#tamer zero
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I was looking at some of Bashar Murad's old music videos (he's a queer Palestinian artist), and....
7th of August, 2021...
#warning to the liberals here: i have *zero* patience left for whatever recycled lesser evil argument you feel compelled to make#read the room#anyway...#free palestine#palestine#gaza#israel#bashar murad#tamer nafar#that's tamer in the picture btw not bashar
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You know what day itâ Daisuke?! Happy 24th Anniversary Zero Two! [Redraw 2020 / Appmon] [2021 / Tamers] [2022 / Frontier] [2023 / V-Tamer]
#Digimon#Odaiba Memorial Day#Odaiba Day#Digimon 02#Motomiya Daisuke#My art#This year was awkward because there's no like. Even Number Anniversaries this year#And the next few years are gonna have a few kinda overlapping ones (including Zero Two's 25th)#But since I started this weird ass tradition with Tamers' 20th Anniversary I did kinda skip Zero Two#(I did also technically skip Adventure but also since Reboot Taichi has been included since the begining I think it's fine)#(Adventure is still represented in Spirit) (Also I did V-Tamer last year so we got Double Taichi Action now)#So we're doing Zero Two this year#Poor boy Daisuke shouldn't have been left out this long. Now he gets to join the rest of the gang in the Calendar Purgatory :)#August 1st claims another gogglehead#(Had to start drawing the calendar bigger man I can't fit everyone in it otherwise)
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Not Again - Part Ten
Summary: Azriel and Y/n both are left reeling from the fight and revelations that morning.
Warnings: ANGST!!!! Shes a little spicey, Smut (oral, f receiving), this is probably the longest chapter yet
Series Masterlist
-Part Ten-
Azriel was gone until well after dinner, sheâd eaten alone in the dining room when the house had seemed sick of her wallowing and forced a plate of food in front of her. Y/n was half tempted to refuse but she felt the scolding presence and decided arguing wasnât worth it.
The fight had drained from her in the hours sheâd spent in that seat, staring at the wall. She didnât have it in her, the fire from her argument with Azriel dying out, turning to ice in her chest until she felt nothing at all.
Once she finished every last bite of the meal, the house whisked away the plates and she was left with nothing again, just that cold empty silence. She felt the fire tugging on her, felt it like a faint echo of what sheâd felt this morning, begging to be rekindled, to keep fighting until she won, that was her motherâs temper, her fatherâs resilience. But she wasnât them, she wasnât strong enough to be them, her parents had taken on the world and won, fighting for a dream that they got to achieve. Y/n? Y/n had lived through nothing but peace. She was trained as a warrior, she could fight and win, but what was there to fight for? To get home, to fight some faceless god that wanted her dead for a sin that wasnât her own, to die anyway? What was the damned point of it all.
Alone, she was so fucking alone, and it was eating her alive.
âYouâre still up.â
Her heart lurches in her chest, âGods be damned, donât do that.â
Azriel glides across the room, in that deadly silent way, spymaster indeed. She hadnât even felt his approach like she usually did, that heavy feeling of being under his gaze, that feeling in her heart that whispered, heâs close. It was like it was suppressed, submerged under water, still there, but so so faint.
âIâm sorry.â He gives her a small grin that says quite the opposite, âDid I startle you?â
âNot at all,â she says, frowning up at him, âWhere have you been? Babysitting not fun enough for you anymore?â
Itâs easy to throw on that mask of sarcasm and arrogance, anything to hide the crushing weight on her shoulders.
âIt was never fun to begin with.â He shrugs, taking a seat across from her, a glass of deep red wine appearing on the table before him, âI was dealing with court matters.â
She leans across the table and plucks the glass into her own hands, âSounds riveting.â
The wine is sweet on her tongue as she drinks deeply, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. It soothes some of the rough edges of her, chips away at that ice.
She sighs as she finishes the glass, her eyes finding the male in front of her, whoâs hazel gaze is firmly planted on her sighing lips. Thereâs a darkness in his gaze, different than the usual shadows, itâs deeper, it kindles that fire in her, a singular spark that could turn into a blaze. Maybe, it would be enough to burn away the thoughts that threaten to drag her down, down, down.
âThat was mine,â he says quietly.
She smiles sweetly, âWas it? Iâm sorry, I didnât realize.â
His eyes donât move from her lips, âIâve had a long day, Princess.â
âOh do tell.â The glass in her hand fills on its own, a gift from the house, she sips slowly. âI do hope you werenât sulking all day.â
Azriel leans forward, arms resting on the table between them. Earlier it had felt like the only barrier keeping them from tearing into each other, now, it felt much the same.
âSulking over what, exactly?â His head tilts to the side, examining her, âOver a stubborn female whoâs ready to run head first into her death?â
And just like that the fire turns from a gentle heat to a roaring in her blood, and not in the way she wanted it to. There was something about the way he looked at her, the infuriating way heâd looked all morning during their fight, that has her fire burning again. Fight, fight, fight. She wanted to fight and burn and take all of this storming emotion inside of her out on him, and it would seem he was finally ready to do the same.
