar that cuts jaggedly across your cheek, towards your jaw. it was an injury done to you just to do so, by the last hunter who tried to take you. he'd done worse afterwards; all the injuries will last with you forever.

cruelty for the sake of it. 

despite who he is, you can't find it in yourself to believe your current captor would ever do such a thing. 

imposing, intimidating, gruff - yes, but he never threatened you more than empty words; even though you know how easily he could snap your arm (or neck). he didn't seem to want to inflict pain.

you think of his little green companion, with its kind eyes and soft babbles. the way he runs his gloved fingers over the wiry hair atop its head, soothing its ears.  

then, when he'd left you alone on his ship; sure, it was wrecked and you were in the middle of nowhere, but he'd still left you. given you privacy. 

you glare at the ground - no. 

the memory of his hand slamming against the carbonite freezer echoes in your mind, your words - "you're a bad man." you whisper mirthlessly. "I don't deserve this."

no man is kind. no bounty hunter is fair. 

with a growl of irritation, you slide the door open, peering out into the room before you. it's quiet, the afternoon sun streaming through the curtains of the open stone windows, flickering over the tank in the center. a set of towels your size sit next to the tank. the droid is gently preparing tubes and a small breathing mechanism as the bacta moves in the glass. 

the liquid, viscous and beckoning you like a mirage in the dead heat of the plains outside. 

you haven't been in water in months - years, maybe. sonic showers got the job done, removed dirt and grime and oil, but you haven't felt really clean in so long it almost brings tears to your eyes. before you can think again, your voice cracks out, shy and meek. 

"I'm ready." 

when you wake up, the suns are nearly setting. 

your body glows a hue of orange from the dying light, dripping with the liquid you'd just emerged from. the droid towels you off and you note the sweet, small markings alongside her collar, small paintings of flowers.

it's because of this that you realize with a sharp inhale - "I can see!" you gasp, flexing your fingers instinctively and feeling a wash of freedom when no shooting pain or stiffness prevents the action. 

you feel as though you've been reborn. 

the droid pulls a chest band over your flush, healthy skin. nothing but pinking scars and a few light colored bruises. "how do you feel, ma'am?" she asks you. you smile at her just as she hands you a pair of underwear, folded tunic, and trousers. "I feel wonderful. thank you." you respond, tugging on the underwear. 

you stare down at the dark gray color of your tunic, tilting your head- but before you can ask, the droid assures you your own clothes are being cleansed and repaired for you to have back. 

you nod, feeling naked still without any concealment of your hair or face - it seems, after so long on the run, you've forgotten that the items were not sewn to your skin, a part of you. 

the droid leaves you to collect yourself, telling you it will prepare you supper to eat in the palace hall. slowly, you let your joints stretch, taking in a deep, long breath for the first time in ages without feeling the stabbing pain of broken ribs.

gone are the dizzy spells, the fogginess that had plagued you since hitting your head. 

with a small laugh of disbelief, you pull the tunic over your head with no pain - your hair drips down your spine as you comb through it, padding with a sudden shock of clear vision towards the mirror.

closing yourself halfway into the fresher, you stare at your reflection; a healthy glow on your cheeks, clean, a hint of a smile. you nearly tear up, feeling fresh, free from physical pain. there are no blisters or bruises from the binders. 

with a smile, you take a step out of the bathroom in search of the trousers you'd left, discarded on table you'd woken from. you let yourself hum a short tune, something from your childhood that your brother had loved. 

but a hulking figure across the room makes you stop short.

your eyes widen as a rush of shock floods through you. 

to his credit, the Mandalorian looks just as caught off guard as you feel, if his body language is anything to tell. 

he stands, alarmed, with one hand holding the trousers you'd left, one holding a removed blaster and his lasso. with a quick glance over to the tank, there is larger preparations, a large microfiber towel, much larger than the one used for you, folded next to it.

oh. 

a beat passes. 

then another. you start to feel warm, cheeks flaring in heat as your gaze flickers from the visor, cold and staring, down to the trousers in his hand. you are suddenly aware of your exposed skin.

"um," you say brilliantly. 

but before you can say anything else equally as riveting, the droid rolls into the room and nearly shrieks. "oh, ma'am, I'm terribly sorry- thought you'd already gone downstairs-" 

you swallow so thickly you're surprised you don't choke, the warm breeze in the dying evening sunlight sending cascades of goosebumps over your exposed legs. you ignore the rolling heat that tumbles down your body as the helmet moves ever so slightly down your frame. excitement sends the sensation even deeper - but you shake the thoughts away. that's an emotion you'll deal with probably never.

the Mandalorian snaps alive, taking two lumbering strides towards you, holding the trousers to you stiffly. "I assume these are yours." his voice sounds almost pained.

you swallow dryly, nodding, "y-yes." you squeak, feeling hot under his stare. 

"-so sorry, sir, I apologize-" the droid was still panicking - you think it odd until you get a feeling Mandalorians wouldn't like even droids to see them without helmet. let alone, their annoying bounties who now have to work with them against a cartel in some forgettable dust town.

you wonder if the same goes for armor.

but he waves the droid off, "I can take it from here, thank you." his voice is terse; disdain leaking through the baritone.

you awkwardly take the moment to slide the trousers over your legs, bending quickly to save at least a bit of dignity as you do the clasps and zipper, eyes avoiding the tall statue before you. 

the droid, still wailing apologies, wheels from the chamber, bathing the two of you in a strikingly thick air as you stare down at your boots. you watch as his own boots shift their weight just a few steps from you. 

