#this is not to anyone who currently follows me or that I follow

[dalishbarmitzvah]

(moving right on past the obvious and very bleak "lots of people will flat out never be persuaded to care about jews and the best you can hope for is that they are not actively happy about jewish suffering"...)

to sum up what follows (mostly, honestly, me wandering through my own work to understand), tldr:

people genuinely do not know. they do not seek out our stories, are not given them by sources they , being truly informed about current events is very complicated, and most people have poor critical reading skills, have not learned how to consume varied sources, and do not know how to synthesise from varied sources before coming to conclusions or forming strong opinions, nor do they feel that is a requirement

the 24 hour news cycle, digital news outlets, and social media have created a media news climate in which people are more likely to believe they know things than they are to actually be informed on things, and is more likely to both create and maintain echo chambers (now filled with people who believe that it would be impossible for them to be in an echo chamber)

goys are generally not incentivized to do the work to seek out or stay up to date on things involving jews, israel, or antisemitism, and are less likely to encounter them, less likely to engage with them deeply or deliberately or often, and are less likely to be able to recognize propaganda, falsehoods, stereotypes, and fearmongering present in any reporting they do encounter.

centrist news outlets are doing the world a major disservice by being largely silent about jewish issues or israel beyond the most bombastic headlines, and neither right-wing nor leftist outlets are picking up the slack in any honest way, as both peddle very narrow, very biased perspectives when and if they bother sharing them at all.

in regard to mainstream journalism at large: they are failing to do their actual jobs (thourough, nuanced, non-biased news coverage) largely because of the broken way that people get their news (see #2) and the ways in which that has deincentivized journalism from coverage of anything less likely to get clicks and views. people don't click on stuff they think is too confusing, not relevant to their lives, too boring, etc. 24 hour news becoming the norm means doing away with the kind of informed person who would read their daily or weekly paper(s) cover to cover (or at least all the actual news parts). that same person, faced with an endless barrage of articles to click on, can never finish reading, and is, therefore, less likely to start reading things that challenge them or their perspective than they might have been if they had encountered them in print. for the increasingly rare news-reading goy, this means less clicks on articles related to jewish or israeli issues, which in turn means that the sites they're clicking on are less likely to pay anyone to write those articles

many people get their news almost exclusively from their social media feeds, which are curated to show them more of what they've already engaged with, and less of anything else. video content condensing articles skimmed from sources trouble by everything i already mentioned is in no way a balanced news diet, but for a lot of people, that is all they get - alongside a chillingly common pressure to form and hold strong stances on basically every single issue you can possibly imagine, with negative social consequences for admitting you don't know or don't have an opinion on something.

in this context: people facing a constant barrage of overexposure to news and perspectives from all over the world are lead to believe that everything that is happening is something they're aware of, and, as a logical inverse, that if they haven't seen anything about something, that it may as well not exist, not be happening, and not be real. (again, see #2).

compassion fatigue. just like we can't know about everything, we also cannot care about everything. and, let's face it: not caring about jews comes very naturally to most goys. this is the part where i say that i understand your outrage, but on a very real, practical level, you must understand that we are a minority many people know next to nothing about (though they often think they know about us, which is another problem), and that goyim who do not share their lives or communities directly with jews who remind them of their jewishness fairly regularly are unlikely to be very aware of us or what we're facing.

so this is the one thing you can do something about: you can be unavoidably jewish in the lives of non-jews, and it will remind them that jews exist, that we are real and complex beings who are worthy of attention and love. you can discuss these issues, publicly or personally, and it will prompt them to learn more, and to see more in places they may not have seen it before otherwise. you can remain steadfast and informed, and you can share what you know, believe, and feel, with people who would otherwise never have a glimpse of it. you can succeed where major news outlets are failing: you can be the reason why at least a few people do know and do care. it will take patience, it will take work. it will not be easy, or painless, or short... but it will also not be thankless. be jewish. live jewishly. share your jewish perspective with people you are in community with. show them that you have it to offer, and encourage them to seek it. this, too, is tikkun olam.

aaand under the cut is the Long, Somewhat Meandering Version that i came back around and synthesized down into that still-too-long-still-didn't-read up there. in other words, that up there is the Post, and what follows is rough draft. it's worth keeping there enough for me, for my own notes, but it's a lot of words and they're not all in the best order, so.

OK. SO.

first off, it would probably help if sources that aren't israeli or jewish reported any of it. it's become very obvious to me that very few people, for reasons both more and less valid, trust israeli news sources, or seek them out. even people who read multiple american newspapers to get perspective on issues don't bother with reading outlets that are actually involved in events discussed directly. maybe if some more western journos would sprout some fucking integrity for once and source back or platform voices on the ground there, it would help a bit.

i mean, sure, plenty of people will never give a shit, either because they've got deep-seated antisemitic tendencies, or because they're just blindly apolitical (or, charitably, some perhaps because they're focused on their direct communities. i know some people really are that way, and honestly good for them). but i think, perhaps because jews are culturally raised to be critical readers who are deeply informed about the world around them, and trained from a very young age to see patterns and connections in things, that it doesn't occur to us that a lot of people are just profoundly not like that. as a result, it's easy to see antisemitism in places where it's actually genuine ignorance - and a lot of that is very difficult to combat.

it takes real, significant effort to seek out varied sources for your news, and it takes real, significant effort - not to mention learned, practiced skill! - to sift out a more holistic image of the truth by reading between the lines and seeing what is reported where and by whom and in what ways... and also what isn't. and what i keep seeing in my own critical news reading (which is far from fully comprehensive!) is that you have to go pretty far from the sources most people are most familiar with to see beyond a few very curated images of what's happening in israel, what's going on with the hostages, what's going on globally or domestically in america or in various places in europe with jews there, etc. we see the jewish story all the time, because we live it, and we look for it, and we know how to.

but the reality is that the average goy doesn't even know enough about jews, or israel, to know that not all jews are israeli or zionist, not all zionists believe the same things, not all israelis support everything the israeli government is doing all the time, and not all israelis are jewish. they frankly barely know what jews are, except that they are Other. so how could they possibly know enough to see patterns rippling throughout the entire world beyond in varied and nuanced and horrifying ways. they will never, ever see the patterns we see. they have not been trained to do so, and they are, by and large, not going to take the genuinely immense time and effort it takes to get to that point.

so, maybe they don't know because they

people only see what they see in the sources they do see (obviously) - and those sources are very, very narrow in what they report on. the only western sources that are talking about it are far right or so-"left"-we're-accidentally-reinventing-fascism-here-too type sources, and they paint the issue in the strokes that aids their preexisting perspective (which is never truly a human one for jews, nor for israelis). most people aren't going to be picking up the jerusalem post anytime soon, but they might read the new york times or the washington post or a local paper (or, more likely, watch cnn or msnbc. or fox. or whatever.). so they're only getting what those outlets report on - and they just really don't report much on the human details of things like this. so that's one thing that could be done - centrist sources could report more, could print journalism that's closer to the source more often. but people might skip those articles. i've read studies that indicate that's exactly what people do - that digital newspapers specifcally make it so much easier for people to simply never encounter or engage with stuff outside their bubble, because you choose what to click on, and you choose when to stop, and so few people read "the whole paper" anymore (or even could, considering how many things are just published scattershot, random articles dropping all throughout the day!) so it would help some if that reporting was better, but honestly, with the kind of shape that news media is in right now... that's far from straightforward.

but of course, that's only applicable to people who even consume primary news sources to begin with... and increasingly, i encounter more and more people who are willing to freely admit that they have opinions and thoughts and believe they know things about stuff they haven't even done the basic research or reading on. and frankly, i don't know how we deal with that! the news-opinions zeitgeist we're in right now is frankly weird as fuck: people are less educated, from less diverse sources, on average, while also feeling pressure to have strong opinions and thoughts that they cannot (and should not) possibly form on their own. the way so, so many people consume news increasingly from algorithmic social media streams has done immense damage - people intrinsically believe that shit they saw on tiktok is Reporting (there have been studies showing that people tend to view news/opinions coming from people they percieve as familiar to them as being more likely to be truthful, and that that translates to, y'know... people in your phone who absolutely you do not know in real life and should not be trusting that way!). carrying on from that: if they DON'T see something "reported on" within in their circle/on their feed, then that means it's not happening. not even just that they don't know about it, but literally that it's not real. because we all know everything about everything. all the time. it's right there. the algorithm feeds it to us constantly. people think that if something was happening, surely someone would have mentioned it to them by now. i don't think people are mostly aware of this, at all, either... and that makes it all the more insidious.

used to be, people knew that there was plenty they didn't know about, because they knew how hard it was to learn about things that happened far away.... but now, with anyone in the world* being able to hop on their smart phone and say 'hey i'm from the other side of the planet and here's what's happening here*' (*at least, allegedly)? i think people genuinely don't consider that things might be happening that they haven't heard about. we hear about everything, all the time. 24 hour news cycle. digital newspapers. tiktok influencers sharing bite-sized news stories distilled from articles you haven't read to know if they actually read them either, from sources you're not familiar enough with to discern how much trust to put in them. videos of people in the worst parts of war zones staring directly at you and begging you for help you cannot possibly give them. but most people don't see images of released hostages. they don't see headlines from israeli journalists - not the deep propaganda, and not the honest ones. they don't see images of israeli activists or protestors who are fighting alongside and for their palestinian neighbours. if they see anyone on the ground in the area at all, they see desperate begging, and they see hamas propaganda - and it never occurs to them that parts of this story are missing... because we all see everything all the time. if it were happening, if it were real, then we would know. surely, we would have seen it already.

