#there's still so much more that can be explored regardless

[dontstandmedown]

Just started watching hannibal and i dont see what this guy is doing wrong. as far as i can tell he's just a gay man who loves to cook fancy meals for his friends

[autistichalsin]

In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

[lovegasmic]

hi mila, i was wondering… maybe some more best friend satoru but reader gave up on waiting for toru to figure out his shit? so now she’s fucking all these hot guys (can be whoever you’d like, maybe kento, suguru etc…) and toru’s just desperately trying to get her attention but reader is too busy getting railed.

i’m sorry if this is too specific, if you choose to do this you can take whatever liberties you’d like!!!!!! i’ll be happy regardless.

i love your works so so much, i hope you have a lovely day!!!!!! <3333

mdni, having sex with Kento while Satoru suffers, got it 🤌 ily nonie‹3 hope u have a beautiful day and so sorry this took so long, I always get so happy at getting bff Satoru asks hehe

★ join the taglist | bff Satoru masterlist

best friend Satoru calls at the worst times. and you really should have turned off your phone before Kento was balls deep. now it’s too late and you’re not considering answering. “looks important” Kento huffs and you’re a bit awestruck by the bead of sweat dripping down his sharp jawline, hair a mess from where your fingers found a place as his tongue explored your mouth, having you previously pinned against a wall, dizzy and giddy.

your swollen bottom lip gets freed from between your teeth, “ignore it” you knew it was Satoru, you didn’t need to check the caller id to know. your best friend has been calling you nonstop for the last few days, and it’s not as if you were purposely ignoring him, but you had more... important matters to attend to.

“are you sure? he won’t stop any time soon” of course Kento knew it was Satoru, none of your friends knew about your strange and curious relationship with the blue eyed, “from what you’ve told me, he is quite persistent” and fuck him honestly, the churning fire on your belly was not allowing you to properly think, much worse with the blonde’s thick head smushing your g-spot.

in almost a cockdrunk haze you tap around and grasp your phone, turning it off for the rest of the night. and that was Satoru’s last straw.

“please answer!” Satoru shouts in his apartment, shaking his phone as if it held the response to where the fuck you are, or much worse, who are you with?!, “where the hell are you?” he’s desperate, staring at the white screen where an ‘impossible to connect’ greets him back, seconds before turning black, and now it’s his despaired expression reflecting.

Satoru: are you ignoring me ?! ( 23:12 )

Satoru: wait, sorry, didn’t mean to sound so aggressive ( 23:13 )

Satoru: where are you? busy? wanna hangout? ( 23:13 )

Satoru: I miss you ( 23: 18 )

it was pathetic how clingy he became, hair tousled in all directions from his fingers constantly combing through it, but you couldn’t blame him, having rejected all his previous plans was hitting him hard.

“we should hang out” it was the last thing he spoke to you face to face, perhaps one or two weeks ago.

to which you just replied a cold, “yeah, we should” and that was it, suddenly you were so busy, having dates that only make Satoru’s heart ache, the thought of someone else kissing, touching or fucking you was too much to bear.

“fuck...” he huffs your name almost in pain, hands on his face.

although you were deeply hurt, and ultimately tired of Satoru’s constant back and forth without properly expressing his feelings, he’s still your best friend, “what is it? I have 10 missed calls, Satoru” your voice is flat.

his phone almost landed on the floor with how quick he grabbed it, “hey! yes, I was thinking we should—”

“i get you a towel” and oh, is that... ?

“never mind” Satoru pouts.

[winged-self-indulgence]

Why Do People Like Yanderes?

Hi everyone, my name is Diya, and this was going to be a YT video-essay-type-thing but I'm too poor to afford a mic and too busy with college to learn how to edit videos, so here's my vague exploration of the psychology behind why people like yanderes so much through the lens of my favourite Visual Novels.

TW for uh. yandere content. Mentions of sex, gore, and non-con, particularly in the last topic. This is more like the first draft of an academic paper so while it's not explicit, I do go into some detail.

Introduction

If you’re a fan of anime or visual novels, then you’re probably already aware of what a yandere is, or at the very least you’ve seen that one picture of Yuno Gasai. Still, for the sake of thoroughness, let’s take it from the tippy top. The term ‘yandere’ is a Japanese portmanteau of ‘yanderu’ – the progressive form of ‘yami’ – meaning ‘sick’, and ‘deredere’ which roughly translates to ‘loving’. Together, the word refers to someone who is – in short – extremely lovesick. Obsessive to the extreme, and with little morality to spare, the standard yandere is characterized by a dangerous fixation on a chosen target, often appearing shy and caring at first only to flip the script and become violently aggressive towards perceived threats (Kroon, 2010).

It should be noted that yanderes are not a strictly romantic or sexual trope. The Ancient Greeks classified at least six forms of love, from familial (storge) to guests (xenia). Modern psychologists may distinguish love as either Companionate or Passionate (Kim & Hatfield, 2004) or consisting of three dimensions of Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment (Sternberg & Sternberg, 2018). Realistically, possessiveness shows up in a variety of relationships. However, people are generally primed to view certain dynamics as inherently amorous. Societal norms tend to encourage the idea that romantic bonds ought to rank above all others, and therefore if Person A is bizarrely fixated on Person B, then clearly there must be an element of sexual interest involved regardless of the actual relationship between the individuals in question.

Regardless, yanderes remain quite popular in fiction. Many dismiss it as a fetish, which it can be, but that isn’t the case for everyone. While there is nothing wrong with indulging in kinky fiction, not all of us get horny at the thought of being chained up in someone’s basement, no matter how hot our captor may be. So why is it so pervasive? Why is this trope so appealing that most writers cannot help but include at least a single line of dialogue implying that – if circumstances had been ever so slightly different – my wholesome shoujo romcom might have turned into a psychological horror?

Hybristophilia

‘Hybristophilia’, also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome after the titular criminal couple, is a word is derived from the Greek word ‘hybridzein’ meaning ‘to commit an outrage against someone’ and ‘philo’ which means ‘a strong preference for’. Sexologist John Money reportedly defined it as a paraphilia in which an individual is sexually aroused by a partner who has a predatory history of hurting other people (Money, 1986, as cited in Matuszak, 2017). In his book, Serial Killer Groupies, true crime and crime fiction author RJ Parker distinguished two forms of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. The former is when an individual contacts a criminal with the intention of striking up a relationship with them, allowing themselves to be seduced and manipulated but having no interest in committing a crime themselves. The latter are far more dangerous, as the individual not only derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s atrocities but are active participants in carrying out or covering up the crime. To quote Griffiths (2013, as cited in Pettigrew, 2019):

“[They] help out their lovers with their criminal agenda by luring victims, hiding bodies, covering crimes, or even committing crimes. They are attracted to their lovers because of their violent actions and want to receive love yet are unable to understand that their lovers are psychopaths who are manipulating them.”

In some ways, hybristophilia is the nearest thing we have to a realistic understanding of why people love yanderes. I mean, much of the fantasy surrounding such characters and their media tend to be filled with posts begging to be spat on or calling the rightfully terrified main character ungrateful for being a teeny bit upset about finding surveillance cameras in their ceiling. However, enjoying fictitious immoral activity does not predict real perpetration, so what does? There exists little consensus amongst psychologists as to what sparks this particular predilection, and that was strange to me. You would think there would be more studies into this topic, in spite of or perhaps because of its controversial nature. Heck, that one dude wouldn’t shut up about white women’s obsession with Bundy and Dahmer, and I assumed he had gotten that information from somewhere, but it turns out that was just him using modifiers to justify sexism.

However, I believe that we can hedge a few guesses, and over the course of my research, I’ve organized the main rationalizations under four umbrellas which I will explore through the lens of my favourite yandere-themed Visual Novels. Please keep in mind that most of these games are rated as mature due to sexual scenes and/or gore. Additionally, in the spirit of transparency, this ramble will be focused exclusively on male or masculine yanderes. So, without further ado:

Call Me Bob the Builder Because I Can Fix Them

If you’re familiar with DC Comic’s Batman, or just happen to have attended any costume event held over the span of the last 20+ years, you may be familiar with the character of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn. Initially created as the Joker’s one-off sidekick in Batman The Animated Series, she was so well-received by audiences that she became a recurring character in the cartoon and was eventually given a proper origin story in the form of a one-shot titled Mad Love.

Harley’s origin story has seen some alterations over the past decades, but the core aspects remain largely untouched. In the beginning, Harleen Quinzel was a promising young woman who wanted was a degree from the university’s prestigious psychology department, which she gained through…less than scrupulous means.

(Listen, I’m not sure if the authors were leaning on the Dumb Blonde stereotype, or if they simply thought that casting her as a genuinely bad student would make her later actions more believable. Either way, the idea of Harley as someone with a legitimate PhD came later)

After landing an internship at Arkham Asylum – a half-hospital and half-prison straight out of the 1870s that might as well be built out of one-ply tissue-paper soaked with gasoline and left next to a crate of fireworks – Harleen set her sights on the then incarcerated Joker. At the start, her fixation on the criminal wasn’t remotely sympathetic. She didn’t want to help him, she wanted to use him. Harleen Quinzel wanted piggyback off his infamy and write a tell-all tale detailing what sort of messed up childhood resulted in Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime. Yet the more she interacted with him, the more the Joker took advantage of her empathy. By the end of their sessions, Harley no longer saw him as a violent serial killer with a clown schtick, but as a “lost, injured child looking to make the world laugh at his antics.”

But Diya, you may be asking, what does this have to do with the video? The Joker never loved Harley, and it could even be argued – as Shehadeh did in a 2017 essay – that her obsession with the pasty-faced clown is more akin to Histrionic Personality Disorder. While that may be the case, I believe that Harley’s story provides one of the reasons yanderes are so popular: their backstory.

Whether they were abandoned by their family, bullied by their peers, experimented on by evil scientists, starved on the streets, died under mysterious circumstances and then trapped in a haunted VCR tape for decades, or are simply so impossibly inhuman that they frankly do not understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to imprison their crush in a pocket dimension made of meat and non-Euclidean geometry, yanderes often have fairly sympathetic or at least understandable explanations for why they are Like That. Your mileage may vary significantly depending on how much you sympathize with these motives, but the point is that yanderes always make sense to some degree. Their morality and priorities may be twisted or even completely incomprehensible, but the audience almost always knows the reason, and that can be comforting. In the real world, other people aren’t always straightforward, and we never really know what they’re thinking, but narrative coherence demands a semblance of internal consistency lest the audience end up frustrated and confused. So yanderes are not only easy to sympathize with, but also fairly predictable. In-universe they may be unhinged freaks with a blood fetish, but to you watching from behind the safety of the screen they’re just acting out the script written for them based on a prototype. And if you understand the why behind their loose gears, then you might just be able to put them back together again.

The concept of rescue romances or “I Can Fix Them” has been around in our stories for thousands of years. The Epic of Gilgamesh detailed how Shamhat essentially ‘civilized’ wild man Enkidu through ritual lovemaking, and a concerning number of religions push the idea that women are dutybound to save men from the follies of sin. Yet men are not exempt either, with one notable example being the German fairytale, King Thrushbeard. Call it what you will regardless: Knights in Shining Armour, the Florence Nightingale Effect, or a plain old case of Because You Were Nice to Me, studies have shown that human beings generally like helping [DA2] others, even when the reason doesn’t necessarily stem from pure altruism. I will delve deeper into this later, but care and compassion are deeply ingrained in human nature, and arising from those roots is the appeal of this mentality: You can save them. You can change them. You can make them better. You are special, and the way you treat this person carries a weight that has not and will never be matched by anyone else for the rest of their mortal or immortal existence.

The illusion is a delicious one, especially if the person you’ve helped turns out to be a billionaire CEO with cash to burn, a super powerful ghost king willing to raze continents to dust for you, a demon having fun on a Friday night, or just your average hot creep with a knife. Moreover, different people have different ideas of what ‘fixing’ even means. Maybe you want to single-handedly rehabilitate your yandere into a functional member of society. Maybe you’re cool with the incessant stalking but would like them to stop slaughtering your friends, family, and local service workers. Maybe you want to make them much, much worse.

Not only do yanderes provide immediate proof that your actions have a tangible impact on the lives of others, but the fantasy also includes the desire of being seen as special. Of being admired and adored by someone whose life you inexplicably made better by virtue of simply being yourself, or an idealized version of yourself. In this fictional world, in this imaginary setting, the person you are is so uniquely, impossibly irreplaceable to someone. And if that’s the case then they can’t risk losing you, can they?

