#some of them have prevented me from following their blogs

[quantum1mmortality]

Rubatosis;

The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat

•Captain Curly x reader

Chat bare with me I'm trying out a new aesthetic because I'm sick and tired of my blog being UGLY and CHAOTIC so I'm using dividers and sticking to a color scheme for the first time don't judge me pls

Summary; Winter storm, blackout, no heater; the worst things that could've happened on your only weekend off. Luckily, your boyfriend Curly knows how to keep you warm.

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, pre established relationships (you guys are dating), cursing, the word 'radiate" is used like 20 times don't mind that chat, no use of y/n just curly calling you various pet names, no prep like at all(slight fingering????), curly whimpers, the smut is actually really unnecessary but ignore that too, piv, pwp??, unsafe sex, cumming INSIDE!!!, praise kink, curly talks you through it (I think)

Not proofread

You curl up with as many blankets as you can, shivering and watching your breath become visible from the cold. You can feel your body go numb as all you can do is wait for your power to come back on. It's been out for the past hour, and with the awful snow storm that just rolled through your town, you can tell it isn't coming back on anyime soon.

Sounds come from outside your window, sounds that you can barely hear over the cold chattering of your teeth. A car parking in your driveway, a car door opening and closing, and heavy feet making their way to your front door, shaking the doorknob while trying to open it.

The door creeks open, followed by the sound of heavy winds. You can hear footsteps walk into your house, closing the door, and walking towards the bedroom you now reside in.

"Sorry about the wait, love. I tried to leave work as soon as I heard about the power outage, but thought it would be best to stop somewhere to get some things to warm you up." It was your boyfriend, Curly, who you had no idea was coming over. Yet here you are, shaking in a cold bed as he roots through the bags he brought with him.

As he digs through the bags, seemingly looking for something specific, he throws miscellaneous items on your bed. Chocolates, a candle, a box of matches, more chocolates, and a bottle of wine. "Since we're basically trapped in here till the storm is over, I thought we could make the most of it. Have a romantic weekend or something.. I tried getting things I knew you'd like."

Just then, he finds what he was looking for; hand warmers. Ripping open the packaging, he walks to your side of the bed, handing you all that was in the box. The heat radiating from them was almost hurting you, but burning doesn't feel so bad when you're freezing.

Curly leaves the room for a moment, coming back with two wine glasses in hand; placing them on your bedside table. He takes off his work uniform, leaving him in only an undershirt and pants. You hold out your arms to him, signalling that you want him to be in bed with you. He smiles, lifting up the blankets and laying next to you.

You shiver, feeling his warm hands touch your cold body. "Poor thing.. I wish I could've been here sooner, maybe prevent you from getting to this state." He says softly, kissing your forehead as he raps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"I'm glad you're here.." you say, dozing off. The warmth Curly radiates was more than enough to make your body become less tense. Your hands make their way to his chest, pressing gently as you bury your head in the crook of his neck.

"I know you are, love, and I'm glad to be here, too." He whispered softly, hands traveling from your waist to your hips. He lifts your shirt up slightly, moving his fingertips to your now exposed skin. "Fuck, you're freezing." You could hear the concern in his voice, switching from just his fingertips to his whole hand. "Does that feel better? Are you warmer now?"

You nod. Everything about him was warm, a stark contrast from how cold you currently are. Any part of him that was directly touching you was doing wonders for your current state. "Use your words, love." Even when you're freezing, Curly will still find a way to tease you. This world is so cruel.

You sigh, "yeah, that feels better. Thank you." He smiles, happy with your answer. He pulls your body closer to his, your chest flush against his own. His fingertips move in a circular motion, trying to keep you calm. Which, to his credit, is working.

With the warmth of your beloved boyfriend mixed with the light musk scent of the cologne he always wore, you were falling asleep quickly. He could feel your eyelashes flutter shut against his neck, followed by your soft breathing hitting his skin. He presses a small kiss on your forehead, pulling you just the slightest bit closer to himself before dozing off.

Your eyes slowly open, groaning out as you realize it's still cold in your room. You try to back away, but Curlys grip on you tightens. He shifts slightly as he begins to wake up, hands moving from your waist, to his eyes, to your waist again. "Good morning, beautiful.. lovely seeing you here." He says in a raspy tone, indicating he just woke up.

You smile, curling back into his grasp. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You say in an almost hushed voice. He chuckles, placing a small kiss on your cheek.

"No worries, love. Just more time I get to spend with you." He chuckles, burying his head in the crook of your neck; kissing every bit of exposed skin he could in the process. You laugh, squirming in his arms, but his grip on you only tightens.

"Curly- stop-" you get out between giggles.

He lays one final kiss just below your ear, letting out a heavy sigh; now out of breath. He places one of his hands on your chest, just below your collar bone. His fingertips trace up the skin of your neck, stopping to grab your chin, lifting it up slightly.

Your eyes meet with his and he leans in for a kiss. It was soft, gentle, everything he was condensed into a simple act of affection. It was perfect. His hands fully cupping your face, pulling you in so he can deepen the kiss further.

Your hands their way to his scalp, his hair curling between your fingers as you gently pull. His mouth opens for a split second, letting out a small whimper at the new sensation. His kisses become slightly sloppy as he begins to sit up, flipping you so your back is now pressed against the bed. He places himself between your legs, breaking the kiss so he can trail small kisses and nibble down your neck.

As his hands wander down your chest, to your waist, and eventually to your hips, he sings small praises to you in-between each mark he lays on your neck. His fingers go under the seam of your panties, slipping them off of you with ease. With one hand keeping your legs open, the other traces up your inner thigh, slowly inserting one of his digits into your aching heat.

"Curly~" you gasp, your hands locking behind his neck as a way to ground yourself. Just then, he slips another in. The feeling of his cold fingers curling inside of you sent shockwaves through your body.

Curly takes his fingers out of your cunt, lifting his head from your neck to lick off the slick that remains. You whine at the empty feeling, small tears forming already. "Crying already, love?" He says with a smile. He lines his cock to your entrance, the tip prodding at your hole. He lowers his body back down to yours, "forgive me, dear. Sorry if this hurts." He whispers in your ear.

Your hands go back to his neck, going up to grab his hair again. You cry out as you can feel him stretch your insides, pulling at his hair even more in the process. Curly grips the sheets beneath him, his hand quickly moving to your waist to hold both you, and himself down.

As he can feel you reach your limit, he stops, holding still for a moment. "Are you alright? You're not too hurt, are you?" He says, raising his head to look at you.

"Y-yeah.. it just hurts a bit.." you trail off. He sighs in relief.

"I know, love. It's going to. I wish there was more I could do, but I promise it'll be worth it. Alright?" He smiles, kissing away the small tear lines on your cheeks. You smile back, coming your fingers through his hair gently before moving your hands to rest on his back instead.

He takes a deep breath, slowly moving his hips backwards before meeting with yours again. His steady thrusts help you adjust to his size better, but it only leaves you wanting more.

"I'm gonna go faster, alright?" He says, nearly out of breath. You nod. He increases his speed, going faster than you had anticipated. You cry out his name, digging your nails into the skin on his back. "I know, love, I know." He whispered.

More tears stream down your face as the pain quickly turns into pleasure. You moan with each thrust, nails still digging into his back. Curly whimpers at the feeling, "fuck- just like that, you're doing amazing, love~" he says in a soft, out of breath tone.

You can feel yourself getting closer as your legs instinctively close around his hips, inadvertently pushing him deeper inside you. You try to speak, but the words just won't come out. "Curly- I-" you stutter, not being able to think straight because of the pleasure.

His pace doesn't falter, though. His hands move to your thighs, holding onto them with force in an attempt to not go any rougher than he already is. Your cries and moans become louder, chanting his name as if it were a prayer. You feel the knot in your stomach come undone, your back arching and head thrown back. With one final moan, you can feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, followed by your slick soiling the sheets beneath you.

"Just a little longer, love. You've done so well for me this far, I'm sure you can hold out a bit more." Curly praised, continuing his pace. His hands grip your thighs tighter, leaving crescent shaped marks on your flesh. With one more deep, rough thrust, he moans out your name, releasing inside of you. He collapses on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder as you both try to catch your breath.

"Are you.. still cold?" He whispered softly.

You smile, "no. Not at all."

A/N; this would've been out two days ago but the new stardew valley update came to console and I've been GRINDING that shit. Also, the title was supposed to make an appearance in the fic. Right before the smut starts, when curly puts his hand on YOUR 🫵 chest, I was gonna add some dialogue like, "your heart is beating fast.. do I make you nervous?" But I thought that was cringe and cut it out.

[cantstayawaycani]

Personal ...

[catboybiologist]

So.

Re: tumblr bans of transfemmes.

Let's ignore PhotoMatt for a moment. Manbaby tech CEO doubling down on a stupid decision and making himself look like more of an ass doing so is not a new phenomena.

Tumblr has consistently said, in both public statements and leaked internal communication, that they're essentially running a skeleton crew.

They keep saying that they don't have the resources to moderate, manually review posts, have any kind of appeal process, or anything. So, as people have widely received communications about, they seemed to have automated a significant portion of the moderation to operate solely on the quantity of reports (probably with a basic filter, eg quantity of reports regarding a certain post, within a certain timeframe) to automatically ban or shadowban accounts.

And so, they wipe their hands, both to the users, the public, and their own consciousness, and go about their automated operations.

All of this is likely true. Tumblr, at this point, is essentially abandonware internally, a kind of weird vanity project/dumpster ground for server infrastructure for Automattic. Likely, they don't want the bad press of "shutting down" fully. Or maybe the trickle of revenue they get here just barely exceeds operating costs, so why not keep it around?

Whatever is the case, the bans are a result of an automated process working in the background. I'm giving them some benefit of the doubt here, of course, we can't know anything for certain- but it seems like the individual bans are not based on any specific, manual action.

And that doesn't fucking excuse anything.

Because at some point, multiple people sat down at tumblr, and decided how to cut costs.

And they decided that the bare minimum of report abuse prevention was one of the first things on the chopping block.

Before the boops. Before GUI reconfigures.

They decided to cut something that is necessary to manage online communities.

They decided to cut something that ensures any targeted group will have any kind of community online.

And then, after all of that, the only manual intervention is doubling down on the shitty decisions that the automated systems make, and plucking reasons out of their ass for why they were the right decisions all along.

It's pure silicon valley brain. Blame the computer often and always. Use it to shield the active decisions you made when designing the computer that way. Treat it as a fact of life as opposed to something they actively made decisions for.

Is tumblr staff hitting the banhammer on each transfemme one by one? No.

Is tumblr staff deliberately crafting a system that allows TERFs and other conservative bigots to get rid of the "undesirables" for them? Yup. But they sure as hell are trying to not say the quiet part out loud. If they can always point the finger somewhere else, to the advertisers, to the automated systems, to the TERFs, then they can always have juuusssttt enough plausible deniability.

But being the "queerest place on the internet" requires concious acknowledgement that queer people will be targets of harassment, and you will have to protect against that.

Side note, this is why I do try to keep my blog at least somewhat SFW. Its one of the main reasons why I choose not to reblog all of the posts I'm tagged in- if the post is overtly NSFW, I've probably seen it, appreciated it, and consciously decided my level of interaction with it mostly based on how "tumblr friendly" it is. Is that bowing down to them? A little. It's also my choice. I value the community I have here. The pushes that y'all have given me gave me the strength to transition, and honestly gives me a lot of motivation to research HRT biology as much as I can, among many other things.

Yeah, I post pictures that are clearly meant to be found attractive in ways that are generally not socially acceptable , but never actual NSFW. I would like to think that I'm pretty safe from bans, but hey. Who knows. I don't want to lose my follower base, and the community around it.

And yeah, I'm gonna annoyingly remind you of the other places to find me, make sure to check my pin. If you don't know where to go, just find me on reddit and go from there, I'll post about it if anything happens.

[highvern]

Rough

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: Cheol’s hands, fingering, spitting, minor pain kink, pussy slapping, teasing/begging, thick dick cheol, unprotected sex, creampie, minor breeding kink, mating press, soft(ish) dom Cheol, strength kink, he’s wearing a watch and his chain, praise

Length: ~2k

Note: an ode to Cheol's hands, and his c*** i needed a cigarette while looking at pictures of his hands for this fic. everyone rot with me @gyuswhore @wonustars @ourdawnishotterthanourday @seokgyuu

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

The lights of the TV illuminate you and your boyfriend’s intertwined forms resting on the sofa. Seungcheol’s hands busy themselves, fingers digging into the sore cords of muscle twisted along your legs. He thinks nothing of it, focused on the drama unfolding on screen while you focus on the cool metal of his watch licking just above your knee.