âI see youâve still got your panties in a twist over this,â she grins, showing off her canines, âDid you think you could just kiss me and Iâd fall at your feet and let you go over protective fae male on me?â
His eyes drop to her lips, âIâd think youâd have wanted to actually survive long enough to make it home to your family.â
âThatâs what Iâm trying to do,â she snaps, âBut you and your busybody court wonât get out of my way.â
âSo you can get yourself killed?â His gaze is darker, filled with that rage and something more, âSo you can throw yourself in front of a vengeful god that wants you dead, leaving the portal open to it, get all of us killed in your reckless, idiotic, selfish attempt.â
Heâs right, she knows that, whatever god has it out for her wonât stop until sheâs dead, and after that, who knows what it will do with the lock. She sees his reasoning, she understands it, but sheâs geared for a fight and that fire fuels her.
âIf youâd let me try,â she snarls, âgive me the damned book and figure out how to open the right gate-â
âNo.â His voice is soft, a simmering heat lacing it, âYou are not going anywhere near that book, you are not trying that fucking gate again, you are not leaving-â
âLeaving what, who? Leaving you?â Thereâs a raging fire in her eyes, in her blood, in the pit of her stomach, it begs for her to burn with it, she chases the feeling so she doesnât feel the emptiness from before. âWas my mouth so good that you canât stand to let me go?â
That narrow focus on her mouth sends a thrill through her, âIs it so shocking that I actually care about your wellbeing, you absolute fucking brat.â
Her grin is feline, âI have a feeling you like brats, shadowsinger.â
Azriel is standing, leaning over the table, wings flared in the perfect picture of a wrathful god. Her eyes skate over him, down those sculpted arms to the hands that look ready to wring her neck. He could easily wrap one of his large hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her, could make her see stars.
When her eyes travel back up to his, she could melt with the heat in them. This is exactly what she wanted, rile him up, get him to either punch her or fuck her, she didnât quite care which, only that he made her feel something other than nothing.
âListen, Princess.â Gods his voice was gravely, laced with anger and something that made her toes curl in her boots. âI see what youâre doing, and itâs not going to work.â
âAnd what exactly am I doing, Azrielâ she lets her voice drop low when she says his name, lifting that glass of wine to her mouth.
His hand snaps out, practically ripping the glass from her hand, âYou think you can get under my skin, make me angry enough, make me want to put you in your damned place.â
She was on fire, burning and burning. A noise almost slips off her tongue as he turns the glass, placing his mouth directly on the spot hers had been, and throws the whole thing back, the strong column of his throat on perfect display to her. A primal part of her wants to sink her teeth into the flesh and leave her mark on him.
Azriel slams the glass down on the table, a crack forming in its stem, âYou want me to make you feel something, you want to act like a brat to hide how fucking scared and lonely you feel.â
The heat stops, everything stops as he continues, âYou want me to be your gods damned distraction from that fucking void in your chest.
âFuck you,â she snarls, standing to copy his stance, leaning across that table like sheâd jump it and tear his throat out instead of laying her claim, âyouâre a piece of shit, shadowsinger.â
He leans in closer, close enough she can smell the wine on his breath, âIâll take you when youâre done being a coward, Princess.â
And like it meant nothing, that soul baring sentence, he turns and stalks out of the room, shadows trailing behind him like they were trying to stay.
The glass is flying through the air, shattering on the arch of the doorway, and those lingering shadows scatter.
He felt like he was that glass, exploding into a million pieces. It took every ounce of self control to keep walking, to keep dampening that bond he could so strongly feel now that he was aware of it. He could feel her on the other side of that tendril of shadow, raging, desperate, scared, and lonely. So gods damned lonely.
Azriel understood the feeling, heâd felt it all day since the moment Rhys has spoken those words, his mate. Heâd collapsed, no longer able to support himself and heâd spent those agonizing hours crying, letting Cassian and Rhys bear his weight. How cruel was fate to bring her to him, this female of pine and snow and fire that reminded him of home, this female that would eventually have to leave him.
His mate, a storm of ice, wind, and fire on the other side of that tendril of shadow that connected them. His mate, the warrior whoâd handed him his ass on more than one occasion, who could get beneath his skin more than anyone heâd ever known. His mate, the most beautiful female heâd ever seen.
Heâd felt her from the River house, the way her thoughts had spiraled out of control, the rage draining into nothingness, it scared the shit out of him, enough that heâd started to pull himself together, using his brothers to haul himself off the floor. It had taken longer than he wouldâve liked to make himself presentable, to force his wings to work to take him to her, to dampen that bond so she wouldnât feel the agony he was in.