The Allure of Obsession, or ‘Til Death Do Us Part (Literally)

It shouldn’t be necessary, but here is my obligatory disclaimer anyway. Ahem: obsession is not a good thing in real life. Fixating on another human to the detriment of your own wellbeing and that of those around you is dangerous, as is encouraging someone else to obsess over you. You might think you are being worshiped, but real life is not a visual novel. The outside world doesn’t come with an age rating, the author’s guiding pen, and a convenient fade to credits sequence once you’ve reached an ending. The consequences will still be there in the morning, so don’t do it. Just don’t.

PSA out of the way, it’s natural to want to be wanted. Maslow’s Hierarchy places it just above physical safety, but I’d argue that it could easily be compared to baser drives. According to many psychological and anthropological studies, much of humanity’s continued survival and environmental dominance is largely attributed to our ability to form groups, cooperate with one another, and maintain complex interpersonal networks. Social support, intimacy, and a sense of belonging are linked to emotional and physical benefits, such as more optimistic health perceptions, higher subjective well-being, increased creativity and innovation, and greater self-efficacy (DeWall & Bushman, 2011; Harandi et al., 2017; Wang & Sha, 2018). Therefore, it’s perfectly understandable that rejection of any sort would be construed as a threat.

But if someone is obsessed with you, then you have no reason to worry about that, right? No more nights spent agonizing over how they feel about you, asking yourself whether your last text made you sound too desperate, or if you’re boring them because you spent the past hour info-dumping about Stardew Valley farm layouts. With a yandere, there will never be any doubt that they care about you. Sure, they might go about it in weird, manipulative, and insidious ways that violate your physical and mental autonomy, but you can’t deny their loyalty. They do love you in their own bizarre way. You are the sun around which they orbit. When you’re in the room, no one else exists. Every single messy flaw is just another bullet point on the mile-long list of why they adore you.

In essence, yanderes are not only attentive, but their love can be virtually unconditional. A yandere might know everything about you, and still revere you. It’s unhealthy as hell and you might genuinely question their taste, but it can be tempting to pretend that all of you, right down to the ugliest parts of yourself – the traits and choices that you would never share with another living soul even at gunpoint – are worthy of understanding, if not open praise and affection.   

Attractiveness, or Okay but Have You Considered That They’re Hot Though?

.

.

.

I mean what am I supposed to say here? They’re hot, what do you want from me?

No, but in all seriousness, fictional media paints an idealized version of the world, and most yanderes are hot because they have the freedom of existing purely behind that screen; artfully arranged and edited to forever appear compelling to anyone who happens to enjoy their particular style. And there are a lot of styles to choose from. Whether you want them pretty faced and disarmingly cute, or scarred up and big enough to pin you like a butterfly, yanderes come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes that are meant to pique your interest and draw you in like a naïve little fish being lured towards the mouth of an angler fish, unwilling to believe that anything bad might happen to us when the bait is this pretty.

This is often referred to as the Halo Effect, a form of cognitive bias referring to the tendency for people to assume that a single obvious positive trait must be associated with other positive traits. The go-to characteristic is typically physical attractiveness, but a nice voice, good humour, and cooking skills are also factors which serve to influence our perceptions.

So, conventional physical attractiveness is one thing, but that’s only skin deep. What about beyond that? After all, the yandere still has to talk to you before they enact their master plan of tying you up in their basement until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in.

When I showed my friend a picture of John Doe from the game John Doe, she told me that he looked like a creepy slob, and she’s far from the only person who’s ever thought so. Look at them. I feel like if I tried to comb that hair it would simply eat me, and some of the CGs really put the scopophobia in Scopophobia Studios. I love Doe, but he is not hot, and he doesn’t behave in a normally appealing way either. If the player chooses not to take a bath, Doe will immediately comment that you “smell good” before following you home, breaking into your house, and leaving a bloody organ on the floor for the player to trip over. Many yanderes can at least fake a veneer of normalcy, but from the get-go Doe doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s anything less than an otherworldly creature stuffed into a vaguely person-shaped meatsuit. In an effort to find out why so many people had latched on to Doe – including me – I shopped around social media and YouTube for answers, and what I found was a widely unanimous sentiment.

While some were drawn to his fun design and goofy personality, most simply thought that he wasn’t inherently malevolent, just very confused. In addition to being a supernatural being with a completely alien axis of morality, Doe’s meta-awareness and unbridled attempts at winning the player’s affection lends him quite a bit of support from the audience, especially if you yourself also happen to struggle with social cues and relate to his pure earnestness. In Ending 7 of the extended version, the player character has the option to tell Doe – who has altered himself to pass as more ‘normal’ – that they prefer who he truly is, at which point he grows visibly flustered and sports an adorable pair of literal heart-shaped pupils.

Whether they’re charismatic, seductive, cute, sweet, funny, nurturing, or generous, the best yanderes have engaging personalities. Even while they’re committing truly heinous crimes against God, man, and your guts, you still kinda want to hang out with them, and you want them to acknowledge you as being just as interesting. And this is all fine in fiction because you’re the one in charge, and if you ever get bored or uncomfortable or busy with something else, then you can simply close the tab or window with zero consequences, which brings us to the final and most important reason.     

Power Dynamics and Consent in Fantasy (I Couldn’t Think of a Joke Here Guys, This Is Kinda Serious)

Once again, I feel that I must preface this section just for the sake of my own peace of mind: sexual coercion and assault are vile and disgusting crimes that should never be emulated or tolerated in the real world. We are speaking purely of fictional media, specifically adult-oriented media in this case, so please be mindful.

In 2009, Bivoni and Critelli conducted a study on 355 undergraduate women with the goal of assessing the reasons behind fantasies of non-consent. At the time, there were two leading explanations of this phenomenon. One stated that women with high libidos but repressed views of sex used these imaginary scenarios to alleviate the guilt they had grown to associate with sex. Because the simulation was a purely mental exercise and they themselves were cast as helpless victims in the scenario, they were able to remain blameless while still finding sexual gratification. The second stated that these fantasies were an expression of liberation by women who were adventurous and comfortable enough with their own sexuality to engage with taboo ideas that they weren’t at all interested in performing in real life. Which do you think was more common?

.

.

.

If you guessed the second option, you’d be right. The study found that of the 220 women who had experienced such fantasies, 45% found theirs erotic, 46% were mixed, and only 9% reported pure aversion. One justification for this outcome relies on psycho-biological theories, for example masochistic preferences or the unintended activation of the sympathetic nervous system and subsequent mis-attribution of arousal. Other reasons have to do with higher order thinking and are tied to the power dynamics within such fantasies. On the surface is the appeal of being so desirable to someone that they simply cannot control themselves, but then there is a deeper impulse, which the researchers referred to as Adversary Transformation. To quote the article: “[fantasies] involve a struggle between an assailant and a potential victim in which it is relevant to consider who is the winner and who is the loser. At one level, it is a struggle over sex, but the woman's non-consent may be feigned or token. At another level, the woman may be seeking a victory that is not about whether sex occurs, but about what happens emotionally between the protagonists.”

Basically, the imaginary perpetrator may have ‘won’, but the self-character need not have ‘lost’.

Media provides an extra layer to the illusion, one that you as the viewer have absolute control over. If you are choosing to engage with a piece of media that explicitly labels itself as including R18+ yandere content, then you clearly have some expectations, and that background awareness goes a long way in reducing long-term discomfort and allowing audiences to make informed decisions. If you don’t like the plot, you can simply turn it off it with the click of a button, and when the screen goes dark it’s not like the yandere is going to punish you for saying no. Strade isn’t going to break into your house with a drill, there are no homicidal clown ghosts hiding in your TV, and no suspicious pink-haired hackers watching your webcam. They aren’t real, and the consequences aren’t real either. You have all the power here.

Conclusion

In summary, Yanderes are appealing for a variety of reasons. Whether you want to save them, think they’re attractive, wish to indulge in a dream of being utterly coveted, or simply enjoy a bit of spice in your me-time, it’s obvious why the trope has persisted for so long and will likely continue to do so. If you enjoy yanderes but are worried that having a taste for the less wholesome side of things might imply something about who you are as a person, don’t be. The notion that fantasies and media preferences directly reflect subconscious desires is not only painfully out of date debunked nonsense but also indicative of restrictive ideologies wherein bad thoughts = sin. This isn’t 1984. You haven’t committed a thought-crime by having a weird kink. You aren't going to superhell for fantasizing. The human mind is hardly ever so mathematically rational, and the point of fiction is to allow us to safely engage with and explore various ideas, provided the everyone involved is mentally, chronologically, and emotionally mature enough to do so.

Thank you all for listening to me. If you learned something or were just a little bit entertained. If you're curious about knowing more, I've listed my sources below

REFERENCES

Bivona, J. M., & Critelli, J. W. (2009). The Nature of Women’s Rape Fantasies: An analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents. Journal of Sex Research, 46(1), 33–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490802624406

Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women’s Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191

DeWall, C. N., & Bushman, B. J. (2011). Social acceptance and rejection. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(4), 256–260. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721411417545

Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91(6), 1123–1137. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.91.6.1123

Harandi, T. F., Taghinasab, M. M., & Nayeri, T. D. (2017). The correlation of social support with mental health: A meta-analysis. Electronic Physician, 9(9), 5212–5222. https://doi.org/10.19082/5212

Hazen, H. (1983). Endless rapture: rape, romance, and the female imagination. https://openlibrary.org/books/OL3161300M/Endless_rapture

Kroon, R. W. (2010). A/V A to z: An Encyclopedic Dictionary of Media, Entertainment and Other Audiovisual Terms. McFarland.

Matuszak, M. (2017). Hybristophilia White Paper. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55dfd21ee4b0718764fb34cc/t/5cb7cabee5e5f00ab13be58b/1555548863275/Hybristophilia+White+Paper.pdf

Oarga, C., Stavrova, O., & Fetchenhauer, D. (2015). When and why is helping others good for well-being? The role of belief in reciprocity and conformity to society’s expectations. European Journal of Social Psychology, 45(2), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.2092

Parker, R. (2014). Serial killer groupies. RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC.

Wang, T., & Sha, H. (2018). The influence of social rejection on cognitive control. Psychology, 09(7), 1707–1719. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2018.97101

[pacifythots]

Ommmg I loved your "take it slow" writing with suo <3 can I request the same thing except with umemiya this time plss

ⓘ TAKE IT SLOW, BABY. f!reader — smut. fingering, kissing, mention of loss of virginity, missionary, umemiya being super soft, p in v, lmk if i missed anything ; i have so much sitting in my inbox lol, regardless, here it is! [may 31, '24]

"ume," you sigh into his lips.

his kisses were sweet and innocent, yet now they are sloppy and eager. the sweet part never left—he still treats you softly of course—but the "innocent" claim was no longer in the room.

the two of you rest on your sides, legs newrly entagled and srms slung around he eachother. you whimper as he thick fingers slide in and out of your cunt, streching you out. he chuckles into your mouth as he feels your hips desperately roll to feel release, you nearly hump his arm.

"relax, we'll get there," he coos, "we're takin' it slow today, baby. after all, you are new to this."

his words don't stop your whines, in fact, the sound increases as he pulls his fingers from your core. his tongue swirls around his fingers, a light hum leaving his lips at your taste. he maneuvers to hover atop you, leaning down to whisper, "you taste so good."

umemiya moves his body, his lips ghosting along the bare skin. he presses kisses to the valley of your breasts, to your pretty boobs, and to your stomach. his hands are firmly gripping onto the fleshas he kisses, a compromise for being soft instead of rough.

"ume!"

he smirks, "what an impatient girl i have."

there's a moan of pain and a moan of pleasure as he enters you. a hiss leaves his lips, though the second he relaxes at the sensation, you are met with the softest eyes you could ever witness.

"just let me ... relax, love."

his hips moves in slow strokes, his forehead is pressed to yours, your hands gripping harshly onto his arms. "fuck- just like that," he curses.

his hips speed up, though he doesn't apply much more force. he grunts, hands exploring yout body, eyes trapped onto your face, and dick twitching inside of you.

despite how indecent the situation is, how lewd the situation is, he chuckles, flashing a smile of pure love. "cum with me? please baby," he whispers- hands trailing up your arms to hold them in place.

the bed rocks along with the both of you, lightly creaking at how he's thrusting. "yes, yes! wanna cum with you!" umemiya smiles, a sneaky hand making its way beneath you to lift your hips. a whine leaves you—albeit being shut down quickly with umemiya's cooing next to your ear. "let's cum, hm baby?" he hums, rolling his hips into yours, his cock hitting a new spot inside of you from the different angle.