"you look..." he seems to lose his words as you look up at him, stomach flipping. "-healthy." his fingers twitch by his sides. you feel shockingly flustered as you clear your throat, "I need to take better care of myself." you joke, the words falling flat and sounding more pathetic than humorous in delivery, "just glad I can recognize myself again. well- I can see, too, which is even better." your voice squeaks as you trail off, butting off your anxious ramble.

he doesn't respond to that, but he does clear his own throat. "have you eaten?" he asks, voice strained. you clear your head, "no- no, that's where I was about to go..." you trail off, cheeks aflame as you look up at the helmet. he makes a noncommittal noise, turning away. "well, if you don't mind-" 

you shake your head, "not at all." you say quickly, taking great strides towards the exit, not turning back as you scramble away. 

the Mandalorian doesn't look at you the rest of the evening. 

you can't tell if it's out of embarrassment, shame, or anger at the prospect of having to work with you; no matter, you're relieved at the absence of that piercing, emotionless stare. 

you eat much too fast, due to the crawling hunger in your stomach, and have to later fight to keep it down; though the rest of the night is spent relaying plans for transportation and communication with Fett and Shand, you standing awkwardly in a corner and being referenced as the bounty by your captor. 

you wonder if he can feel the glare you shoot at the back of his helmet. 

by morning, you feel more refreshed than you have in years, despite your captivity. the more you think of it, and the more that clock ticks in the back of your mind, the more willing you are to stay on-planet, to waste time. 

perhaps you could miss the trial all together, if nobody finds you first. you let yourself wonder, as you stand to the side and observe Mando strapping supplies to the back of the speeder, what would happen if you missed the trial. 

surely, you'd still be wanted. an outlaw is an outlaw, no matter the date on the galactic calendar. 

but would it be safer for you? depending on the verdict. there are plenty on both sides who would pay heavily to see your body buried in the Wasteland, no doubt. 

"hey." Mando's voice is terse and vexed. your eyes snap up to meet the helmet, which glints harshly under the morning suns. "let's go." he orders, gesturing behind him where a space remains for you.

you think back to that first night; your desperate attempt at escape, feigning sleep and then sprinting off into the dark desert. 

you slide onto the back, leaving as much space as possible between you and the Hunter, his jetpack hard against your chest. you opt to hold it instead of his torso as he kicks up the speeder, the child tucked into the bag at his hip. 

"did you get enough to eat?" he asks, voice louder over the noise of the speeder. you swallow, unease leaking into you at the tone of his voice - it's alarmingly like the tone he used when he'd fed you back in the desert. like he was making sure you wouldn't have to nearly pass out again for him to remember to feed you. 

it makes you wonder how often he eats or drinks himself.

it makes you wonder why you even care.

you nod, "I did." 

he sends you a terse nod in response and as he starts to speed off, the wind whips over your scarf. you tie it under your jaw, the long bandana secured. heat finds you like an old, unwanted friend and you already feel tired; you rest your hot cheek against the metal of the beskar jetpack, hoping he cannot feel it. you're instantly cooled down, relief flooding through you. 

the speeder hums beneath you, kicking up plumes of sand - your eyes, alight with the fresh relief of unfiltered sight, scan the horizon, taking in the harsh beauty of Tatooine's desolate expanse. rocky outcrops jutting from the sandy dunes, casting short shadows in the midday suns. the sky above is painted with hues of blue, a stark contrast to the unforgiving landscape below. 

you steal another glance at the Mandalorian's back. thankfully, he has resumed his tense, stoic silence behind his helmet, his focus fixed on the path ahead. there's a quiet determination, a silent strength - the same one that had initially inclined you to play such luring games with your Hunter in the first place. 

a determination that makes you want to do it again, despite everything.

you think of how naive you were just days ago - had you ever really expected to get away from him? or, the whole time, have you just been waiting for him to finally get to you?

the thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

hours pass on the speeder with intermittent stops to stretch your legs or sip water. the baby insists on babbling to you any chance he gets - an endearing sight, as he waddles over the mounds of sand to climb up onto your boot.

the gentle smile that graces your lips after asking permission silently from the Hunter to hold the little goblin.

the child's endless eyes stare up at you from the bag at the hunter's side when you're back on the speeder, and you supply him with a finger to hold on to.

you can't shake the whirlwind of confusion swirling within you - what had started as a fateful capture in the wake of your euphoric game had morphed into a nightmare capture, which has now evolved into a reluctant alliance - a ceasefire of sorts forged by circumstances beyond your control.

whatever Mando had for Boba to cash in on must have been just as serious as what he'd done for you - or, rather, what you'd done to him. regret and guilt snake through your veins, black and greedy and painful.

you stare down in regret, trying to map out a way to escape the clutches of the man before you as the lines between captor and collaborator blur in the shifting sands of fate.

you had been running for so long - elusive and cunning, the closest to free you'd been in years - until you got too egotistical. all those weeks ago, why did you have to taunt him so? 

happy hunting, Mando. 

you're a fool. a fated, heartless fool with too large an ego. 

as the speeder surges onward, you lean back, letting the rush of the wind and the rhythmic hum of the engine drown your thoughts. the heat bears down on you. 

in the distance, a bundle of buildings emerge, wavy through heat - at first, you thought it a mirage. 

Freetown.  

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taglist (message to join): @silkiers @leithatnight @totallynotastanacc @afandomidiot @bbyanarchist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @notsosecretspy @djarins-cyare @satireclub @famefoxx @sunnywithachanceofjavi @imherefordeanandbones @sarap-77​

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[softness-and-shattering]

Oh while Im posting, I finally finished Blue Eye Samurai

SPOILERS

Im going beserk, Mizu set up a condition where he isnt dead "if I dont come back Im dead or Ive failed" and he DID fail. He did not kill Fowler. He got No But.

Akemi got Yes And. Akemi got everything she didnt even know she wanted. "I dont want to run away. I want to be great" and her dad "I raised you", so much dad stuff happening, Mizu is in a murder Mamma Mia here.

Taigen "didnt i kill you" "just look, and then kill me" "if its your fight then its my fight" "we're not finished" is he going to follow Mizu?