When heâd seen her there, broken and lost, he needed to get her back, desperately needed her to come back from that edge. He was willing to shove his own agony into a box and put on a mask. He tugged once on that bond, begging her to fight it. And when she'd started to come back, when she started to play with him, he kept going, stoking that fire anyway he could, he brought back the rage from that morning, the desire in his blood, and they fought and pushed at each other.
He felt that primal urge to claim her right then and there, but he couldn't. He could feel her on the other side, feel the lust and fire, feel the despair hidden beneath. She wanted a distraction, not him, she wanted to hide from everything she was feeling and Azriel desperately wanted to do it, to take her over that table, over and over, to scream that she was his mate, to claim her as his. Instead heâd called her a coward, he really meant it about himself.
Azriel was terrified, to bare his soul only to have it ripped away through a gate across the stars. He would fall at her feet and she would still leave him, he wasnât enough to make her stay, he knew that. She had a destiny, she would be a Queen in a far away land, and she would one day find a consort who would be able to stay by her side, love her, cherish her.
He felt sick. Barely making it to his room and into the bathroom before he heaved the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Azriel couldnât breathe, couldnât stop the spasms in his abdomen, couldnât stop the tears streaming down his face.
The mother was cruel, so very cruel.
Y/n couldnât go back to her room, couldnât be that close to him, she wasnât sure what she would do if she was. Would she take her dagger to his throat, would she take all the rage in her blood and kill him, or would she cave into the desperate need to kiss him, to turn that anger into passion. Both options were bad ideas, enough that she begged the house to show her to a room as far away as possible.
When she woke with the sunrise, the unfamiliar room nearly sent her into a panic before the night before crashed back into her. All the pain and longing, the fire and rage, the numbness and loneliness. It was to much, these feelings, she felt like she was drowning in them, she needed to get out, get as far away as possible.
She was dressed and out the door, practically running down the halls to the closest balcony. The door was already open for her, the breeze welcoming her as she shifted and leapt of the edge, flying into the sunrise beyond.
She didnât turn back, didnât look to see the male whoâs gaze she could feel like a brand across her back.
Two days had passed since Azriel watched her take off from the balcony across the house. Heâd nearly flown after her, with how fast she was he wasnât sure heâd even be able to catch her. But instead he just watched, watched as his mate flew as fast and as far away from him as she possibly could.
Heâd waited for hours, scanning the skies for that majestic hawk form, but she didnât come back. The bond grew fainter and fainter as she drifted farther and farther away. That was when the panic had set in. She didnât know these lands, the creatures within, the fae who lurked in the shadows. Y/n was a warrior, a talented one at that, yet Azriel couldnât help the fear that she would be hurt.
Cassian had found him on that ledge, had forced him inside, had forced him to eat, to sit down and gods damned breathe for a minute. And heâd stayed with him the rest of the day, through the night and the day after. The only thing that kept Azriel from losing control completely was that thread, no matter how faint, he could still feel her on the other side.
She was alive, burning, those swirling emotions screaming down the bond. Anger, despair, loneliness, longing, fear, so many emotions that mirrored everything Azriel felt. He wondered how much of it was her and how much of it was him.
By the end of the second day, sheer exhaustion had him falling into bed, his brother closing the door behind him to go find his own bed, his mate in it. Azriel was to tired to say anything, even the thank you Cassian deserved for staying with him, for holding him together.
Sleep took him, and he welcomed the blissful darkness.
Wake up, wake, sheâs back, wake up, sheâs here, outside, back. His body jolts, startled awake by the whispering shadows around his head. Even without them telling him, he knew she was back, could feel her close on the other side of that tether. Closer and closer she grew, coming down the hall towards him. He didnât think, didnât stop, just ran to the door, hauling it open to see her standing there, her back turned to him, hand resting on her own door.
âWhere the fuck have you been?â
His voice is gravely, still heavy with sleep and lingering emotions that comes to the forefront as soon as her scent hits him.
âNone of your business.â It lacks her usual snark, no heat behind it, âItâs late, Iâm tired.â
His hand moves on its own, fingers wrapping around her bicep and pulling, rougher than he meant to be but in that moment he didnât have it in him to care. Heâd spent the last two days worrying, scared shitless over where she could be, he couldnât control the fierce heat that rose in his blood.
She looks up at him, eyes ice cold, âWhat do you want?â
âWhere have you been?â He repeats, each word sharp and short, âYou canât just disappear for two days and expect me to just-â
âOh fuck off,â she snarls, âI donât owe you shit, shadowsinger.â
He can feel the spark of anger in her, and it mirrors his own. Sheâd ran away, flown off to who knows where, and left him. She left him.
âItâs a simple question, Princess.â He pulls her closer to him, looking down at her, âWhy do you have to make everything so difficult.â
She gives him one of those sweet little smiles that makes him see red, makes the reins on his control snap. His hand shoots up, wrapping behind her neck and gripping a handful of her hair, pulling so sheâs looking up at him. Her mouth opens, most likely to yell at him, to snarl and snap those lethal teeth at his throat, but he doesnât give her the chance.