"ume-" you whine, "ume!"

he softly shushes you, shooting thick ropes inside of the condom he was thoughtful enough to wear. his jaw locks, teeth grinding together at how your pussy squeezes him, the pretty thing gushing all over his lower half.

umemiya smiles softly at the tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. "you did so good," he whispers, kissing your cheeks and wiping the tears from your lashes. "so good," he coos. the two of you breathe roughly, despite going relatively slow. it wad you who was the first to speak.

"ume?"

"yes?"

"can we try that again? but- harder?"

i am so sorry this is actually ass, i wssnt in my umemiya groove when writing this, but it is also 11:49 pm. im trying to get my drafts and asks out of the way so i can breathe, but this is a lot of work. i might take a brief break to relax before getting back writing though. i just love burning myself out -.-

[yanderestarangel]

‘TOGETHER IN KHAOS’

new!noob saibot x male reader

♡ ┆TW : ftm reader, fingering, v!sex, penetration, afab anatomy, use of his saibot to stimulate you, creampie.

"Look at me, don't take your eyes off me." The deep, dark voice sent something like a sweet poison down your spine, making you try to maintain consciousness as your reality and world crashed down on you – literally crumbling around you. Bi Han had been caught by Havik and the titan transformed him into a perfect warrior, without mercy, without weakness, more agile and lethal – however he could not exclude the most important part of the grandmaster's soul, you.

You felt his large hands explore your body lying on the cold stone floor as the lights and fragments of destruction passed around the two of you – he had small sharp claws along his black skin with small green glowing threads on his body, his eyes, previously brown and alive, were shining an ice-like white. He heard you moan softly as his fingers found their way to your clit, applying gentle pressure to your sensitive bud and making you hold onto his body.

You felt his fingers filling you like never before, however before you could moan his name he stopped you, whispering through the fabric that covered the lower half of his face.

"It's Noob now, Noob Saibot..." He spoke calmly, for the first time in years you saw your husband truly calm and complete with himself, it was all too new for you to digest but you were trying for him. He curled his fingers hitting your G-spot and making you moan softly and turning into a blushing mess for him, you could smell him, his voice even if a little thicker and deeper, it was still that of the same human man you had always loved.

"Fuck boy... So fucking wet." Noob moaned softly as he watched his fingers completely wet with your juices, his thumb quickly found your clit again as you felt his clouded gaze on your body; his other hand settled on your soft thigh and lightly marked you with his claws, your pleasure was so much that you didn't even feel the small pain in your flesh when he did this.

You tried to focus your gaze on his eyes, as he told you to, but you could only shed a few tears as you begged him for more — the fact that you hadn't denied his new appearance and status was like another proof of love to him, not only that, it also served to boost his ego, regardless of how he was, you would want him, be he demon or human. "Look how you're wetting my fingers baby... Holy shit- boy you don't know how much I love you." He moaned hoarsely and deep, curling his fingers again and making you tremble on his digits and milk them as if it was the only thing you knew.

You saw your lover take his cock out of his pants, small bright green veins adorned his dark, pulsing member – He began to move slowly at first, his thrusts deep and deliberate, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of his thick cock inside you.

His movements became more confident, his pace quickening as he felt your body responding to his touch. He began to move slowly at first, his thrusts deep and deliberate, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of his thick cock inside you. His movements became more confident, his pace quickening as he felt your body responding to his touch.

As he pumped into you, Noob's Saibot appeared behind you, gently reached around you and began to caress and manipulate your breasts; "You like being used by me, don't you, darling? I can see it in your eyes, you're pitiful, begging to be broken, to be taken... you still love me don't you?" Noob moaned hoarsely, while his Saibot pinched his nipples between his ghostly fingers – He leaned forward, his mask brushing against your face as he lowered his head, his breath hot against your skin. He wanted to claim you, to remind you that despite the darkness that now surrounded him, he was still the man you once loved.

"You shiver and moan louder... such a good boy." He lifted your legs up to his shoulders, burying himself completely inside you. His cock filled you completely, the sensation of being completely possessed by him causing your back to arch and your moans to intensify. The power behind his thrusts increased, his hips slamming into you with a primal fury.

You could feel the heat emanating from his cock, the throbbing pulse growing stronger with each movement; you moaned his name loud enough to echo in the space of that chaos, the stimuli were making you see stars and lose control of your own senses – As you climaxed, Noob Saibot felt his own release building, the sensation of your pussy milking his cock sending him over the edge.

He grunted loudly, his hips bucking against yours as he filled you with his hot, thick cum – It was different from the other times his cum froze your brain, this time you felt warm inside; you whimpered at the new sensation feeling totally full.

His saibot, sensing his master's release, took his fingers and gently spread your pussy lips, allowing Noob's cum to spill out, mixing with your own juices. You watched your husband practically in a trance as his cum dripped down onto the cold stone beneath your body. He presses your forehead against his, his sighing heavily through the mask – his white eyes shining brightly as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"We are together in this chaos... Forever."

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 ©𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 2024. 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆

[artsykidwolf-2000]

Hello I would like to request something. How eould Sephiroth act when he has a crush on someone? Idc if it's post-Nibelheim or while he's still a Soldier. I leave that up to you. Thank you so much if you do this and have a wonderful day :3

Great question Le Anonymous! This is similar to what I thought for my Ravenroth ship (maybe?) BUT this topic is cute nonetheless. I might just do both ideas! Hope you like these headcanons!

SEPHIROTH CRUSH HEADCANONS

PRE-NIBELHEIM

Sephiroth as a SOLDIER he never really had romantic feelings, even as a teenager. Once he became more of an adult that's when his tables turned.

He would get flustered when Genesis or Angeal made a joke about the person Sephiroth liked. But he hid it well but you could see pink dust on his cheeks. He'd get confused about butterflies in his stomach and why they were there.

As he explores his feelings more, he tries to be braver around his special someone. When he eventually asked them on a date on his free time he was happy. He shined that shy smile of his. He took them to a fancy restaurant and bought them flowers or a little gift for a start. He's a good listener and would mostly let his date take charge of small talk if they were brave, if not he would.

He might take them on a walk or shopping on the next few dates. He has a lot of money to burn! As the relationship progressed he'd eventually confess his attraction. He's still new to all this lovey dovey crap so it'll be a slow start but with the help of his partner he would be just fine and even start to be very romantic on occasion.

Genesis and Angeal would absolutely still tease him about his romantic efforts and Genesis would try and coach him to the behest of Sephiroth's will. Angeal would just tell Sephiroth to be himself and be more gentleman-like and uphold honor in his word. He loves his friends' efforts but he's already had Genesis talk his ear off about Loveless references...Angeal is more tolerable.

Yes Zack would absolutely have his jaw hit the dang floor about hearing about ALL of this and how Sephiroth has a partner. Zack just can't help not hiding his puppy-like wonder.

Sephiroth talks about his mother a lot with their partner. If his partner was willing to research more about if his mother was truly dead or not AND found the truth then you bet your bottom gil he would try and find his real mother and bring justice to Hojo.

POST-NIBELHEIM

Good lawd where to start....

Ok! With Sephiroth off his rocker bc of everything that's happened. Things would be different and difficult to comprehend.

If Sephiroth still had his partner before he went bonkers he would ABSOLUTELY try and keep them with him at all costs. He still loves them but it's slowly creeping into bad territory. If he did not have a partner beforehand he would kinda stalk them like he does Cloud. Leave flowers and candy and whatever else on their doorstep. Then it turns into jewelry or expensive items. Then himself out of the blue.

It creeps the partner out but the love is still there. His good looks and charm works wonders. They try and figure out what went wrong with him. Maybe they try and reverse what happened if they're more than just a normal person. Magic can only go so far.

If their efforts are fruitful then he slowly reverses back to his old self just a bit but can't quite shake off Jenova unless someone destroys her. He also finds out about his real mother. He would search for her with them.

If it was in vain then he would be angered fairly easily. Trying to turn them into more like him or be more loyal or obey him. Regardless if he still had love in his heart.

Sometimes at night, you can hear cries...but from who is up to the mind's desire...

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. evil)

— the bad —

Me and my husband, we’re sticking together — Me and My Husband // Mitski

We’ve explored the ‘good’ of modern! Davos. But now it’s time to explore the bad.

cw — toxic behavior within relationships. Possessive behavior.

Davos is a gamer. And does have gamer rage. But it’s not the type where he’ll cool off after the game or where he’ll laugh about it. These fuckers are throwing his ranked games—they deserve the death penalty and to get doxxed AT LEAST. A bad night on league, csgo, or valorant has a chance of making him violently angry. It’s like you need to leave the room for safety type shit. He has punched his monitor, and he does punch walls. He snaps out of that behavior when he gets with you. Or tries to at least. He doesn’t want you to see that but you do, once in a while. He just can’t stand it! Idiots—idiots with keyboards in front of their fucking blind faces. Goddamn—not to mention you- … just—just get out! He’s fine just—! GET THE FUCK OUT! Close the fucking door behind you Jesus Christ—.. can’t do the simplest shit…

Temperamental. Almost to a startling level. The smallest thing can set him off sometimes, but that’s only if he’s already in a bad mood to begin with. Someone looking at you a little too long? He’ll glare at them, maybe even take an intimidating step toward them. On the road and some fucker’s going too slow? He will lay on the horn and curse them out. Once he did get out of the car to “deal” with “this jackass”. Someone wanted to fight? He’ll stand on business too don’t worry (he did win, but a win that didn’t make you feel good watching it). Laying a gentle hand on him cools him down a little, but what really stops him is the look of disbelief and fear on your face. What? He was just showing that guy what was up—you honestly think he’d kill someone? It looked like he would, are you dumb? That wasn’t even a full fight—don’t be stupid..

Don’t look at his Twitch dashboard. He will still follow people who’re ‘problematic’ or are just straight up cringe. Yes, there are also essentially naked egirl streamers too. Oh what? He can’t follow them? Why? They make good content, plus he was following them before he was with you. He doesn’t even watch them anymore! Don’t tell him you’re policing his media consuming now too—wha? No no! He didn’t mean it like that—

If you fight, he will not let you leave. He wants to settle whatever it is right then and there, no cooling off or whatever. It does stem from a good place somewhat; he doesn’t want to prolong the argument, or revisit it ever. So he wants to just figure out the solution right there. Which means he’ll do anything to stop you from leaving. This behavior makes the argument and situation much worse. Grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him. Blocking the door… what? You wanna go? You can’t just walk off like that! You’re just ignoring the problem! He’s not letting you—Get back here!

Davos’s apologies… are technically sincere. He’s more so scared of being left alone, without you. So he’ll say anything to make you stay with him. Sweetened words, kisses against your skin and face. Spamming texts, repeated phone calls. You know he didn’t mean it! He’s just got an impulsive tongue, he says things he doesn’t mean. You know this already.. he’s trying to be better! Better for you! Won’t you come back? Please? He’s sorry, really. No take backs. He’ll be better this time around..