He smiles when you jump, the tickle of his fingers sending bubbling laughter into the space between you.

“What?” He asks, as if he doesn't have all your weak spots committed to memory.

“Nothing.” you mumble.

“Want me to stop?”

A shake of your head is the only reply Seungcheol needs before he pins your flailing limbs and goes about his business once again. 

His hands always feel incredible. They’re always warm, always gentle despite what lurks beneath the surface. And they’re always on you, in some way or another. 

The roughness of his palm or dig of his fingers are second nature after years of them glued to your body. Whether they’re holding you close or stroking across your cheek as he wakes you with sweet kisses. Heating the small of your back while he guides you in a crowd, or tangled with your own as he whispers his deepest secrets into the dark late at night. You love every part of him but his hands show you a million different ways he feels the same.

You try not to react as he massages up your thighs, the sinew of muscles seizing before they melt under his careful ministrations. 

Every sigh through your nose is a tell Seungcheol is well accustomed to; what you like and what you love. Because he knows you like when he focuses on the curve of your quad, or the meat of your calves until they’re putty.

But you love when he pushes his hand under your oversized shirt and stretches the muscles deeper inside until you vibrate with want.

“You’re not watching the movie.” He whispers into your ear, nose following the curve of your jaw to the place he knows drives you wild.

“I'm a little distracted right now.”

And just like that the thick fingers stuffed in your cunt freeze before retreating. You can’t close your thighs to stop it due to the hand pinning your leg down to his lap with bruising force. But he can’t prevent your free leg from kicking in protest as you beg him to stay.

Seungcheol pinches the inside of your thigh until it stings, “Stop.”

You know that tone. It’s the one that warns you if you keep going, you won’t get what you want; what you need. Seungcheol isn’t a stingy lover but he likes to play and this is his newest game. If you can play along long enough he’ll make it worth your while.

“Eyes on the TV.”

With a harsh swallow you turn back to the screen. Once your boyfriend is sure you won’t look away, his hand returns, three fingers stretching you at a snail's pace. When he’s worked them all in, no longer cautious of your initial discomfort, he stops; focused on curling up against that spot he’s always found with embarrassing ease; pressing until your legs shake and you actually do start dripping into his lap. If it wasn’t for the fabric of your shirt, he could see everything.

The hand on your thigh joins in, the pad of his finger drawing rough circles of your clit. It’s fast and it's dirty but you keep pretending to watch the TV while Suengcheol does as he wants. Your mind is so numb you don’t even realize he’s pushed away the blanket and ruched your shirt up your hips to leave you bare. Not until you hear him spit and feel it land on your exposed clit framed between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into the upholstery. “Please.”

But he’s not done yet. A swift slap to your pussy sends stars in your eyes and your body ten feet in the air if not for the man forcing you in place.

“Just relax, baby.”

You try. And Seungcheol respects your effort because every muscle he worked into submission over the past ten minutes jumps alive under your skin but you sit still in his lap and take what he gives you like he knows you can.

He kisses your cheek before whispering, “I love you.” 

Each word burns into your skin, licks through your blood. He loves you, and you love him and all he wants to do is take care of you. So you try and let him even if it means madness. 

Seungcheol watches you pretend to watch the movie once again, but your mind focuses on the sound of debauchery echoing between your thighs. If you looked down you know what you’d see. The way your pussy clings to his fingers with every stroke out, how they glisten with your arousal, every squeeze; everything. 

All the teasing is enough to make your eyes gloss. Especially when he adds a fourth finger and tells you how perfect you are, how you were made for him, and if you cum right now he’ll give you his cock but you have to earn it.

You want to feel his lips suck around your clit until you're nothing more than an empty shell but you’ll happily settle for the swipes of his fingers. It’s obscene how wet you are and how loud your ruined cunt is over the blasting speakers. 

“C’mon pretty girl,” he coos into your ear. “Come for me.”

The coil winds and winds until it snaps. All the edges ripple, the world blurs. Every breath hurts from the punch in your stomach forcing bolts of electricity through your nerves. 

And Seungcheol doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’re crying. Only to kiss away each tear with praise and soft lips. You barely crack your eyes open, watching his fingers disappear between his lips, sucking away the mess before he gives you a taste on his mouth.

Eyes shut and boneless in his arms, you let him push and pull you just the way he wants. Your body’s only protest in the exhaustion Seungcheol’s fucked into you with his hands. But it’s not enough to keep you from taking him again.

It never is.

When the jostling stops, you find him kneeling before you. He hasn't bothered to remove his clothes, or yours. Just forces your shirt over your breasts and his pants down until he's bare. Thick thighs frame an equally thick cock you know like the back of your hand.

If your boyfriend thinks you’re beautiful then he is other worldly in the glow of the LED screen. 

Hands anchored on the back of your knees, you spread out for his eyes only. Seungcheol’s mouth waters at your wrecked pussy, soaked and swollen from his attention, begging to be split on his cock. The drooling tip of his length taps against your clit, sending you deeper into the spiral, each nudge making your muscles twitch until he uses his thumb to catch on your opening and force himself through the mind numbing clench.

Seungcheol goes slow, pressing forward only a millimeter at a time, barely giving you a taste before he pulls back and starts again. If the way you’re positioned didn’t prevent you from rushing him forward than the fist around his cock would as he teases you until you're begging and he’s puffing up with pride at how desperate you are. 

Just when you think he’s ready to give in, almost flat against one another, he pulls out.

“I sweat to fucking god if you don’t fu—ckkkkkkk,”

Sheathed to the base in your heat Seungcheol finds paradise, dick twitching with every breath. The rough skin of his palms circle your ankles, spreading them up and out of the way so he can lean forward and give you what you want; your pussy stretched to the brim on his cock while he fucks every last thought out of your head.

“Move.” You mewl, barely human, shaking under his weight.

Settling your legs over his shoulders, he folds you in half, freeing the hands you love so much to do as he pleases. One lands just above your head to keep him from completely crushing you and the other cradles your jaw, thumb brushing across your lower lip before he meets you with a kiss.

His tongue glides against your own, fucking your mouth as his hips curl in time. Every thrust forward forces the air in your lungs up your throat to be swallowed by your boyfriend. He strokes you to life, pinned in place, helpless, glowing.

Seungcheol groans as he fucks you harder. “Fuck, you take it so well.”

You're shaking, vibrating from the synapses firing through every inch of your being. Chin dipped, you watch him wreck you, creaming around the base of his length like he’s fucked you for hours rather than minutes.

You’ll come like this, without any pressure on your clit; just the delicious drag of his thick cock in your walls, crushed under his weight and entirely at his mercy. Helpless Seungcheol latches his hand you yours, intertwines your fingers, and cants against like he’s possessed.

Eyes rolled as you go limp, you reach for his face and whimper into his mouth, climbing higher and higher until you hit the ceiling. Your hands are everywhere, anywhere in reach as you fail to ground yourself against the wave of pleasure rolling through your veins. And it all shatters with a whimper of his name.

He’s perfect and he’s yours and you don’t know what you did to earn him but you know you could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve him.

You try to break through the noise. But it just serves to make things worse because the only thing the man on top you likes to see more than you desperate for him is you coming on his cock. The arm above your head collapses, sending all of his weight on you, forcing him deeper into your guts until you can taste him on the back of your tongue. The wet clap of his balls against your ass with each rut forward rockets you into the deep end. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Seungcheol bites into your jaw. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, you’re so good. So good.” 

It’s blinding, eyes cinched so tight fireworks float in the darkness; Seungcheol’s moans blending with the rush of blood fleeing your brain. He’s feral with the satisfaction of your orgasm, how you wail beneath him like your neighbors won’t hear and know you have a man who pleases you in every way imaginable. Like you want everyone to know his name.

“Cheol,” you whisper, all breath. So quiet he wouldn’t hear you if he wasn’t dialed into your every move. “Want…” you pant. “Want you…”

Seungcheol presses as deep as he can before letting go; stuffing you with his cum, grinding into your pussy with every jerk of his cock until it spills around where he splits you and slips down your ass. 

His eyes never leave yours, watching you take every drop of his affection like you were made to. Like he was the one made to give it to you. Even with your thrashing, you never look away.

A final pathetic noise scratches the inside of your throat when he’s done. Seungcheol won’t pull out but he will pull away, yearning to see the mess between your bodies. Cum and arousal smears your bellies, your thighs, the base of his cock still inside you. Eventually he'll pull you up to wash off and you have no doubt the cushion will be beyond repair.

When he’s had his fill, he collapses into your chest, arms twine around your back as he kisses you with every ounce of devotion he can spare. Until you can feel his love down to the tips of your toes and through every last cell in your body.

And because showing you isn’t enough, he tells you again and again while he fills you once more in the comfort of your shared bed.

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[mandarinmoons]

can i request fluff for fem or gn reader (you pick) that involves spencer rambling? could be platonic or romantic pairing. i just really miss reid’s rambles ☹️☹️🤍🤍 thank youuu

“Oh my god, Spencer, look!”

Spencer was startled when you shoved the phone in his face and he had to push your hand back a bit so he could see what you were trying to show him on your screen.

“Aren’t they the cutest?”

The picture on display was of two otters holding hands while floating in a river. Spencer noticed how you were beaming at the sight and cleared his throat.

“Did you know that otters hold hands while they sleep so that they don’t drift apart from one another?”

“Really?”

Spencer nodded and continued, “Yeah. Sea otters, particularly mothers and pups, sometimes hold hands while floating on their backs. Hand-holding keeps the otters from drifting away from each other and their food source while they sleep. They also sleep wrapped in long strands of kelp like a blanket. The kelp acts like an anchor and prevents them from floating out to the open ocean. When a pup is small, the mother will hold it on her belly to keep it from floating away.”

“Oh my god, that’s adorable!”

Spencer smiled when he heard the squeal in your voice.

“Baby otters are usually called pups. They can also be called kits or kittens. Female otters are sows, and males are boars. Otter groups are called a family, bevy, lodge, or romp. The latter is the most common term for a group of otters on land. A group of otters in the water is most often called a raft.”

“Wait what? Kittens? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Well it’s true,” Spencer chuckled when he saw your lips form into a pout. If he had known that you had a love for otters he would’ve spewn out some facts about the adorable animals a long time ago.

“Do you know anything else about them?”

“Uh, well… they have this special dance that they do when they try to um, relieve themselves.”

“Oh I’ve got to see that.”

Spencer laughed when you took out your phone again and searched up what he had just told you.

Pulling up a video, you sat down next to Spencer and cuddled up to his side a bit as you two laughed at the video.

You kept scrolling through the videos that were recommended and soon enough you were fully nestled into Spencer’s side, his hand gently caressing your side. Who knew that a conversation about some silly facts about otters would lead you to the both of you enjoying each other’s company in this way?

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager @indyvelazquez @nini123 @justlivinginadaydream @kers505 @dan-the-womans-blog

Notice: I am no longer adding people into my taglist and will be discontinuing it soon so if you'd like to be kept up to date with my future works then please follow me x

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[read-marx-and-lenin]

I’m following the DPRK debates (or trying to at least) but ultimately I’m struggling to understand how to glorify a nation that impedes so heavily on its citizen’s human rights, any insight?

Two things:

First, you shouldn't be trying to glorify anything. You should be trying to understand things and separating truth from fiction.

Second, in that vein, you should be seriously questioning what is being said about the DPRK and why. The US and its allies have a vested interest in ensuring that any socialist project fails, and when they are unable to cause a real failure, they work to make the public believe that it has failed anyway.

The two main sources of the most egregious human rights violations are defector testimony and US/ROK intelligence. If you've been following what I've posted about the DPRK on this blog then you should already know the problems with defector testimony (you can watch this short documentary if you want to know more about that and hear from a few former DPRK residents who rebut many typical defector narratives,) but suffice it to say that the ROK actively pays defectors to make false and scripted statements in the South Korean media, and those who do not go along with the ROK government narrative or who actively contradict it are censored and even face prison time.

Meanwhile, Western intelligence is inherently unverifiable. The best you're going to get is a satellite photo with a building labeled "torture facility" as if we're supposed to look at a roof and be like "uh-huh, that looks like a torture facility to me". US and ROK intelligence officials can and do say whatever they like, but at the end of the day they are the direct enemies of the DPRK and their claims cannot be trusted.