Their lips crash together, viciously devouring each other. Azriel pours every emotion he had felt in the past few days into it, the heat and anger, the despair and loneliness, the desire. He decided then that he didnât care, he would take what she would give him, would be her distraction, would lay his soul bear for her, would let her rip his heart from his chest to bring it with her when she left him behind. He didnât care that it would kill him to let her leave, to let her leave and never know that he was her mate, he didnât care, he needed her, needed to feel her, to worship her.
He holds her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other gripping her hair to keep her exactly where he wants her. Her hand grips his arm, nails digging into the flesh, her other grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him impossibly closer.
There was no softness, no gentle touch and soft passion, it was hard and painful. Her teeth drawing blood from his lip where she bites him, his hand bruising her sides where he holds her.
âYouâre a fucking prick,â she snarls against him, pulling away just enough that he can still feel her lips against his.
The hand in her hair roughly pulls, forcing her back so that he can look her in the eyes, he notes the small moan that she tries to hold back, âYouâre infuriating, Princess.â
She presses closer to him and he almost hisses at the contact, âI can feel just how infuriated you are, shadowsinger.â
He lets go of her hair, reaching down to her thighs to hoist her up. Her legs wrap around his hips as he presses her body into the door behind her. The sound she makes almost brings him to his knees. He can feel her pressed against him, his cock straining in his leathers.
âI canât stand you.â Her head falls back against the door, letting him trail his lips and tongue down her throat, âYou insufferable male."
He finds her pulse and nips at the sensitive spot. It draws a heady sigh from her lips, he does it again just so he can hear that sweet sound. She claws at his back as he wraps is lips around that spot, writhing against him as he leaves a deep purple mark. Azriel has to grip her thighs even harder to keep her still, or heâd lose his mind completely and take her against the wall.
âGods,â she pants, âAzriel please.â
He kisses that claiming mark, âPlease what, Princess?â
She lets out a soft growl, pushing his face away from her neck. Her lips find his again, her nails digging painfully into his cheek. He groans into it and holds her up with one arm, using the other to unlatch the door. It swings open and he takes them inside, slamming it shut behind him. Only the soft moon light illuminates the space, Azriel doesnât need it to find her bed.
He practically throws her onto the center of it, grinning at the feral hiss she lets out, âIâm not a damned rag doll, you bastard.â
Y/n props herself up on her elbows, looking up at him with those eyes on fire. She looks delicious in the soft light, hair a mess, lips swollen, that mark on her neck a deep dark purple. A sick sense of purely male pride overwhelms him, she would walk around with that bruise for days, and everyone would know she belonged to him.
âNo of course not,â he smirks, slowly crawling onto the bed, over her, caging her in, âA rag doll wouldnât talk back this much.â
âI hate you,â she sighs, glaring up at him.
âThatâs fine.â It wasnât, it was the opposite of fine. âYou can hate me all you want.â
He doesnât let her respond, doesnât let her wield that poison tipped tongue to open the wound in his heart anymore. Instead, his scarred hands grip the soft material of her shirt and rips.
Azriel groans at the sight, and Y/n gasps as the chilled air drifts across her exposed chest. Soft and perfect, large and heavy, Azriel takes her in, the valley between that leads down to her belly, the curve of her waist, he devours her with his eyes. Her arms lift to cover herself but his fingers wrap around her wrists and pins them roughly above her head. He wouldnât let her hide from him.
âBeautiful, so gods damned perfect,â he growls, leaning down to capture one of the peaks in his mouth.
Her back arches off the bed, pressing closer to his tongue, to his teeth that pinch the little bud, drawing a sharp gasp from her. He keeps her wrists in one hand, the other trailing down to her chest, gripping the soft flesh in his palm and squeezing. He groans against her, keeping his hold on her wrist despite the way she writhes and pulls against him. The most devastatingly melodic sounds fall from her lips, moans and pleading sighs.
âWhat do you want, Princess?â He asks, trailing kisses across her soft skin, leaving those claiming bruises as he goes, âTell me what you want.â
âMore,â she groans, hissing when he takes a nipple between his fingers, squeezing and rolling it without mercy, âMore, I need more, I need to touch you.â
He grins, âDonât be greedy, Princess.â
She growls and pulls against the hold on her wrists, desperately trying to break free of his iron grip. Of course sheâd fight him, even now when he was ready to lay the world at her feet, she would fight him. He lets her win, lets her rip her hands from his, lets her use those claws to rip at his shirt, tearing it from his body like heâd done to her.
âDid that make you feel better?â He taunts, smirking at the way her eyes take him in.
âShut up.â
Her hands trace the tattoos across his chest, nails dragging across him with just enough pressure to draw a hiss from his lips. Violent, wicked, beautiful. She was perfect, so damned perfect.