He is loyal. Which is good, but also that means he’s clingy. You could be the toxic one of the relationship, but he would stay regardless because of his unwavering commitment and love to/for you (and fear of being alone). He stands on business with you, whether if it’s your fault or not. If someone’s gonna swing at you, he’s gonna be there to take the blow and swing right back. But his devotion can turn suffocating, smothering. He needs you to respond to his texts and calls, he needs you to check in with him throughout the day. He’s loyal to you.. but how does he know you’re loyal to him..? He just missed you! ..you texted him ten minutes ago?—so what?? You’re his! he should know what’s going on with you. Plus he’s bored, can’t you do something with him? …you don’t have time for him? What?! Why?! …are you with someone right now—

That leads to this. He will absolutely be in your business. Where’re you going? Who’re you texting? Hey who was that? A guy friend? Hmmm he looks suspicious.. the way he smiled at you… maybe you should drop that friend. Davos doesn’t like his intentions. Yes, there are always intentions—why can’t you just listen to him for once? God didn’t you see the way that guy looking at you? Davos would be the type to get into a fist fight because he deems someone’s glance toward you as making a move. That fucker’s been staring at you the entire time you’ve been here! He had to do something. What if that guy had bad intentions hm? God—you just aren’t aware of things are you? ..he didn’t mean it like that c’mon now—

Returning back to his gaming habits.. Davos will ignore you if he is gaming. If you’re not someone who plays the same as him? You’re getting ignored for at least five hours or more at night. But if you are a gamer and you both play together? He’s the guy who “kindly” criticizes your every move. Backhanded comments, mansplaining basic gameplay mechanics. Yeah… he’s that guy. Hm.. he guesses that was a nice move. He would’ve made a different play that wasted less resources however. It was good enough he supposes. Do you even know how this mechanic works? You do? Oh.. well you act like you don’t understand the basic macro of the game—

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[howtofightwrite]

i feel like, when it comes to people trying to use violence to knock people out - rather than avoiding methods that could cause permanent injury entirely, the previous anon(s) could just go for it while acknowledging the potential consequences in-writing?

so we can say that maybe, a kidnapper knocks another person out via head injury, and the KIDNAPPER doesn't care; but when the person is rescued the rescuers are worried for them because 'what do you mean you were hit in the head?!' and immediately checked for a concussion.

one could also have it so that the person doesn't know what head trauma or other bodily harm can cause and be appropriately horrified if/when they learn - or, if it's a character who uh. doesn't care for their body or health as much, they could hear this and refuse to care. follow what the character would do on that

they don't even need to actually have the person get a permanent injury. there can be a hospital scene or first-aid responder scene where they check the victim's head and go 'you are very. VERY lucky to not have a permanent brain injury from this', and insist on them to keep monitoring for any future symptoms.

there's a lot of other ways to go about knocking someone out, but iirc this will also apply to other methods of forced unconsciousness, like sleeping pills, sleeping gas or chloroform. in real life, it's always going to risk extra consequences because it involves forcing someone's bodily functions to shut down, if temporarily

and that shouldn't stop them from writing anyway, since fiction is often going to stretch the realm of belief a little with improbable situations, y'know? a lot of stories already take liberties with it. but it's both admirable and a good thing when someone wants to be more faithful to reality, regardless, so that's why i'd like to give my own thoughts.

if the person trying to find a non-lethal angle to knocking someone out is really worried, they could just make a disclaimer saying 'unrealistic depictions of violence/recovery' or 'creative liberties taken with the consequences of bodily harm' at the start of the story and go with their previous plans

but it's perfectly fine to just write as is while acknowledging the situation in-story too, is what i feel. or even have the character actually suffer the consequences. that angle is always interesting when explored.

timeskips are also a way to cheat on the recovery period, if you want it to be really realistic. imagine this scenario; a person gets knocked unconscious during a kidnapping. they wake up and manage to escape with a concussion - but they still have the concussion from the initial assault, along with other injuries during the hostage period. they are promptly hospitalised.

timeskip to several months after. the person has recovered! (or mostly recovered, depending).

a new kidnapper enters the scene! but they don't want the victim to actually be hurt, and the waiting period was hell, so they either just get their bouncer to grab them with no chance for reprieve, nab them while asleep, or threaten them via gun to head/consequences for someone else/etc to get in the car. no actual knocking out forcefully, only unconsciousness is falling asleep in the car.

consequences make for an interesting narrative too, is what i'm trying to say; and there's no need to shy away from it, but rather acknowledge that reality as fact.

I normally wouldn't light up an ask like this, but it is doing a lot of mental gymnastics to try to skirt around the central problems with violence.

So, let's start at the top: Acknowledging a problematic behavior as problematic can still result in the author endorsing that behavior, if they present the specific examples of that behavior in a positive light. If you're having characters casually knocking people out, you are endorsing inflicting extremely hazardous, and potentially life-altering injuries onto people, “but, it's okay, because I didn't kill them.”

The problem comes from an author wanting their upbeat, happy-go-lucky protagonist to also be an absolute bad ass, without interrogating the ethical issues inherent to their “heroic activities.” Worse, in many cases, they want their character to be perceived as a good person, regardless of the horrors they inflict on their fellow human beings.

The last time I covered this, I took a passing swipe at Batman, but it remains a relevant factor to consider about a lot of action hero characters. He engages in absolutely disproportionate violence against people who are engaging in criminal activity because socioeconomic factors that are beyond their control.

A lot of fictional violence gets framed in contexts where the nobility of the protagonist is preserved either because, “they don't kill people,” or, they specifically limit their violence to groups that are “socially acceptable,” targets.

In fact, you can even see an example of the latter in the listing above, with the express targeting of, “kidnappers.” Now, I have no love for human traffickers, but seriously consider for a second that this specific, highly-specialized, career path was called out as the group to engage in this behavior. I'm sorry, “why?” What is it about a kidnapper that makes them more likely to be willing to inflict harm on their victim than some other group? But, that's not the point. The point is so that when your protagonist does truly horrible things to those kidnappers, they're still “a good person,” at the end of the day. (There's also a little goofiness about kidnappers in the ask, because they care more about the physical health of their victim than most criminals would. Think about it this way, a mugger wants your wallet, and you're just an incidental obstetrical between you and their target, for a kidnapper, you are the wallet. They want their victim reasonably intact. Whether that is for a later sale, or for a ransom, they don't get paid if their victim is “non-functional.”)

Actually, a really messed up example of this, on this blog, was a few years back, when someone was asking about their “vigilante” characters gunning down drug addicts. Which, yeah, that's pretty fucked up.

When the author botches their, “acceptable targets,” (which is the point of that Batman critique, by the way), the entire illusion can start to break apart. And it can really expose the idea that you're trying to pretend your character is a good person, because their actions target people who the author felt were, “undeserving,” of continuing to breathe.

Falling Down (1993), with Michael Douglas and Robert Duvall is an excellent interrogation of some of these concepts. I don't want to say too much else, because the film is open to interpretations, (some of which are extremely scathing), and I think the film speaks for itself better when no one is telling you how to interpret it. Just be prepared for an uncomfortable viewing.

Back when we were both regularly active, ScriptMedic and I used to have a bit of a back and forth about pharmaceutical means to subdue someone.

Chloroform is a classic example in fiction, and it was popular in crime thrillers from 80-90 years ago, in an era when ready clinical information to laypersons was far more limited. First of all, the rag over the mouth doesn't work. This is a gas used for anesthesia, and you need a lot more than a single vial to keep someone under. Second, you need to keep applying it to keep them under. Again, that rag isn't going to hold enough. Third, if you somehow got enough chloroform onto that rag, it would sedate everyone in the vicinity, because it's an anesthetic gas. (The liquid form is extremely volatile, and will quickly convert to a gas at room temperature. That gas is what is supposed to knock someone out.) Fourth it used to be a common additive in toothpaste, and frequently occurs as an out-gassing from polymers and adhesives. Popular culture hilariously overestimates how potent this stuff is. You need a lot to put someone under, and you need a trained anesthesiologist to keep them under without accidentally killing them. Also, prolonged use results in liver damage and cardiac issues, which is why we no longer use it for anesthesia. If you try to put someone under without an anesthesiologist, and you manage to sedate them... they'll die. Turns out, it also suppresses the respiratory system, and they suffocate.

It's a similar story with most anesthetic gasses, and in fact, chloroform is one of the “sleeping gasses.” Not all of them have the liver or heart issues, but none of them are, “fire and forget.”

ScriptMedic was a fan of Ketamine for knocking out characters. And, to be fair, Ketamine is fantastic for anesthesiologists. Exceeding the necessary dosage just puts the patient out for longer, which may be inconvenient, but it's vastly preferable to, death. The problem is, it's not great for fire and forget tranq adventures. Ketamine does not suppress salivation. Which isn't a big deal on the operating table, as you can pretty easily keep someone from drowning in their own spittle, but if you just inject some poor mook, and leave them on the curb, they're going to drool themselves to death.

Actual tranquilizer guns are a real thing. They're frequently used in animal control. You don't use these on people because TV lied to you. You get darted, and if you decide to keep the dart in your neck as a peculiar fashion statement, you've still got somewhere between fifteen minutes to an hour to finish up whatever you were doing, before someone rudely added a nap to your schedule. Oh, yeah, and if the dose is too high, these anesthetics can kill you. Dosage calculations with these things are educated guesses at best, and it's why sometimes animal control really can't afford to use tranq guns. It's not callousness, it's a calculus between the threat the animal poses to others, and if they have the time to wait and see if the tranqs work.

What you really need to not shy away from, is the idea that if your character engages in violence, there are going to be consequences for that violence. Unlike in real life, as the author, you are responsible for applying those consequences to the participants. This creates a real problem when you have authors who intentionally try to skirt around the parts of the events they find uncomfortable it reduces the impact of that violence.

To drag up that Batman example, the reason it's a slightly peculiar and subversive take is because it's outside the scope of the comics. Batman goes in, beats up muggers, comes out completely unharmed, and it's all okay because we know Batman's a good person, doing this for good reasons, and the muggers are still alive to reform and become better people in society.

Except, if you step away from the idea of a superhero comic, none of that makes any kind of sense.

The story you're trying to tell doesn't need every instance of violence to be followed with an extensive interrogation of the philosophical implications of what your characters did. However, if you're trying to tell a story where violence is a spectacle that happens in a regular rhythm, it's not going to hit in the same way.

I'm pretty sure I've said this many times, but violence has diminishing returns in your story. The more you use violence (particularly non-consequential violence), the less it will matter, and like any other tool you can call upon, the less your audience will respond to it.

There's nothing wrong with putting some violence with your story, but the one thing you do need to do is be honest with yourself about it. You can lie to your readers. (Though, that's something you want to be very careful of.) But, if you lie to yourself it will harm your story. Sometimes that does require doing some serious soul searching about what you're trying to do. Because, what you're trying to do right now is tell me that you want serious violence, without really coming to grips with how that constrains your options about how violence and physical harm work.

Again, there's nothing wrong with popcorn action. But if you want to write breezy fights between superheroes, you really need to admit, to yourself, that's what you're doing. Your story will be better for it.

-Starke

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[charmedreincarnation]

I shifted using the void state!

I'm getting straight to the point because I know people don't like long success stories, but I used these two posts to finally shift to my desired reality and manifest my dream life.

Rotten’s Practical Guide to Shifting Realities

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zgrhCYyct7xV4j7d7qYFcoO8bAMx5Jqdb3NGoO81Oqs/edit

Reddit Post: The Power of the Void State

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/s/XMIo5TPYlM

Anyways, when I learned about the void state on Reddit, I was instantly captivated. I mean, who wouldn't be? The idea of not only using it for shifting but also manifesting my dream life for myself and my family felt like a dream come true. That's when I came across the second post I shared about the void state, and eventually, the first document I shared. They were incredibly informative and completely changed my perspective on shifting and the law of the universe.

I went on to stalk many of the recommended success stories on Reddit, exploring posts and comment sections that mentioned you. You seemed to be a common denominator in their journeys, helping them shift or guiding them with your posts. It made me happy to see your positive influence, even though your posts were from years ago and it seemed like you no longer have an account. Unfortunately, many other creators' posts were either inactive or banned due to Reddit's strict rules which is really annoying.

However, someone made a post about you, and one of your friends ended up commenting with your Tumblr account. So, I gathered a lot of valuable information from your account and a few others (like Fleur, Pink, Rem, Sexy Dream Girl, etc.) on Tumblr.

I must say, the Tumblr shifting and void community is miles ahead of Reddit and Amino. I was shocked that I hadn't come across this community before. Reddit is just starting to talk about the Law of assumption and the void, whereas you guys have been immersed in it for years. I even encountered some misconceptions on Reddit, where people still think the void can only be used for shifting and not for waking up in a whole new life. 🙄

Regardless, finding this app was the motivation I needed, and I discovered so much valuable information. I ended up using your theta wave method, combined with the first Reddit post I sent, to enter the void and shift to my dr. It's truly mind-blowing how easy it all was.

I can vouch for this process. All you need are the two Reddit posts I shared, as the guide is highly regarded within the shifting community, along with a few trustworthy Tumblr bloggers. I've been part of the shifting community since 2017, so I've seen it all, and I managed to shift within just two and a half weeks of finding these resources. Even though I was struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts, I realized it doesn't have to hinder your journey.

I wanted to share my experience here, and I might make a post on Reddit too. However, they have become stricter with success stories due to anti-troll measures, and it takes weeks to even months for anything to be processed. So, I wanted to share my journey here first.

I also recommend this: https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/s/daFCQdyHim because it helped me understand what shifting really is. Manifesting too!

Lastly I'm 26 years old, and I've noticed that Reddit tends to have a more adult audience compared to Tumblr. At first, it felt nice to be surrounded by fellow adults discussing shifting. On the other hand, seeing Tumblr mostly filled with teens and younger adults made me wonder if it's easier for them, especially without the weight of responsibilities that often come with age.

But let me tell you, age is not a factor that determines our success in shifting. Whether you're 13 or 55, it doesn't matter. This is something we can all engage in, no matter our age.