I also now desperately want to see Mizu struggling with English fashion. Hes a sneaky Samurai man and the clothing is different the food is different the culture shock is gonma be immense, there's gonna be a whole new racism hes gonna be so far out of his depth.

Akemi with the flames behind her auugghhhhh amazing showstopping. Reminds me of the GoT guys "we wanted to make memorable images" yeah hey you know you can do that *in service of story*???

"Youre only alive bc I will it".

And their turning points. I need to do a proper analysis of akemi and mizu as dramatic foils, but the onryo episode was the midpoint. Akemis gotten a taste of power, but its not going to come this way she wants. Its not going to come in the sexually liberated violent-blade "man" way, its going to be in politics and manipulation. Mizu ... mizu says no revenge is everything to me, and lets Akemi go and makes for Fowler. That was his last chance to turn away. Now Fowlers alive and theyre on a boat together.

What really struck me also is how much Fowler outclasses Mizu. He completely destroys him every fight. First episodes Mizu is like lightning, we're in awe, taking down the dojo and Taigen and the entire army. Half way point, he starts losing. We see the whole slog through Fowlers keep and he barely survives. Last couple episodes hes exhausted and bleeding. Fowler always has the upper hand. "Your bones break like a womans" is the hesitation that gave mizu long enough to get back on top but only briefly. Fowler is such a great villain though, that line and the one about waying his sisters organs "every bite". Shudder.

Thinking about if there are other foils. Ringo amd Taigen? Real-dad and the swordmaker? I wonder if Mizu will learn any english swordsmanship, does his ultimate sword synthesize both his heritages?

Speaking off do yall believe his "mom" was actually a maid? Idk what to think I dont trust Fowler but it does make a kind of sense. Or is it just to keep Mizu intrigued and off balance enough for him to get out of there alive? I bave so many thoughts

[moodr1ng]

(making my own post after being in someones replies again lol) i do think there was kind of a Moment on tumblr in i wanna say circa 2019-2021 where a lot of the accumulated biphobia that was present in the lgbt community at large and in particular on tumblr sort of blew up into a number of bi bloggers starting to talk a lot more on the subject and make a lot of posts explaining the material consequences of biphobia, the lack of support bisexuals have always gotten from the rest of the community, the specific biphobic opinions/takes that are popular both offline and in online communities, and also a lot of conversations about bisexuality, what its like to be bisexual, what it means to us, a ton of education on bisexual history, a lot of trans and nonbinary bisexuals talking about how bisexuality interacts w our genders, etc. at the time and being involved in all of this tangentially it felt a bit like a sort of tumblr bisexual renaissance where the pot finally boiled over and a ton of us started to be really loud and in your face about bisexuality and biphobia. i think this was a major reason for why a lot of takes that had previously been very widespread and either accepted or at least treated as debatable (thinking about butch/femme discourse for example) got rolled back and a lot of people who had been very casually biphobic all over the place suddenly changed their tune, switched their public opinions, and started sharing a lot more of support for bisexuals (though, tbh, i dont think i have seen literally one apology for past biphobia).

i do think there was some discourse that went a bit too far and ended up counterproductive (ive personally rolled back a lot of my past anger about the pansexuality vs bisexuality shit into a view that i think is a lot more charitable and community-oriented), but overall bisexuals on here did a lot of work to get heard, get understood, and get some much-needed support by the rest of the lgbt community, and there were also a lot of behind the scenes conversations where bi people created spaces like very active discord servers where bisexuality was explored in-depth among bisexuals, which tbh i largely credit for me being able to comfortably identify as bigender.

but, well, this Moment of bisexuals being loud and proud about bisexuality and refusing to continue to tolerate biphobia was met with, like, extremely caustic and vicious backlash which has led SO many bi bloggers who i followed, knew, was in servers and dms with, was/am friends with etc to either quit tumblr or move to new blogs where they only keep around vetted people and no longer widely engage w the topic of biphobia. my alter ran one of those blogs which i dont think could have really been qualified as popular, but which had a ton of constant interaction and some really big posts, all of which led to daily biphobic harassment as well as scrutiny of every other part of his identity and repeated cruelty about things that it was incredibly inappropriate for people to attack him on - some of you who followed him will recall the repeated attacks and accusations of ableism for his 'weird' typing style, despite a disclaimer on his blog that he types like this bc of autism+adhd+did, as well as a lot of vitriol and aggression which i think was at least partially racially motivated. like, im not even willing to disclose the url or his name here because im STILL paranoid about getting harassed years after he deactivated, which, like many others i know, he did because the constant biphobia was so bad for his mental health that the blog even just continuing to exist was not sustainable.

im not sure to what degree the conversations that were started on here during this time are continuing - im not seeing much of it anymore, but then again maybe im just not following the people having them - but it certainly feels like that Moment has died down now, though i certainly still feel the aftereffects in how a lot of people have changed their stances on bisexuality. it does feel like an acute loss still that so many bi people were effectively shut down and harassed off tumblr or into silence and reclusiveness by the backlash to bisexuals speaking out (and this especially imo affected bisexuals of color, especially black bisexuals, as per usual on tumblr). i miss the posts i would get to read daily as well as the very active discord servers and other conversations i got to be privy to at the time. i think this, as much as the discussions on biphobia themselves, rendered very explicit the degree of biphobia thats present within the lgbt community. as soon as a number of bisexuals got fed up with it and started to talk about it openly, the open and unashamed biphobia also ramped up.

ig the thing im stuck on is - were not talking about it as much, but all the people who dedicated themselves to harassing bisexuals into silence for years are still here. some stances have been changed and a lot of performative "we love bisexuals!" posts got shared but ultimately the work is still cut out for us going forward. however, i dont think i or my alter will be doing any of that work on tumblr in the future. the focus will have to be on real-life community to spare ourselves the backlash that comes from speaking about this on here.

idk, not sure how to end this whole tirade. i just happened to be thinking about all this earlier today and a mutual brought it up again just now so its on my mind. i do still miss that sense of heightened bisexual community that came from all of this. i personally not only was able to re-identify as bisexual after identifying as gay for a few years bc these conversations led me to reevaluate my sexuality in a more accepting light, but also i unlearned a ton of internalized biphobia which i had not only tolerated but often strongly believed myself, usually with a sort of self-flagellating notion of "i have to bow down to the rest of the community and accept that my opinion is inherently lesser because bisexuality is an inferior sexuality" which i only stopped believing after being in these bisexual communities. ig i just have to be content with the circle of bi friends ive built both online and offline and what benefits ive gained from these discussions.