it makes it all the more funny when you hear people spout off about how jews are controlling the media or israel is controlling america or whatever nonsense... like surely, if any of us, the israeli state included, actually were controlling any of that, they would make it a little bit harder for people to avoid ever knowing anything firsthand about any of it.

so what can we do?

we can help them see us, hear us, know us, and love us. not everyone, not the ones who refuse, not the ones who hate us and won't budge. but we can be present in our communities and visible to our colleages and friends.

people are not going to notice and not going to care about things they have no reason to notice or care about. they're not going to form a nuanced perspective on israeli politics or modern pogroms or whether or not ben shapiro has ever heard of pikuach nefesh or not. they're not going to understand what jews are and aren't, what we can be, what we have been, what's happening to us. they're not going to see news that isn't being reported where they get their news... unless they see YOU.

it can be maddening, to have such a tiny little impact, but also incredibly gratifying. i am one of the only visible jews in the small town where i live, and i am very visible, and i never, ever shut the fuck up about it. people who know me at all know that i am jewish, and by talking to me, i can help them understand, and learn, and pay attention, and be vigilant on our behalf. i have seen it work. i have heard people tell me that they started noticing antisemitism in news sources they used to read - and that they stopped trusting them because of it. i have had people ask me for where to look for more information on issues they had heard only whispers about and didn't trust their ability to google on their own (which i really, really appreciate). i have had people tell me how grateful they are to know me and to learn from me. without me, they would likely have either never been prompted to have those thoughts, or they would have never pursued them very far, because they would have lacked a trusted sounding board. i know, for a fact, that people on (mostly) all sides of the political spectrum around me have come closer to seeing jews, and to seeing jews as human, because of me.

i have helped leftists gain perspective on israel, showed them how to see through propaganda (israeli, hamas, and evangelical), how to notice antisemitic slogans and rhetoric, taught them about the realities of israeli mandatory service, shared about my mom's experience living on a kibbutz, taught them some of the history of zionism and of the state of israel. because of me, people i know are telling people i don't know that "from the river to the sea" derives from a sentiment of violent antisemitism, and because of me, people i know are aware that israeli activists and objectors who share their concerns about the israeli government exist and fight alongside their palestinian neighbours to make their country a better place, and they know that palestinians generally do not support hamas. and i have helped people more to the center and right learn more about all of that and more. i have taught people what judaism is, what it is to me, and what it is to people who are very different to me. i've taught them how someone can be secular, atheist, and still very much jewish. i've taught them about where those guys in funny hats fit into the continuum between the ba'al shem tov and me, how we are alike and how we are different - how we have been forced to change in different ways, to adapt. i've taught them about the history of zionist movements, about jewish anarchists and socialists, about pogroms, about talmud, about tu b'shvat. people who believed, before me, that eretz yisrael was an empty wasteland before the first zionist settlers arrived to bring it to life, and people who believed that it was a thriving arab community that faced a military invasion before the state of israel was established, both have a bit more perspective on a very complicated history, because of me. because i exist, because i will not touch money on shabbos, because i will not shut my mouth, because i wear my beard and my payos and i cover my head, because i am not ashamed of who i am, because i have taken the time to be educated and to unapologetically assist in the education of others, people in my small town in the pacific northwest know about israel as a real place, and jews as a real people - whether or not we live there, and in all our many, many complex and nuanced perspectives on it.

i don't mean to tokenize yourself or reduce yourself to being a public service. but i do mean to push back when you hear someone discussing an even they've clearly only heard on very limited perspective on. i do mean that people who know they have at least one jewish friend (or acquaintance/community member/coworker/whatever) are more likely to notice, more likely to think critically, when things involving jews, or involving israel, are brought up. and to be clear: if you do this, you have to get really good at not telling people they're wrong or stupid, because people will shut down if you do that. you have to learn how to show people that their perspective is lacking without just telling them that they're ignorant. no one wants to listen to someone who's just telling them that they're a dumber, worse version of themselves than they realised. get really comfortable with asking people where they learned something or what they've been taught in the past, and then with how to break down and reconstruct from there, if necessary. honestly, once people feel safe to not know things around you, it gets much easier for you both to simply fill in the gaps.

and i guess, what i mean is that every single day that a goy learns what tikkun olam is and what it means to jews, that that does a very real bit of the work of tikkun olam, because you have helped create a goy who knows something about jews, and what they know now is that our culture teaches us that the world is beautiful and it is broken and it is our sacred duty to help mend it.

so, to answer your question: that's what it takes. it takes remembering that the world is made up of so many little pieces, so many souls, so many fractured little shards that were once contained within spheres that once emanated from the same great oneness - and it takes reminding other individual little shards that they are also a part of the same thing as you, that you come from the same place they do... and that your paths to and from that great oneness are different, and none of them less beautiful than any other.

you can try and fail forever to mend the whole world in one day, and never make any real progress, and it will crush your soul into an even finer powder as you do.

there will always be some people do not care about us because they hate us, or at least, they believe that they do because they have been taught to, but i do not believe they will ever be the majority. most goyim do not care so much about us, simply because they haven't realised that they could love us, because they haven't gotten to know us, because they don't even know how much they would like to. if we are going to reach those goyim before the hateful ones do, we just have to keep at it.

and so long as we do not, in fact, control the media, i'd say we have a lot more chance of changing things, changing how and if people see us, by simply refusing to get out of their line of sight. it is much, much easier to hate or to hurt someone you can't see and don't know. stay where they can see us. become a welcome sight. teach them how to see what we see. the world is not illuminated by guarding of the flame, but rather by the kindling of others from it.

be light. share light. don't ever buy into the isolating darkness and its insistence that we are alone in a silent and unfeeling world, because we are not, and that only benefits those who would seek to destroy us. we are not alone, and we do not have to be alone. the universe is not doomed to a shattered eternity.

(and as for your grief and your anger? direct that at the people who benefit from all of us little people remaining ignorant of each other, remaining divided. goodness knows, there are certainly plenty of them. and i, for my own little part, do not intend to give them the satisfaction.)

Jewish hostages emerge from 16 months of underground captivity emaciated, broken and bewildered, looking for all the world like concentration camp survivors, and the world is silent.

Returned female hostages give graphic and horrifying accounts of sexual assault and torture, and the world is silent.

Antisemitic abuse and hate crime has skyrocketed, Jews are traumatised and terrified and in deep pain, that is celebrated and laughed at, and the world is silent.

THE WORLD IS SILENT.

WHAT WILL IT ACTUALLY TAKE FOR PEOPLE TO GIVE A SHIT??

I just don’t understand. I never will.

[lemonsoured]

A Statement on @patricia-taxxon

After recent events over the past couple of months, my co-director and I have decided that we are no longer working with Patricia Taxxon, and her score/sound design will not be used in the final release of our animated student thesis In Your Orbit. She has rights over all of the audio files that she created, and she is free to use or alter them for whatever other projects may come up for her. We only retain the rights to our visuals. On the off chance that the last festival that is showing the current version of the short gives us any prize money, she will still get a cut of it. She is free to continue to state publicly that she worked on the film originally, and use the soundtrack in her portfolio, but we will not be posting it or promoting it. 

Patricia Taxxon has proven to be a person who is irresponsible at best. She has allegedly had inappropriate sexual conduct with minors as young as 13. She also regularly posts her extreme sexual fantasies on her main Tumblr, and has made claims regarding the nature of pedophilic art that she is not qualified to be making. She has also posted from behind closed doors that she has intentionally been manipulative regarding her apologies for her alleged sexual misconduct.

The original victim who accused her was harassed off the internet both times she came out about this, and no longer wishes to be contacted on this matter. However, the idea that any of the allegations were ever rescinded due to misinformation, or proven untrue, is false. In my opinion, I believe the victim’s testimony. It lines up with what I remember the environment of Taxxon’s discord server being like when I was there.

During the production of the short film, I was already aware of some of the accusations made towards Taxxon, but as I was a close friend, I wanted to believe they weren’t true. I was told that she was groomed into doing these things, that she didn’t remember doing them, and that she was likely to commit suicide. She told me she was suicidal on a regular basis during production, especially when the alleged victim was making and then posted a video recounting the allegations. Before that video even came out, she was telling me it was likely to ruin her life irreparably. She had a mutual friend with the victim who was supposedly playing double agent for her, so I heard all about it before and after it came out. I was under the impression that she was in imminent danger of harming herself several times. You can imagine what this might do to a person who cares about her. So, I willfully ignored the allegations for a long time, up until the point that Taxxon showed outward bigotry towards my demographic in a Tumblr meltdown. I deserve criticism for this, and I won’t begrudge anyone who feels like I waited too long or came out with the leaks that I did for selfish reasons. That is your right, and I’m sorry. I decided that all I could do was come out with what I do know and stop supporting this person, even if it costs me opportunities down the line.