Sure, there might be some challenges that come with getting older. As we accumulate more life experiences, doubts tend to creep in, and we become more logical. But guess what? Those doubts and logical thinking don't define our ability to shift realities. They are simply hurdles for us to overcome.

Hi love! I've spent some time going through all the resources you shared, and they've been incredibly helpful! Actually i have seen that guide in so many places, and it's truly enlightening. Thank you for sharing these amazing tools with us!

And yes, I wholeheartedly agree with what you said. age and doubt really do have no place in our journey they really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

I used to engage with @theastralplaneandbeyond5487 on Amino and Reddit too. He also has an informative YouTube channel and is in his 50s, I believe. His experiences and insights are rlly helpful and further show that age is just a number in this journey.

His journey showed me that we can do whatever we we want , regardless of our age. It's a beautiful reminder that we're all capable of creating and experiencing whatever we want 🩵

Also omg my Reddit era in 2021 was so fun. I’m glad it’s still helping people though my views have definitely evolved :D!

[feukt-42]

Elden ring + Shadow of the Erdtree lore thoughts

Alright, so, first off, obviously, spoilers ahead.

I've been thoroughly enjoying and getting my ass kicked by SotE and what ive seen of the lore so i wanted to ramble about it.

I specifically wanted to talk about how Elden Ring explores power and godhood.

In the base game, godhood isnt seen as inherently bad. Marika's golden order is fucked up six ways to sunday, but the blame mainly rests on Marika's shoulders it seems. She's a genocidal homewrecking war-mongerer who threw two of her children in the sewers bc of racism, she's not a good god, but it doesnt portray the problem as her being a god, just her being a mess. The game provides several "solutions" to unfuck everything :

Ranni's ending has you completely throw the system in the trash. She says, fuck it, godhood's the problem, im out of here. She is kinda right, but the lands remain fractured and the power vacuum left behind is going to be immense. We're on the right track but could be better.

The frenzied flame ending is just pure concentrated nihilism so i think we can move past it for this one.

The bunch of other endings are fairly similar : you beat Marika/Radagon's ass and you impose yourself as Elden Lord to keep her in check and fix the issues you see as most important. This doesnt fix anything long-term, the god in power is still the exact same fucking mess but with a chaperone now i guess.

None of these endings are very satisfying, they all leave you with a sense of "it could be worse i guess" (except the frenzied flame one but you get the point). This is where Miquella comes in :

Everything we hear about Miquella sounds great. He's kind, compassionate, against racism, doesnt like violence, etc etc. Cherry on top, he's even one of the characters with a direct shot at godhood, brilliant ! Why cant we just put him in charge, he'll do much better than the absolute wreck we have right now.

And thats where the base game leaves us, Marika is a fucked up mess of a person, and the obvious solution is to put the much better Miquella in her place.

Shadow of the erdtree, on the other hands, aims to set the record straight. The problem wasnt just Marika, the problem is inherent to godhood in and of itself.

In SotE, we see the land of shadow, the realm where Marika came from and ascended to godhood, and the realm where Miquella intends to do the same. And the more we hear about who Marika was before in snippets of lore, and the more we watch Miquella tread the road to godhood, we realise something :

There is no such thing as a good god

It doesnt matter how kind and compassionate you were, what your morals were, who you loved, who you loathed, none of it matters because you cannot grasp the power to become a god without sacrificing who you were before.

In the dlc we see Miquella shed more and more of himself, his flesh, his arms, his eye, his heart, his doubts, his fears and even his love. Miquella has shorn so much of who he was that he formed an entire new person (St Trina) from it. Some of him remains, he still wishes for a kinder world, but he cant sacrifice anymore of himself for it. Now he has to start sacrificing others.

Miquella was always blessed with the ability to charm others, and he sees it as the least painful path to make others do as he wishes. And so he charms his sister, he charms Mohg, he charms Radahn, his followers, Leda, Moore, Thiollier, Freyja, the hornsent, Ansbach, and everyone he can convince to give themselves up for his dream of a kinder world, regardless of the pain they might cause or feel by being enthralled by him.

And oh boy do they feel pain. Mohg is used and discarded like a ragdoll, and his followers and dynasty slowly crumble to nothing as the last pureblood knight watches helplessly, himself entranced by the one responsible after he failed to kill him. Radahn's soul is shoved in a corpse so that he can play consort to a god that is his antithesis, depriving him of his glory and honour as lord of the battlefield. Malenia is left alone to rot after Miquella has no use or help for her, and she endlessly waits for her brother to return. Every one of Miquella's followers has to grapple with those feelings of betrayal, manipulation, and lost memories returning all at once. It is by no means painless.

And so we end up with a god that is not much better than Marika was. On his path to godhood, Miquella has caused as much pain to those along the way as his mother once did, in this very same land that still feels the scars of Marika's ascension.

The only way to gain power is to take it from everyone else, and that cannot be achieved without pain.

[luimagines]

Two in a Bush

Another commission!

They asked for Reader getting separated in a dungeon and Wild panics to find them. :D 

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Wild wasn’t sure what to expect of a place like this.

He didn’t have anything like this in his world. He had the Divine Beasts that he had to figure out but those were giant mechanical weapons. Not some fortress that had a hidden secret at the end. 

Comparing the two- he supposes they aren’t all that different. From the monsters, to the puzzles, to even the multiple floors for a few of them, Wild could confidently say that he still had no idea what he was doing. Luckily, many of the others seemed to have more than enough practice and experience to go around. Wild was more than happy to leave the spearheading to them.

It gave him an excuse to look after you instead.

You were a special circumstance amongst this group of heroes. It caught Wild’s attention in more ways than one.

It was just unfortunate that you had zero fighting experience like the rest of them. Not that he personally considered it a fault of yours, don’t misunderstand him, but the idea of being with a group that does nothing but fight without being able to fight didn’t sit right with him. Granted, he was happy and delighted by the idea that you came from a place where you could live normally. It made him jealous in a good way. He wanted that for himself as well- but you would have had it from the beginning and that’s something that he knew he would never achieve.

However this also meant that they would have to be on the lookout for you specifically. Without any knowledge of how to properly defend yourself, it meant that they would have to pick up the slack.

Not that they would ever phrase it that way and much less to your face. Wild had thought that he could take the opportunities to look cooler and more heroic in an attempt to catch your attention but even he knew that it was a fool’s dream to picture it that way… That didn’t stop him from day dreaming though.

Regardless, he stuck by your side as the group explored the dungeon, sword at the ready and willing to defend you if needed.

You seemed content to explore the dungeon just like the rest of them, keeping pace and looking around with childlike wonder on your face. It made Wild smile.

Suddenly, the group was attacked.

Everyone sprang into action, Wild included to take down the threats in the new room. While there was usually only a handful per section, this room had an unusually high amount of monsters. It took all hands on deck to diminish the threat and clear the area before they could continue exploring.

Wild was lucky enough to stay behind the larger hoard of monsters, shooting at the threats to help his brother before they broke the line. He switched to his sword and charged ahead, slashing the threats along with the others until there weren’t any left. Tired, but relieved, Wild turned back to you with a smile on your face.

But you were nowhere to be seen.

His heart dropped and so did his sword from his hand. The metal clang echoed in the room. “Guys?”

Many turned their heads to him. 

Wild looked back to the group asking for where you were, prompting them to look around the room as well. Wild didn’t like the looks on their faces as they came to the same conclusion they did.

“Where did they go?” Wind scratched the top of their head.

“Were they pushed out of the room?” Twilight stood straighter, jogging to the entrance for a better look.

Hyrule followed the Rancher without missing a beat. “If they didn’t, then we have a bigger problem on our hands than any puzzle we can find in this dungeon.”

Wild could feel his anxiety rise within him. You were right there. How could he lose you? There’s still more monsters to go through. You can’t fight them. You can’t. He needs to find you. He needs to find you now.

“Oh hello.” Legend whistles, calling the attention of the others. “Champion, were you over here at first?”

Wild turns around and nods. “Yeah, I tried to keep them here so they wouldn’t be cornered so easily if they had to run.”

He doesn’t like the look on Legend’s face. There’s a panel on the wall but Wild didn’t think much of it at first.

Legend points to it. “Who wants to bet they’re on the other side?”

“What?” Warrior furrows his eyebrows. “What does a weird wall with a human shape have to do with-”

Legend grins and places himself in the human imprint. The wall spins suddenly with a quiet whirr and returns to its original position. Without Legend in it.

Wild doesn’t want to waste any time. He runs to the panel despite the cries of the other boys, too in shock over Legend’s disappearance to stop him from doing the same. He places his back to the metal and gasps as it spins just as it did for the Veteran.

He comes face to face with another room entirely and takes a step away. The wall stays the same. 

Legend dusts himself as he takes in the new room. He’s looking at the map they collected earlier, trying to figure out where they go and where this would lead. He’s scratching the side of his head, pushing his hat to a dangerous edge where it could fall off with one movement. He looks perplexed. He doesn’t seem to like what he’s seeing. Wild doesn’t want to think about going into uncharted waters and what that could mean for you.

Wild scans the room as well. There’s some more monster hidden in the shadows to his left and there’s a deadend to his right. In front of him, there is a hallway just beyond the room but there’s another exit just ahead of the monsters.

The monsters notice him and begin to make their way closer to the duo. The wall behind them spins again, signaling the arrival of a third member but Wild pays no attention to it.

He still can’t find you so he takes off running, picking a random exit in hopes that it leads him to where you could be. How far could you get in such a short time? Surely he could catch up in time before something happens, right?

He hears the Four call after him but he pays no mind to it. Footsteps begin to echo behind him along with the muffled cries of the monsters as they were shot on sight.

Wild takes a deep breath and looks around. He finds a new spot but there’s still no sign of you, even as he desperately begins to call for your name. There’s more monsters in this new room and he’s quick to deal with them. His building panic and frustration adds fuel to the fire as he channels it into a quiet rage to kill the offending beasts.

Once the room is empty, it remains empty. Not wanting to waste any more time, Wild turns on his heels and runs out as fast as his feet can carry him. 

He’s already lost. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where the others are, nor does he hear them anymore. His breath is the only sound to surround him. It comes out haggard and stunted. He coughs- feeling a drop of saliva attempt to go down the wrong pipe.

Wild whips his head up, not bothering to continue catching his breath. He starts running again, finding a new path into a new room. There’s more monsters and he deals with them as quickly as the prior ones. 

Panic has fully set into his bones as each turn produces more and more failure.

Tears well up in eyes and in his frustration, Wild punches the wall. He hurts his hands more than he hurts the wall.

As in response, he hears a sound. It’s muffled and faint, but he can hear the familiar cry of rage and determination just beyond the bricks and mortar. It’s a battle cry.

It sounds like you.

Spurred on by the sound, Wild goes on the attack. He beats the wall with everything he has before the ground beneath him gives way. He tumbles and instinctually tucks himself into a ball. Wild wraps his arms around his head and uses his legs to try and gain control of his graceless descent. He eventually comes to a grinding halt and he unfurls himself from the positions he’s put himself in.

He is only inches away from the edge of what appears to be a cliff. His heart jumps at the sight as he rolls away.

Wild, remembering why he had tried to get through the wall to begin with, pushes himself to his feet.

A monster cries before it dies, quickly followed by more and more sounds of pain and anger. Another battle cry rings out, this time much more clear than what Wild had heard previously. 

It is most definitely you.

Wild looks over the edge hesitantly. It would be great if he had finally found you… But it would be a hit to his psyche if he were to see you in battle. He’s afraid of what he might see. Are you hurt? Are you terrified?

He looks over anyway.

Instead of terror, he’s pleasantly surprised to see that same determined look on your face that he’s seen on so many other faces. Your eyebrows are closely knit together and there’s a glint in your eyes that he’s never seen before.

They’re hardened and sharp. There’s an ax in your hand that you no doubt stole from one of the monsters you must have come across. You look angry and there’s multiple splatters of blood over your clothes and exposed skin. The fabric that covers sticks to your body from the sweat you’ve produced from the intensity you’ve put into defending yourself. 

Wild finds himself glued to your figure. You fight ferociously even though your lack of training is evident. He watches you with his jaw agape and his hand on the handle of the sheikah slate. He’s entranced. This is hot.

The sheikah makes the familiar sound of a picture being taken before he reaches for his bow. From above, he aims for the monsters that come against you. His attacks throw the monsters into confusion as they search for the second hidden threat. The distraction gives you the perfect opportunity to strike them back and finish them off.