[four-bastard-bustle]

You know I've always wondered how your interpretation of Matt would've reacted to being punched in the face by Tord in the end part one. Like, he seems the kind of guy who would either go whimper and hide behind Edd like a puppy or would punch back.

Ok so like see this is where you unleashed the floodgates because ive thought abt this scene for ages because its such a peak example of ew(legacy) failing the serious/emotional moments. Making this piece of violence work in a sea of violence is no small undertaking, but I think what it really comes down to is the difference in context between the guys slapping each other around for shits n giggles with no real malice, and the outright fury expressed by Tord in that scene in the episode. If that had been emphasised more, it couldve been peak I think.

This is kind of a lot so its going under the cut

But like, my version of Matt specifically. I mentioned in a couple posts that he was abused pretty heavily as a kid and was occasionally even hit by his father. So having someone suddenly express clear fury over him for doing whatever he was doing and punch him brings back a massive flood of terrible memories. Usually, when one of the other guys hits him, Matt starts whining and complaining. He’s the type to talk and yell a lot when he gets mad. But the sudden fear he feels makes him completely clam up. This is further compounded by the fact that Tord (and by extension Red Leader) goes nonverbal when furious.

Matt lies there on the cold floor. In his mind he sees all the times his father has held him down and “lectured” him for “inappropriate behaviour”. Sometimes he’d even hold his son down by the neck and start squeezing. Strong hands grab his collar and he can feel the air being choked out of him. Matt is surprised that he’s being liften up instead of pushed down for once.

His mind reeling, he can’t tell if the face staring at him in a blind fury is his father’s or “Tord”’s. They’re blending together. They look so terrifyingly similar.

The monster raises its fist but something stops it. A hand clad in green is holding the monster back. There’s talking. Matt wishes he could hear any words. Everything is just ringing for him.

Edd for his part is very much overwhelmed with this situation. As much as he cares for his friends, he is TERRIBLE with conflict resolution. So far, he’s been lucky enough to never need it, but also so far any scraps the boys have gotten into were just petty arguments. This is very different.

Edd starts by just telling “Tord” to let Matt go, at which his grip tightens. He really doesn’t want to add to this by getting physical too, so he just repeats the command, but a little more gently. The fist Edd is holding back shakes a little, but finally “Tord” lets Matt go.

The sound of heavy breathing is filling the room, and no one is able to look one another in the eyes. But after a bit, Red Leader finally collects himself enough to express one clear command.

“Get out of my room.”

Matt doesn’t need to be told twice, and though he’s on shaky legs, he hurries out. Edd gives Tord one more glance before leaving as well. But not without first telling Tord that the two of them are going to talk about this later, when he’s calmed down.

After that, he brings an ice pack to Matt’s attic. The cold helps with the swelling and with Matt’s ongoing panic attack.

But really, Edd is feeling just about every negative emotion right now. He hates how he froze up in shock for a second when Matt got punched instead of immediately helping him up. He wonders why the hell “Tord” felt this protective over a stupid ass button. He hates seeing one of his friends lose himself in a fury this way. He hates seeing another one of his friends have a full on panic attack. He hates that this is kind of the best he can do right now. And he wonders, just what the hell is going on with “Tord” and his secret room.

I want the scene to be so deeply painfully awkward. I want there to be no way Red could laugh it off, or change the topic. I want the three of them to stew in negative emotions like its an awful soup.

Also, the ice cream line. Part of me gets so pissed off by it because Matt literally said he hated ice cream in H&F. But also, as a scene where like, Matt gets too scared to mention that so he just meekly agrees. That’s really good. And I think(?) that’s what the scene was actually intended to be? But they should’ve expressed this better, maybe have a bit in the store where Matt mumbles to himself “But I hate ice cream” as he puts it in the shopping cart. That would definitely be a part of it all in my version of it.

And most importantly no “who’s my brave little soldier” because fuck that line. Infantalize my man like that again and I’ll smite thee.

Uh I mentioned doing my own hc au version of th* *nd and not making it as melodramatic, so I don’t think this would happen in my version of the entire episode. But this is just my version of the Scene. Very different things

[ltsmoving]

sorry for not posting on vore day ive been in a bad art block, this is my compensation post,,

As much as I love suave and evil preds with all of my heart, there's something so appealing to me about an anxious person having the ability to do something so horrific, so terrifying, as eating someone whole and alive.

Somebody who's got this reputation of being a little shy, having an anxious streak, or the like- a person who gets all shaky and nervous when talking to new people, who laughs and stammers through every awkward interaction as if they were new to the concept.

But every now and then, that anxiety really flares up, or maybe the conversation teeters too far into an empty silence, and all of a sudden they're reaching for their conversational partner and sending them down their throat. Swallowing as quickly as possible, trying to get it over and done with so they don't need to think about it any longer.

The weight on their stomach always makes them feel more grounded and calm, and the idle sounds of the shouting, crying or screaming behind the wall of churning, grinding flesh subdues the eerie silence.

It couldn't be as much of a pleasurable sensory experience for the prey- the sound and sensation of sizzling creeping up on them, the slowing of a heart beat as their predator comes down from an anxiety attack, the putrid stench of a stomach with years of experience doing what it does best.