Taxxon has also repeatedly shown herself to be extremely unprofessional, even for the standards of an internet drama cycle. She started by vaguely posting about myself on her Tumblr, stating that I am a threat to her, implying that I used her only to “dump her without warning,” and has repeatedly twisted my actions in order to gain sympathy from her Tumblr audience. She even begged her followers for someone else to take her to the Omaha Film Festival, before deleting that addition because she realized it made her look bad.

Her newest gripe with me is that I did not pay her for her work on the film, supposedly finding out partway through the project that she was not being paid. This is untrue. Luka and I were forthright with the fact that we were a team of two college students in Missouri with very little spending money. Thus, we offered her a cut of whatever we ended up making from the film in the festival circuit, planning to split any possible winnings among the three of us based on creative input. We also stated that we would not be taking a cut of any earnings she made off of the sale of the soundtrack, and that it would belong completely to her, just as my characters would to me. If any film companies approached us about the film to license it and the soundtrack, or if they wanted to use her music for another project involving these characters, that money would have gone to her. If she was confused about or had an issue with this arrangement, the time to bring that up would have been when we were discussing the agreement with her, or after any of the many critique sessions we went through with our professors and we were all discussing next steps, or really, any time at all during the year and a half that we were discussing and working on this project. But at no point before, during, or after production did she bring it up. She never suggested a rate, asked about other forms of payment, or anything. I was not holding a gun to her head. She could have brought it up with us at any time, and I am not a mind reader. Her only bringing up the subject now, after all of this time, points clearly to her attempting to extort me or use this issue as a way to gain sympathy from her Tumblr audience. It comes off like she wants to hold this over my head.

All of this not even mentioning that Taxxon was the one to say she wanted to work on the film, years before production started. This started as a collaboration between friends. Luka and I structured our agreement to be a partnership, where none of us were making guaranteed profit off of this project, especially since it is a student work, and we are not established artists with an audience. If anything, the person most likely to make any money off of this arrangement was Taxxon. We considered her an equal participant in this short film, and we wanted it to lift us all up. We gave her full artistic control over what vision she had for the soundtrack, and we often tried to cater our animation to best match it. This is why I found it strange when I asked if she was willing to contribute to festival fees, that she was very flippant with me about it. She stood to gain just as much as us from the film festival circuit, and I had already taken on the workload of doing research on and writing cover letters to each festival. Especially given that I pitched the festival circuit to her as a method to help her get her career offline and away from Kiwifarms, she had a lot to gain from all of this. As someone who had considered her a creative partner, her dismissal felt weird.

This screenshot from the time shows what she said to me regarding the fees, and also shows that she was aware of the arrangement. Thankfully, a lot of this took place on her new Discord account, so I do have the evidence for this portion.

Then, a couple of days later, she asked me if she could stay in my co-directors house or mine for the duration of the Kansas City FilmFest International (or KCFFI). Given she had not contributed to us submitting to that very festival, and had been flippant with me in that same week about the subject, I found it disrespectful. A good friend of mine compared it to “staying at a friend’s house and refusing to help with the grocery tab.”

And the fact that she decided to contribute to the DCP of all things because she “had a vested interest in [the film] sounding good,” as if festival fees were beneath her, but this, now this was something she could be bothered to care about… It was very telling with regards to how she viewed this film.

If she wants to get her 30 bucks back, I can PayPal it back to her.

I stand by everything I said in my testimony on the stream with CrimsonEnder. Honestly, I feel I was much too forgiving on the subject of sexual misconduct, especially since at the time, all of us were trying to gloss over the specific allegations for the victim’s sake, as like I said, they did not want to be involved. As much as Taxxon blustered about “ad-hominems,” I never called her names during the stream. I didn’t even directly call her a transphobe or any kind of bigot. I did not diagnose her with a paraphilia. I specifically stated that her being a trans woman should have nothing to do with why she does the bad things she does. I discussed the things she said and the actions she took. I stated what I remember of our relationship and the events that took place during production, because she had already taken to misrepresenting me in her Tumblr posts. I wanted to lay everything out for full transparency, as she was telling a very specific story about me and who I was. I wanted to present my counter-narrative. I got vulnerable, upset, and fiery at times, but for a public crashout taking place very soon after my falling out of a six year long friendship, I think it gets my points across fine. Especially considering I was still freshly feeling the shock of her outwardly going on a tirade about trans men. The stream is still available on Crim's channel for those who want to hear what I said. Taxxon only presented a couple of my basic notes on the subject that were made to keep me on track.

Taxxon also, notably, sent her followers after CrimsonEnder in a purposeful attempt to incite a harassment campaign against him. She reblogged a reply from him, implying as much, and then he immediately received an anon referring to him with a slur, and saying he was now in “a Panopticon.” Taxxon would later be seen replying in a different but related conversation, misusing the word “Panopticon” in the exact same way (Hint: the term for many people watching one would be a “Synopticon.” A Panopticon refers to one person watching many). You can find Crim's full statement about this incident on his blog.

She also referred to him as a “violent misogynist” who "threatened her in public" in a DM with me where she waved around the fact that she would be justified in “dragging me publicly” for my “betrayal” but wouldn’t, as if it was some big act of charity from her.

Only to, for some reason, make a request to CrimsonEnder (from behind a block) to take my testimony out of his stream and out of his document in a recent post. She is very vested in sowing division between myself and Crim, for what reason I’m not sure. All I know is that she is not above harassing the people who criticize her, and given that, it’s very rich for Taxxon to posture like her not sending her followers after me thus far is an act of goodwill. If I were to guess, now that I have made this statement and cut her off from the project, she will feel much more comfortable going scorched earth. She no longer has a project to protect her connection to.

In Your Orbit will be released at some point in the indefinite future, with a new score and new foley work. I will not be attaching Taxxon’s name to it at all, positively or negatively. I will not be using any of the work that she produced, and I will never work with her in any capacity ever again. I cannot promote the work of a person who acts like this, who hurts others without remorse and uses her power as an influencer to get away with sweeping serious allegations under the rug. Especially given that none of our agreements were set in stone with a signed contract, I have no obligation to continue to associate with her after all she's done. I would be a hypocrite if I used her clout to profit or to expand my career opportunities. Even if it means I have to lose out on networking possibilities, lose the guaranteed audience, and pay out of my pocket to have the film re-scored and have a new foley track added. I am sticking to my principles on this. I refuse to coast on her coattails, and if this means that the film won’t be as successful, then so be it. Any recognition gained through affiliation with Patricia Taxxon is recognition that I don’t want. I don’t want her endorsement, and I don’t want her audience.

I cannot control what Patricia Taxxon says or does. She can do whatever she wants with her life and career, but leave me and my art out of it.

-Jules Hydes

[sleepychenle]

wc: 722. genre: fluff, enemies to ???. tags: haechan's friend!chenle, uni au, mentions of alcohol, kinda mean!chenle. [a/n]: yn is me. i sip on my drink everytime i feel awkward and end up drunk. it’s like a reflex istg. i still struggle w tags btw... lmk if these are not it lmao.

you have no idea why you decided to accept haechan’s invitation.

you’re not the type to party, but somehow it felt like you should go. as if you were going to witness some crazy drama or someone’s entertaining canon event tonight. if you only knew…

as you make your way to the entrance, it hits you. you don’t know anyone here besides haechan, who will be hosting the party and, of course, won’t be with you all night.

“oh hi, yn!” you blink as haechan makes you snap out of your thoughts. “come with me, i’ll introduce you to my friends so you’re not bored while you’re without me” can he read minds? you follow him with no response other than a nervous smile and a small nod.

and it wasn’t that bad! even, you thought you could get along with them… specially with renjun. just for the fact that neither of you wanted to be there. they were all pretty chill guys. all except chenle. the guy that you got paired with to do some calculus homework a couple days before.

he was so stubborn and full of himself… he wouldn’t wait for you to finish and he would lose it whenever you made a mistake. you couldn’t stand each other so you both agreed to work on it separatedly.

you’re not sure when it happened, but now you have a glass of who-knows-what in your hand, sipping every time you felt like chenle was staring at you, probably hating at a distance… and that was, pretty much all the time. that’s how you started to feel tipsy. what a good idea yn! drink every time you feel awkward… what were you thinking? you think to yourself as you sigh.

you decide to go to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. so you excuse yourself and try to make your way there. you are currently in a state where you can’t fully control your body, often bumping into people. but at least you could still think straight… right?

suddenly, you bump into another person. causing you to trip and fall to the floor. or that’s what you thought would happen. you open your eyes and see chenle. you never fell. you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist, and something else… his whole body pressed against yours.

“watch out, yn” he says, with a hint of worry in his tone, but you wouldn't notice anyways. his gaze intense on your features. why isn’t he cursing? why is he looking at me like that? he doesn’t look too bad... not at all.