He drops his lips to the valley between her breasts, kissing down the plane of her stomach while his fingers deftly work at the ties of her leathers. Her hands drag through his hair, tugging at the strands as she gasps and moans at every touch.
Azriel makes quick work of her leathers, roughly tugging them down her thighs, throwing them behind them without care. Her scent washes over him, sweet arousal that has him growling low in his chest. The delicate black fabric covering her center is easy to tear off her body, revealing all of her to him.
âLook at you,â he groans, sitting back on his heels so he could see all of her, âPerfect, absolutely perfect.â
âI told you I was your type,â she breathes, that saccharine on her lips.
Azriel shifts, placing himself directly between her legs, his scarred hands pushing apart her thighs so he could see her dripping for him. His fingers dig into her strong thighs, more bruises for her to wear.
âAz,â she whines, glaring through her heavy lidded eyes, âdonât just stare, do some-â
Her pleas turn into desperate moans as he drops his head to her, laying down between her thighs so he can properly worship her. He runs is tongue directly over her center, tasting her like she was his last meal to savor. So impossibly sweet, her taste has him growling against her.
âFuck, Az,â Y/n practically screams, rolling her hips as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
He could do this for hours, flattening his tongue against her, sucking, biting, bringing out those noises that sound like music to his ears. The hands in his hair pull and push like she canât tell if she needs him closer or to stop, he has to pin her to the bed with his arm to stop her from writhing away.
He can feel her on the other side of the bond no matter how hard he tries to dampen in, can feel the intense pleasure, it ripples through him, making him strain against his leathers uncomfortably. He has to press his hips into the bed to relieve some of the pain of it.
âGods damnit,â she gasps, âAz, I- fuck.â
Heâs half tempted to taunt her for the way she stumbles over the words, but to do that heâd have to take his mouth off of her and he wasnât willing to do that. Instead, he takes is free hand, softly tracing it up her thigh, until itâs posed at her entrance. He uses a single scarred finger, dragging it through her wetness. Her hips desperately try to chase the digit and he laughs against her, sending a shiver through her at the vibration.
âPlease,â she begs, and itâs the sweetest sound heâd ever heard, âAz, please.â
Azriel doesnât hesitate to plunge into her, groaning at the feeling, grinding his cock into the bed. Sheâs moaning and cursing as he curls his finger to find that spot inside that would make her see stars, that would have her coming undone on his tongue. When she screams his name, he knows heâs found it and he keeps brushing the spot over and over as his mouth devours her clit. He adds a second finger, the tight stretch around them nearly enough to send him over the edge.
âAz, donât stop,â Y/n gasps, head thrown back in pleasure, âplease I-â
There on the other side of that tendril of shadow he feels the band in the pit of her stomach tighten and tighten. His tongue flattens against her, his fingers curl, and that band snaps.
He doesnât stop, keeps rolling his tongue over her, keeps moving his fingers as the shocks run through her, his arm pinning her down as she writhes beneath him. Wave after wave after wave until sheâs pulling away from him, trying to escape the pleasure that slowly turns into delicious pain.
âAz, please,â Y/n sobs, âI canât, fuck, please.â
It takes more effort than heâs willing to admit to pry himself away, the way she gasps as his fingers pull out of her makes him want to go right back in. Addictive, she is absolutely addictive.
Y/n goes limp beneath him, panting like sheâd ran a marathon, heâs half tempted to tease her for that too if she didnât look so tired. Eyes heavy like she was fighting to stay awake.
It only hits him then that she had been out, Mother knows where, for days, flying far enough away that he could barely feel her through the bond. She had to be exhausted, and Azriel had throughly worn out any energy she might have had left.
He pulls away, tugging down the rumpled sheets. She doesnât acknowledge what heâs doing, not until heâs carefully wrapping his arms around her, one behind her back the other below her legs. Sheâs almost limp in his arm as he gently lays her at the head of the bed.
âWhat are you doing?â She asks, voice hoarse, âWhat about you?â
His cock was begging for attention, begging for her hand, for her mouth, for her cunt. Heâd need to take care of himself to get rid of the aching need.
Azriel brings the duvet up to her chin, âIâm fine, Princess. You need to sleep.â
âBut-â
He grins down at her, leaning down to brush his lips across her cheek, âDonât worry, Iâm not done with you yet. I have a whole list of ways to ravish you. Youâll be begging me to let you sleep.â
A soft whine, âAz, I want-â
âSleep, Princess.â He stands, moving towards the door, âIâll see you in the morning.â
Azriel has to force himself to take each step away from her when everything in him is screaming for him to turn around and take everything she had to offer. His shadows plead with him to stop, to do just that, pulling back towards her against the tight reins he keeps on them.