The pred might regret it later, hell they've probably never forgotten any of their meals just from the guilt of taking a life in such a torturous way- despite that, they're not going to stop. They've gotten so used to it that it gets easier every time, it's only a matter of time before they lose that regret and guilt and become just like every other predator.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Omg Bexxx!!!! Been a fan for the longest time. Everything you write is just so hot! Ive been dying for an update on Through The Heart Is The Only Way.! My roomie showed me how to jailbreak ChatGPT and I fed it the whole fic and the little preview and the AI was able to finish the fic for me!! IT WAS SO GOOD!!! If you're still having trouble writing the next chapter you should def try using it to help you finish!! <3

Wow. Okay. So. Hi there Anon. 

I dunno where to even start with this. 

So you say you are a really big fan of mine, and have been for a while. So where were you when I reblogged this post? Talking in depth about people plugging fanfic into ChatGTP, and me wholeheartedly agreeing that it is fucked up. Oh! Or how about this time? Or this one? Orrr this one? This one too. I said in the tags of those posts if anyone does this to me I am going to riot, so get ready for a fucking riot. 

I have posted and reblogged several, SEVERAL TIMES, that I am not okay with and do not consent to this shit. I will repeat now, with my whole fucking chest, so the fucking nosebleed seats can hear me, like a goddamned theater kid trying to impress a broadway talent scout level of volume, straight up BELTING TO THE BACK ROW-

I AM NOT OKAY WITH AND DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WRITING, TO MY ART, BEING PUT INTO AI PROGRAMS! 

This is just, so far removed, I don’t know why you would think this is even remotely okay!

I write for the love of the game, for the sheer love of CREATION ITSELF! Do you understand how much my writing and love for it and the media these characters are in and those same characters themselves permeate my thoughts? My days? I pour so much care and thought and effort into my shit behind the scenes. Hours and hours of thought and parsing, re-watching, writing that you don’t see and I do it not because I am getting money, not for likes, or comments or followers but because I fucking LOVE it. The urge in me is literally uncontrollable to do this. I feel proud of what I do! Do you have the smallest conception of the time, effort, blood, sweat, hours of sleep lost to my craft and this hobby that gives me creative satisfaction? I do NOT want this discounted or tramped on or heaven forbid forgotten.

How about we really break this down so you understand it. Let’s do some math. 

Through The Heart Is The Only Way has not gotten an update innnn a little over two months, sixty four days to be exact. But. How much writing have I posted in that time since I last updated that fic, the last chapter of which was, if you remember, is twelve THOUSAND words? I have posted, in the past sixty four days, since that last update, thirty eight thousand words. 

Wow! That is a lot of words for slightly over two months! 

It is almost like I care so much about TTHITOW that I am purposefully taking my time with it, not rushing it and writing it when the inspo grabs me by the fucking ovaries and will not let go. I re-watched the entire movie franchise and the tv series for this fic, I have a doc with piles of ideas and character study, I have chapter ten plotted, outlined and had it started! But shit like this? 

It doesn’t make me want to write it Anon.

It is demoralising. 

I feel disrespected as fuck right now. 

I KNOW what I am doing with this fic, I KNOW where it is going, I have the ending already planned, we are about half way through this fic AT BEST! I have probably another over sixty thousand words in me to tell this story the way I want to but knowing me? Definitely more. The fact that you think the only reason this fic isn’t updated more frequently or isn’t done yet is through lack of thought, from not knowing where to go? Is insulting as fuck. Me taking my time with this fic doesn’t mean I don’t care, it doesn’t mean I am not obsessed with it or love it. Frankly, it means the opposite, me dragging this out is because I love it so fucking much and I want to do it right. 

I have a ton of love for lots of movies, lots of characters, I want to give them all attention, I want to follow my muse, I don’t want to FORCE myself to write something when the mood isn’t right. The readers deserve better but so DO I! This is my love, this is my hobby, I want to do it my fucking way, because I guaran-FUCKING-tee, that whatever the fuck ChatGTP pumped out for you is a weak, pale, pathetic, whisper of a God forsaken SHADOW of what I have planned to unleash for this fics ending. 

I know that a lot of people look down at sexual content which is what 99% of what I do is. Lots of people view it as base, lesser, shallow, no care or thought or heart. That is not the fucking case, certainly not for me. Sex has deep personal meaning to me dude, I CHOOSE, actively make the decision to write and do these fics in the fashion I do. I write these character explorations and studies centered around sex and sexuality and write them through that lens because that is what I want to do, that is what speaks to me, that is what is important to ME and what I want to contribute to the fandom space.

I am human. I write to an inhuman degree, (remember last week when I posted three fics, totaling over eight thousand words in one day? Crazy that still isn’t enough somehow and you felt the need to do this-) but I am still a fucking person. I am an artist, a writer, an author and I deserve the most basic respect of my supposed “FANS” patience and ability to WAIT. That is the barest minimum. I write so often, I give so much of myself to it but some days I just want to come home from work and watch a movie. I want to have a bath, I want to cook or bake or spend time with my husband and those times, those breaks, make my writing all the better. My writing, all writing that is worth a damn, is inspired and pulled from real life experiences, hence why AI writing sucks, there is no actual life experience or interpretation, no fucking soul. All it is capable of doing is vomiting back out what is put into it and the idea that my shit is in there, that you took my writing and it is contributing to that writhing mass of technological horror that is doing this to countless other artists and writers? It is genuinely fucking upsetting.

I am so unbelievably mad it is insane. 