“you’re kinda hot when you’re not grumpy…” you murmur your thoughts out, gripping his shirt as though you’d fall if you didn’t. he hums. “am i now?” “…can’t say it happens often, though” you press your eyes closed, regretting what you just said. it looks like it’s the only body part you have control of now.

he helps you stand on your feet again, finally (and reluctantly) letting go of you. he bows slightly, as if signaling he is about to go. but then, you call him almost… desperately? “wait!” you don’t even know why you stopped him, and now you have to make an excuse for it. “uhh… did you finish the exercises?”

he turns around “i did… why? you need help with yours?” chenle says with that smug expression he always seems to save just for you. “no… i didn’t want that” your voice get quieter. he raises an eyebrow and gets closer again… incredibly close “oh? what did you want then, yn?”

oh how i love when he calls me by my name… why am i even thinking about this? there is no use in hiding it anymore, right? no, wait yn. think for a moment- “a kiss” you manage to say, so low that only him could hear it… as if it was forbidden.

his smirk widens. and his face is a mixture between amusement and surprise. he leans down and you close your eyes, preparing for the so-wanted kiss. but instead, his mouth hovers right next to your ear and he whispers “ask me again when you’re sober, will you?” he pulls away with a smile and walks away. leaving you there, stunned, flustered and cursing at yourself for not being sober enough.

[short-honey-badger]

Hi, can I request a Shamrock salad? Some pirate pulls a Luffy on some asshole Celestial and so the Godknights pull up! Pirate lady runs off but not before barely kicking Shamrock's ass which resulted in him becoming obsessed/infatuated with her. Hunts her relentlessly but someone caught her first (marines? enemy pirates? bounty hunters? surprise me) and Shamrock furiously kills people then takes her because goddammit he should've been the one to capture her and put her in chains (look, he even brought gold cuffs with 24k diamonds to bring out the bling bling)

My dear. I'm so sorry that this took a minute to get to lol, but I really hope you enjoy!

Insolent Pirate Woman

Pairings! Figarland Shamrock x Female Reader

Warnings! almosy 3k of pure SMUT! breeding kink, viginal fingering, chains, and cuffs. Lap sex. Unintentional voyeurism.

Masterlist for Shamrock and Shanks-> HERE

Shamrock would never admit that he was pouting, but to anyone outside that saw the disgruntled god knight currently holding his broken and bleeding nose, most would likely call it like they saw it. He had shown up to cull the commotion that one of the many pirates entering the new world had started. It wasn't hard to find the reason behind said commotion, but before he could bring the pirate in, you'd sprang past him, socking him in the face, before you disappeared into the thick forests that surrounded Sabaody.

The god knight had been too surprised to pursue you, but he could remember your face and had sworn to track you down and bring you in himself. The two of you had had several run-ins after that, and like usual, you escaped him each time. But each time he saw you, with that big smile upon your face, hiding away the immense strength you possessed, Shamrock fell further and further. So when he heard that you had finally been captured by a rather reputable bounty hunter, well, he couldn't have that, could he? No, the only one to bring you in would be him.

Shamrock set sail immediately, knowing that he would need to intercept the bounty hunters before they made it back to Sabaody where you would be cuffed and sold to the highest bidder, and he would be damned before he let that happen to you. Thankfully, it wasn't terribly difficult to track you down. He had connections in every part of the Grand Line, after all.

He could see the ship that held you from where he stood on the deck of his own ship. His eyes narrowed, and he barked an order to get them closer. The wind blew the way they needed, as if knowing that the god knight was in need of it.

With a flick of his wrist, the hilt of his sword met his hand, and with a slash, he watched in satisfaction as the water parted, waves crashing into the enemy ship. Wood splintered, the main sail leaning dangerously before ultimately cracking and falling on the deck below, crushing several bounty hunters underneath its weight. Now that the vessel was dead in the water, his own ship reached the bounty hunters with ease. Shamrock leaped from his deck, booted feet touching down on the broken mast as he stared down at the panicking plebeians who had somehow captured his favorite pirate.

“You have someone I want,” he announced, and without preamble, began to swiftly cut down the bounty hunters that stood in his way. They put up little fight against someone of his caliber, so it takes no time at all before the top deck is drenched in gore, blood staining his white pants and flecks of it painted across his face. He ignores the tacky feeling and lopes below the deck, following the winding hallways until he reaches the brig below.

He ignores the prisoners who beg for his help until he finds who he is looking for. You sit at the back of your cell, a bored look on your face, seemingly uninterested in the chaos above deck until you look up and see Shamrock on the other side of the bars. You grin, eyes curving into a mischievous smile as you look him up and down, “Awe. You came all this way to save little ole me?”

Shamrock rolls his eyes, reaches forward with both hands, and promptly rips the bars off the wall. You watch with wide eyes as he saunters forward and snaps the iron cuffs from your wrist, though any hope dies when you see the set of chains that he pulls out from behind his back. They are gilded and encrusted with gems, a collar, but a fancy collar.

“If you want to call it that,” he quips dryly as he locks the golden cuffs around your wrists. You eye them with interest, noting that the insides of the cuffs were lined with a soft leather to prevent them from digging into your skin. The chains that connect them are removable, a small locking clip that Shamrock had the key to.

“Did you have these specially made?” You question and watch with interest as the redhead before you flushes, his cheeks pinking just the slightest in obvious embarrassment. You grin, not put out at all over the cuffs.

“Yes.”

You snicker at his gruff answer, though it is cut short when Shamrock tugs the chain and you trip forward, hands coming up to land against his chest. You look up, head cocking in curiosity when your new jailer lifts a hand, gloved fingers sliding into your hair reverently, as if he can’t wrap his head around the fact that he finally has you in his possession. You watch him lick his lips, tracking the way his throat works, and that pink muscle slides along his flesh. Sudden arousal pools in your lower stomach, and you shift forward, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform.

The tension in the atmosphere is palpable, and it shatters when you lunge forward, lips meeting the holy knight’s own in a kiss of pure lust. The two of you have been dancing around this mutual attraction for months, for as much as Shamrock was obsessed with you, you were just as enamored with him. This kiss is more tongue and teeth, the two of you devouring one another with a simple-minded focus. You hiss when he nips your bottom lip, teeth digging into the sensitive skin before he pulls you away by your hair, staring down at you as he attempts to get his breathing back under his control.

You whine when he stops, but it is swiftly cut off when he bends, hand yanking your head back further to expose the span of your throat. He noses along your pulse, shoulders softening, and lips leaving a trail of dark marks behind his wake. You are just as soft and delightful as Shamrock had imagined you would be.

“You should have let me capture you sooner,” he murmurs against your flesh, and you shiver at his warm breath, eyes going half-lidded and hands pulling him ever closer to you.

“If I’d known this would happen, I would have,” you breathe, and shove your hands under the short jacket he wears, nails scraping against the fabric of his shirt as you breathe him in. Your body is on fire, arousal burning like lava through your veins. You meet his gaze when he pulls away, his eyes the color of the blood that paints his face. The sight should disgust you, but it only makes that lust burn even brighter. You grin up at him, lips a mischievous smile, “Are you going to fuck me or not, Shamrock?”

You grunt when you are spun around, you back slamming into the wall of your cell, wrists aching when he jerks the chain up. His free arm tucks under your ass, leveraging you against the wall as you wrap your legs around his hips. Shamrock grinds into the heat between your legs, and a groan rips from your throat when you feel his length press against your clothed cunt, the pressure fantastic, but still not enough.

“What a filthy mouth you have, darling,” he rumbles above you. He drops the chain in favor of grasping you by the face, his gloved fingers digging into your cheeks, “If we had more time here, I’d use it for something else.”

The warning makes lust shoot down your spine, eyes going wide before a smirk curls your lips and you wiggle your eyebrows at the holy knight, “How about next time?”

Shamrock huffs at you and then leans in, softening his grip just slightly and pressing his lips against your own, devouring your mouth in a kiss that's all sharp teeth and wet tongue. You meet his head on, soft groans leaving you as you clutch at his chest, needing more of that heady pleasure that the Holy knight happily delivers you. He grinds up against your cunt again, now free hand grasping you by the ass and pulling you into the motion, his fingers digging into the thick meat of your backside.

You drop your hands from his chest, suddenly too hot and frantic with the layers you have on. You jerk at your own shirt, popping buttons, and sending them skittering across the cell floor. That hot mouth trails from your lips and down your throat, leaving behind dark marks that would linger for the next couple of days at least, teeth harsh and digging into your sensitive flesh. You curse at the pain, but it just makes the pleasure you feel all the more intense, eyes going glassy as your work to get your damn bra off.

Shamrock pulls away and reaches out, fingers finding the thick band and snapping the fabric with a twist of his hand. You grab at the article, impatiently tug it off, and drop it to the floor, breasts prickling in the cooler air and nipples tightening. He smooths his hand along the now exposed flesh, cupping your breast and smoothing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple before taking the bud between two fingers and pinching meanly. You yelp and send him a glare, but Shamrock only smirks back before he dips his head to suck your abused nipple between his lips, tongue flattening along the bud and you toss back your head and whine loudly.

Neither of you is aware of how loud the two of you are being, no care in the world for the other prisoners that surround your cell. Far too lost within one another to give even a second thought to your audience.