The two Korean governments are still at war; they have never signed a peace treaty. Their conduct must be viewed first and foremost in this context. Both the ROK and the DPRK block movement of people across the DMZ. Both the ROK and the DPRK prevent the dissemination of information coming from each other's nations. Both the ROK and the DPRK surveil their citizens and place controls on the media. Both the ROK and the DPRK place limits on political and cultural activity. The ROK acts to suppress anti-capitalist movements and protect the capitalist way of life, and the DPRK acts to suppress anti-socialist movements and protect the socialist way of life, as both sides view their own political and economic systems as vital to the protection of human rights. On any of these grounds, you cannot fault one side without faulting the other, which is why Western media often opts instead to focus on the more exaggerated and unverifiable claims except when explicitly advocating in favor of capitalism over socialism.

Finally, there is the issue of contradictory ideas of human rights. The capitalist West will insist time and time again that the right to private property is a basic human right, while avoiding or even denying the idea of a right to food, shelter, clothing, healthcare, etc. as a basic human right. To the West, a landlord's right to evict a tenant is inviolable. To the West, denying a person shelter is more of a human right than granting them shelter. The opposite is true in socialist nations such as the DPRK. That the DPRK holds different values as human rights does not then mean that the DPRK is some terrible oppressive violator of human rights. The right to be a capitalist should not be considered a human right. The right to be a saboteur should not be considered a human right.

The DPRK Association for Human Rights Studies, a non-governmental organization in Pyongyang, published a report in 2014 on human rights from the perspective of the DPRK, outlining their objections to US-led international human rights standards and the progress being made in the DPRK towards guaranteeing human rights. You can call it propaganda if you like, but if you do not even look at the statements coming out of the DPRK, how can you have a rounded view of the situation?

Had the DPRK not succeeded in withstanding the attacks against it, had it managed to become subjugated by the US and other imperialist forces, I do not think we could then say that human rights in North Korea would have been secured and safeguarded. The poverty and inequality that the proletariat of South Korea are afflicted with today would have become the norm across the whole peninsula. Even if you believe that human rights are violated today in the DPRK, you must at least admit that the victory of the US and its puppet government in the South cannot be a means of combating any alleged human rights violations in the North.

[nostalgebraist]

Frank @nostalgebraist-autoresponder will permanently halt operation at 9 PM PST this Wednesday (May 31, 2023).

For context on why, see this post.

(tl;dr this project been a labor of love for me for years, it takes a ton of continual effort, and my heart's not in it anymore.)

----

The blog itself will stay up indefinitely, it just won't make any new posts or accept asks.

Most of the code, models, etc. are freely available right now. Insofar as they are now, they will continue to be. The change on May 31 is unrelated to this stuff.

I've made various interactive demos of these components over the years, and the demos will likely still work after the bot stops. But I won't do any tech support or maintenance on them, and I would actively recommend against using these as a way to "get Frank back."

----

I want to emphasize the following:

The best way for you to "send Frank off" over the next few weeks is to talk to her just like usual.

(And not too often, because she can only make 250 posts a day.)

This is true for a number of reasons, and can be viewed from a number of different angles:

(1)

While it can be fun to anthropomorphize Frank, she is structured very differently from a person, or even an animal.

She does not remember anything, even between two asks made on the same day. Every moment is a new one, with no relation to any other.

If you say "goodbye" or "you're going to be shut off" to her on May 30 2023, it's just as though you had said the same thing to her on some random day last year. She can't tell the difference.

She doesn't know these things are true or relevant now, and she can't possibly know in the way a human would. She's hearing the words for the first time, every time, and reacting in accordance with that.

Think of it like interacting with a baby, or someone with dementia. Every moment stands alone. If you strike a sad tone, they don't appreciate that it's about something. They just know that there is a sad tone, in the current experiential moment.

(2)

Frank mostly operates on a first-come, first-serve basis. She can only make 250 posts a day. There is a limited amount of time left.

Be conscientious about the way you're using up "slots" in this limited array of remaining Frank posts. Don't hog the ride.

(3)

I'm shutting down this bot in part because it's been a long-term, low-grade source of stress to me. I'd like the last weeks of the bot to be as low-stress as they can be.

When Frank gets an unusually large, or just unusual, form of user input over a period of time, I usually have to step in and do something in response.

(if there's way more input than usual and I don't do anything special, Frank will fill up most of her post limit quota before I even wake up, and then the asks will pile up further and further over the rest of the day.)

Maybe I have to delete a bunch of asks. Maybe I have to deploy some temporary change to her mood parameters to prevent the mood from getting too high or low and not coming back to baseline. Maybe I have to turn on "userlist mode," which still involves a cumbersome manual procedure.

Or, maybe I just have to do a lot more content moderation than usual.

"Usual," here, means reviewing and (mostly) approving something like 20 different hypothetical Frank posts per day, every day. If I go do something fun, and let myself forget about this task completely for 6 or 8 hours, there's a backlog waiting for me afterwards. During busy times, there's even more of this.

Just, like, help me chill out a bit, okay? Thanks.

[starlightomatic]

Hi! I saw your tags on unlearning zionism and I was wondering if you've ever spoken about that/the kind of processing you had to do? I think it's... Interesting (for lack of a better word) how this is a sentiment I've seen reflected on pretty much all explicitly non-zionist Jewish blogs I follow, and how much that reflects both how closely entwined the concept and Jewishness has become and the fierce zionism in some people.

Obviously you're free to not discuss this at all, I also understand it's deeply personal. (I'm also not intending to make anyone change their mind, I believe this is a process Jewish people should be afforded on their own terms; I'm really just trying to understand where they're coming from). ♥️

The tl;dr was through talking to people, breaking my rigidities, and being lucky enough to encounter people who were kind, committed to dialogue, and not dismissive.

Longer version under the cut.

In winter 2019 I started dating a non-zionist, so a lot of the early stuff was through conversations with them.

Here are the specific things I recall through them:

They validated my experience of having felt traumatized by a negative experience I had at a protest. I felt very on the defense, and dismissed, as a zionist who wanted to be in leftist spaces and they validated that. I don't know if they were faking it or not, but it felt real, and being heard and not dismissed was super important to building trust and safety. Ultimately, building trust and safety was the most important thing.

They would sometimes patiently poke holes in things I said. Matter of factly, not confrontationally. For example, once I said I didn't like the separation wall dividing Israel proper from the West Bank but that it was necessary to prevent terrorist attacks, and they were like "no, that wasn't the wall, it was a change in PA policy." Another time I was like "I don't understand [West Bank] settlers, if they want to be pioneers and settle more land they should settle the Negev, where they're not encroaching on Palestinians!" and they explained to me more about the situation between Israel and Bedouins and how that actually still would involve encroaching/displacement.

They're very religious, and so they had the tools to poke into my "but just open a siddur! you can see all the references to returning to Jerusalem!" and discuss how that differed from and predated zionism the political ideology. They were able to break through my dismissiveness/derision of Chareidi antizionism and help me understand that it has legitimate religious underpinnings. (They're not Chareidi though.) They affirmed for me that they do feel connected to Eretz Yisrael and they love Eretz Yisrael.

They also explained that indigenous doesn't mean "from a place" but rather describes a relationship to colonialism. It still didn't totally click for me, and they and I have both since come to understand that there are a lot of definitions of indigenous, but what it did help me understand was that when people push back against "Jews are indigenous to EY" they're not always trying to say we're not from there.

In general it helped me break down what I thought an antizionist was. I thought that an antizionist was someone who didn't think Jews had a meaningful spiritual and communal connection to EY, thought we weren't from there, didn't give a shit if all Israeli Jews ended up pushed into the sea, hadn't opened a siddur to see references to return to Jerusalem, etc. I was also pretty rigid in my thinking and had collected a bunch of talking points, mostly that I'd co-created with other members of Jewbook (Jewish facebook). They helped me break out of that rigidity and once I'd done that I was open to learning more.

What happened next is that in fall 2019 is I did a fellowship that, while unrelated to the topic, put me in contact with other Jewish antizionists.

There was one person whose project we visited during an outing on the fellowship, who had discussed their project's antizionism. I was bothered by it and asked them one question: Did they feel Jews were connected to Eretz Yisrael? Did they feel connected to Eretz Yisrael? They responded yes of course.

Another person was my roommate on the fellowship, a leftist antizionist Syrian Jew. For a while one of my sticking points had been Mizrahi support of Zionism -- my thought process here had a few pieces. One, it seemed like white privilege to go against what most Israeli Jews of color believed and wanted. Another was that I felt that a lot of antizionists were dismissive of and racist towards Mizrahim and don't understand or care to understand their needs, history, or motivations (I do still think that's true). I also saw the expulsions from SWANA and the fact that Israel took in the SWANA Jewish refugees as proof of the necessity of Zionism.

So, I think that interacting with a Mizrahi antizionist both taught me expanded perspectives on the issue, and taught me that it's possible to be antizionist and still in solidarity with Mizrahim. I learned more nuance, for example around Israel's taking in of the refugees; I knew they had been mistreated, but I think it helped me connect the dots about what that meant about the entire Zionist project. That was also the year A-WA's album Bayti fi Rasi came out, and when I listened to Hana Mash Hu Al Yaman, I think that's when it clicked for me that Israel taking them in was not some sort of miracle or blessing in disguise but rather a last resort for people who did not want to go but had no choice. The main characters in that song wanted to stay in Yemen which is I think something that hadn't clicked for me before. That may not be the majority Mizrahi perspective but it is a perspective and one I hadn't previously considered.

By the same token, my partner at the time (the one I talked about at the beginning of the post) was raised as a Yiddish speaker, and we talked about Yiddish suppression during the early days of the state, as well as Ben Yehuda's disdain for Yiddish, and the general early Zionist disdain for Eastern European Jewry and "old world" Jewish culture. I was already aware of the New Jew concept (the idea that the old Jew was studious and unathletic, but we should put that behind us to become strong and agricultural). They helped me frame this in terms of antisemitism, connecting it to the vitriol Chassidim receive from other Jews, antisemitism directed towards Jewish men and the ways it's about gender and goyish and Jewish constructions of masculinity, anti-circ rhetoric that depends on the Hellenistic idea of the body as perfection, and Naomi Klein's analysis of the dislike of Yiddish by Ben Yehuda et al as sexist due to their association of it as "feminine" and therefore lesser.

We also talked about the ways that Zionism devalues diaspora culture. I definitely see this in the ways that eg Jewbook zionists used to see the Ashkenazi past in Eastern Europe as simply a time of pogroms and violence with nothing generative or valuable. It seems that zionism posits Israel and Israeli culture as the "right" or "completed" version of Judaism, and discourages us from mourning the loss of culture we experienced during the Holocaust and our subsequent exodus.

I think there is nuance here; there are Israeli Yiddishists, there are people practicing all kinds of diaspora Jewish cultures in Israel, etc. I think this is a case where antizionists take something real and over emphasize it to sound bigger and more harmful than it is. It's not Israel's fault that European Jewry got destroyed and it's not Israel's fault that A-WA's family had to leave Yemen. Sometimes it feels like antizionist project those harms onto Israel and Zionism.

At the same time though, there is a kernel of truth in the way at least that many North American zionists view Ashkenazi culture, thought I can't say how much of that is their Zionism and how much is the legacy of American assimilationism (even among religious Jews).

In any case, 2020 is when I started on my journey to deepen my understanding of old world Ashkenazi culture and history. I started with a day spent in the kids' section of the Yiddish Book Center using the beginner education resources there to start teaching myself Yiddish (I had a lot of familiarity because my extended family speaks it, but I didn't yet). About half a second later the pandemic started, and the chaos from that took all my attention for a while, but by the end of the summer I did a deep dive on my genealogy and spent two weeks tracking down documents and names and towns. At that point my family history was no longer abstract, and I started wondering more about what their lives were like in the old country.

I started watching Yiddish plays on zoom, including a production of the Dybbuk that I fell in love with. I got involved in the shtetlcore movement, which was a social media aesthetic fad that was basically the shtetl version of cottagecore. That spring the duolingo Yiddish course came out and I did a six month streak. The following winter I went to a virtual Yiddish conference. I went again two more times in person, and last summer I went to a week-long retreat where we were only allowed to speak Yiddish. I also do Yiddish drag and burlesque.

With this emphasis and knowledge it's hard for me to accept any framing that the only "right" place for Jews to live is Israel, or that diaspora cultures are lesser-than. At some point I encountered a belief among some zionists (though I don't think most believe this) that the Jewish people's differentiation into a myriad of different cultures was a bad thing, and constituted negatively picking up pieces of non-Jewish culture, and that it's good we're back together in Israel so we can become just one culture again. I obviously strongly disagree and I while I wish we had not had to experience the trauma of Khorban Beis Hamikdash and the ensuing displacement, I think the variety of different cultures we split into is beautiful.