This was so gross, never do this again, to me or anyone else. And if you ask what to do when you are having trouble waiting for a fic? How about you leave some detailed comments? Try to talk to the author? I bet that most would LOVE to be talked to and asked about their fics, they are the prime people who want to talk about this shit, they are writing the fucking fic, clearly have a lot of love for it and get it, and also if you talk to them about it and show interest it might kick start their inspo again which means you will get that real and authentic update from the artist themselves. Also. Re-read, just re-read or explore more new fic, like me for instance, I have, again posted over ONE MILLION WORDS IN THREE YEARS OF POSTING! I have so much backlog, go read some of that while you wait for the updates man fucksake. 

I don’t want to hear this is too harsh, I don’t want to hear this is too mean, I do not fucking give a singular goddamned shit at all. You fucked up here hard Anon, take a good look at yourself and do fucking better.

And in case it wasn't obvious, my writing? Isn't for you, not anymore.

[exocynraku]

thoughts on a starless clan so far

i don't know if anything i said here has any definitive spoilers in it but i'll put it all under a cut for safety

short answer: it's ok. frostpaw's plot & the stuff with riverclan, riverstar & the COTP, splashtail & curlfeather are all REALLY COOL. I liked sunbeam in the beginning and have grown to dislike where her story has gone. I like the concepts surrounding nightheart's plot but dislike the execution & the reaction from the community. I am still excited for star. long answer:

frostpaw and splashtail's plot is really really good and ive been enjoying it a lot (probably because it reminds me of tpb). i liked sunbeam's plot with blazefire and lightleap and berryheart in the beginning but have gotten bored of her & her plot since nightheart showed up in her life & she moved to thunderclan. nightheart's plot has good concepts behind it but i don't like the execution & i don't like the 2 cross clan relationship plot in a row. i think it could've been better if they focused less on cross clan relationships and more on clan prejudice & xenophobia & the corruptness of the code system as a whole (though i know it's incredibly unlikely the writers would do that i still want To Hope) instead of just the romance part since we did that last arc (though i don't think it really got us anywhere as i personally dislike the 'trials' thing that was developed & don't think it's particularly useful). especially because it was specifically a cross CLAN relationship in a row. i'd be a bit more lenient if it was a clancat x kittypet/loner relationship as that hasn't been done in a bit (like if nightheart fell in love with a COTP cat or something). 

i like the pacing per-book but i think the pacing overall could be improved upon as it feels both sunbeam and nightheart's plots have been too separate from & slow compared to frostpaw's plot and haven't really been meshing well in the later books as the erins try to tie them all together. i also don't know if this is just my bad memory but i dislike the change of sunbeam and nightheart's personalities over time. they both feel like they are becoming cardboard cut out main characters to me. i liked sunbeam's relationship with lightleap blazefire & her family and thought it all was really realistic and especially in the lightleap/blazefire department was a surprising change of pace. i dislike what has become of both her plot and her personality as i feel they totally abandoned the lightleap/blazefire plot and turned her into a flat love interest. i do think it makes sense for her as a character to yearn for love but i think it'd make even MORE sense if she had a much more complicated relationship with love

i'm not going to speak further on nightheart because i know no matter what i say someone WILL be telling me to kill myself in one way or another so i'll keep in brief: no matter what you think of him, you at Need To Acknowledge & Be Conscious Of The Fact That Very Bad Things Have Been Said About & To Both Women And Disabled People Because Of His Plot In This Community. yes some very good & well-thought out conversations have been said in response, yes the majority of these things were said months and months ago when asc first was starting, But That Does Not Mean You Can Ignore That They Happened. If you want the community you are apart of to not be perceived as jackasses you cannot Ignore The Hatred Towards Women And Disabled People That Festers Inside Of It. you don't need to write a 9000 page essay about it, that's not what i'm asking, you just need to be CONCIOUS of it okay that's it. also while thinking about this i thought of how i'd rewrite sunbeam and the third pov (which i'd give to sparkpelt) so if anyone wants to hear about that send me an ask i'll make another 4 paragraph post about it

[syscourse-confessions]

i dont know where else to post this but I run a big pro endo blog but im actually really anti endo behind the scenes. i dont know. i dont think endos are scientifically possible and i dont like them. i made the blog out of curiosity but now its gotten kind of big and i get so many messages from actual "endo" systems thanking me for the blog and its such a weird position to be in. like i actually kinda hate endos ngl but ill keep running the blog because ive gone this far and its just such a big blog (by my standards at least). i needed to get this out. if you think you know who i am. no you dont <3

DISCLAIMER: Posts may or may not reflect accurate information. More info here: https://www.tumblr.com/syscourse-confessions/728819621058232320/disclaimer-treat-posts-here-like-you-would-any

[edelblau]

i dont know if i wanna attach this all to the comms sale but i wanted to talk a little bit and be a bit sad about my life bc this is a good site for that.

i have it better than a lot of people (the disability system here seems much more forgiving than americas, for instance) and i am grateful i can somewhat survive without working at least since its not feasible for me. at the same time though the amount i make is just. really hard to live off of.

itd be easier if i could go to the grocery store, and i was thinking maybe once i get a little better with my rollator i can, but realistically winter is coming and even if my leg strength starts to return, i wont be able to do that. ill have to shoulder those delivery fees and tips and all that for a long time and its just so expensive. and the past while has made me realize how incredibly screwed i am when it comes to big purchases. like i said in the thread i cant even use popular methods of breaking up payments really, if it hits every 2 weeks that just makes me more anxious as theres no guarantee any money will come in at all within that timeframe.

i love art and dont neccessarily see it solely as a vehicle for profit, yet in order to have hobbies in my life i have to be obnoxiously posting links everywhere. ive never closed my commissions save for once in the past 5 or 6 years, but its still far from consistent. i dont resent this neccessarily-- to be able to make anything at all is a gift. but rather its frustrating to be so reliant on it and not be able to just be grateful but to have that gratitude mixed with this constant anxiety. if another thing breaks, can i even replace it?

anyways. i wanted to ramble both for my own peace of mind but also because no matter how many times ive thought to myself that this time for sure ill be able to go a month without asking for help or being desperate, i feel like i keep coming back to it. i feel like ive gotten better about it in some ways but its just completely not noticeable behind the wall that is "back to back expenses". i kind of wish i didnt think to do a fun trip for my bday bc had i known everything would explode around me... idk.

anyways sorry for the long post.