You drop your hands again, fingers finding the string that holds your pants tight around your hips and plucking it loose. You work the fabric open, mind glazed over with arousal and fingers going clumsy until Shamrock takes notice and knocks your hands away so that he can do it himself. Needing a better surface to get to you on, he pushes away from the wall and stalks to the tiny cot at the end of the room, tugging your pants down to your thighs before he drops down so that you can settle back on his lap. You shiver when the cooler air ghosts over your cunt, but the feeling doesn't last long, not when those long fingers snake down and find your already soaked folds.

Shamrock groans at the feeling of sticky cream clinging to your pussy. He slides his fingers through the mess, thumb pressing against your clit and rubbing harsh half circles that make you keen and bow forward, gilded chains rattling as your clutch at his shirt, hips rocking forward to meet his hand. His fingers find your entrance with ease, and he smirks when he slides forward, your cunt welcoming his middle finger like it's always belonged there. You cry and whine against him, working yourself up to the first orgasm of many.

“That's it, Darling. Come on my hand, take your pleasure in how I touch you,” He rumbles and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, drinking in the sighs and moans that spill forth. He hums when you suddenly jerk in his hold, pussy fluttering and twitching as you cream around the finger he has stuffed inside of you. He shifts, and stuff two more inside your soaked cunt without remorse.

Your hips jerk at the sudden pain, but it is quickly overshadowed by the way Shamrock wriggles his fingers inside you, walls fluttering and stretching as he prepares you for something far bigger than three of his fingers. You can't help but reach up, hands dragging over his shoulders and nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, lips finding his own in a kiss that turns slow. His tongue works over your own, tangling together into a messy embrace that has saliva sticking your lips to his own.

“Sham, Sham, please,” you whine against his mouth and then pull away, big glassy eyes meeting his flaming burgundy ones as you beg, “I want your cock.”

Shamrock huffs again, face flushing and cock throbbing in his pants at the way you beg so sweetly. He pulls his fingers free and holds them up, and the two of you see how much your sticky slick coats his fingers. You watch in rapt attention as he shoves them into his mouth, tongue cleaning them with a rapturous look upon his face before he pops them free between his lips and drops his hand to work his pants free.

“I want that next time,” you say and shift impatiently on his lap, “Want to ride your face and suck your cock. Want to feel you come inside me until I can't take anymore.”

Shamrock grits his teeth at your dirty talk, finding it an incredible turn on, and slaps your exposed ass in retaliation. You gasp and hump forward, eyes going wide at the harsh touch, and so Shamrock does it again, his other hand shoving his underwear down and hissing when his cock jumps out. His length is shiny with precum, twitching with the need to be shoved inside of your waiting cunt.

“You'll never stray from my side after this, darling. You are mine. Mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to wed,” Shamrock snarls and lifts you by the hip with one hand, your knees shaking on either side of his waist as he grasps his cock and holds it still. Your eyes are locked on the space between your thighs, and you watch as Shamrock pushes you down, lip bitten raw between your teeth as your cunt stretches and his cock disappears inside of you.

The feeling is perfect, his length hot and stretching you in all the best ways. He allows you but a second before he begins to move. The holy knight sets a rough pace that makes you bare your teeth in a silent snarl and hold onto his shoulders for dear life. You squeal when he suddenly shifts his angle, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot that knocks the breath out of you.

“There, right there,” you whine, and Shamrock proves that he can listen to orders, hips snapping up as he bullies that spot over and over. You feel that tension begin to ratchet back up, eyes going cross eyed and your cunt clenching around his cock as it drags along your walls.

Shamrock can feel himself getting close to that edge, but he doesn't want this feeling to stop. He could live like this the rest of his life, cock surrounded by your blazing cunt and quivering walls as you sucked him in greedily. He wants to see you stuffed full of his cum, wants to see his seed stick and stay until you are round with his child. You could never leave him, could never stray from his side without him there to take care of you.

The damn breaks and Shamrock snarls, molten cum streaming into your cunt and painting your walls white. He clutches you tightly against him, and you press just as close, hands gripping his shoulders as you cream around his cock, pussy tightening impossibly more and dragging him in as deep as he can go. His hips twitch and shift, fucking back into you with a lazy ease.

The two of you bask in the aftermath, nothing but the sound of obscene wet sounds that come from where the two of you are connected and heavy breathing. You shift in his lap, wanting to get a little more comfortable and press gentle kisses against his throat, humming in pleasure when he shifts under you and his softening cock drags along your walls. He presses his lips to the top of your head, and then snakes a hand under your jaw to pull you up for a kiss sweeter than the ones the two of you have shared so far.

Shamrock is surprisingly gentle as he pulls out of you, helping you stand and wiping away the mess that stains your thighs with the thin sheet of your cot before he pulls your pants back up and ties the string together. He sets himself right afterward and then takes hold of the gilded chain that connects to the golden cuffs around your wrists. The sight has arousal swimming in his lower stomach again, but he pushes it back down for now. He would have plenty of time to properly learn your body once he had you back on his ship.

“Not letting me go this time?” You quip, voice a little rough at the edges as you grin up at the holy knight. Shamrock meets your look with a smirk and shakes his head, tugging the chain he holds in his hand again.

“No. Not this time, darling.”

@mit-suri @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin @mfreedomstuff @sordidmusings

[least-carpet]

Notes for an ambiguously chengxian fic that I am not planning to write, no, for real, I have enough WIPs:

Post-canon, Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui are on their way back from Qishan when they're waylaid by Nie Huaisang, who hints that they probably shouldn't return to the Lan sect. Upon questioning, he informs them that neither Lan Wangji nor Wei Wuxian is currently in residence, because it seems that Wei Wuxian has entered the Jiang sect and not come out again.

As they make their way towards the Jiang sect, they receive a variety of external perspectives on Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, which change as they move through their route. I think this would probably be from Lan Sizhui's POV, so the evaluation of the wild rumours would be semi-neutral.

Has Jiang Cheng gone nuts and imprisoned Wei Wuxian? Everyone knows he's hated him for so long, and the collapse of the alliance created by the Venerated Triad means the Lans are more isolated now.

Has Wei Wuxian left Lan Wangji and returned to the Jiang? They were so close as young men, after all...

Where is Lan Wangji? Maybe there are some fun rumours Jiang Cheng killed him in a duel and snatched up Wei Wuxian.

Anyway, they get to the Jiang Sect, where Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are staying. Jiang Cheng's 2IC isn't happy with them, but invited them in (or Wei Wuxian rather; Lan Wangji just followed him) because Jiang Cheng qi deviated and is in a magic coma, and he (or she) is desperate for help from anyone who might be able to save him.

Obviously, Jin Ling is also there, having an extremely bad time. Not only is he stressed about Jiang Cheng's magic coma, he's in danger if Jiang Cheng dies; he's also worried about Wei Wuxian, who is Not Coping with this series of events, going off the deep end and making Jiang Cheng a sentient fierce corpse.

I think it would probably end with Jiang Cheng waking up and realizing Wei Wuxian is there, while Lan Sizhui observes and tries to understand his reaction.

What interests me about this idea is moving through a variety of Unreliable Perspectives On Chengxian, from the "outside" (villagers, cultivation society) to the "inside" (Jiang sect members, Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian himself). If you imagine this as a series of concentric rings, just because someone is closer to the centre doesn't mean they necessarily have more insight. Nie Huaisang, for example, would be further away than Jin Ling, but he remembers what Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were like pre-war; he has more information about what their relationship was like, while Jin Ling is probably the best interpreter of post-war, post-siege Jiang Cheng's personality. Wei Wuxian is a part of the relationship, but is very unlikely to disclose how he feels about it, and so on and so forth.

[ghqstwriter]

—

Villain sat slouched on the couch of their relatively plain living room, mindlessly circling their finger over the rim of their mug. Their attention was mostly on the television, taking note of everything the news reporter said. There had been an explosion not too far from Villain’s house, apparently it was targetting a Hero whose address had been leaked, but no names had been confirmed.

It was a boring story, there were explosions every other day in this place, but Villain supposed it was their job to pay attention to stuff like this. If they could work out who was targetted, they’d have a good idea of where they lived. Perfect information for blackmail or selling, they’d be a fool to miss out on it.

Yet, it was an entirely tedious task, especially when the news reporter was seemingly incapable of speaking an interesting word. The villain reclined further and further back until they were practically horizontal, and they were sure they would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the hurried tapping on their door that brought them to attention. The sound was gentle, like the hands that made it were fragile, but they still managed to carry a sense of urgency. So, Villain hoisted themselves up, and headed straight for the door.

They were expecting some sort of door-to-door salesman, or some religious preacher to be outside. As they approached the door, they failed to mask the annoyance on their face at both the interuption and the fact that they’d have to go back to their boring task afterwards. At least it would be over soon.

Villain unlocked the door as unenthusiasticly as they could, and swung it open wide. To their surprise, there was no annoying sales pitch waiting on the other side. Instead, there was a young girl, trembling at their doorstep, tears free falling down her face. The reporter on the television kept rambling on in the background, still covering the explosion downtown. Had she been involved? A bystander too close to the detonation site, or worse (and far far more likely) a relative of whichever hero had been targetted.