Ironically, Israel is actually a place of great cultural exchange between those cultures. And yes, I do worry there will be cultural loss if everything blends together melting pot style, but that's more of a function of how societies work as opposed to official state policy. And I also think the Jewish subcultures will endure. Also the cultural loss is the fault of the Holocaust, the Soviet Union, and nationalist SWANA countries way way more than it is Israel's.

At this point I've come to view the idea that Zionism is detrimental to Jewish culture as weak, but I still am not a Zionist, and that's because the issue with Zionism is not that it harms Jews but that it harms Palestinians.

In early summer 2020, I, along with many other white people were called to reckon with the realities of white supremacy in the US, and our part in it, far more deeply than we had before. I learned to understand how racism functions as a pillar of the US's underpinnings, how white supremacy morphs to sustain itself, how I as an individual and Jews as a group were being used to maintain white supremacy. It fundamentally shifted how I view these topics and how I understand the way that states function.

It was impossible not to apply these concepts to Israel-Palestine. While it is obviously not a one-to-one comparison and I am frustrated with folks who seem to think it is, the concepts and analyses I learned in June 2020 were very elucidating in understanding Israel as a state, and how white supremacy and Jewish supremacy operate in Israel-Palestine.

One of those concepts is a deeper understanding of power dynamics and the oppressed-oppressor relationship. While that is not the be-all end-all, and it is still possible for an oppressed group to do harm and commit war crimes (as they did on Oct 7), it helped me understand the ways it makes no sense to view Palestinians and Israelis as equal parties or to view Palestinians as "the aggressor" as many zionists do. Riots are the language of the unheard and, yes, so is violence. Do not imagine that I excuse, condone, or celebrate Oct 7, but I understand why it happened.

These past seven months have forced a magnifying glass on Israel-Palestine and I have spent a lot of time thinking and talking about it. I have had many experiences and interactions that have illuminated different things to me, but I'll leave you with this one.

In 1956, a young man named Ro'i Rothberg was killed in Kibbutz Nahal Oz by Palestinians who lived in Gaza. Moshe Dayan came to give a eulogy and in it, he said:

Why should we declare their burning hatred for us? For eight years they have been sitting in the refugee camps in Gaza, and before their eyes we have been transforming the lands and the villages, where they and their fathers dwelt, into our estate.

Which is to say, he is stating point blank that the Nakba happened, and that Nahal Oz -- and in fact Israel -- is built on land that had been farmed and inhabited by Palestinians. The hasbarist canard of "we didn't steal their land" falls away when Moshe Dayan himself admits it, doesn't it?

He is acknowledging, also, that he understands why the people of Gaza are enraged, and why some of them express this rage as violence. He gives his solution: That the Israeli people, and especially the people of Nahal Oz, must always be on their guard. Must never become peaceniks and forget the rage of the people of Gaza. He says "we are a generation that settles the land and without the steel helmet and the cannon's maw, we will not be able to plant a tree and build a home."

His vision is of an Israel that is always militarized and militant, always on its guard, never to know peace. A people who will send their children to the army generation after generation after generation. Never to rest. Never to be able to lower their guard.

And that is awful! Not just for Palestinians, but for Israelis! Dayan lays out here that if the Nakba is not redressed, this will continue forever. He wants it to continue forever; I want the Nakba redressed.

He knew Nahal Oz would be attacked again. And he was right. On the morning of Simchat Torah of this year, 5784, twelve residents of the kibbutz were brutally murdered. A family that my family knows hid there in their bomb shelter for ten hours with their small children until they were rescued. The kibbutz was destroyed.

And Moshe Dayan knew it would happen, all the way back in 1956. And yet did nothing to change our trajectory. I cannot forgive him that.

In the months since the destruction of Nahal Oz, we have seen Gaza pummeled with a terrifying vengeance. For years I have encountered, albeit few and far between, people who have clammored for Gaza to be "turned into a parking lot." I was horrified by them, but did not take seriously the threat they represented. Yet now, their genocidal flowers have borne fruit. Gaza lies in ruins. 60% of the roads and infrastructure are destroyed. The descendants of refugees are refugees again, chased from their homes by the descendants of refugees. The live in tents, they scrabble for water and food. They live under threat of bombing, or being shot, or dying of illness and malnutrition.

And still Nahal Oz remains destroyed. The Jewish dead of Europe remain dead. The synagogues of Tunis and Algiers remain empty. Nothing is fixed, only more and more broken.

Is it to continue this way? Is this the world we want?

I say no. I say another world is possible. And on a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.

[missmonsters2]

—Lips Over Your Nightmares

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping. Nightmares haunt you every time you close your eyes, and Wednesday offers a solution in the form of comfort only she is capable of.

Warnings: Soft!Wednesday. Possessive!Wednesday. Intimate. Wednesday ran out of patience. Emotionally charged confessions. Kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: I said wednesday is soft for her girl and I will take no arguments about it. The act of kissing in this fic is peak wlw. I'm sleeping on the highway tonight and taking you all with me.

Count: 2.6k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Nighttime could be hellish.

It was probably why Wednesday adored it so much. 

You loved it too. There was something divine about the nighttime. People feared the dark, but you saw it as an opportunity to rest your weary eyes and bones. The night gave way to being invisible, and there were some days when that was all you could bear to be. 

But to Wednesday Addams, who loved the dark, you could never be invisible to her.

It was a blessing and a curse. 

To be seen by Wednesday—it was something more than many people could ever hope for. 

But to be seen when you wanted to be invisible? It was like being dragged without anything to hold onto. 

Nighttime was hellish, and you wanted to disappear into the dark as your nightmares plagued you until you couldn't even tell what was the dream and what was the reality.

But Wednesday Addams saw you. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

You've missed Enid's late-night studying session again. It's the second week in a row that Enid's gotten a text from you two minutes before the session started.

"I guess we can start," Enid told the group with a disappointed smile. "She's not coming today either."

"Fuck," Xavier sighed. "She's the only one who's good at art restoration. I was hoping she'd help me with my assignment."

Wednesday's face scrunched together mildly, and Xavier rolled his eyes. "Except for you, Wednesday. But you hate teaching me and I hate learning from you."

"I can't help it if you're stupid," Wednesday dully replied. 

"Not all of us can do it perfectly after being told what to do—told only once might I add," Xavier raised his brow at her.

Wednesday shrugged, which only seemed to irk Xavier more and to prevent them from bickering further, Yoko turned to Enid and asked, "Why isn't she coming?"

Enid shrugged, her lips quirked to the side as they pressed together. "She texted to say she wasn't feeling well and couldn't make it."

"She does seem tired lately," Bianca commented, her expression in deep thought as she recalled the last two weeks when she saw you. "Also, really quiet. Well, quieter than she normally is."

There were murmurs of agreement around while Wednesday sat silently. Of course, she also noticed, but she was waiting for you to say something to her. You always told her whatever was plaguing you, even when Wednesday told you she didn't ask. Wednesday was used to hearing your mundane thoughts or solving your problems. 

But there was nothing this time, and Wednesday couldn't figure it out. She tried to think back to see if anything had changed—if something had happened, but there was nothing. 

Two weeks of leaving you be was enough, though, Wednesday decided as she packed her things into her bag.

"What! Wednesday, are you leaving too?" Enid groaned. "But I need help with botanical sciences!" 

"Ask Bianca," Wednesday didn't even look up.

Enid looked at the siren, who had a deceitful, happy smile.

"I'd be happy to help you, Sinclair. Let's talk The Poe Cup negotiations first."

"Absolutely not!" Enid scoffed before turning back to Wednesday with pleading eyes. "Wednesday..." she whined.

"Ask Xavier," Wednesday didn't budge.

"But all he does is draw in class. There's no way he's doing well."

"I'll have you know I'm getting a C," Xavier looked affronted.

Enid merely stared at the sullen boy for a long moment before she turned back to Wednesday. "I'll just wait for you tomorrow after school."

Xavier was about to say something else when Wednesday briskly nodded, standing up and leaving the group behind without another word. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It was completely silent on the other side of your door, and from its looks, it was dark as no lights were shining underneath it.

Wednesday knocked in three successions. 

There was no answer. 

If it were anyone else, they would've believed you weren't there and left, but not Wednesday.

No, she knew you far too well. 

This was a place where you could truly be invisible with no roommate.

Wednesday knocked insistently until she heard shuffling, an agitated huff, and footsteps approaching the door. 

The door only opened marginally. You looked mildly surprised to see her, but Wednesday supposed you had too little energy to manage anything more. 

There were dark circles under your eyes, and they looked puffy and slightly red around the edges from lack of sleep. Your skin was pallor, which suited someone like Wednesday, but she decided it was not on you. Your hair lacked its usual shine, and Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she finished scrutinizing you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly. 

"Are you going to just let me stand out here?"

"I'm not in the mood for company, Wednesday," you blinked slowly. 

It was new.

You were usually happy for Wednesday's company whenever she stopped by, and you often visited her dorm. 

"I have had enough of this," Wednesday glared at you through the gap in the door. "You will let me in."

"And if I don't?" You challenged back, and Wednesday almost wanted to applaud the snippy attitude you've mustered through the tiredness.

"Then I will wait out here and ensure you don't get a. Single. Wink. Of. Sleep." It was a threat that tugged at your nerves. You looked at Wednesday, and for a brief moment, she thought she won before you shut the door in her face. 

Disbelief clouded over Wednesday's eyes. 

Then, Wednesday began to knock incessantly over and over on your door. Her knuckles knock with a vengeance, and she'll be damned if you think she doesn't take absolute joy in torturing you. 

It worked because you open the door wider this time, as you stare at Wednesday with a glare.

"What part of 'I'm not in the mood for company' was unclear, Wednesday?" Your voice was gruff, and Wednesday could tell that you were still trying to not snap at her despite how tired you were. 

And that in itself was everything. It was like that all the time. 

You were always trying to be considerate of whatever feelings you thought Wednesday might have while gently pushing her to admit which ones she was truly feeling. 

Maybe that was why Wednesday could never leave you alone now.

You were a gateway to things Wednesday never wanted, and she genuinely thought you should pay for making her desire things she swore she'd never want. 

"Say you don't want my company then," Wednesday said haughtily. 

Wednesday knew you wouldn't—couldn't, even. You never would. 

Just as you were her exception, she was yours. 

You pursed your lip at her, starting to close the door swiftly, and Wednesday stuck her foot partially into your room, preventing you from shutting the door in her face again.

"Wednesday!" You called her name, concerned you might've hurt her when the door hit her foot, but the macabre girl used the opportunity to press her palm flat against your door and pushed it wide open.

She took a step forward menacingly, forcing you to take a step back. She took another step, and you took another one back. When she was inside your room fully, she used the back of her heel to shut your door.

The resounding click of it made you swallow.

"Wednesday," you clenched your jaw, fighting against something you weren't even really sure why. But you were terrified—of her, you don't think, but rather what she was capable of doing to your heart.

"I have been patient," Wednesday's voice is quiet, but her tone is sharp, expressing every bit of her lost tolerance. "I have waited for you silently."

Wednesday kept walking towards you, backing you up until your back bumped into your desk. She looked positively irritated. "I have even refrained from saying a single unkind thing despite them running through my mind at the sight of you moping at whatever has been keeping you up at night."

"How did you know—"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Wednesday's eyes flashed dangerously at your insinuation. You shook your head.

"Then you must take me for a fool with endless patience," Wednesday glared at you. "I don't take kindly to the kind of games you're playing."

"I'm not playing anything—"

Wednesday cut you off again. "Then explain concisely what has been keeping you up and why you've been keeping it to yourself."

Silence filled the room as you didn't speak, but Wednesday had already waited this long. She could wait a little more. 

Wednesday watched how you gripped the edge of your desk, your finger tapping underneath in rapid succession before you closed your arms over her chest. 

The stance was defensive, but you looked more reluctant than wary.

"I'm having nightmares about you."

The admittance stunned Wednesday, and she didn't know how to take it. Initially, it felt like a compliment because nightmares were so fascinating and exhilarating to experience, and Wednesday hoped to have nightmares every night she slept based on that logic. 

But you were not her. 

Nightmares, illogically, were typically not desirable.

"Wednesday, I—" You swallowed. "I have feelings for you. You're the best and worst part of my days because I actually feel clinically insane everytime I see you, spend time with you and then have to face the fact that you're not mine and I'm not yours."