âAz.â The softest whisper, he almost doesnât hear it, âStay, please.â
Y/n looks at him, those eyes still heavy with sleep and an emotion so raw, so open, that he canât help it when he says, âOf course, Princess.â
Tag list
@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 , @thisiskaylin , @wolfgirl624 , @khaleesihavilliard , @fluffy-bnny , @mariahoedt , @durgenyx , @glitterypirateduck , @byyalady , @amberlynn98 , @ferrarisbitch , @a-cup-of-nightshade , @breella , @hnnybee0 , @superspideyparker , @that-one-little-soybean , @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife , @websterss , @sassybluebird , @fakesocialmediaa , @balsalmic-vinegar , @lees-chaotic-brain , @yashiw , @a-mexican-waffle , @thefairlyaveragegatsby , @tele86 , @emidpsandia , @nickishadow139 , @basicwhiterat
#these two have zero idea how to properly communicate#gone is that soft early morning talk#weâre here for the pure horniness#also I have written smut like once before so let me know if this is trash or not#you cannot convince me that Azriel is not a brat tamer#Rhys was wrong when he said Az is not the ravishing type#acotar#azriel x reader#acotar x reader#azriel#rowaelin daughter#rowaelin#not again
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I see a lot of confusion on why calling Damian Wayne "feral" is racist/problematic, so here's a rundown.
There's a difference between calling your child or your younger sibling "feral" and calling a character like Damian "feral." You know your child/sibling/niece/nephew etc. They're real people, and unless they have a problem with it personally, then there's nothing wrong with calling them feral as a joke. It doesn't (shouldn't) affect their perceptions by other people. It doesn't become a label that follows them.
Damian al Ghul-Wayne is a fictional character. A canonically mixed Arab/Chinese/Jewish White character with a history connected to some of the most prominent Arab comic book characters, who themselves also get insanely mischaracterized.
He's constantly whitewashed. He's been written with racist undertones (the suicide bomber vest). He's had his character development and progress backtracked time and time again by DC. DC treats him weirdly most days and completely shitty in the worst stories.
A good majority of fanon hasn't done any better than DC. You cannot pat yourselves on the back for being more inclusive or mental health aware than DC when you call a mixed Arab/Chinese boy "feral". It's constant. You can come up with various titles and nuances for every Bat-character, for every Robin.
Tim can be smart, a skater, a genius, the one holding everyone together, the little brother, the one who needs love. Jason can be cool, morally "right" or "wrong", unstable, PTSD-stricken, the one who was betrayed, the one with Shakespearean tragedies. Dick can be fun, happy, the first one, the prodigal son, the one with complicated history and the big brother.
You give them room for exploration. Love and care and attention and research. Many headcanons. You either comply with canon or you don't, but there's substance to their character.
What does Damian get? He's feral. He's rabid. He's a gremlin. He can't be reasoned with. He has no self-control, he's impulsive. He's hurt others, and you can't forgive it. Sometimes he's homophobic. Or classist. Or plain mean and rude to your favorite boy. He's always carrying a sword. A psychopath with no regard for another's well-being (usually Tim in a lot of fics). He can't be taught what's right.
I've seen people cry that Damian needs to punished or kicked out or treated the same way he's treated others. He needs to be brutalized or talked down to. He can never grow as a person, because he's mean to Tim or Jason, and you need him to exist as the abuser. His first move is always violent.
Fanon compares him to an animal often; he bites, claws, hisses, growls. Bruce or Dick or Jason or Tim have to wrangle him, tame him, civilize him the white man's way in lieu of his brown mother and grandfather who "clearly" raised him wrong. You don't see the issue with that? The issue with always labeling one of the few major brown characters in Batman comics as the unreasonable animal? That the child of color is always the abuser, the instigator, to older characters?
And even if you don't see him this way, you don't write him this way - then are you giving him the care and attention you give for other Bat characters?
Do you know anything else about him other than his "anger"? Because he isn't always angry. In fact, he's typically well-mannered. Quiet even, when he's not being provoked. DC's writing will always vary but whenever Damian lashes out, he's usually written with a reason to act the way he does.
Are you making him intelligent like he should be? A hard believer in redemption? A neglected and abused child who isn't meek or crying or closes himself within? Are you willing to explore that he's always exhibited the "wrong" kind of trauma responses - lashing out, being snippy, ruining relationships, refusing to admit weakness?
Do you write anything about him without making his mother and grandfather comically abusive and violent? Will you give him the supporting cast/friends he actually has? Can you write his dad/siblings interacting with him without making them white saviors or therapy pets? Can you write him without a ship or his love for animals or being vegetarian overshadowing everything?
Is he a character to you at all other than a glorified plot device with a sharp tongue and the convenience of being violent?