The villain was evil sure, but they weren’t the type to cause any havoc if they knew a child would definitely be in danger due to an attack. Whoever was targetting that house was either callous or reckless, and Villain reckoned it was the former. The prospect of finishing off a superhero outweighed the loss of any civilian casualties. This line of work wasn’t one that usually let you keep sympathy in your heart for the lost, but Villain had always tried to avoid unneccesary deaths and injuries.

“So, uh.. you ok, kid?” The villain started, trying to be gentle without seeming too sickly sweet. “I take it you were nearby that big explosion earlier?” The child nodded in response, clutching at her sleeves. Not much of a talker, evidently, but Villain didn’t mind that. They were far from a social person.

“You need to come inside for something? I can phone your parents or whoever looks after you if you tell me their number,” Villain offered, stepping aside to let the child inside. They wanted to tell themself that this was for the information. If Villain found out their relative was a hero, they’d have the current location of that person faster than anyone else on the market. But, they couldn’t ignore how their heart sank when they saw just how distressed the girl was. She was young, starting middle school at best. Whoever had set off that explosion was far from being in Villain’s good books.

The young girl followed Villain through to the living room, and proceeded to take a seat on the couch. Her hair was messy and tangled, and she was still dressed in sleepwear. If Villain had to guess, her presumed-hero relative probably rushed her out of the house before going back to try and either minimise damage or to catch the culprit. The child wasn’t the target here, so she wouldn’t have likely been followed. It wasn’t the greatest plan a hero could have come up with, the villain considered to themself, but they reckoned that if someone blew up their house, they wouldn’t be thinking so rationally either.

“Do you know any of your family’s numbers? I can call whoever looks after you, and find a way to get you to them,” Villain explained, hoping that the child would give them the number of the hero, rather than some random grandparent. Once they had their information, they’d set up a meeting point, send the child there alone (can’t risk being identified), and then change out their phone number just to be safe.

The young girl nodded once again, still too tentative to talk. She was either abnormally shy, or in pretty bad shock right now, but Villain didn’t blame her for that. At the end of the day, they were a stranger, and this child had almost gotten badly hurt in a reckless explosion. They couldn’t expect her to be the chattiest person in the world right now. The girl took the phone out of Villain’s hands and began typing in a number with shaking fingers. Surely a hero would get their relatives to memorise their number, in case they ever needed heroic saving.

The phone began to ring as she passed it back to its owner, the device vibrating as it waited for the caller to pick up. Villain raised it to their ear, running a finger in circular patterns with their free hand across the velvet sofa. It was entirely plausible that the hero could be dead right now, or at least caught up in a fight. Yet, if they were so easy to be taken down, they would have already gone in battle by now, and nobody would need to blow up their house. After a few rings, someone picked up, their voice coming through, hurried and out-of-breath.

“Hello? Who is this? How did you get my number?”

Villain felt a familiar wave of nausea spread across them like a wildfire. They bit down on their tongue hard, overwhelmed with sudden nerves. They aren’t quite sure what they were expecting here, perhaps some lesser known sidekick, or some do-gooder that had always been assigned to other heroes. At least it was a hero who picked up, Villain knew that for sure.

That was Hero’s voice.

[arvensimp]

I LOVE the Leon sneaking around with reader/oc thing you wrote - the Leon theme that's goin on in general is great tbh - but I'm personally more of a Raihan gal, y'know? 🥰 don't know if he's for anyone here but I personally like the completely separate concept of an "older brother's best friend" sorta scenario where the reader/oc is another sibling to Leon (being 18+ of course) and is sneaking around with Raihan.. 😊

Okay so I'm low-key loving this. Let me see how this sounds?

Honey, you've got a big storm comin'

Raihan x fem!reader who is Leon's and Hop's sister. warning for some slightly adult behaviors, but no full on sex

-

Your whole childhood basically revolved around Pokemon. Now, don't misunderstand, you like pokemon well enough! There are tons of cute little kinds, and they're fun! You've got one that you keep around because it's sweet and easy enough to care for.

But between a celebrity champion older brother and a massive pokemon-fan-turned-pokemon-grad-student younger brother, you kind of dealt with enough of the whole "Pokemon Trainer" life. You watched Leon march off (initially in the wrong direction) to become a trainer, then heard all about the hardships of basically camping in the wilderness while he trained for some matches, and Hop ate it up ravenously. But you? You don't really care for The Great Outdoors and all of its associated dangers. Like, people talk about the wild area and how cool it is to be out and about there, but??? People have died there. Yeah, it's dirty, and the weather can change at the drop of a coin, but also??? For real, there are dangerous pokemon out there who can very easily kill someone.

So yeah, like the middle child you very much are, you deviated from your brothers and their obsession with Pokemon training. You're happy living in a proper city in a proper flat with a proper job, not exposing yourself to the elements.

Still, you do care about your boys, so you help them out in your own small way. See, you went to school to become a meteorologist, and you work as the weather reporter on a small, local channel in Hammerlocke. You're able to live a comfortable life in a nice city, not particularly well known as a local celebrity or anything, and you can let your brothers know if there are any bizarre weather phenomena on the horizon while they're out being stupid in the wild area.

It's also kind of nice that you're not super recognizable. Folks don't recognize you in public as a sibling to the champion. You basically go unnoticed, like the middle child that you are. It's not like Lee hides you away or something, but you don't bother going to the majority of his big public events, unlike Hop, who will happily follow your eldest sibling to the ends of the earth, so you've never been "debuted" to the world the way that Hop was when he did that whole Gym Challenge thing.

Still, Lee always invites you anyway. It just so happens that this latest event of his is in Hammerlocke, so you figure you might as well attend. Hop had to study for exams, and you're not busy with anything else. Truth be told, it might do you some good to socialize a bit more. You'd been spending an awful lot of time cooped up in your flat lately.

This brings you to your current situation, chilling at the buffet of some Rose Sponsored Event in Hammerlocke Stadium's lavish upper floors. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows overlook the greenery of the pitch below, so you figure this must be some kind of box space for major movers and shakers within the pokemon league for when they do their matches below. You'd never bothered visiting the stadium before today, despite living in Hammerlocke for a few years, so it's kind of neat to see. You can cross it off your bucket list or whatever.

Lee is off chatting it up with whatever bigwigs are trying to get him to wear their logo, so you haven't had the chance to grab his ear and say hello just yet. Instead you're eyeing some curry puffs and mini quiches, trying to decide how much would be polite to load up on your plate, when you hear someone's voice.

"Aaaaand that's our GBC 12 Hammerlocke News today. Up next, the weather." The phrase makes your ears perk. It's the one the news anchor speaks every day just before your segment on air. Internally, you cringe. Someone must've recognized you. You plaster on your Broadcast Smile and look to the source.

"Haha," The laugh is as stiff and uncomfortable as you feel. "Sounds like I've been spotted..."

The man who drew your attention is surprisingly tall, giving you a grin with teeth so sharp that on anyone else they'd seem almost predatory, but with his relaxed posture and overall chill demeanor, you're not getting any vibes of ill intent. Maybe (probably) cockiness? But nothing bad. The discomfort you'd felt at being recognized melts away like ice in a heat wave, replaced with a warm thrum of nervous excitement. He's very handsome, and you certainly don't mind attention from someone like him. In his hand is a rotom phone. He gestures with it as he speaks.

"Well, yeah. Gotta keep up with current events; especially gotta keep up with the weather. Can't control what you don't know, am I right?"

No, that didn't entirely make sense to you, but you smile politely and nod anyway. He's definitely easy on the eyes, and getting easier the longer you look.

"So they're inviting the press to these events now, I'm guessing?" The man goes on. "Kinda surprised they'd ask the weather girl to come schmooze it up and get photos and whatnot." He gives a bark of a laugh, and his stark white teeth gleam. "Then again, I suppose it does make for a thematically pretty picture–the weather girl with the weather specialist."

Weather specialist? You think to yourself. Is that some kinda pokemon thing? Whatever.

"Actually, I'm not--"

"Here, get in, and we'll snap some shots, and I can text'em--"

The pair of you speak at once, so you stop and try again.

"Oh, so you want my--"

"Wait, you're not--"

You both laugh this time. He gestures for you to go ahead and speak first, uninterrupted. You can't help but smile, teasingly calling him out.

"I was gonna say. So you just want to get my number, so you can send over those pictures? No other reason?"

"Ahh, ya caught me." Another laugh. Gosh, his eyes are a captivating blue... "Maybe I want your number..." He doesn't sound ashamed at all. "Not every day you get to meet the cute weather girl you see on TV, right?"

"Well it's not every day a cute weather girl meets someone as impressive as you." You eye him up and down very obviously. You're not typically this brazen a flirt, but it's kinda nice to chat someone up like this once in a while.

The man picks up on your traveling gaze, and his smile widens. "Listen, they're not gonna be making any crazy toasts or announcements or anything for a minute... Wanna maybe go somewhere private til then?"

It's a very tempting offer. Your eyes scan the room til they find Lee. He's still engrossed in conversation with some older guy with a pudgy belly and facial hair even patchier than Lee's own sad attempts at a beard (you only tease him about that a little bit). It definitely seems like they'll be there a while, so why not?

"Do you know a place?"