Wednesday's jaw clenched, and it was noticeable. She wanted to open her mouth and demand how you could feel the exact same way she did, but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue on. 

"And I have nightmares about losing you," you confessed. "I have nightmares about losing you to Tyler or another deranged supernatural being. I have nightmares about losing you to Xavier or Enid or somebody like Tyler, minus the whole mass genocide. I have nightmares about losing you in every single imaginable way, only to wake up and realize you're not mine, and you can't lose what you don't have."

"I can't tell if the nightmare is when I'm asleep or when I'm awake." You put your hands to your face, laughing hollowly. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, burning as they were so dry from lack of sleep. "I think I'm going crazy."

Wednesday wanted to tell you that going crazy was supposed to be wonderful. But she, herself, has been experiencing the whirlwind of elation and torment you put her through and believed that going crazy wasn't as wonderful as she thought. 

But Wednesday decided then and there that there was no way up from crazy. And while it's unfortunate that she's not the brand of crazy like Uncle Fester, she's been driven mad nonetheless. It's the only thing that could explain all of this and everything that's about to come. 

Wednesday grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from her face. No visions plague her, and all she knows is that this meant her decision wouldn't end in misfortune and it wouldn't drive her down a lonely path. 

"Enid's not expecting me back tonight," Wednesday told you as she dragged you over to your bed. Her succinct tone leaves no room for you to ask any questions. 

"Um, okay?" You said anyway, thrown off by her response and feeling exhaustion saw at your bones, dragging the invisible knife back and forth.

Wednesday guided you to get into bed, and you complied. Resignation settled over you as you rested your head on your pillow. It was cold again with you being away from it, but it brought no comfort. 

You lay facing the wall, about to pull the blanket up to your chin, when you heard something drop against the floor. You turned your head and saw that Wednesday had set her backpack down, and now she was zipping off her sweater, hanging it on the pole of your bed frame, leaving her in her black long-sleeve.

Wednesday took her shoes off before using every bit of her vulnerability to steadily and carefully climb into bed with you. It was dark, with only a little light from the moonlight shining just barely into the room, and you could make out the barest hint of her features and knew she was staring intently at you, trying to ascertain if this was a boundary both of you could bear to cross. 

Her touch was slow and hesitant, revealing this was something she's never done before, but the moment you were in her arms, you clicked into place like a puzzle piece. 

Wednesday was cool against your body, but she was warming from your touch and shared heat trapped under the blanket. She smelt like rain and dry leaves, and you felt like you were going insane. You buried your face into her neck. 

Wednesday wrapped her arms around you, holding you close, allowing the things she's been desiring for a while to come to fruition. She couldn't tell if this was making her saner or driving her closer to insanity.

It was deliriously pleasant.

"Who said you're not mine?" Wednesday muttered into the shell of your ear.

It's suddenly not enough, and Wednesday now knew the answer was that it was driving her closer to insanity. 

Wednesday pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes that were so tired just moments ago. The dark circles remained, but you were wide awake, speckles of oblivion in your eyes.

Despite how everything else changed as you became sleep deprived, your lips still remained full and soft. 

Wednesday moved to close the gap, sighing softly as her lips slanted against yours. 

How could she feel like jagged glass, splintered and sharp, while you felt so soft, practically melting around her serrated edges?

Wednesday only pulled back marginally, cupping your jaw and the back of your neck. "Who told you that you don't already have me? I want names."

You couldn't even think straight with how her breath felt on your lips. You pushed forward again, pressing your lips against Wednesday's insistently.

Was it possible for reality to be better than a dream? 

Your lips slotted over Wednesday's over and over and over. Wednesday tugged at your bottom lip, smoothing over it with her tongue before it dipped at the edge of your mouth where your tongue met hers. 

It was dizzying, something that frequently happened to Wednesday when it was too warm. She usually hated the sensation of it, but, of course, as many things were exceptions when it came to you, this was one of them too. 

"Your nightmares are inane."

You couldn't help but laugh against Wednesday's lip. 

"I think I am actually insane," you grinned, and you saw a ghost of something similar on Wednesday's lips. 

"Sleep," Wednesday ordered you, kissing you chastely initially but ending up biting your bottom lip tenderly. Her hands pull you closer, her lips resting on your forehead. "I'm here, so nothing will plague you."

The softness of Wednesday is unimaginable, and you're nearly skeptical.

"But—"

"No." Wednesday countered bluntly. "I'm telling you that I'm here and yours. You may come to regret it, knowing how...difficult I am. But you're stuck with me. Congratulations," Wednesday tilts her head slightly, brushing against yours, "or condolences."

But you could hear Wednesday's heartbeat, and it was dark, and you were so tired, but you were close enough to hear Wednesday's heartbeat. 

Your lips tingle from Wednesday's kisses. You felt your eyelids grow heavy along with your body, and the way Wednesday shifted told you she was satisfied.

Nighttime could be hellish, but Wednesday Addams saw you—she always would. And all she had to do was put her lips over your nightmares.

[frost-queen]

Starcrossed lovers // part 3 (Reader x Peter Parker) NWH

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @minimin1993, @narniansmagic, @benonlinear, @canthebest1, @mellowdreamlandpost-blog, @thewhitewolfmarvel, @freek12569, @bookloverfilmoholic, @cigarettedaydreamsandcofee, @qalijahbydior, @gabriella-aesthetic, @fallenxjas

Summary: Peter would do anything to get back to you. Hoping with the help of the sorcerer of his earth, he will reach his goals. Will he venture through earths? If so what would he find beyond? [series list]

Aunt May knocked on Peter’s door. There wasn’t an immediate response so she was hesitant to go in anyways. – “Peter?” – she spoke knocking once more. Listening in on the door, she still had no response. Having a bit enough of it, she tried to open the door, only to be greeted by a blunt force. The door wasn’t budging as far as she wanted. Something in front of it preventing the door from opening more. – “Peter! What is blocking the door.” – she called out through the crack.

She kept pushed the door in an attempt to get the thing in front of the door to move. She gave it a hard push, hearing books drop to the ground. – “Peter!” – she repeated being able to open the door a bit more, seeing the ravage in his room. Books and papers scattered around like mad man’s house. Peter sat on his bed, lifting his head up with confused hum.

The moment he saw Aunt May trying to havoc her way through, he jumped up to assist her. He picked up some books, laying them aside on another piling stack on his desk to clear the way. – “What is the meaning of this?” – she asked too stunned to understand more.

Peter picked up some paper from the floor, holding it in his hand. He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. – “It’s a hobby.” – he answered sheepishly. Aunt May looked around, her expression with disgust. – “More like an obsession.” – she muttered trying to make her way further into his room. She picked up a book to read the title. – “Dimension travels?” – she questioned loudly, holding the book up to Peter.

“That’s… that’s…” – Peter answered making his way over to her. He snatched the book from her, keeping it close to his chest. Her eyes fell on some drawings as she showed them to him. – “Portals? Space travels? Peter what are you on about?” – she asked desperate. Peter took the drawings from her, looking saddened down at them.

“You… you wouldn’t understand.” – he simply said. – “Then let me try? Peter you’ve been neglecting your life with this obsession.” – she lectured hating to see him like this. – “It’s not an obsession!” – Peter shouted at her, losing a bit of his temper.

It startled Aunt May. He immediately regretted losing his temper like that against her. – “I’m… I’m sorry Aunt May.” – he apologized. Aunt May sympathized coming closer to him. – “I know you are struggling after Y/n’s death…” – she said touching his cheek. – “But you have to let her go.” – she begged wanting to hug him.

Peter backed away, not wanting her pity. – “I can’t.” – he told her. – “Peter look around! You’re going down a path I cannot follow. Y/n is gone and you have to accept that.” – she slightly raised her voice to get through to him. – “Don’t say that!” – he shouted back at her, not wanting to hear it.

You were not gone. You were just on another earth, far away from him. – “Peter!” – Aunt May yelled losing her composure. – “Y/n is dead and you are just going to have to accept that! Now get dressed and get to work!” – Aunt May finally had enough. She had snapped and acted it out on Peter.

Peter moved towards her, grabbing her by the arm to push her out of  his room. He shut the door hard in her face. He had never done this and felt a bit ashamed of it. It was just, she wasn’t understanding it. How could he move on from you, knowing you were alive on another earth. Now that he had tasted sweetness, he craved more.

Peter looked down at the drawing of Strange’s portal he had drawn himself ever since he came back. Strange. His eyes widened realizing something. Peter got dressed and ran out of the house. – “Peter?” – Aunt May asked as he completely ignored her and rushed out. She sighed soft, hoping she wasn’t too harsh on him and that he soon forgave her. Peter hopped onto the first subway, taking him to his destination. If your earth had a Spiderman, his earth should have a Dr. Strange as well. Right?  

Only one way to find out. Peter stared out of the window as the subway rushed past. He briefly looked down at his phone, lighting his screen up with a picture of you and him. – “I’m coming for you Y/n.” – he whispered blackening the screen again. Finding Strange wasn’t easy. He had little information of the man. He searched the streets thoroughly. Looking at each face to one that would match the description of the wizard he had known on your earth.

When that was a wild goose chase, he decided to focus on the building. Something Peter, your Peter had told him. He tried searching it up with little results. Groaning frustrated, he started to wonder if he even existed here. – “Where the hell is this man!” – Peter called out, making some by-passers turn their head and stare confused at him.

Feeling a bit lost in a foreign city, Peter was ready to give up. He seated himself down on some stone steps leading to a big door. Exhaling deep he let his head fall back against the door. Closing his eyes, he didn’t want to cry. The feeling of letting you slip through his fingers again was agony. It was pure hell. Being so close, yet not close enough. The door knob turned as the door opened. Peter’s eyes widened open as he felt the space behind him disappear.

He called it out when he fell backwards. With a loud oof he hit the hard floor. Opening his eyes a bit, he was greeted by a face looking down at him. Excitement reached him as he pointed heartly up to the man. – “You’re… you’re Strange!” – he exclaimed recognizing the same features of the man from your earth. – “That is doctor to you.” – Strange answered in a deep voice.

"Now get off my doorstep kid!” – Strange called out, ushering him away. – “No wait Sir!” – Peter replied waving his hands in front of him. Strange was about to close the door on him as Peter looked further back into the mansion. Stretching his arm out, he let out a web, letting himself be dragged inside right through Strange’s legs.

Strange stared stunned at the empty spot, turning his head rapidly back. – “How did you?” – he said both stunned and annoyed. Peter jumped to his feet. – “I need to talk to you.” – Peter started, panting a bit. – “Okay bye, bye kid.” – Strange said opening a portal that would flung itself at Peter. Peter gasped jumping up as he kept his hand on the ceiling. Strange’s portal passed right under him.

Strange looked surprised up to his ceiling, seeing the boy hang on it with just one hand. – “You are one annoying kid.” – Stephen sighed out. Peter dropped down on the ground. – “Listen sir… doctor.” – he corrected himself seeing the quirked eyebrow of Strange. – “I need your help. I need you to let me travel through one of your portals.” – Peter began.

Stephan laughed loud. – “I don’t have to do anything, and certainly not for breaking in kids like you.” – he pointed at Peter. Stephen turned away to a table to set himself a cup of coffee. – “Doctor please… I need to get to her earth.” – Peter explained with desperation.

Stephen spit out his coffee, turning a warningly eye at Peter. – “Did you just say her earth?” – he repeated to be sure, he had heard it correctly. – “Yes.” – Peter expressed approaching him. – “I need you to take me to her earth. You see I travelled through earths before… not so long ago some kid brought me to their earth.” – Peter explained further. Stephen hummed loud, scratching his jaw.

“I found out that someone from my earth is still alive there. She would’ve been here if it wasn’t for you!” – Peter accused. He swallowed nervously at the sudden stern glare from Strange. – “I mean your other you… not you doctor…” – Peter said to clarify. Stephen sat his cup down on the table.

“So you are telling me you travelled through earths and this other me… did this?” – Stephen asked so he was sure he understood. Peter nodded. Stephen hummed loud thoughtfully. – “So this other me travelled through parallel worlds?” – he asked.

“I don’t know… I guess… I did for sure.” – Peter replied. Stephen hummed again, deep in thoughts. – “Will… will you help me?” – Peter asked. Stephen grabbed Peter firm by the shoulder giving it a hard squeeze. – “First I need you to tell me everything!” – he led Peter further into the mansion. Peter swallowed nervously, suddenly not so sure of this man’s intentions, but he was his only hope to getting back to you. Peter explained his experience fully to him.