[luckylolabug]

Tagged by the lovely @starwritingbri <3 <3 1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 17, after I yoinked some down. We won't talk about how many WIPs I have that aren't posted haha.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 150,958

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Uhh, multifandom girlie here so. Lockwood & Co, the DCU, Yuri on Ice, I currently have a folder of Six of Crows stuff getting ready for Whumptober but they're not posted yet, sometimes I one off and write stuff for Star Wars or TAZ: Balance. Ive got a big project going for Heartstopper that isnt posted yet, and I have a secondary account for MHA stuff lol. Also some joint stuff for FMA with Bri eventually!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In So Many Words- Yuri!!! on Ice

Sorry, This Page Cannot Be Reached- Yuri!!! on Ice

Slow Dancing in the Dark- Lockwood and Co

Barrels and Bootlegging- Lockwood and Co

Shimmer in the Haze of Winter Lawns- Lockwood and Co

5. Do you respond to comments?

For the most part, yes! I can get behind on them a bit, but I do try and keep up with them because the support is important to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't write a TON of angst??? But I want to say Heaven is Not Fit to House a Love Like You and I just for the context. Ask me again once I get my Whumptober stuff up in October and that's going to change, though.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of the stuff I write has happy endings! It's hard to pick just one?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Unfortunately. Weirdly, most of the fandoms I've dabbled in that have reps for being "the worst" have been the nicest to me as far as fics go, but I've gotten some very nasty comments on things for certain fandoms that don't have that kind of reputation. Fan culture is weird. I wish I could say it doesnt affect me buuuuut. There's a reason I stepped back from writing so much L&C and tend to drift with other fandoms more now.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have a few times, and I'm not like. Directly opposed to it? But it's not really my Jam a good 99% of the time and honestly I prefer just keeping most of my stuff Fade to Black or vague and not in depth if it comes up. I like focusing more on other stuff, but I don't think smut is bad either!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not as far as I'm aware. I have like. Some AU type stuff thats "This world but with these characters" but its not a direct crossover where the characters from multiple universes interact. I guess unless youre counting the DCU as a whole but??? Lol?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge, no? But it could have been, I guess.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! But I'd be cool with it! My mom helps me with Spanish in a few things for the Heartstopper project I have going since she's fluent, but those are just a few lines.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not anything POSTED, but eventually that'll change!

14. What is your all-time favorite ship?

Y'all, I am in too many fandoms for this lol. I don't know that I even HAVE an all-time fav that shoots above the rest? I have favs in fandoms, but not as a whole????

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Uhhhhh. Probably Barrels and Bootlegging??? I hate even putting this out there but fandom politics and the amount of BS just was draining the hell out of me when I was working on stuff so I don't even really have any plans to go back to finishing any of my stuff for L&C at this point. I'm happier writing other places, right now!

16. What are your writing strengths?

uHHHHHH???? Bri says its details, so I guess that? Putting details into everything?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

All of them. LOL. No, but honestly, I struggle with the editing process most because I think I end up re-writing things a good 5 or 6 times before I decide its fine and even then I struggle after stuff is posted just because I want to try so hard to keep things cohesive and correct. I spend way too much time Googling shit that shouldnt even really matter, but the small things matter to ME.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

The only thing I've really done it with is throwing in some stuff in Spanish, and I was only okay with that because my mom is fluent and offered to look it over for me to make sure it was correct. Otherwise I'm like.....Google Translate is inaccurate a lot and the idea of putting something in a fic that could be WRONG freaks the hell out of my OCD and I can't do it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh, jeez. Uhh. Honestly it was either ATLA or the Halo games? I don't fucking know, it was pretty mid 2000s. I still have my log in for FF.net and LiveJ but I dont really want to go look because Im sure I'll hate it.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This feels like a shit answer because it's not POSTED YET. But I really have been eating up everything I've written so far for this "Six of Crows but make it Modern" thing thats sitting at about 40k words right now. So probably that??? If its one that I have POSTED, then I think it's probably one of the 5+1s I did for Yuri on Ice just because those were really fun and light. I'm TERRIBLE at tagging people so uh. @fluffypinkkitties @twiilys and @chibiosaka I guess????

[wags-confessions]

Hi, So Ive seen the noise about Isabel and the rumours and so far here’s what I gathered.

Before this, I wanna say that the gossip about Isabel & Erling is hard to find because everytime someone spills, it gets deleted. There was this gossip page who was spilling THE TEA about them and it got reported by TeamHaaland(the guy who’s in love with Erling and who think Erling gonna come tuck him in at night and say thanks for being a boot licker (Erling dint even follow the guy).

Also the sources of gossip are from Bryne , so the people who spills conceals their identity to not get problems. Bryne people love to spill but like in secret (yk gossiping). Plus it’s gossip, use your reason and know to take it with a grain of salt.

1) lunasaksgard

This account is a troll. They always got Isabel’s age wrong. And also always changed their identity, they were Emma Brunes then and then suddenly they were a man. However, I do think that there’s something that happened between Emma B. and Isabel, they picked Emma B. as a false identity for a reason. And I have screenshots of an emmabrunnes account commenting about Isabel. So yeah , Luna isn’t the real Emma B., but the real emma b must have had some beef with Isabel. After all, if you gon pick a random person to impersonate, you wanna make it credible.

2) Gold digging and clout chasing

There was rumours on Twitter and Tumblr about her being a gold digger, even outside of Luna Saksgard tweets.

What fuelled the gold digging and clout chasing allegations are the random fan accounts that started to pop on Ig and Tiktok.