#damian wayne#dc#robin#damian wayne meta#dc meta#fandom needs to start interrogating their choices around non-white characters in general but especially when it comes to Batman comics#you may not intend to be racist or ableist or misinformed#but what you put out into the world is going to be seen by everyone#and you should very much reconsider doing things like calling Damian feral and implying he has zero self-control or civilization#or implying Duke is uneducated by hc'ing him with terrible handwriting or making him the âsaneâ one bc you haven't read any comics w him#or shoving Cassandra into a corner as a perfect unvocal specimen or making her a sentient therapy animal for your favorite white boy#or sexualizing Dick in obscene amounts and making him a âslutâ when its against his entire character#its day in day out in this fandom when it comes to snubbing and being utterly wrong about characters of color#fandom critical#a painted bird called tamer#batman#batman meta#tim drake#jason todd#dick grayson#cassandra cain#batfamily
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Veedramon BT1-115 Alternative Art by sasasi from BT-01 Booster New Evolution
This card is a reference to the fight with Triceramon in Volume 1 of the V-Tamer Manga!
#digimon#digimon tcg#digimon card game#digisafe#digica#ăă¸ăŤ#digimon references#V-Tamer#V-Tamer Manga#Veedramon#Zeromaru#Zero#sasasi#BT1#digimon card#color: blue#Lv4#type: vaccine#trait: ancient dragon#num: 00
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Just finished rewatching Digimon Tamers the first time since I was like what, 12? 14 max. And how should I say this. I kinda understand it better why I write the way I do now.
#Zero Two took a dark turn toward the end too#but that was kinda counterbalanced with how the final baddy was literally defeated by kids telling about what they wanna do when they grow#the digital abomination that is the literal antithesis of life and it took a whole-ass temporal paradox to beat it feels quite the jump#and did I mention how the D-Reaper was feeding on and evolving because of Juri's grief and actual suicidal thoughts#Digimon Tamers#Digimon Tamers Spoilers
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#i think im most curious about wther xros wars zero grts any votes#i wanted to add tri and kizuna aswell but only 10 slots so ÂŻâ \â _â (â ăâ )â _â /â ÂŻ#figured id just stick to shows#feel free to tell me why you favs the best and all the others are terrible#I actually wasnt sure if xros wars zero should have counted bc im pretty sure its the same caste but it does count as a new series so#Digimon#digimon anime#polls#Digimon adventure#digimon adventure 02#digmon tamers#digimon data squad#digimon frontier#digimon savers#digimon fusion#digimon xros wars#appmon#ghost game#digimon ghost game#digimon polls
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the real zenless zone zero is the local armory after the new banlist went into effect
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Guilmon contando de las comidas que mĂĄs degusta a David y Vemon que estos emocionados imaginando varios platillos en su paladar, si tuviera platica normal se llevarĂan bastante bien
https://x.com/gdn0522/status/1830187890724221290?t=KcTCOfZr7-upAImh9rDCQw&s=19
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So my YouTube Music recap is already here, never mind there's an entire month left to the year, and the results are equal parts surprising and totally expected.
Like my sister said, "huh, someone has an obsession for Jackson Wang", and then "I'm not even surprised about Raleigh Ritchie, that's all you were listening this summer".
Well. Sorry for having good taste both in music and in men. And women too, my girl Faouzia is fantastic, and YouTube told me a little while ago I'm amongst the 0.5% who has listened to her the most. And Dana Salah is a queen.
Makes me laugh that in my top 5 artists, there's literally only one British artist, and the rest is Moroccan Canadian, Chinese, Kazakh and Dutch.
Anyway. Go listen to Jackson Wang. This man is an artist.
#youtube music#music recs#music recap#youtube music recap#music#music is life#68k minutes of music this year welp#no i don't have spotify no i am not planning on using spotify any time soon#something else that i love is that i literally do not have any single usamerican artist in my top 25#i have egyptian (tamer) french (egzod) i have palestinian (bshar murad) there's jim yosef and alan walker...#but zero usamerican until we reach twenty one pilots#anyway i can share my recap playlist if anyone's interested#rapha talks#jackson wang#raleigh ritchie#within temptation#faouzia#dimash kudaibergen#SoundCloud
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I need to put ihm gojo in mating
like a mating press? :0 also my love based on what iâve written for him so far in my notes i think he wld do the mating loool
#i had zero impulse control n alr wrote three smut scenes for ihm lmfaooo#one of them i wrote on a plane đđ#writing smut on a plane hits different lmfao#no but heâs giving brat tamer w a breeding kink fosho#in holy matriphony#asks#anon#[queued post]
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Digimon Top Tamer Tournament: Anime Round Three
The question isn't whether he tries to kiss her. The question is how she responds.