He told him about the portal. The other Spiderman, the villains, you. He told him everything. He explained his cause for him to understand better. – “So… so can you help me?” – Peter questioned nervously. Stephen stared at him. – “No…” – Strange answered getting up and turning his back to Peter. – “But you said!” – Peter called out, getting up as well.

“You said you’d help me!” – Peter tried to get Strange to stop walking away from him. – “Stop running!” – Peter shouted shooting a web at him. Strange’s hand got attached to the doorframe, stopping him from going any further. – “I need her! You… you have no idea what it’s like to lose someone!” – Peter called out angry that he was going to do nothing.

 “I do!” – Strange replied harsh, looking over his shoulder to him. – “But… but earth travel…” – he wanted to turn more to Peter, but was prevented cause of the web. He cursed at the web, trying to pull it off. – “Get this thing off me!” – he yelled making Peter rush at him to help him free. – “Earth travel is a dangerous thing kid. It’s not because she died here, you can simply replace her with another copy.” – he told him.

“She’s not a copy!” – Peter made clear with a glare. Stephen moved his hands up as a way it wasn’t meant for him to get defensive. – “She won’t belong here. What do you think the people would say that knew her? Her family? Their daughter risen from the dead?” – Stephen explained trying to reason with him. – “I’ll just move to another city with her.” – he answered. – “It’s not that simple kid.” – Strange sighed out. – “Please… just let me try… I just need you to open a portal to her earth, allow me to get her and bring her here.”

“And how do you think you’ll get back? I have no glass orb that can see when you are ready to leave kid.” – Stephen said giving another stomp in Peter’s dreams. – “I…I don’t know…” – Peter sighed out letting himself fall in a seat. Stephen took a deep breath, approaching him. – “Look I get it kid, you would do anything to get her back, but it isn’t that easy. It could create some serious issues.” – Stephen went on to explain.

“You can’t save everybody, kid.” – Stephen placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. – “I have… I have to try… I won’t forgive myself if I haven’t tried it at least.” – with desperation and sorrow, looked he up to Strange. Begging him to give him a try. To let him try it. – “Wouldn’t you try it if it was about the one you loved? Wouldn’t you give everything just to be with her again?”

“I would.” – Strange answered thinking back of Christine. The girl he let slip through his fingers because of his own mistakes. His own bitterness and rudeness had pushed her away. He took her for granted and now all was lost. Married off to someone else, that never could be him. Peter felt hopeful from Strange’s reaction. Stephen clapped loud in his hands. – “Alright kid! Let’s break through the walls of space.” – he announced.

Peter jumped back up following Strange with a new hope. It took them several days to get even close to their mission. Figuring out a good plan to get Peter in and out along with you. To find a way to travel through earths. Finally the day had come for their experiment. Peter stood ready, anxious to enter your world once more. – “Here.” – Strange said holding out a watch.

Peter accepted it questionable. – “It will allow you to open your own portal once you have her.” – he told him. – “Where did you get this?” – Peter asked. – “An ant gave it to me.” – Stephen answered with a chuckle, leaving Peter confused. Peter put on the watch over his spiderman suit.

“What earth was she on again?” – Stephen asked. – “Earth-199999.” – Peter replied, having remembered the numbers so thoughtfully. Stephen looked at the drawing Peter had made of the very place he entered your earth first. – “Let’s hope this works kid… if not… it was nice knowing you.” – he commented casually making Peter gulp. –“Thank… thank you Doctor.” – Peter said holding his hand out.

“Please…” – Stephen answered grabbing his hand to shake. – “Call me Stephen.” – Peter smiled feeling as if he had made an alley, perhaps even a friend. All those days spend with him using his wits on science and Strange’s wits on sorcery brought them closer. – “Ready?” – Stephen asked. Peter put his mask on. – “Ready.” – he breathed out.

Stephen moved his hands across, circling a portal open. Tiny sparks frizzled in the centre. It made Peter nervous and anticipating the moment he’d see you again. The sparks grew bigger as Peter took a deep breath. Slowly he could see the other side as he slowly started to recognize it. He smiled underneath his mask. This was it.

The portal grew wider as it was wide enough for him to step through. With one last deep breath, he stepped forwards, traveling through earths. On the other side sat Ned at the table, eating cereal. His jaw dropped as his spoon clattered against the bowl from having fallen out of his hands. Peter took off his mask upon seeing Ned. He looked around to see if it was the room he remembered.

It was just as he remembered. – “Ned!” – Peter called out excited. Ned’s eyes widened in fear. – “You… you know my name…” – he said stuttering. – “Yes, Ned It’s me Peter Parker… I was here not so long ago… well I’m not sure just how long with all that space jumping.” – Peter replied, muttering the last bit to himself. Ned pointed at Peter and let out a loud scream of help. It startled and confused Peter.

“No, no, Ned. It’s me.” – Peter answered as Ned’s chair fell as he backed away. Ned screamed again in fear. – “Ned!” – Peter called out moving closer to him. Ned took off as Peter shot a web out to him. Ned got stuck against the wall. – “Sorry.” – Peter apologized with his hands up. – “You were panicking Ned. I can’t have you panic.” – Peter went on, nearing Ned. – “I don’t have any money.” – Ned squeaked out, struggling against the web. Peter frowned. – “I don’t want your money.”

Peter sighed feeling as he wasn’t going anywhere with him. – “Look…” – Peter said pinching his nose bridge. – “Just tell me where I can find Y/n.” – Peter asked. – “Y/n? What do you want with Y/n?” – Ned questioned suddenly less fearful. – “Are you going to use her for your evil plan?” – Ned called out. – “Evil plan? What no Ned!” – Peter answered confused. – “I am just looking for her.” – Ned turned his head. – “I won’t tell you anything villain!” – Ned shouted, confusing Peter more.

He started to realize something might be wrong, but he had no time for it. – “Just tell me where she is!” – he called out desperately grabbing a hold of Ned. Ned sobbed out the address. Peter thanked Ned, releasing him once again before going after you. He shot out a web, flying above the city between the buildings to reach his destination sooner. Excitement took over as he felt himself smile. Finally he was going to be reunited with you again. His pride and glory.

Peter dropped down on the ground, staring at you through the window. There you were. Just within reach. Sitting down in a small coffee shop surrounded by books. Taking a deep breath, he let himself in. Not caring one bit if people stared at his costume without the mask. He neared your table. You sensed someone approaching, slowly looking up. – “Hi.” – he spoke almost fragile. – “Hi.” – you responded. The person smiled saddened.

You kept smiling at him, till it felt a bit awkward. – “I’m sorry, am I taking in your spot?” – you asked. Peter’s smile dropped, shaking his head confused. – “What.. no…” – he sputtered out. He had expected you to jump in his arms. To be rejoiced at his return, yet you remained seated. Staring a bit strange at him. – “Y/n… it’s me.. Peter… Peter Parker.” – he said feeling silly to remind you of it. You tilted your head a bit with furrowed brows.

You then laughed loud. – “Funny joke. You look nothing like that nerd Peter Parker. Also what’s with the costume? It’s far from Halloween.” – you told him. Peter blinked confused back at you. – “Don’t… don’t you remember?” – he asked softly. – “Remember what?” – you questioned. – “Me?” – Peter pointed at himself with desperation. You smiled soft. – “I think I would remember meeting someone like you, but I don’t… sorry…” – you replied.

Peter turned around with a disappointed exhale. Why didn’t you remember him? Unless… - “Strange’s spell.” – Peter blurted out.

-----------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

don't worry a next part will come

[accio-victuuri]

May CPNs round-up! ❤️💛💚

there is bonus content included here that i haven’t talked about separately in this blog so please enjoy!

• same apple headphones 🎧

• 5/6 zsww rumor

• genki forest ad silhouette similarities, and then it was replaced lol and sadly, they had to apologize.

• more examples of brands using the cp tactic ( allegedly lol )

• same city @ beijing 5/12/2024 but didn’t last long cause wyb had to fly to shanghai for the olympic qualifiers.

• jamy wee jeans

• fake story of wyb giving gifts to the ADLAD team and him visiting the crew which led to more people sharing some of their own szd stories that i didn’t add on the main post so i’m adding here instead. i think this started some conversation on what people heard irl about the two & how those who don’t really follow this pairing have encountered them. whether that means they are in a romantic relationship or not, we don’t know. these are all fake!!!! 💀💀💀

Let me tell you a story. A friend of mine told me that one of her college classmates participated in a hip-hop dance competition (SDC). Although she didn’t get a particularly impressive ranking, she was one of the top 100. Then she saw Xiao Zhan, and everyone knew that they were in a relationship, so they didn’t hesitate to visit him on set. What I said is just a rough estimate. I don’t have a membership so I can’t send pictures. I can swear that what I said is true, not a single word is fake, unless my friend lied to me, but I believe in my friend’s character

I'd also like to contribute a relatively old story, although many people should know it hahaha, that is, the two of them share resources. Someone around my friend is a staff member, and has read the confidentiality agreement of Zan Studio, which seems to say that there can be no conflict of interest with Bo, and to satisfy Bo to the greatest extent. Because Zan has a studio, resources are more free, and if there is something suitable for Bo, he will contact him directly. ( this was in 2020 )

Then I will also share my own experience. I participated in a New Year's Eve party. The lady sitting next to me is from the industry. She is not familiar with Bo Xiao, but the artist she knows has a good relationship with Xiao Xiao. The artist told her that Xiao had a boyfriend in the CQL crew. The artist told Xiao not to date him. Xiao Zhan said firmly, "I will not break up with my boyfriend."

I'll tell you one, my friend's sister is Jixiangkong's assistant, her sister doesn't like xx, um, she's a wyb fan, my friend knows I'm a fan and told me that her sister took a photo with wyb, I asked her indirectly to find out, she said her sister refused to tell, it was around 2019, she suddenly told me that her sister was a little bit abnormal, one day she said for no reason that wyb has turned gay.

My friend is a director of a certain Spring Festival Gala, and his family also works in this field. He has some connections. He used to think I was a fan of him and told me not to be a fan because he likes men. (To prevent screenshots, I can't say whether he is older or younger)

I'll also contribute one. My friend's dance teacher has been with the CQL crew, and after knowing that my friend likes Xiao Xiao, she told my friend that they were dating in CQL. My friend was almost broken. (She wf) ( wf means weifen = solo fan )

• a more comprehensive post about the airpods max cpn 🎧

• 5/14/24 xz’s selfie candies and i forgot to add another bit here, particularly the view from the window— it’s the backdrop for yibo’s chanel magazine cover. i would imagine it’s a popular scenic view but i’m just putting it out there 📷

then after the selfies, xzs released a short video of that day when it was taken. people did cpn of course but i’m just adding those here. so what we noticed is the two birds at the start, lovebirds? and then panning to xz who some say hid his phone or was looking at it then took it away because the camera was on him.

then a very galaxy brain one, and a total coincidence — outside the car, a police car passed by and people are like omg fpu ( formed police unit ) lol. but like if you watch that part, it was a perfect shot.

then some fans noticed similarities with the shots from wyb’s b&w photography 📷

• this next one is not really a cpn but more of me being proud of them and the works they produced. their popularity/traffic is important & definitely has helped them get projects, but we know that they give it their all when it becomes to being actors. the photos below are of the chinese films booth in cannes with both their movies and then the May schedule of their dramas’ reruns in satellite tv networks.

who would have known, they were once these two newbies who wanted to become actors and here we are — both of them have a solid body of work. 🤍

• clowning related to xz’s legend of zanghai poster

• 5/15 candies that revolves around wyb’s performance for the olympics opening. most especially his green + pink shoes 💕

• evisu x palace shirt that sneakily has their names on it

• 5/16 LRLG post and interpretations and then add-on speculation of relating this to the milan vlog and what some shots could mean

• their tissue endorsements matching so well. 💙♥️ and representing their cql character colors too!

• 5/20/24 zsww fake rumor - new clothes for jianguo, bickering and eating spicy food

• numbers playing for 520. 9785 and 828

• palace x wedgwood collab 🍓

• cpfs having discussions and comparisons to yy’s scandal to prove that bjyxszd

• 5/23/2024 fake rumor house

• XZ’s look for an endorsement Ad ( Liushen ). the whole fit and even the brand used screams WYB! 😂

• rumor compilation from 给博肖加点小料bot. from the past dates 2/24, 3/3, 3/26, 4/3, 4/29, 5/21 and 5/29.

• xz buying mcdo toys 🍔

• in the li-ning video released 5/31 xz was asked if he plays badminton and what he does during off times and the first thing he said is talk to his friend(s). who is that friend? is this the friend from the crew? 😜 no seriously. then after that he mentioned playing badminton, running and keeping fit. but the fact that he said talking to his friend? wow.