Account 1&2: isabelhaugsengj on Instagram and Tiktok (run by the same person).

Account 3: Isabelhaugsengjohansen1 on Instagram.

Account 4: isabelhaugseng on Tiktok (I think it belongs to the owner of account 1&2, because on Instagram the owner said it was their Tiktok account then they switched to isabelhaugsengj on TT).

The fan accounts really stirred up suspicions because they a) had a LOT of pictures b) isabelhaugsengj was followed by Isabel’s mom’s dog account. c) followed a lot of Isabel’s friends.

The fan accounts claimed to have gathered the pics from internet, Isabel’s friends account and her old vsco that has now been deleted. How could they have gotten all these pictures from her vsco when her relationship with Erling was a secret at the time? You mean to tell me that they download a random girl’s entire vsco just in time before she went public? Also what’s weird is that some of these pictures are impossible to find on the Internet, Isabel’s friends don’t post a lot of pictures of her, they know to keep her private. This is where things get weird, Isabel’s friends know to keep her hidden. They rarely post her and they make sure to not tag her on Ig stories. Also Erling is obviously very adamant to keep the relationship private. So Isabel’s being Erling girlfriend would also know this and also make sure that people don’t pay much attention to their relationship.

So riddle me this, y’all friend’s relationship is supposed to be super private. Y’all obviously know this, since y’all don’t post her often and make sure to not tag her. YET y’all with PRIVATE ACCOUNTS, are all followed by a fan page who literally post tons of pictures of your friend and her bf, and who’s post often has a lot of comments about the relationship, bringing attention to it. Mind you these account always switch between public and private so the friends can see what the fanpages post. And the friends have private accounts so they have to see who follows them and then accept the follow. Like come on now. It’s proof to me that’s it’s either Isabel behind these fanpages or that Isabel is in contact with the fanpages and feeding them content. In both case, she’s trying to get more public attention. She can’t do it directly since Erling don’t want to do she go through the fanpage.

3) Isabel being mean,rude, a bully and racist and a cheater

Racist: This I can’t tell for sure. Would I be surprised? No. The rumour of her being racist isn’t unheard of , many of the people I talked to have said they heard the same things. I remember seeing screenshots of someone who claimed to be the actual Emma B. (Not Luna and has denied being Luna). « Emma B. » had said that Isabel and her friends used to hit girls in training and had bullied someone for being black and fat.

Mean/Rude: Same Emma B. said it. Now apart from Emma B., I know someone (G) who’s friend with Isabel’s friends. That friend we will call her V. V said that Isabel is rude asf and even commented on her weight . Mind you V is « friends » with Isabel and Isabel called the girl fat unprovoked. Also V isn’t even fat. The rumours about Isabel being rude and mean is literally the most consistent thing of it all. Wether it’s V or randoms, they all say the girl is mean.

As for the cheating, I was told this by someone who knows the side boo’d entourage. I don’t think someone would make this up about her for free especially since the one who said it was a guy. I don’t know why a guy would lie about his entourage dating a footballer’s gf. The guy who said this is also a guy from Bryne who’s around Isabel age. People from Bryne are gossipy asf and will lay out everyone’s business for free. So yeah, I don’t think he would lie about his friend messing with Isabel on the low. Also it tracks with her being a gold digger, if she only wants Erling money and fame, it’s not surprising she goes for another guy when she can.

4) Isabel’s family & friends

Now, from G & V, Isabel’s mom has been bragging about Isabel and Erling dating and his money. Also, she’s the one who puts Isabel in football , Isabel don’t really like football that much (Bryne is a football town so I think it’s likely her mom knew that it would help Isabel mingle with the folks. This like social climbing 101 but I can’t say for sure. Maybe she wanted Isabel to do like the other kids). They also said Isabel’s mom was way too happy about Jan Eide and Gabrielle.

Now her mom is married to Jan Eide (Gabrielle’s husband) dad. Jan Eide is her step brother not blood brother and Isabel’s mom married the dad in 2018. So the anon who say the families knows each other very well, we don’t know for sure. Also, gold digging people aren’t screaming it on the top of their lungs that they’re gold diggers, especially not to their targets.

As for her friends, I know some gonna say « why would her friend (V) gossip about her. Bryne is a gossipy ass town. These people gossip a lot, and brags a lot. If they sit on hot gossip they’ll spill. Also, remeber that Isabel treated V badly. It’s not out of reach that people who hangs with her gets tired and speaks. V & Isabel are friends but it don’t mean V likes her much (especially since Isabel body shamed her). Plus people have surface friendships all the time.

5) Thoughts

That’s just me, but I personally believe that the rumours are true but there’s also jealousy at okay. Two things can be true. Both jealous fan girls and people who just here for the tea are exposing rumours about Isabel.

I deffo believe the gold digger and mean allegations. The fanpages and V really solidified it for me. Think about it, she’s not a model, an influencer, or a very famous wag like Antonela (Messi’s dream girl who he’s been in love with since childhood) or Georgina (modern day rags to riches Cinderella-ish story. Gio who also is « wifey material » and a hustler (insta modeling, brand deals , Netflix). So truly, what’s there to be a fan of? If there was a fanpage for every pretty girlfriends then we would never see the end of it. She’s not of those girlfriends with an outstanding sense of style (no offense) or a very unique look (Zoe cristofeli and her tattoos) she’s pretty but don’t have outstanding features, you can find dozens of girls that look just like her (once again no offense). I don’t buy it that she has fans. I dmed the fanpages once and they couldn’t even tell why they were a fans. They said « I wanted a positive place for issie/Isabel). Like they didn’t even give another reason (ie: she’s pretty/she’s nice/I’m a Haaland fan). They even said they not really Haaland fans. So you telling me that people really are that interested in a girl who’s basically not known (Haaland hides her) and who don’t do anything? Come on now.

Jesus that was a long read — you really took some time for this