Tournament Information and All Third Round Polls
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You know what day itâ V-Tamer?! Happy Odaiba Memorial Day! đ And Happy 25th Anniversary V-Tamer! â¤ď¸ [Odaiba Memorial Redraw 2022] [Redraw 2021] [Redraw 2020]
#Digimon#Odaiba Day#Odaiba Memorial Day#V-Tamer#Screenshot redraw#My art#If it wasn't V-Tamer's 25th anniversary this year I might've done Zero Two (since the movie's happening) or something else#But I like those nice round anniversary numbers so I figured I'd take advantage of it while I can#Which is also why I didn't do Savers this year#To be fair some seasons have overlapping anniversary years so I can't do nice round numbers for them all#At least not without skipping years lmao#So this will just have to do-- but it's fine besides we love and appreciate V-Tamer in this house#This bizarre story just continues#I'm gonna have to start making that calendar bigger so I can fit everyone in there 'cause it's getting cramped#It's funny how all these redraws despite my attempts look nothing like each other
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my favorite kind of blorbo is the one I can show my affection for by saying That's My Bitch đ
#shoomi.txt#off the top of my head theres#tkn kazuya#digimon tamers beelzebumon#dod zero#dan phantom?#prob some others as well i love my messed up people
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emsys:
âBeing a Digidestined means that sometimes you have to save the world, even if youâre the one who caused the problem.â
#digimon#digimon adventure#digimon adventure 02#digimon 02#digimon adventure zero two#digimon zero two#digimon adventure 01#digimon tamers#digimon frontier#digidestined
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Shrimply Yours~
In which you invoke your shrimp privileges to cheer Floyd up.
Floyd x GN Reader! Enjoy, shrimpies!!~
âââââ
âYâknow Floyd, Iâd say youâre the shrimp, not me.â
Maybe you really did have a death-by-squeezing wish. Or maybe your plot-armor protection had finally worn off. The eel in question lifted his head slowly at your words and side-eyed you, his golden eye glinting ominously in the Mostro Lounge kitchenâs light.
Youâd been washing the dishes after asking Azul for a job in exchange for a little extra madol on the side. For the most part, your day had been as peaceful as it couldâve (the life of a magicless prefect was always maniacal), until you heard arguing from outside the kitchen. You all but jumped when Floyd slammed the door open and wordlessly stalked to the stove, and you spotted Azul walking off shaking his head to himself. Floyd shoved pan on the heat and began frying something, completely ignoring your presence. Was it even possible to fry chicken so aggressively?
In any case, Floyd seemed a little more volatile than usual at the moment, even considering it was him. The other students whoâd been in the kitchen with you before had scuttled out before Floyd could snap at them too. But in any case, you knew that Floydâs mood flipped faster than Crowley leaving all his work to you. So, you thought youâd try to lighten the mood.
At your words, Floyd slowly brought his head up from his deep-frying, golden-and-olive colored eyes zeroing in on you, baring his sharp, shiny teeth at you in a scowl. And in that split second, you suddenly remembered that Floyd was, in fact, a mer-eel. Moray, specifically. A predator. A predator that probably ate shrimpies like you. Who was now looking at you predatorily.
âWhat did ya just say, shrimpy?â His pupils were practically pin-pricks, and for a moment you swore you could hear the Jaws theme song in your head. You could remember, time and time again, your friends and upperclassmen telling you not to engage Floyd when he was in one of his moods. Even up until now, youâd never been on the awful end of his anger, especially alone. But you werenât called beast-tamer for nothing, damn it, and maybe that title could extend to taming angry Floydâs too. An angry Floyd that was still your friend.
âI said, youâre the shrimp, not me.â You maintained eye-contact with him, almost challenging him, âcome at me, bro.â You tried to keep a straight face, although you were deflating rapidly by the second because by Sevens this was so stupid but-
âBecause youâre shrimply amazing.â
One second passed. Two. Three.
Then Floyd broke into a wide, sharp-toothed grin. He surged towards you, completely forgetting the frying food. âDâawww, SHRIMPY!!!â
He swooped behind you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up. Your legs flailed around and now your arms were locked in as Floyd spun around the kitchen haphazardly with you in his arms. âShrimpy knows just how to cheer me up! I knew this is why I kept you around!â He laughed cheerily, bobbing you up and down.
âFLOYD!â You cried, âPUT ME DOWN-â the kitchen swirled crazily around you, as Floyd babbled some song or other cheerfully. Thankfully heâd stopped spinning, but began shaking you side to side while humming, âShrimpyâs so brave nâ nice, all the other guppies left when they saw me but only Shrimpy stayed!â
He started pouting, and squished his cheek into yours. âAzul was beinâ mean to me, making me work now. Just âcause I roughed up a few customers doesnât mean it was my fault! They shoulda been nice to me~â
Even though you were basically suspended in the air by him, you smiled at Floydâs words. âGlad I could help Floyd, that was so mean of Azul,â you consoled him, hoping heâd put you down. He bent over until your feet were safely on the sweet, sweet ground, but didnât let you go from his arms. The two of you swayed together, basking in each otherâs company in the subpar lighting of the kitchen, until you frowned.
ââŚHey, is something burning?â
âAh shit, I burned the chicken.â
âââ
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst yuu#floyd leech#twst floyd#twst floyd leech#twst floyd x reader#floyd leech x yuu#floyd leech x reader#octavinelle#octavinelle x reader#mostro lounge#calcified writing
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