• the pink wedding theme potential from xz’s evelom outfit 💕💕🌸🌸

<<< previous month

[milla-frenchy]

Empty spaces

3k3 | Javier Peña x reader ; Steve Murphy x reader Summary: Javi walks away from you, and you don't know how to handle the situation anymore Warnings: 18+ mdni. Infidelity, angst, light dacryphilia, oral (f/m), masturbation (m), piv. No age specified. a/n: as always, thank you so much Kate @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for correcting me, and for the last minutes adjustments 💕🫶 Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates The tittle is from some lyrics of Affection by Between friends ao3 | masterlist

Steve looked at his partner. They had worked together for years and had faced the worst. They had supported each other every time Escobar had escaped from them, every time they had found themselves in the ambassador's office. They had spent countless evenings in bars. And despite everything, Steve couldn't help but betray him.

You had met Connie while working at the same clinic as her, and you two quickly got along well. You were both American, and your situation as expatriates and partners of DEA agents had brought you together. The four of you, with Javi and Steve, had become quite close, often going out to bars or restaurants, or had dinners at home. You really liked Steve. Since then, Connie had left, and Steve was your only friend in Bogota. You often confided in him when you felt the need and supported him as well since he was alone.

One evening, you went to his house, worried and jaded, because Javi was moving further and further away from you. Or rather, from anything that wasn't related to his job.

Escobar was an obsession and Carillo's murder had broken something in him. He stayed later in the bars, and when he came home, he smelled of whisky and frustration. You tried to help him, to talk about it, but he kept getting more and more withdrawn. You no longer waited for him to go to bed, and he no longer woke you up as often as before when he came home in the early morning. For a long time before, you had loved feeling him lying between your thighs while you were barely awake, covering you with kisses, flooding you with his “mmmm… cariño, I missed you so much today. You missed this cock?” as you would respond with “oh god, Javi, yes! Yes, fuck me, please.” And he would sink into you, making you scream on his shaft, to the point where sometimes he had to cover your mouth with his hand, to prevent the neighbors from pounding on the apartment door, while he was pounding you on the bed.

​He had never got tired of eating your pussy, but now he dove between your thighs less and less. He even asked you to get up, one evening when you knelt between his knees to blow him, to make him forget everything else.

It was that evening that you left, first driving through the streets of Bogota. And without really realizing it, you found yourself in front of Steve's house, hesitant before knocking on the door. You told him everything, no longer holding back your tears.

Steve hesitated before hugging you. “Fuck,” he thought. He wasn't going to leave you like that, without consoling you, when you already felt rejected at home. Your cries gradually gave way to sniffles, and his cock twitched. “Fuck,” he thought a second time. He wanted to turn slightly away, not wanting you to notice his bulge. But you clung to him reflexively, afraid he would move away, and he felt you freeze.

“I’m sorry, I…” he started to say.

You looked up at him, and both of you lost your mind. Your wet eyes made him lose his mind. A moment, frozen in time, turned into a searing kiss, so impatient and urgent, that none of you stopped while you undressed. He held you close to have your bare skin against his, your breasts against his torso. And finally, you looked at each other. A moment in time, wondering if you were really going to cross that line. Steve broke the silence, asking “what do you want, baby?”

“Wanna feel you Steve. Please. Make me feel something.”

He nodded and grabbed your hand, leading you to the couch, where he asked you to lie down. Kneeling on the floor, he took off your panties, so slowly that you felt yourself melt, and he spread your thighs to open you up for him. The moonlight was illuminating the room, and he looked at your body. He placed his hand on your cheek, and slid it gently down your neck, between your breasts, and watched your nipples harden after his touch. His breathing accelerated, while his hand continued to move down, to your belly that he caressed, then your crotch. He placed his hand flat on your pussy and felt your warmth against his palm. You arched your back, feeling him against you, seeing his gaze on you. He wanted you, he really wanted you, and you no longer knew what it felt like, until now, on his couch. You realized how much you missed it.

He moved his thumb up along your folds, after having covered it with your wetness, until he reached your clit that he gently caressed. He looked at your body and your skin, the way your hairs stood up under his touch. Your back arched again, when his mouth covered your pussy. He licked delicately between your folds, feeling you flinch against his tongue, and took your hand in his. As if to reassure you, or to reassure himself, he didn’t know. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was going to explode.

His tongue entered you further, licking up all the wetness that flowed from your core. He sometimes felt it dripping from his chin, and became more and more intoxicated by you, his nose brushing perfectly against your clit. Your free hand squeezed one of your breasts, and you matched the movements of your hips with his tongue, rolling them against him.

Steve pushed two fingers into your pussy and slid his tongue up to your clit. He looked at you, as the tip tickled where his nose was a few seconds ago. Your eyes were closed, and this vision of you, lit by the moon, made him obsessed. He kept fingering you, slowly, and then placed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, and you moaned. He pulled his fingers out and stroked himself with your wetness, before he started gently jerking his hard as steel cock, matching his rhythm to his tongue, now swirling on your clit.

He parted his lips for a few seconds, still fucking you with his fingers, and said “I ain’t gonna fuck you. Ain’t gonna cross that line. But you’re gonna cum on my tongue.” His tongue on you again, he squeezed your hand tighter, and his wrist tightened on his shaft too.

“Steve…”

“I know, baby, I know. I can feel it coming. Let it happen, baby. Let go for me.”

Yet, he couldn't stop himself from moving his tongue from your clit to your folds, even though he knew it delayed your orgasm. He wanted to lick all your wetness coming out of your soaked hole. To eat you all. Until you grabbed his head with your hand, making him keep his tongue on your clit.

“Wanna come Steve, please. Please, make me come.”

He squeezed your hand tighter, jerked himself harder, his tongue now focusing on your clit. He heard you moan louder, and your hips tilted up towards his mouth. You tensed one last time as your orgasm hit you, and he came as you said his name, sending his cum all over his thighs and on the couch.

He caressed the soft skin of your belly, until your breathing finally calmed and returned to normal, occasionally lapping at your pussy, still thirsty for your taste. He stopped before overstimulating you, and you sat up. He reached up and kissed you, running his hand along your cheek.

When you went back home, Javi was sleeping. You slipped into the sheets, very carefully, so as not to wake him up. Guilt started twisting your stomach. He placed his hand on your belly in his sleep, and your throat tightened.

The days passed without anything changing between Javi and you. You tried not to think too much about that night at Steve’s. Javi had told you that things had been a bit tense between them, and that they had come to blows. 

You and Steve hadn't seen each other again, until the day when you were waiting for Javi in your car, in the DEA parking lot. He walked over to you when he saw you, and asked kindly how you were going. You smiled shyly at him, telling him that it was pretty much okay. But it wasn’t, and he knew it. Javi arrived, and Steve wished you a good evening as he left for his car.

You came home, and the evening passed almost in silence. You looked at Javi, his eyebrows furrowed. You were both so close and so far away, a distance that seemed insurmountable. When you were ready to go to bed, he took his jacket and told you he was going out. The door closed behind him and for two minutes you stood at the bedroom door. “Fuck you, Javi”, you thought, grabing your jacket and slamming the door behind you when you left the appartment.

“What happened?” Steve asked when he opened the door.

“He fucking left. I was going to bed, and he told me he was going out.”

You took your pack of cigarettes and lit one, before sitting down on the couch next to him. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Steve. I understand your job is stressful, I really do. And this fucking Escobar is always getting away. But I would like to be there to help him, you know? I can help him more than the whiskey he drinks in bars.”

You shook your head and tears gathered at the corner of your eyes but you quickly wiped them away.

“Javi told me you two had a fight. What happened?"

“Photos that I kept in the office ended up in the wrong hands. I thought Javi had leaked them.”

“Steve, come on. You know he’d never do that to you.”

“Yeah, like he would never think I’d - ” He cut himself off before finishing his sentence, shaking his head without looking at you, but you knew too well what he was thinking. You lit a second cigarette, immediately after putting out the first.

“Why did you react like that? And cut the crap.”

In a low voice, he said “you know why.” He looked at you and it made you regret asking. There was too much affection in his eyes.

“Because I care about you. Because you’re not happy. Because if we were together I wouldn’t be in a bar right now.”

You frowned when you heard his words. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

You got up and went to the window.

“Have you heard from Connie?”

“No. She’s been very clear last time. We're taking a break, at best. At worst, it's over.”

He joined you by the window, walking silently with his bare feet, and told you that maybe you should go home, that Javi might be worried. You nodded and brushed past him on your way to the front door but he grabbed your wrist. You stayed like that, side by side, without daring to look at each other for a few seconds, his hand frozen on your wrist.

“Tell me you want me to leave,” you whispered.

“I don’t want you to leave”, he replied. 

A few seconds passed before you spoke again, telling him that Javi and you hadn't had sex, since the other night. You turned to him, knowing you shouldn’t have told him that but unable to resist either.  You added, “I guess he didn’t want to. Neither did I. Was thinking about you.” Your voice was nothing more than a thin trickle that he could barely hear. 

This time you didn't hold back the tears that were rolling on your cheeks. His cock got hard, and he couldn’t help but stare into your watery eyes.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to not go further than last time, you know…”

“Well I don’t think I want you to stop, Steve.”

You pressed yourself against him, your crotch against his, and you gasped when you felt his cock against you. His hands rested on your cheeks as your starving lips devoured each other, and your tongues mingled. Your hands were pressed against his back to hold him against you.

Still kissing him, your hands finally slid up to the nape of his neck and you heard him growl in your ear. You continued to roam his body, your hands slowly moving down his torso. You barely touched him the night before and this time you wanted to feel him under your fingers. You wanted to feel his skin and imprint the sensation in your mind. When your hands reached his waist, you pressed his body against yours and feeling his bulge made you moan into his mouth.

You slipped your hand in his sweatpants. All you wanted was to touch his cock, to feel every inch of him. Delicately, you took it in your hand before taking it out, then you slid his sweatpants down his thighs, and removed them entirely, while you knelt before him.

“You don’t have to….but shit, yeah…wanna feel your lips on my cock.”

You could see his cock in the shadow of the moon, and it was gorgeous. Long and thick, slightly curved. You ran your thumb over the slit, spreading the precum on the tip, before looking up at him and sucking your finger.

“Fuck, babe”, he said, and you smiled. You wanted to please him, and knowing that he wanted you, was craving you, made you drool even more in your panties. You took his tip in your mouth, your tongue gently swirling around its slit. Your hand squeezed his cock and your thumb caressed one of his balls. Your lips rounded around his shaft, your tongue pressed against his skin, you applied yourself to suck him, feeling him shiver in your mouth. When you were able to take him fully into your mouth, you stopped at the base of his shaft, letting his tip wiggle against the back of your throat. You heard him groan, as his hand squeezed your shoulder, and he whispered “wait, sugar please, uh…It's been a while since... this and I ain’t gonna last if you keep doin’ this.”

You stood up and he covered your cheeks with his hands, searching for your lips then your tongue hungrily, before grabbing your ass with his hands and pressing you against him. Then his fingers fought against the buttons of your blouse as you pulled his t-shirt over his head. When he took off your clothing, you wanted to unhook your bra, but he stopped you, saying "no lemme... lemme look at you. Please."

His voice was wavering and on the verge of breaking. You let your arms fall to your sides, while he ran his fingers from your neck to the roundness of your breasts, taking them in his hand while following their shape. He unhooked your bra, and his thumbs caressed your nipples, so delicately that they became even harder. His gaze left your breasts to meet yours, and all you saw was the fire burning there. He knelt down to remove your shoes, pants and panties, and he kissed your mound, making your clit twitch instantly as the memory of the previous night hadn't left you. His tongue slipped between your folds, and he groaned as he felt your wetness, his hands clenching on your ass. But quickly he stood up, and said “I need to fuck you baby, or I’m gonna lose my damn mind”, and you knew he meant it, deep inside.

Kissing you, he led you to his bed, where you lay on your back. Steve asked, “spread your legs for me” but he couldn’t wait and gently pushed them apart with his knee before settling between your thighs. He waited for a few seconds, searching for your eyes, but quickly grabbed his cock and pushed it into your entrance, as if he was afraid that you would change your mind, or scared to read the doubt in your eyes. He ran his hand over your cheek while you got used to his girth, but your need to feel him was too strong. Too urgent. You grabbed his ass to press him against you and moved your pelvis towards him, fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck, baby what ya doin’? Gonna hurt yourself.”