Once the last of the monsters has fallen, its body fallen beside the others, you take the last remaining part of your sleeve and wipe your forehead. You smear the blood splotches over your cheek in the process. Wild takes another picture. You look up, using your hand to try and block out any competing light and see him.

Wild snaps one more picture, hoping that it catches the way you instantly relax and smile up at him. He hopes he catches the way your eyes light up at the sight of him and the way you’ve held the weapon high in the air in greeting, making it look more like a victory stance over your enemies. He waves back enthusiastically. He’s never felt more proud in his life. “You did it!”

“Link!” You cry back and drop the weapon. You run close to the cliff, craning your neck to your sight on him. “You found me!”

Maybe you didn’t hear him.

Wild shakes his head affectionately and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t see your eyebrows furrow again or the confused tilt to your head. Instead, Wild takes a running leap and jumps off of the cliff. He opens up the paraglider and uses it to glide down safely to where you stand.

You run to him before he hits the ground, nearly tackling him as he lands. Wild wraps his arms around you instinctually, calming his pounding heart now that you’ve returned safely to his arms. You take in a shuddering breath and tuck your face into the crook of his neck. You feel inclined to repeat yourself. “You found me.”

“I wouldn’t stop searching until I did.” Wild whispers. He pulls back and wipes the remaining blood off of your face. “What happened? How did you end up here?”

You smile sheepishly and scratch the back of your neck. “During that first fight, I got pushed back far enough into the wall. It spun around and next thing I knew, I was in another room. I saw the monsters on the far end and figured that it would be better to not be spotted. I snuck out and only ran into more monsters so I kept going. Next thing I know I ended up down here and couldn’t not fight back.”

“Where did you even get the ax?”

“I stole it.”

Wild snickers and finally lets you go. His hands rest on your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

You grin in return, putting on a smirk. “I just pretended they were customers on Black Friday. I’ve always wanted to fend them off with a stick.”

He has no idea what that means. “Ok- but you had an ax and they were monsters.”

“...High stakes Black Friday shoppers.”

Wild hangs his head in defeat. He tries his hardest to not laugh at your facial expression. It seems as if you know what you’re talking about at least, so it’s a small comfort. “Alright. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Are the others waiting for us?” You take his hand, stepping in time with him as he takes a good look around this new area. For the better part, it looks like a ditch with no way in or out- except for above.

“Sooomething like that.” Wild chews on his lip, switching to his climbing gear. He picks you up with zero hesitation, throwing you onto his back and he begins to scale the wall. You yelp and shriek, hitting his back as he climbs.

“Hey! A warning would have been great!”

“Hang on. I got this.”

“...Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

You snort. He’s ignoring your tone on purpose. Slowly, you adjust yourself on his back so you don’t fall off and wait until he’s reached the top. Once he lets you down, you smack the back of his head.

He blocks it effortlessly, leaning in instead to kiss your cheek. There’s laughter on his breath as he checks you out once more.  “I hope you're ready for a lot of walking. I’ll have you know that we are very lost.”

“Are we?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Oh.” You think for a moment and look back at Wild. You end up chewing on your lip as well. “Are we in trouble?”

“You? No. Me? Most definitely.”

[tangents-within-tangents]

Thoughts on Echo as amputee/disability representation

First and foremost, I am not disabled or an amputee and I don’t claim to speak for those communities (and if I was I couldn't speak for everyone). What little I do know mostly comes from this youtube channel (@oakwyrm), this post, and other research I’ve done for my writing (and like one amputee I kinda knew in passing). By all means correct me and add to the conversation, I just have some thoughts I want to share because I haven’t really seen this discussed anywhere

Overview

So Echo is interesting. He is a triple amputee which is pretty rare in media. His disabilities come from extremely traumatic circumstances: injured in a near-death experience, imprisoned and dehumanized as an experiment with no autonomy over what happened to his body.

There are a few moments in the shows where Echo is treated… questionably. Like this bit where Rex uses him as an example of the Separatists' evils to convince the locals to fight back:

To be fair, yeah Echo’s treatment does prove that the Techno Union is not neutral like they claim. The modifications that everyone is gasping in horror at here obviously weren’t made with comfort and accessibility in mind, nor with Echo’s consent. But you still just want to be sure that “They took away his freedom, his humanity, they tried to turn him into a machine” is about using him as a living computer, not the fact that he is missing limbs. 

The Batch is also pretty insensitive toward him and his trauma imo, which is weird considering they've supposedly also faced discrimination for their mutations

Disabled people do have to deal with stuff like this in this day and age so I guess it can speak to those experiences. I think especially him being mistaken as a droid (and Hunter going along with it (bruh)) might resonate with some people. 

Aside from that stuff, Echo isn't really treated any differently as a character/person which is really good (as low of a bar as that is).

We get this moment in CW where Echo contemplates that yeah things are gonna be different now

While also (imo at least) showing that he is still the same person regardless, evidenced by the fact that he just echoed Rex :,) I also think it's significant that he joins the Bad Batch on his own terms and we're given a really emotional scene to specifically show that he's not just like 'lumped in with the other misfits' but that it is his choice to go where he feels his place is.

A lot of people, myself included, are disappointed that TBB didn't have more time to explore Echo's PTSD, but I think the one panic attack scene we did get is really good. Even thought it's minor it at least is an appropriate reaction from a guy who was medically tortured (which is more than I've come to expect from Star Wars shows lol)

And it's really sweet to see Omega showing Echo some empathy and consideration.

It would have been nice to see more of his adjustment period, and other side effects like chronic pain and maintenance, but there’s a lot of daily life stuff the show never had time for (i.e. we don’t know if he removed his prosthetics to sleep, but we also never saw him sleep anyway). His disabilities might take on a background role (much like the character himself sadly) but for the most part they aren’t invisible or erased, nor do they define his character and arc.

Physical Appearance

Okay this one is bit dicey, bc on the one hand, yes complaints that Echo’s paleness (most likely caused by burns from the explosion or chemical burns from the cryo-chamber) is whitewashing are totally valid. But I also think you can draw comparisons to real life conditions that affect pigmentation/complexion (like you know burns). So while I understand why a lot of fanart will depict him with his original skin tone and with hair, consider that there are real people who have to live with temporary or permanent changes to their appearance, and the idea of “fixing" him by making him look more like his old self can be problematic.

It's also interesting to note that Echo could act as a reversal of the 'disabled/disfigured = evil' trope. He's pale and bald and wears black and red, which is so often visually associated with villains, but we all know Echo is the bestest boy™

The Headpiece

Echo’s headpiece is interesting because within the show we don’t actually ever learn much about it (idk if there is more info in books or whatever bc i don’t have them so?). He didn’t have it in CW so we know it didn’t come from the Techno Union and therefore Echo probably had more choice with it. We don’t know its exact purpose but it’s most likely related to his scomping abilities. When he is hacking with his scomp in CW, before he has his headpiece, it’s clearly very mentally straining:

We don’t see him struggling like this in TBB once he does have it (though that could be bc he got more used to it over time). There doesn't seem to be much of an impact when he removes his headpiece in s3 ep14-15, except that he gets stuck in the ports every time he uses his scomp which is not something we’ve seen before: 

There might not be an exact real-world equivalent, but the headpiece is some kind of accessibility aid. It means that someone specifically designed a device to help him adapt to the changes the Techno Union made, as well as a helmet that integrates it. It’s removable and visually very present, much like a cochlear implant would be. (A lot of people actually headcanon it to act partially as a hearing aid, since it makes sense that Echo’s hearing would have been damaged in the explosion, but there isn't really any indication of this in canon.) The headpiece is never really acknowledged in the show, but I think that's a good thing. It's something he needs/wants and it just exists, completely normalized, and that's pretty cool 👍

Legs

Sigh... So from the very first episode of TBB I was really disappointed that the animation team or whoever completely visually erased Echo’s prosthetic legs (I think we all were, honestly, if fanart is anything to go by). It’s one thing when he’s in armor because he would probably want to protect his prosthetics, but we literally see him in his blacks and there is no indication whatsoever that he lost his legs even though it was not left up for debate at all in CW:

Like ??????!?

This is just really strange to me! Idk what went on behind the scenes with this decision but I don’t really see why it would be that much harder to animate or anything since it’s 3D and they've done it before. We do see some pretty sophisticated cybernetic technology in Star Wars canon that mimics real limbs:

But Luke’s fancy hand is technically 20ish years from now, so Anakin and Maul are more of a representation of what level we could expect here

So yeah, for no apparent reason, his leg amputation is effectively, visually and narratively nonexistent. Which is not great 👎

Arm!

The scomp on the other hand (uh lol!) is the complete opposite and I kinda love it!

At first I, like many others, thought it was a bit odd that they didn’t give Echo a prosthetic arm. Losing hands is basically a Star Wars tradition at this point, so robotic arms/hands are well established within the worldbuilding: 

We aren’t necessarily given a canon reason for why Echo doesn't get a cybernetic arm (again unless it's in some lore book I haven’t read, sorry). General fanon explanations I’ve seen are that he either couldn’t because the Techno Union wired the scomp too far into his nervous system, and/or the resources to give him one were deemed too expensive for a clone (what about his legs tho?), or that he chose not to, usually because he thought the scomping was useful. 

Regardless, I actually really love this choice (and it's the whole reason I made this post), because here's the thing: There’s a lot of problematic tropes out there that either erase/cure disabilities or compensate them with perks (like how pretty much any blind character is actually not blind by some sort of magic power). With amputees that is done with robotic arms. The character is still an amputee or course, and there is still value in that representation, if this story from Mark Hamill that makes me tear up is anything to go by:

but for the most part these characters function like anyone else, just with a limb that looks a little different. It’s no more than a video game skin, an able-bodied actor with a green screen glove. It “cures” the disability, or it actually makes the character even stronger than usual: 

It usually makes sense within the world of the story, but the reason it’s not so great in my opinion is that in the real world we just do not have technology anywhere close to that yet. Prosthetics can more or less replace any mobility from lost legs, but not for all the complexities of a hand (and even if they could the average person wouldn’t be able to afford it).

So

I think it's actually really super cool that Echo’s scomp bypasses the canonically-established amputee erasure and functions much like a stump would irl. He integrates it into his movements and everyday life and it’s (as far as I know) a lot closer to an everyday amputee’s experience. 

It doesn’t define his character, it doesn’t hold him back, he lives a full life, the other’s don’t treat him any differently, and he’s still a total karking badass 

The only additional thing is that he sometimes uses it as a weapon (which given his story, I think it’s cool to see him taking back autonomy in a way, and we only see that like twice)

And also the scomping, which could be seen as the 'added/compensating superpower' trope. But narratively it's no different than if he was plugging in with a hacking gadget of some kind (he didn't necessarily "need" to lose his arm for it) and it’s not like Echo is completely defined by this skill. Personally, I think it's well worth the positives of him actually having a visible and realistically impactful amputation. 

I see a lot of posts or comments out there that say stuff like “how come Echo doesn’t get a hand?” or fanworks that do give him one and I just think it’s a bit of a shame. If he did get a robotic hand, it just would have disappeared the same way his legs and Anakin’s arm did (aside from that one time he got yoinked by a magnet). When Echo did “get a hand” in the last two episodes there were comments like “yay he finally got a hand! but it doesn’t even work” but I was actually so relieved that it didn’t! Bc for one thing that wouldn’t make any sense, he grabbed it off a droid, it wasn’t designed to implement with his scomp, that would be really complicated. But more importantly because it again refused to erase/cure his disability! It functioned like a real-world cosmetic prosthetic (useless beyond appearance) which is exactly what he needed it for, so that he could blend in better with his disguise.

And he continually took it off throughout the episode and ditched it at the end. He only used it for the necessity of a stealth mission, he doesn’t feel the need to visually “fit in” in his daily life. 

And, last but very much not least, he made a dad joke and from my intel that is very accurate representation!

TLDR: Echo’s scomp is actually really cool from an amputee representation perspective, especially within Star Wars, and I think that deserves some appreciation 

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbits With a F!Human Crush

Definitely not the last of this concept you’ll see from me 😉 Tagging @possibly-in-wonderland along with my usual list @kilibaggins @fuckyoumakeart @lokilover476 | let me know if you wanna join!

Frodo

✧ You serve as a living, breathing symbol of his curiosity, his desire for knowledge and exploration, something new that he wants so badly it all but takes the breath from him.