"Heh. Cute. C'mon, I'll lead the way." You feel the warmth of his hand trail down to the small of your back as he guides you from the room. He takes you through a few winding corridors before stopping at a massive mahogany door. It's unlocked, so the pair of you slip inside. The only light you can see is from some kind of underlit dragon themed bauble on what looks like a desk. Maybe this is an office? You can't make out many details, but you also don't have much of a chance before the man pins you to the door, resting his forearm over your head.

He towers over you, even in your heels, in the most attractive way, and you're left with no choice but to tilt your head up to meet his gaze in the dim purple lighting of the room.

From there it's easy enough for him to press his lips to yours. Seems like neither of you felt the need to chit chat further. He's warm, and the clean scent of his cologne fills your senses. Kissing him comes naturally, intoxicatingly. You hum against his lips, and he pulls away just enough to start trailing kisses down your jaw. His free hand takes a hold of your jaw, tilting it to expose your neck and collarbone to him, which he happily bites with those sharp teeth of his. Nothing too hard so as to hurt, just enough to entice and make you squirm.

You thread your own hands around the back of his neck, pressing him just a bit closer to you. "Very nice..." You hum. "But come back here." You pull his face back to your mouth, so you can kiss him again. It'd be an issue if he left any hickies, purposeful or otherwise.

"Yes, ma'am," He laughs softly against your mouth. The hand he'd used to tilt your jaw shifts, just so, to cup it instead, but you gently take it, threading your fingers over his. You hold him there for a moment, savoring your kisses. It's easy between you, finding a rhythm to enjoy, so it doesn't take much more from him for you to squeeze his fingers just a bit and guide his hand down to your chest. He fondles you eagerly, honest to goodness groaning at that first squeeze. Or maybe he's groaning at the sound you made in reaction. You can feel him smile against your lips, biting them softly.

"Ohh, atta girl, give me more of that, yeah?" He whispers between kisses. His hand works its way under your top and into your bra.

You moan as he pinches your nipple between two warm, calloused fingers. You want to ask for more, maybe wriggle your way out of your top, see if he might match you in undressing, but the man's rotom phone loudly dings several times in quick succession. The groan from its owner is of an entirely different sort as he silences the device and checks his notifications. "Agh, damn. I'm sorry, but we'll have to cut this short. Looks like someone's wondering where I am up there, and I can't leave him waiting."

Very frustrating, but you get it. It's probably for the best, too. Lee's bound to find you missing eventually.

"Gotcha..." You sound more breathless than you thought you would.

The man gives your breast a teasing squeeze and a peck on the mouth before he fully pulls away from you and opens the door to the corridor behind you.

"Don't worry. We can pick back up where we stopped later, if you're up for it." He winks.

"Well, it'd be a shame to keep a girl like me waiting for very long, right?" You reply, slipping your hand into his as you make your way back to the event space together. Along the way, you double check that you haven't mussed your hair or makeup noticeably.

Your grip loosens and you pull away from one another by the time he opens the door for you. He gives a teasing bow, gesturing for you to enter before him, so you oblige. Inside, the same pudgy man who had been chatting Lee's ear off seems to be coming to the end of some kind of toast. The pair of you quickly snatch some champagne flutes to join in the "Cheers!" when he finishes.

The hum of the crowd then picks back up as conversations start anew, and your new friend departs quickly to wherever he was needed, so you head back to that buffet line, suddenly remembering those curry puffs that you didn't get to try. Lee can find you whenever, you figure.

True to form, a few minutes pass, and you hear your name being called the same way you've heard since you were a kid. Lee is politely pushing his way through groups of people to you. You offer him a mini quiche (you've eaten an embarrassing number of them already), which he takes without a second thought.

"Mm, thanks. You must've been bored to tears here." Lee says as he eats. "Sorry I haven't been able to show you 'round yet. Here, we can make the rounds together. I'll introduce you to my colleagues."

As it turns out, your big brother knows every person in the room by name. He couldn't find his way out of a paperbag, but he can learn faces and names apparently. They all blend into a massive blur for you, all the different gym leaders, their top gym trainers, and some guy wearing a pokeball costume, of all things.

"Aaah, there he is!" Lee eventually says, guiding you away from the beautiful ice gym leader and her adult son, another top trainer of the region. You've already forgotten their names. Emily? Jordy?

Lee puts on an air as he continues. "Dearest little sister, please allow me the pleasure of introducing you to the gym leader of Hammerlocke. I'm sure you've seen him on the telly or some such."

Ah, fuck.

"My very best mate."

Damn it.

"My closest rival."

Son of a bitch.

"And the second best trainer in Galar."

Blast it all to hell and back.

"Raihan."

Your mystery guy with the big hands, stunning eyes, and beautiful teeth stands in front of you, smiling between Lee and you.

"Raihan, meet my little sister."

Raihan, for his part, barely falters for a second as he learns your identity.

"Champ." He says between too-tight-teeth. "I don't think you ever mentioned a sister. I'm hurt."

"You sure, mate?" It's an honest question. Bless Lee's dumbest of asses.

Raihan nods, and Lee laughs it off. "Ah, you know... She's got herself all hidden away in her flat. Not much into the whole league thing, so I must've...uh..." He looks down at you. "Forgotten? But only in the kindest way!" He attempts to placate you.

"I've been hidden in a flat in this town." You remind him, face flushed from embarrassment. Of course the hottest guy here (who has also already felt you up and had his tongue down your throat) is your big brother's best friend. "You'd think I'd have come up at some point."

"Well, you never wanna come to my matches anyway. Besides, you're the one who lives here. Why has it taken you so long to come down to the stadium? You could've met Raihan ages ago."

You curl in on yourself a bit. Yeah, it's probably not amazing form that you didn't even recognize the gym leader and second best trainer in the region, much less the man who's supposed to be your brother's best mate. That isn't a great look.

"Listen, I'm sure your sweet little sister here was just too busy with her job. She's a local celebrity, you know." Raihan comes to the rescue. Kinda.

"Yeah? I didn't realize that many people saw her. You knew who she was?" Lee sounds impressed.

"Well I've only been watching her as long as they've been broadcasting her!" Raihan laughs. "I just didn't know she was your sister." He looks down at you and narrows eyes slightly. It's probably imperceptible to Lee, but you're not quite sure how to read it. Is he mad that you didn't know him? That you didn't say who you were? "But like I told her earlier, what kinda weather specialist would I be if I didn't pay attention to the upcoming forecasts?"

In the back of your mind, you can feel it. There's absolutely a storm coming.

[utilitycaster]

As someone who dropped off last year because the aimless indecision annoyed me SO MUCH: the tag being filled with people who feel entitled to a happy ending from entertainment "because the world sucks so bad right now and we need it" is making me feel some kinda way. If the world sucks so bad, maybe put half the effort into making it marginally better that you do defending a DND game? Is that a shitty take on my part, or is there some correlation between "happy ending to make me feel better" and "dooming about politics is action actually"

If it's a shitty take, it's a shitty take I share. I have long suspected a lot of the C3 defenders to be variants on Fandom Is Activism, whether it's having a blog where basically all you do is accuse anyone who has any criticism of any of Bells Hells of the form of bigotry that that character would experience; posting all kinds of tankie propaganda while probably still voting after spending months telling your followers not to; making movie lists with two films about the same group white Vietnam war protestors and four animes and then tossing on the most obvious Iranian and Holocaust films in the context of our current political moment; and whatever has led a bunch of white middle-class southern 20-somethings to decide they are the most oppressed people on earth and deeply lacking in representation on a show where half the entirely white cast is from appalachia or the south; all while talking nonstop over countless nonwhite and non-Christian people in the fandom.

I've already said that I don't find overly sweet fluff where everything works out fine despite anything you do comforting - hell, Sesame Street doesn't have that - and if people do want that, might I recommend Hallmark movies, but I suppose it's fine if you do. It's just...man I could have sworn these same people only a few weeks ago were accusing us evil C2 fans of being mad this isn't a comfort show? must have imagined that.