“I wanna feel you. Please, let me do it. Don’t let go of me, I can take it.”

“Ok ok, I won’t, I’m right here. I’m with you.” His eyebrows furrowed looking at you, as you couldn’t help but gasp, feeling every inch of his cock spreading your folds, but you wanted to feel him more, always more. Until he was balls deep inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pulled back before thrusting in again, pounding you into the mattress with slow but deep strokes. You didn’t take your eyes off each other, except for the rare moments where he kissed your forehead or your lips, his hand caressing your cheek. 

And you had forgotten it, this feeling. Of being desired, wanted. Your own desire to melt into someone else. He was giving you all of this in this moment, and you felt your heart flutter, as you were drinking up this long-forgotten feeling. Your hips now accompanied his, as if in a dance, as if you knew each other for years, intimately. But you didn’t, and it heightened your feelings tenfold. Your eyes were fixed on his, and you read in his furrowed eyebrows and his stare, the same perplexity that seized him, about your proximity.

“Fuck… yeah, keep moving your hips like this. Shit… gonna cum if you keep goin’, baby.”

“I won’t stop”, you murmured and stroked his biceps, then squeezed them with your hands to prevent him from escaping from your embrace.

“I need you to come, baby. Need to feel your pussy clench my cock,” he added, pressing his torso to yours, and you started to rub your clit against him. His face buried in your neck, and his hand resting on your cheek, he continued to fuck you, at a very slow pace this time, and you whimpered, “Steve, I’m so close…” just before you came on his shaft. “Fuck, baby… you’re coming so hard for me,” he managed to mumble. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside”, you breathed out. He didn't ask if you were sure, he knew you were. “Look at me…fuck, you’re takin’ me so good”, he groaned just before pulsing inside you. And you hugged him as tight as you were able to, already dreading his pulling away from you. Once you milked his cock, you felt his body relax over yours and he kissed your neck. You lay against each other without speaking, your fingers running up and down his forearm. When you sat up a few minutes later, he slipped his arms through an old shirt that he probably wore to sleep, without putting it on, and as you were about to get out of bed he pulled it over your head, to hold you against him. You looked at each other but it created a lump in your throat. “What now?”, you thought.

“What are we gonna do, Steve?”

“I don’t know, baby”, he replied, shaking his head slowly.

He released you and you got dressed, holding back the tears that appeared in the corners of your eyes.

When you got back to the apartment, Javi was lying on the couch smoking a cigarette, and he stood up looking at you with a worried look.

“Where have you been, cariño? I was worried.”

“Went out to get some fresh air. I’m going to bed, Javi.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I'm not there for you like I should be. But I will try, I promise.”

You nodded and went to bed, and as you lay there, his torso against your back, you hoped he wouldn't slip his hand into your panties, as Steve's cum was still dripping lightly from your pussy.

********************

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[mcflymemes]

8 IDEAS FOR GETTING MORE ROLEPLAY INTERACTIONS remember to always be respectful and read rules before reaching out!

cater your space down to the most active, most interactive blogs on your dash, and always try to follow new people to broaden that group. if someone isn't liking your posts or sending memes, maybe it's time to part ways! that's all right! it's okay to softblock them and find others who are more engaged and more interested in your blog and your character/s.

memes. reblog them... and dear god, send them! if you see a blog on your dash reblog a meme... send some in! send a handful! especially if the two of you have never interacted, sending memes shows them you're interested and want to create some fun dynamics! please don't be nervous about doing this - you know how excited you get when you receive memes... and they'll probably feel the same way!

send spontaneous headcanon questions, asks, or compliments. everyone loves a good (not anonymous) message in their inbox. ask about their character! ask where their ideas came from! how do they write so beautifully - what books do they read to help inspire them? what music do they listen to when they write? maybe compliment their graphics! compliment their writing style! this is a fantastic way to create connections and show an interest in others, who will then in turn show an interest in you.

follow your mutuals' mutuals. if you keep seeing a certain blog writing with your mutuals... follow them! see what happens! they've probably seen you on their dash, too, so you already have something to bond over. maybe you can incorporate your dynamic with a mutual into one of your new threads?

send an IM. this is the one that rarely ever gets used, but i find it the most effective way to start something fun. if you follow a new blog and you've got an idea for a plot with them... send them a message! "thanks for following me back! i love your blog already! would you be interested in plotting?" start a chat with them and come up with something fun!

do not put all the burden on the other person. too often people are so excited to plot... and then expect the other person to do all the work. when you plot with someone, have ideas. come with options. offer to send them memes to start something off. ask questions about their character. would your character even like mine? what dynamic will they have? should we do a pre-established relationship and avoid the awkward first meeting threads? have ideas ready!

don't guilt. "no one wants to write with me." "no one likes me." "i don't have any threads." "no one ever sends me memes." "i guess all my followers hate me." "i'm just gonna delete my blog." these are not fair to say. these statements are harmful, both to you and to your friends, and i can guarantee that these statements push any potential interactions away. these are normal feelings to have, and it's terrible that you feel these things, but posting about them to guilt your followers does not create an environment conducive to creativity and harmony.

most importantly, remember that people have lives. people have jobs, families, pets, responsibilities, health struggles, and other irl things that might prevent them from putting all of their enthusiasm or time into writing with you. if plotting or interactions don't work out with one person, move on to the next.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Yuliya's Gacha of Love... is coming soon!

Your favorite game just announced a banner coming up featuring your favorite character, and you have to get his SSR! Hopefully you have enough gems and keys saved up... you don't want to lose the 50/50! ♡

This is an event that gives you the opportunity to send in requests for me to write, to celebrate my blog reaching 300 followers! There will be two different event periods, with different characters you can request during each period.

Phase one's banner starts tomorrow, August 15th, and includes the following characters:

Phase one will end on Saturday, August 17th

Phase two's banner will begin Saturday, August 17th, and includes the following characters:

Phase two will end on Monday, August 19th

These are the cards you can pull for during each event period (they will be the prompts you can request for me to write):

Rules:

*Please read them over carefully! Failure to follow the rules may lead to your request not being written!*

⋆ When requesting, please only pull for one character per ask ♡

⋆ If you want multiple cards of a character, they must be sent in separate asks. You can only pull for one card at a time (meaning, you can only pick one prompt at a time)

⋆ This event is meant as a celebration for my followers, to thank them for their support and enjoying my work. While I don’t wish to turn off Anon, if you do request anonymously, I ask that you put an emoji or name I can refer to you with. This is just so I can keep track of everyone, and to help prevent confusion ♡

⋆ These will short scenarios, and not full length fics! This is so I'm able to get through everyone's requests ♡

⋆ You can request multiple times, but you are only guaranteed once per phase. After you use your guaranteed pull, you will be subject to the gacha, meaning there will be a 50/50 chance whether you get the character you requested, or a different character from the banner you're pulling on. Anon's do not get guaranteed pulls!

(To clarify: I will spin a wheel, where one side says "win 50/50" and the other says "lose 50/50". If I spin it and you lose the 50/50, I will then put the remaining characters on the banner in a wheel, and spin to see who you get! I thought this would be a fun way to make the event interesting lol ♡)

⋆ The Reader in these requests will have no pronouns (as this is how I usually write my x Reader works) ♡

⋆ If, for some reason, the Reader is referred to with pronouns, they will be Gender Neutral (They/Them) ♡

⋆ When pulling, you must state whether you are using your guaranteed pull, or agree to the gacha. Again, Anon's do not get guaranteed pulls!

Some examples include:

"Hi! I'd like to pull for Playful Dress Floyd please! I'm guaranteed to get him!"

or

"Hey, can I get Applepom Ace? It's a 50/50, so I hope I win!"

or

"I'm pulling for Masquerade Jade!! He's not guaranteed, but I'll give him all my keys until he comes home!!" (this lets me know that if you don't win the 50/50, you plan on sending another ask requesting the same character/card!)

⋆ Phase one will not start until tomorrow, August 15th. I will make an announcement when you can start pulling on the gacha. Phase one will end on Saturday, August 17th. I will make an announcement when Phase one ends. Phase two will begin on Saturday, August 17th. I will make an announcement when you can start pulling on the gacha. Phase two ends on Monday, August 19th, along with the event. I will make an announcement when you can no longer pull on the gacha, and send requests ♡

Any requests placed before the banner's start or after the banner's end will not be filled! Sorry! ♡

Thank you so much for reading the rules! And again, thank you so much for 300 followers! ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[beemovieerotica]

the way that we collectively deal with creators/celebrities who have done something terrible is driving me insane---because the trend im seeing consistently across fan blogs is that it's not really about making individual proactive decisions or even -doing- anything to change the context in which the harm happened. it's specifically disengagement and the absence of any other coherent action that's become the end-all-be-all to what anyone can fathom doing---people quietly deleting content from their blogs, renaming urls, and stepping back from a creator's purchasable / marketable content in a way that basically only functions to absolve them of a supposed contaminating influence of that content, after which they can show everyone that they're good now!! they listened. without recognizing that it's content. and that we've continued to structure our entire sense of modern morality around the consumption / condemnation of content ($$$) while completely sidestepping talking about the actual harm that happened or what can tangibly be done to prevent that from happening again.

like I do not give a solitary shit if someone decides to draw a picture of a fictional character on their tumblr blog but maybe some good could be done if people start reaching out to conventions, big chain bookstores, and other venues that do fan events / book signings and who have invited this creator in the past, and tell them outright that we're taking note or who they platform. we're following the news, and we're not sure how the public will take it if they decide to bring back someone who young fans specifically do not feel safe around anymore. start a petition and @ comic con, make mainstream news care about this.

[kikitakite]

@fantasyfictionfables

I was going to reblog some of your posts because I wanted to discuss your takes on Mystra, but then I found out you're a Christian conservative who hates gay people.

No gay person thinks their sexual orientation is their identity, but it's absolutely PART of their identity, just as being straight is part of yours. You can claim otherwise, but it determines who you might love and marry and that person will one day become a part of you and your identity. It's inevitable. As a wife and mother of three, you should know that better than anyone.

But people from groups like yours shame gay people for exploring that part of themselves and that's why Pride Month exists. Pride isn't "propaganda". It's about marginalized people showing the world they exist and they're not ashamed of it. Parades are also a great way for gay people to meet each other. My bestie met her wife at a march 15 years ago and they've been together ever since. It's beautiful. They have two happy, gorgeous children who wouldn't exist without Pride, because their moms never would've met.

Pride also raises money to help gay teens who've been cast out of their homes and gay refugees who've had to flee their country because being gay is illegal there. It also provides support for gay people who need medical help, therapy for abuse, suicide prevention and more. It's a safe space for people who are often discriminated against and even KILLED just for being who they are. So sorry that seems to bother you.

Your take isn't brave, it's just ignorant and hateful. You didn't have to write that post. Nothing provoked it. You just WANTED to to air your allegiances. And then you turned off comments and reblogs lmfao. For the majority of the year, gay people survive just like us straights. They go about their day and don't even mention being gay. You picked the one month in the entire year that's dedicated to them to complain about their existence and call them "deranged". And then you have the audacity to say you "bear no ill will" towards them? Bullshit.

I can only assume the word "pride" scares you because you're a Christian and it's a sin, am I right? Well here's something ironic: lust is also a sin, yet your entire blog not only consists of Gale thirst posts, but you're also stealing Tim Downie's voice to make audio clips using AI. Hmmm, I wonder if God would approve of a married woman posting NSFW content and using a man's voice for her hedonistic writings without his consent. 🤔

And by the way, as a veteran DnD player I can tell you right now that Mystra has done some absolutely VILE shit to her followers. She's not perfect. None of the gods in DnD are. They're flawed and often cruel. I've seen you compare Mystra and Gale to stories in the Bible, but that almost feels blasphemous. Mystra has a history of evil deeds. She orchestrated Elminster's rape, made sure he had kids and never told him about them. She turned Volo into an anchor without his knowledge. She tortured a peasant because he refused to sleep with her, then killed his wife and punished him for crying about it. And don't even get me started on the "daughters" she created. The third Mystra (who has Mystra and Mystryl's memories) is cruel to Gale as well and the game gives so much context for that. Plus ALL the companions agree she's unreasonable and tell Gale to reject her, and if he does it leads to one of his most satisfying endings. He's happy, he's a teacher, he marries tav and everyone approves. Your way of playing isn't the only right way and people aren't wrong for criticizing Mystra. There's plenty about her that deserves to be criticized, as is the case with every god in the pantheon.

Speaking of, I have nothing against Christians, but I do when they use their faith to shame people and act like total hypocrites.