✧ The way you fall in love with Bag End, unbothered, no, charmed, by the quaint yet elegant hobbit hole as your eyes light up has Frodo’s heart doing somersaults. “You like it?” “Like it? Why, Frodo, you are as lucky as anyone! I wish I lived here!” He’s a bit too shy to say it, but a little voice peeking from the corners of Frodo’s mind says that that could be arranged.

✧ You’ve been places he could only dream of, and he wants to hear every story, enraptured with a hand upon his chin and blue eyes wide at your every word.

✧ Whenever you bend down to whisper in his ear, his entire mind shuts down and a smile creeps across his lips like you’ve never seen before.

✧ Flushes brightly when you pull him protectively against your chest, but enjoys the dangerous race of his heart at your hand upon him more than he would have thought possible.

✧ And when you first kiss him, giving him that gentle but still quite strong tug up into your lips at his confession and tangling your fingers in his dark hair, it's like his chest is about to explode.

Sam

✧ A bit down on yourself thinking someone like you wouldn’t like someone like him, at least not like that.

✧ Regardless, it changes not his kindness and devotion towards you. Despite your size difference, Sam is the one to step forward between you and danger, throwing an arm across from you and not registering or sharing in your amusement until the threat is neutralized.

✧ His heart practically slammed out of his chest when he told you about all the rabbits in the Shire, including one couple he’d seen where the male was with a much larger female. “That’s so cute,” you’d remarked, a hand idly brushing his arm as it lowered, “I love that.” Sam could hardly speak for the next minute or so.

✧ You asked him once if people remind him of flowers or if that's just you, and without even thinking Sam said sunflowers. Not only because of their height, he replies with a blush after you tease him, but the way they bring joy to all who see them and everybody wants them around.

✧ Trips over his words when you focus your gaze down upon him, suddenly feeling warm beneath the intent stare.

✧ And when you take his hand, looking him right in the eyes again as you tell him just how much he means to you, why he snaps completely, pulling up to his full height to connect your lips.

Merry

✧ He takes you, quite frankly, as a challenge- not one given in scorn, but as the rush of the latest charge or act of mischief, the exhilaration of risking oneself for moments of the greatest good.

✧ Bold as he is, Merry isn't afraid to let you know how beautiful he thinks you are, calling you fair and strong and every compliment in the book to cheer you up and bolster your courage.

✧ Attempts to prove himself to you thrill him, too, the way you take him on as an equal to spar and spend your time teaching him. The way you let him overtake you, standing over you with triumph and giving a smirk that runs a shiver down his spine.

✧ He goes to you first for things; in his eyes you can do anything and he trusts you to take his concerns seriously. It could be something small like a question or repair or a a heavier matter like a deep discussion, but whatever it is it will be with you.

✧ Makes up the occasional tall tale about his prowess back home, making himself out to be quite the hero or his home a far more fantastical place. Just to see what you believe. Even though you giggle at his mock-heroic deeds and teasingly debunk his tales, you make it clear in your treatment of him that you do believe he can do anything.

✧ Shock blooms across your face and thrums in your heart at the wince cutting Merry’s face when he accidentally confesses his feelings to you, but it is quickly overtaken by a smile as you cup his face in your hands to return his affection and then some.

Pippin

✧ Nothing can tear him from your side, not a word of concern from others, not a single hardship- when his mind is made up, it is made and that is that.

✧ Enjoys climbing up on things or into trees to get to your eye level, leaning closer while he has the opportunity to all but brush noses.

✧ Makes jokes about you having a longer reach or about "back when you were my size", for he is well aware and comfortable with the height difference. Insurmountable as it could be to you, there is no point in denying it and having some fun with it. After all, as much as he is always trying to assist you, he can use your added height as an excuse to ask for help, too!

✧ Unabashedly checks you out, his eyes sliding to you in nearly any moment of idleness; sometimes they are glances of awe, others pure pleasure at your form.

✧ Tells you again and again all the places he’s going to take you: the Green Dragon, a run through Farmer Maggot’s fields, Sam’s garden if he lets you, all at such insistence that the Shire is the greatest place upon the earth that you cannot help believing him and longing for it almost as much as he.

✧ Knowing that he is lost, he is happy simply to love you no matter what, but few times in your life will you see Pippin’s face as alight as the moment between you returning his feelings and the deep first kiss you share.

Bilbo

✧ Now you, my dear, are an adventure. Nothing he ever planned for, imagined, expected, and yet here you are on his proverbial doorstep. With a gulp and a shy smile he takes you in, eyes sliding upward along your form.

✧ Never has he felt this way before and certainly never with a daughter of men, so you'll find his gaze upon you often, studying you almost.

✧ Definitely tries to wow you with his studies of the different cultures of men- with varying success depending on from which region you hail. You cannot help but be charmed at all of Bilbo’s attempts to make you feel at home even in the middle of nowhere.

✧ You will feel like you’ve seen Bag End and met all of Bilbo’s ridiculous relatives with all the stories he shares both silly and beautiful. “I can see why you wish to return,” you tell him, to which he just beams up at you, a new shine in his eyes.

✧ Gets flustered at the ways in which you move to his level, leaning slinkily against a large rock or down further still upon a log to look up at him and meet his gaze with a smile.

✧ All he asks is if you have any interest in settling down, but you cannot help risking things at the sight of Bilbo’s nerves, tentatively answering that you’d love to settle in the Shire and feeling your heart soar at his grin of relief. Unusual, certainly, but then again that is perfect for Bilbo Baggins, is it not?

[stellarbit]

Pushing Limits

Work Count: 4.2 Pairing: fem!reader x Wrecker NSFW Warnings: Big ole size kink w/ associated pain, piv, poorly proofread Summary: The Bad Batch are sent to train some Jedi, you being amongst them. You and Wrecker can't stop thinkin about each other after you spar.

Having spent your youth in the temple, you developed a disinterest in the temptations of attraction as an adult. It wasn’t that others weren’t attractive to you; on the contrary, you found many beings attractive. Instead, your disinterest stemmed from the warnings of attachment and a lack of clarity on how to enjoy attraction without it.

So, for a short time, you’d experimented with physicalities. They required no emotional attachment, therefore, you saw no reason to not explore. The pleasure of others was a high that quickly became an unnecessary hassle. Partners could make things interesting but they rarely lived up to your expectations. Especially when you could find a more satisfying release on your own.

Training with five exceptionally trained, and exceptionally handsome, men tested that mindset.

The Bad Batch had been assigned a training mission on Coruscant. The Jedi Council requested an elite squad to train fresh Jedi Knights for a month. You were amongst the class and while the opportunity was an exciting one, your attention was hardly in the present.

At first, outside of their talent and appearances, there was nothing that you hadn’t experienced before. Not to mention the fact that clone troopers typically maintained a healthy boundary with their Jedi companions. About a week in, when individual training sessions came into play, you definitely noticed something different.

The first break in your indifference came when one of them, their technician - aptly named Tech, bluntly pointed out a weakness of yours. The comment was not only blunt to the point of tactlessness but also made in front of your fellow Jedi Knights.

"Your defense is sloppy," he observed, literally pointing at you. "You rely too much on your Force abilities. What happens when you're facing an opponent who can resist them?"

You stood still, captured in your final stance in defending against Hunter. You stared Tech down, a twitch ticking your eye as you considered his comment. A clone trooper negating your abilities certainly caught your attention - not in the most positive way. You’d shoved off the comment with more ire than your cohorts were accustomed to and were quick to dismiss yourself when the opportunity came.

Later that same evening you found appreciation for Tech’s observation. Despite receiving consistent praise for your abilities, no one had truly challenged you in recent memory. You prided yourself on maintaining humility, yet it seemed humility alone couldn't shield you from becoming complacent.

Impressed and eager for further challenge, you welcomed the next training session.

The troopers adjusted to instructing without an audience, most likely due to your reaction. Leaving you one on one with two troopers Wrecker and Hunter, one to spare with and the other to observe. 

“Wrecker here even bested General Skywalker once,” Hunter boasted, playfully clapping his brother on the shoulder. “He’s sure to teach you a thing or two.” With that, Hunter stepped back from the ring, gesturing grandly towards his imposing brother.

Facing Wrecker was a new challenge; his sheer size was unlike any opponent you had faced before. Initially, you managed to agilely dance around him, but it wasn't long before he caught you. With a swift pull, he twisted your arm behind you and pressed your back against his chest. Despite your struggles against his overwhelming strength, it all seemed futile until you managed a desperate kick against his ankle.

Even without the help of the Force, your strike was enough to unbalance him, and you both tumbled forward.  Wrecker freed arm and pulled up a knee to soften the blow. Regardless of his efforts he landed on top of you, caging you in and his weight pressing down. He groaned as he collected himself, his body shifting against you. Most noticeably you felt the hard mound of his codpiece grinding against you.

The position you were in registered with you - and the parallels it had to a more intimate variety. For the first time in a long time, heat rushed to your core. As he shifted to regain his bearings, the unintentional contact sent an unexpected rush of warmth through you, drawing a quiet bite to your lip to suppress any involuntary sounds.

“Ugh,” Wrecker shook his head and sat back on his knees. “Sorry about that, but good hit.” You quickly squirmed out from underneath Wrecker, acutely aware of his view of your ass. 

“If you’re going to crush someone,” You hissed as you freed yourself. “Maybe ditch the armor.”

Wrecker glanced down at himself, but smiled sheepishly. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that.”

From across the room, Hunter shook his head. “You need to learn how to get away from someone bigger than you.” He waved a hand between you and his brother. “If all it takes to bring you down is getting caught, you’ll end up dead in no time.”

Your cheeks flushed at the perceived scolding. 

“Hey,” Wrecker leaned over, giving an encouraging shake. “Don’t you worry. That’s what I’m here for.”

The idea of regularly sparring with Wrecker sent another wave of heat through you. You believed in his reassurance, you knew you’d learn quickly enough. It was having to simultaneously learn a lesson in focus that was now daunting you. Although, you though, what’s work without a little fun?

Offering him a rare smile you sighed, “I’m sure you’ll be teaching me a lot.”

Your lessons were daily and scheduled like a training camp. Each member of Clone Force 99 instructed a variety of trainings and your class rotated through them in teams as welll as solo. You took something from each exercise, absorbing as much out of the trainings as possible. Your lessons with Wrecker, however, were always the highlights of your days. 

Not only were his exercises in close combat and strength training personally fun for you, feeling his body against you in any way left you panting in a different way. There was a rush in being turned on by Wrecker without his knowledge. His instruction required his frequent touch as he moved you through maneuvers, while his sparring was aimed at capturing you.

You let him more times than you liked to admit. But Tech had been right, without using the Force to push opponents or jump away you found evading Wrecker challenging. Every time he did get a hold of you it was a struggle to both get free as well as not go limp in his arms. 

Your favorite was his snatching you by the waist and yanking you back against him. It delivered enough force to hide how you pressed back into him. He’d come to training sans armor since your first lesson, but you still felt the cup he wore when he was against you. 

You'd done an excellent job of hiding your perverted intentions until you landed in the same position that got you into this mess.

Wrecker had set you up to be captured again. You nearly ducked out of his reach but he swung his arm with surprising agility and slammed you back against him. As you did the very first time, you kicked a foot into his ankle and knocked him off balance. The two of you tumbled to the ground and, while he did his best to soften the blow, Wrecker weighed down on top of you. With his crotch nestled perfectly into your ass, you mindlessly ground back into him. 

You weren’t able to stop your body, but you caught the whine that threatened to escape you. All you could do was hope he hadn’t felt you as Wrecker gathered himself. The familiar press of his cup to your backside almost made you repeat the same mistake.

"Wrecker," Crosshair interjected from the sidelines, his tone dry. "Get off her; you're crushing her." His words snapped you back to reality, reminding you of the observers. Flustered and embarrassed, you began shoving Wrecker off energetically.

“Although…” An amused air came to Crosshair’s voice. “She might like it.” It was an obvious tease, but your guilty pleasure added unintended weight to it.

If anyone’s enjoying this, Wrecker thought to himself, it was him. A fact he struggled to hide every time he saw you. Wrecker enjoyed seeing you improve, enjoying even more how comfortable you’d become with him in the process.

Weirdly enough, you reminded him of Crosshair in the way you hid a soft side beneath your steely demeanor. The first time smiled at him after, Wrecker thought the planet had stopped spinning. 

Mesh’la, he’d thought for the first time in his life. Something he’d said to others in the throes of pleasure, but seeing you invigorated, panting, and smiling before him - Wrecker realized what the word was truly meant for. 

From that point on, he sought you out in every room, straining for any opportunity to hear your voice. He wasted no chance to approach you, even having wrangled you into sharing a meal or two with his squad. Each night he revisited the feel of you against him, envisioning how you else might feel against him. 