[strawberrykidneystone]

star wars/arcane crossover with smuggler!sevika x bounty hunter!reader

a/n: IM REWATCHING ALL OF THE STAR WARS MOVIES AND SERIES GUYS IM NOT OKAY

sevika is a smuggler on paper for silco, who is part of the trade federation

along with being a smuggler, she also takes care of the trade federations dirty work under the radar as to not have the republic track it back to them

she doesn’t necessarily like the separatists, but the republic has taken a much too passive stance in the current war for her to get behind

she was a padawan under master vander until she was cast out from the jedi, who told her she let her emotions guide her too much for her to continue in her teachings

(side note: i feel like she would have a green saber)

which is how she ended up where she is today

you were a bounty hunter and took odd jobs here and there as they came up, but your latest job had you turning over a bounty in tattooine, the dust bowl of the galaxy

nursing a sweet drink after a job well done, you people watched from your little corner booth in an obscure bar that you couldn’t remember the name of

it was a pretty filled place for a midday crowd, other bounty hunters hogging the monitor looking for the catch of the day while others whispered in secret in the booths around you

suddenly, she walked into the bar

you’ve definitely seen her before, a pretty hefty bounty on her head from the republic that no one touched alas the consequences would be grave

still, she was easy on the eyes and you couldn’t help but check her out

she seemed to scan around the bar until she finally made eye contact with you

holding her gaze, you raise a brow as she strutted over to your table, sliding into the booth across from you

looking deep into her grey eyes, you leaned forward on your forearms and took a sip from your straw, pushing the cup away when it was emptied, “to what do i owe the honor of the presence of silco’s lapdog?”

she gave you an unamused look and nodded over to the bartender, who quickly set her signature drink in front of her, “got a proposition for you. you’re one of the best and silco only ones the best for this one. it’s a clean job that pays well. ‘s long as you don’t fuck it up.”

there was a soft whirring that surrounded her, no doubt coming from her infamous mechanical arm that silco had custom made for her to efficiently kill anyone who stood in her way. needless to say, you did not want to be one of those people.

you muller it over, the bartender replacing your drink with a fresh one as sevika tossed a handful of credits his way, “i’m glad my reputation proceeds me, but i’m not getting tangled up in the whole political bullshit that’s going on out there.”

sevika thoughtfully sipped her drink and sat back with her arms crossed, “we’re making a deal with your old friend ekko, figured it would go smoother with a familiar face.”

ekko? that was a name you hadn’t heard in a while. it would be nice to see him again, you hadn’t heard from him since he had moved to the outer rim

you took the drink in front of you and chugged it down, stalling the glass down on the table and holding out your hand, “you got a deal.”

she shook your hand with a firm grip and walked to the exit of the bar, a million eyes following her as she did

you suavely got up and followed her, saluting the bartender before pushing through the cloth covering the doorway

maybe when this was over, you could negotiate a new ship since the last one you had blew up in an intense chase

a/n: JINX AS A SITH AND VI AS A JEDI??? GUYS I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS

[cakeinpants]

Previous

***

...

Pat didn't get to prepare in peace. He was in the shower when the familiar two Sligs sent by Jabodo showed up at his door, knocking, threatening and demanding him to come out. They made it clear they were not going to wait.

The rushed dancer barely managed to throw on a shirt and a pair of sleep shorts – clothes that were nearest in sight – before they dragged him out and made him walk to class, still wet, dripping from his feathers right on the corridor's carpet.

Jabodo was there, waiting.

"Another unforgivable mistake, I see." After the Sligs pushed Pat through the door, Jabodo said loud enough so that everyone in the room could hear. "You're late and refusing to follow orders..."

A hushed group of other mudokon dancers that were in class today were gathered at barre, exchanging whispers, with emotions varying from fear and sympathy to hidden gloat as they were glancing at the humiliated principal dancer.

Wet, barefoot and in his sleepwear. With big dark circles under his red eyes and a scratch on his cheek..

"I just need to get my dancewear.."

"You had your time. The rehearsal has been scheduled to start half an hour ago. I'm not waiting any longer. You better take your place at barre now, and make up for your unacceptable behaviour."

Sure, Malgaine was a strict teacher too, and required discipline. But he also treated Pat with great care and made sure he was always healthy and in good shape. Pat was a valuable dancer. He wasn't used to being treated with such blatant cruelty and disrespect – by some stranger who wasn't even his real Master.

Jabodo will never be his master.

"Barre. First position. Now." The Chronicler commanded.

But Pat didn't comply. He stood still, not even trying to hide the despise in his eyes anymore.

"I said first position!"

The dancer didn't move.

Jabodo's face went red from anger. The Chronicler darted right up to Pat and impulsively grabbed him by the arm, trying to force the dancer into the ballet position. That didn't work out of course. So instead Jabodo grabbed him by the face and leaned very closely to it.

"Who do you think you are..." He hissed.

"I am a Principal Dancer. And I want to be treated as such."

"You are a Mudokon, and you'll be treated how I see fit! Don't think so highly of yourself. You're not irreplaceable. There's plenty of contenders waiting for you to slip up..." he made a gesture towards the group of dancers at barre. "And they'll do anything to be able to take your place."

Pat knew that very well. The Palace's Mudokon Ballet Troupe currently consisted of 23 dancers apart from Pat. Eight of them were femininised castrati like him. Fourteen regular workers for masculine and supportive roles. Only one queen.

And all of them were willing to sell their souls and bodies for a Principal Dancer title. But Pat didn't feel threatened by it. He just felt sorry for them.

"Go ahead then. Replace me."

Jabodo's hand squeezed the dancer's chin harder.

"Do you know what happens if you get fired, boy?"

"The Palace's ratings drop even lower?"

"Don't get cocky with me! Trust, the Palace will survive without you just fine. But you will not survive without the Palace."

"Does it matter to you, then?"

"Shut it! That's enough! I'm reporting you to Madame Delvona."

He commanded the Sligs to take Pat away.

"You shouldn't've picked this fight..."

He knew that too... He knew he couldn't win it. But he couldn't turn back now.

It was the first time he openly confronted a higher-up like that.

Though Pat wasn't always a sweet and compliant mudokon he was known to be, only lower class could see his angry side. He could lash out at servants, or argue with mudokons that were below or at least on the same level as him. But when it came to anyone higher, Pat's always kept his mouth shut.

Not this time. The dancer has lost any respect for Jabodo. And felt like he had nothing to lose at this point...

[bloogers-boogers]

THIS. I’m glad you’re feeling more free to discover new things about yourself! It feels nice to have control of your own path without someone dragging you to theirs. I discovered a lot of things about myself that I never consider having, happening or experiencing when I decided to stop listening. However I’m lucky I was never forced to be religious I was lightly encouraged to follow one if I wanted to however I was never put in schools or forced to go to church. It was all willingly, there was a point in my life that I went leaping into different religions (to find some sorta place to belong to, to feel understood?) until I felt comfortable in one (christianity) but as much as I felt comfortable in the church I was at, I never felt connected to the words of the bible. Or the belief of a god. But they’re moments I do question it, from the religions I’ve been, there certain things I kept following without much of a care. Just cause it doesn’t hurt to believe in something if it gives a good message? Makes you do good. This is the idea I followed most of my life when it came to religion. I may have a hard time believing in whats shared from different beliefs but I do believe in good faith. I no longer follow a religion however if I’m asked I would simply answer that I haven’t been connected to god in a while. Im not saying I stopped believing but im also saying im not really interested in talking about it. But that doesn’t stop that I was surrounded by people with conservatives views and opinions that affected the way I thought as a child. A reason to why im also careful in how I say I don’t believe in religion, MAYBE a god, but not religion. They’re people who’ll force it to you with corrupted ideals,beliefs or whatever (like fucked up people) which entirely goes against the whole message of god. Who are we to judge someone based on their race, gender or sexuality. If god were real I doubt he’d care, he loves all his children. Base on the church i was at I was told you’re only ready to be forgiven if you’re ready to accept god into your heart. Nothing else. I wasn’t pushed to accept him, to be there or to follow a way some pastor declare were the right things to do. There was no rules but to respect others, be kind, and spread the word of god to anyone who needed it. Everyone was welcomed there. The moment they changed pastor I immediately felt a different vibe from the previous, I felt pressured to speak about the lessons we were being taught about and I didn’t like how he’d preached. I wasn’t comfortable. It felt forceful. Religion felt like a joke and god felt so far away from me. So I bailed, I was already distancing myself from that church because of other problems and this just made it easier for me to leave.

And now I just follow what my heart wants to believe! I believe in whatever the afterlife takes me to, in the meantime I enjoy what life offers me. Or at-least try to. The moment someone uses god as an excuse to be an asshole I cringe so hard because fuck no. Those are beliefs from man, not god.

So yeah, I don’t care if it’s a sin to obsess about fictional characters (nswf drawings, smut fics, sexualizing a character, fantasying about said character, etc), not following a religion, to explore myself, be queer! Have no idea what the hell am I in gender terms. Call me weird, tell me I’m going to hell! I don’t care, it won’t change how I think or see the world. I feel comfortable in how things are currently within my thoughts of faith. That’s what matters.

I’m happy that you’re in better more comfortable place ❤️ sorry for the long ranting! I didn’t think I’d fall back into talking about my religion problem

Adamsapple has made more comfortable in exploring sex topics, be more comfortable in my body (explore it further), being more open to showing off some of my skin, not feeling ashamed in feeling sexy or wanting to, but also like made me more comfortable in drawing sex. Something I thought I’d never stop feeling ashamed or embarrassed on doing. If this ship has damaged my brain it also damaged my insecurities and conservative beliefs taught as a child that have only brought me unhappiness, shame and anxiety. I love you Lucifer and Adam 🥺❤️

[frosteaart]

over and over and over and over and over and ov-

[click image for higher quality]

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[ilikerosesalot]

(CW for rapid color changes) TimeIasp of my isat anni piece!! Would've uploaded earlier but... forgor

[evelyn-and-art]

kotoha singing? sign me up please!

...wait wdym ume is dead? hey wait a sec, exCUSE ME-

the dragon and the freckled princess (belle 2021) x wind breaker au

[bill-ciphers-nightmare-blog]

"Hello Cipher. Your friend 'Kryptos' has sent me to 'free you'. Before I do so, I want to make sure you have at least made progress."

Sent by @theaxolotl-god

HUH, WHADDAYA KNOW, HE ACTUALLY MANAGED IT.

REALLY! OH, I’M VERY READY TO LEAVE.