Ditching his armor meant he got a taste of that most times you sparred. Any time he caught you, he did it with enough force you wouldn’t catch him intentionally pressing into you. It was a risky game, but Wrecker couldn’t help himself with you. He wanted you.

So, Wrecker thought, if anyone was enjoying it all - it was him.

“Stow it, Crosshair.” Wrecker bit at his brother, trying to help you to your feet.

“Why so shy, Jedi?” Crosshair snorted, rolling a toothpick to one side of his mouth.

You shook with embarrassment, perceived by them as rage, and snapped, “You’re both insufferable.” 

Wrecker watched you march off, catching the red tint on your ears. He was upset with Crosshair for cutting his time with you short. Moreso he was worried you were upset with him. “I’m going to check on her.”

“Good luck with that,” Crosshair scoffed. “Two credits you come back missing a limb.”

Wrecker only grumbled in response, jogging off to catch up with you. You were at the helm of your quarters when he finally got to you. You stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to him.

“Wrecker, I’m sorry but -”

“Can I come in?” Wrecker took a step closer, his brows pulled together.

You blinked at him, a bit more embarrassment sinking in. Nodding along you silently motioned for him to follow. Once inside Wrecker wasted no time, he immediately started talking.

“You’re upset, I—I know," he started, clasping his hands together nervously.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Wrecker.” You blurted out, his eyes widening. 

Running your fingers through your hair you began a nervous circle around the room. "Every time you touch me, I feel like I can't breathe. When we spar, I’m imagining you—" You stopped abruptly, turning to Wrecker with a pleading look. "Wrecker, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t—"

Wrecker reached out and gently grasped your shoulder, silencing your rambling. “What’re you imaginin’?” he asked softly.

Squeezing your eyes shut you quickly came to terms with telling the truth. On a fast exhale you, you met Wrecker’s eyes and admitted, “When you touch me all I can think about is you being on me and feeling your-”

“You felt that?”

A touch of panic in his voice made you hesitate, but you continued, “-codpiece against me.” His response was a few wide eyed blinks, still processing the nuance. Already prepared for embarrassment you added, “And I imagine it’s not just your armor and it’s all-” you cut yourself short when Wrecker pulled one of your hands towards him.

He pressed your palm against his crotch where a thick, hard member strained against the fabric. You instinctively slid your touch along the length of his bulge. Even through his pants you knew your hand couldn’t even close around him. Pressure twisted between your legs at the thought.

Wrecker winced at the pleasant pressure of your touch. With his eyes squeezed shut he groaned, “It’s not armor. I-I’m sorry, I thought I was hiding it.” The large man made to step back out of your touch but you stepped with him to maintain that connection.

The two of you stood like that for a few heartbeats. You had Wrecker’s full attention and with it you pressed into him, feeling the length of him twitch into your touch. 

“This,” you pressed into him for emphasis. “Is your reaction when we spar?”

Unable to resist the temptation of your touch, he rolled his hips into you. “This happens anytime you’re near me.”

Your mouth went dry at the same time warmth pooled in your core. “So you want me like I want you.”

His eyes finally opened as he searched your face. “You want me?”

Your response was pulling his hand from your shoulder and guiding him into your pants. He followed the suggestion, his two middle fingers slipping over your slit. You could feel how excessively wet you were already. So could he. “Oh you want me, alright.” Wrecker chuckled, his middle finger teasing your entrance. 

This time it was you who couldn’t resist moving. You gyrated your hips enough to get the tip of his finger inside you. Wrecker answered your touch by moving his finger and you cried out as he worked a second digit inside. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you pinned me.” You admitted.

He used his touch to lift you to your tiptoes. “You think you can take me?” It wasn’t a tease, he wasn’t challenging you. This was his asking permission.

“If I can’t,” You pressed your hand harder against his cock. “Then make me.”

“Where?” He asked and you answered with a quick nod in the direction of your bed.

Wrecker slipped his free hand beneath your ass and hauled up you up - two fingers still inside you. Walking to the bed, each of his steps pulled a noise from you as you bounced on his fingers. He plopped you both down on the bed, his back resting against your headboard.

Against your wishes, he removed his fingers from you and let you sit back in his lap.

“If we’re going to do this.” Wrecker gripped your hips and put little space between you “We take it at your pace.”

You didn’t wait for his permission as you started shedding your clothes, setting the tone early. The first to go was your top, your undergarments and all flicking over your head to the floor. Your nipples were already perked and aching for him - much like every other part of you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” You smirked as you started on your bottoms.

Wrecker grinned, a sight that almost made you moan, and sat up in bed. He pulled his top over his head, discarding it with yours. His burly chest was freckled in scars under curled hair. You momentarily dismounted him, wriggling from your bottoms as he did the same. There were only a few hot seconds until you sat naked on your knees next to him and he relaxed back in a similar state.

The trooper looked at you and his hand drifted to his cock. His cock that was even larger than you expected. Two fingers were definitely not enough of a preview for his girth. Wrecker’s fingers wrapped around himself, stroking as he watched you. “So beautiful.” He mumbled.

His words had you crawling over him, pinning his hand in place as you settled on top. Reading your movements, Wrecker met you as you leaned down, catching your lips in a kiss. He twisted his grip on himself, his knuckles grazing your folds, as he moaned into you.

You picked up the pace, frantic to taste as much of him as he could. While you sucked on his lip, Wrecker began positioning you on his cock. He was as desperate to be inside of you as you were for him.

With Wrecker’s help, you hovered over his cock. You were at the full height of your knees in order to line him up with you. Wrecker gave himself one more pump as his precum mixed with your wetness. 

His head was the first real warning of your task at hand. He was larger than you’d ever had and you were in no way ready to take him. An aspect that was making you even wetter. He didn’t slide in easily when you lowered yourself. You both moaned against the strain. “Wrecker.” You moaned into his mouth, a plea in his name.

“I gotcha.” He grasped your hip and kept a hold on his cock. Applying a steady strength, Wrecker pushed you onto his cock. When the flare of his head finally breached you, your back arched. “There we go,” he pressed you with a kiss, “that’s my girl.” 

The head of his cock already had you pushed to the limit, not helped by the fact you were already quivering for him. His size came with a pain you thought might end you and one that eagerly gave way to pleasure

“Wrecker.” You whined, a smile fluttering to your lips. Your hips undulated over him, working more of him inside of you.

A calloused hand slid up your stomach to cup your breast. Wrecker happily groaned as you moved farther down. “You feel so…” the grip you had on him pulled another groan from him. “So good.”

Wrecker supported you as you moved, consumed in watching you work him and the juices dripping down him. Each time you lifted off him, you lowered with a little more force to get more of him inside. Wrecker’s large form writhed beneath you, resisting as hard he could to not thrust up into you - he wanted you to adjust at your own pace. 

As you made a rhythm of burying him deeper inside you, Wrecker watched the shape of his cock bulge through your abdomen. Gently, he pressed a hand beneath your belly button and over the shape. The pressure sent a thrill straight to your clit, nearly undoing Wrecker with what it did to your pussy.

You were so taught around him, Wrecker feared he might literally tear you open. Though, any care he had for that was lost when your smile turned lazy and you leaned forward, arms hanging around his neck.

“Wrecker.” Each syllable came with another desperate thrust as you worked for his last two inches. You were at the limit of what you could do. “I need all of you. Please,” You tightened around him. “Just fucking ruin me.”

The plea had Wrecker rolling his eyes in time with his hips. He firmed up his hold on your hips, tilting your hips to rock his head against your abdominal wall. Wrecker brushed his lips against yours, “I jus’ don’t wanna hurt you.”

You took his bottom lip into your mouth with a gentle suck, then gently bit down until he gasped. “I don’t care.” You mumbled.

Still seated within you, Wrecker swung you onto your back. His hold on your hip suspended you in the air for him. He glanced down at where you two were joined, checking on the last bit of his length you were so hungry for. The contour of his cock already protruded through your stomach, more than anyone had ever taken him before. He really didn’t know if he’d manage the rest, but he wasn’t going to make you ask again. For you, he was determined, he was going to make it fit.

Wrecker drew back before pushing in with his own exploratory thrust. He lowered himself onto you so that he was all you could see, feel, and smell. You were eclipsed by him, hardly even able to angle your legs around him. Saddling a forearm next to your head, Wrecker kept a hand on your hip. “Now breathe, Mesh’la.”

The strange word barely reached you through your aroused fog. “Mesh’la?” You asked on an inhale, anchoring your hands on his shoulders.

He pulled back once more, as you inhaled and thrust himself firmly inside. “Beautiful.” He hummed into your ear. He didn’t stop moving when he bottomed out, he pushed through the strain, making you take him until he felt you give way entirely. You both gasped at the shared sensation. 

Wrecker pressed a kiss to your throat, smiling as he announced, “I’m all in.” Wrecked pressed another kiss to your throat and couldn’t stop grinding as you stretched around him.

You were speechless, only mewling and whining as you squirmed around him. “So full.” Each movement was tinged with pain as Wrecker stretched you completely. A sensation that flared into fervent pleasure the longer he spent inside her.

Wrecker angled your head for you to see what he’d done so far. You softly cried at the sight of a bulge below your belly button. As you watched, Wrecker rolled his hips back and thrust inside allowing you to witness him completely filling you. He hadn’t expected the way you moved in response nor how you began to relax around him.

Mindlessly, you moved yourself over him, pleasuring yourself as you rocked on his cock. Your G-spot was at constant attention as Wrecker pressed inside you.

“Ohh, you like that, don’t you?” He cooed warmly to you, moving his hips side to side against yours. 

Something in you snapped as gripped the back of his neck, forcing his eyes on you, and demanded. “Wrecker, I said, ruin me.” 

Wrecker chuckled eagerly as he obliged, moving against you with increasing speed. He lowered you both to pin you down by the hips. You braced yourself on your elbows as he mercilessly drove into you. He angled your hips just enough that he steadily brushed your clit. 

Pleasure built in you, winding tight every time Wrecker’s hips hit yours. You’d barely begun and already you were at the cusp of release. “Right there, right there, right there.” You chanted, begging with every breath for more. 

With every thrust, more heat hit your core and Wrecker felt the quaking of your core. He smiled and brushed a thumb over your lip before dipping it in past your teeth. Wrecker let you taste him for a moment before saying, “I wanna really fill you up.” Your eyes snapped to his as you smiled around his thumb. “Can I?” He asked desperately.

You eagerly nodded at him, pulling your mouth free to say, “Inside me, please.” 

His hips slammed into yours with all his might and as the first throb of his orgasm hit, you melted around him into your own. The way his cock throbbed pushed you further into delirium. As you adjusted, relaxed, and melted into your pleasure, Wrecker remained engorged and twitching inside you.

You lifted to give him a soft kiss. “That was amazing.” Wrecker hummed in response, something amusing in what you said.

“Oh, I’m not done yet.”

He pulled out of you just long enough to get his hands around you and position you onto your stomach. Wrecker lifted you by your hips, trapped you between his legs, and lined himself up with your pussy. Leaning over you, he guided your hand to sit under your navel. You could feel his cock he rammed into you, his massive size bulging against your hand. 

Wrecker leaned down to croon into your ear, “No one’s ever gonna be able to fill you again.” He started a pace of long, hard thrusts. He emptied and filled you with each thrust, making a mess of his seed already inside you. 

Pressing against the outline of his cock sent more heat to your clit, until a full body shiver wracked you. Your legs began to quiver and you clamped around him. “Wrecker,” You panted, nearly crying from the stimulation. “You’re going to make me-”

“That’s all I want.” He said and thrust into you with short, firm moves, coaxing you to release. “Cum with me, Mesh’la.”

You broke beneath him, contracting and shaking around him and he railed his cum into you. You felt his cum pumping out in thick ropes, felt your belly swell slightly from the sheer amount of his seed, before it leaked out around Wrecker.

You were panting messes by the end of it. Wrecker’s cock finally softened when he lowered you both to lay down on your sides, him still burried inside you. He gave your stomach lazy strokes as he nestled his face to your the crook of your neck.

“You okay?” He whispered.

Taking a moment to respond, you nodded. Thinking a moment longer, you twisted enough to offer him the soft spot below your ear. Wrecker took the silent offering, pressing kisses to your skin as you said softly, “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after that.” 

A low laugh reverberated from Wrecker’s chest. “That makes two of us.” He lazily rolled his hip into yours. He rubbed his nose into your neck, smiling as he added. “Let me know when your ready for another round.”