#thread: tied up in pretty young things;

[astrummorte-m]

TIED UP IN PRETTY YOUNG THINGS.

self rp, non canon.

"For what it's worth from a stranger, you don't seem the kind of person to wear a frown for long." comes the haunting refrain of a voice following the click of heavy boot heels against the all too normal cafe's wooden boards. hands rest behind his formal suit, finery hidden by an old and well loved coat, as rugged in its own complexion as he was in his own. "Munni for your thoughts, young man?"

[nyerus]

The Narrative Importantance of Hualian's Sexual Intimacy

This is a repost and minor edit of a thread I made on Twitter yesterday. This is a topic I have always wanted to talk about because of how often it comes up in TGCF fandom, time and time again.

‼️CW: mentions of sexual assault, self-harm, bodily injury‼️

⚠️Major spoilers for the entire novel ahead⚠️

---

Saw a question the other day on what relevance Hualian being sexually intimate by the end of the novel had to either the narrative or Xie Lian's character arc.

In short: it bears significant relevance, especially in context of other themes the novel explores like bodily autonomy.

Throughout the novel, we see time and time again that Xie Lian is often dehumanized by pretty much everyone—including himself—with the sole exception of Hua Cheng. I've talked more in depth about it in an old twt thread, for those interested. @/stalliondany on twt has also made an excellent recent analysis that goes deeper into the specific ways Xie Lian was used as a physical shield, martyr, or scapegoat for others without thought to his humanity or suffering. I highly recommend reading it first!

But to sum it all up: it's important to Xie Lian's character arc to keep in mind that he is used to seeing his own body as a tool to solve problems. And in crucial narrative moments, he is robbed of his bodily autonomy, and either brutalized or violated in service of others.

One of the plot points that ties together all these concepts is actually... Xie Lian's chastity vows. That will be the main focus of this post.

When he was a young teen (or possibly as a child), Xie Lian took an oath of chastity because such was the norm for cultivators seeking ascension in Xian Le. To Xie Lian, even as he grew older, he never had an issue with this because he just never felt sexual attraction to another person, or any desire to be intimate in that way. Even if he yearned for the concept of being loved. And indeed, at first glance, his chastity vows may seem like nothing more than a side note. Or even a funny gag when it comes to Hua Cheng (later).

In reality Xie Lian's chastity vows are not only used against him, but paint a very disturbing picture with regards to his repeated violation.

The Land of the Tender scene is the most obvious example of this. Xie Lian's vows are directly tied to his spiritual powers, and because it affects how his followers see him. They place a high value on his chastity as being vital to his moral character.

For reference, an excerpt from TGCF vol. 3 of the English print translation, page 135:

Xie Lian's method of cultivation required a pure body. Those who worshipped the ascended cultivators who practiced this path were firmly convinced of the transcendence of gods untouched by earthly desires. If they couldn't protect their purity, their following would no doubt collapse and their powers would be devastated. It wouldn't be as serious as plunging from godhood to back to mortality, and there was still the possibility of recovery after many more years of cultivation—but with things as they were now, there was no time for him to sit behind closed doors and cultivate for years!

As a reminder: it is Bai Wuxiang who orchestrated this whole thing. Him trying to compromise Xie Lian in this way is horrific on many levels, yet that's not the main point I want to make here. It's that to preserve his "pure body," the solution Xie Lian realizes is to severely harm himself. To impale himself with his sword through the abdomen.

The juxtaposition of having to maintain bodily purity versus the gruesome violence inflicted on his body is extremely stark.

This grim contrast is no more evident than in the 100 swords scene. Where Xie Lian's body is literally brutalized and defiled to an unthinkable degree. To the point where he, quote: "no longer looked human." Yet he emerges from that temple physically "pure" all the same. His chastity vows were not broken, his body healed without scars. As though he was untouched.... And yet, he was completely destroyed mentally. It left permanent effects on him as a person. It's even worse when the scene is read analogous to sexual assault, as many have talked about before. I think that interpretation actually hits the nail on the head, especially keeping in mind the Land of the Tender scene and all the similarities between them.

Following the 100 swords scene, Xie Lian of course has a complete disconnect between himself and his body. I believe this is part of why he doesn't really feel pain, except when he is with Hua Cheng, who treats him and his body as one. As a person who is cherished, and loved. Hua Cheng is adamant in his adoring treatment of Xie Lian. Small injuries are also something he cannot tolerate because he knows what horrors befell Xie Lian in the past. (He was present at both the terrible moments mentioned above.) He will not let any of that continue, regardless of what Xie Lian says, because he sees it as injustice.

Xie Lian is willing to use himself as a tool to help others no matter the personal cost. He even thinks of it as something he must do, or that he deserves as penance. But Hua Cheng is the one person who asks "what about you?" He's the one that insists "your happiness matters." And it is Hua Cheng that takes issue with Xie Lian's chastity vows as being unfair, unlike everyone else. Regardless of Hua Cheng's reasons for this diegetically, symbolically it means a lot that he is the one opposed to this.

Just thinking about the chastity vows on their own for a moment: Xie Lian can indulge a little bit in stuff like alcohol, which isn't great to begin with for him. But he absolutely cannot engage in "pleasures of the flesh." He can totally have his flesh ripped from his bones, literally, but actually experiencing any kind of sexual gratification? Now that would make him unclean, and lesser.... Why? Because unlike everything else, that's something Xie Lian would do simply for himself to feel good. And what greater crime is there than to ever dare put himself first?

So Hua Cheng—being the one person who puts Xie Lian first above all else—thinking that such a restriction doesn't make sense is important. Hua Cheng being the person who Xie Lian breaks those vows for in the end is important! (Especially because it seems to have been an easy choice for him.)

And of course, the scene with Jun Wu and the Virginity Detector Sword™ has to be mentioned. Again, there's symbolism to be had! The perpetrator of two of the most physically violating moments of Xie Lian's life (both of which were sexual in nature; one literally and one allegorically) being the one to "check" Xie Lian's virginity... oof. Yikes. It's dramatic irony. It's deeply uncomfortable. Especially because Jun Wu probably wanted to know if Xie Lian slept with Hua Cheng, as he already knew Xie Lian wasn't the ghost fetus' father.

So it's once again a stark juxtaposition: of Ghost King Hua Cheng disagreeing with the purity vows, wanting Xie Lian to break them for himself and his own freedom. Versus Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu wanting to weaponize those vows against Xie Lian in whatever way he can, intact or not, to keep control over him.

Naturally, there's something to be said for the real-world problem with such purity vows being used against people, to judge their moral character, societal expectations, etc. Elephant in the room. It's very on the nose, so there isn't even much to say about it that hasn't been said already.

In the end, it comes down to how horrible it is that when Xie Lian tries to help others, it results in immense harm to his body every time. Yet he is expected to continue to bear it, for centuries, by others and also himself. Until he meets Hua Cheng, who helps him rediscover what it means to be happy, and to be loved. So yes, it's absolutely relevant that in the end, Xie Lian decides to break his purity vows to be intimate with Hua Cheng. That he's able to put himself in Hua Cheng's hands, and let himself be treated with affection and desire. It's Xie Lian finally forgiving himself, and beginning to heal.

[eamour]

unfavourable concepts.

i've been meaning to address this for some time now. with social media becoming a platform with such a large number of people talking about different concepts in love, work, health and so on, there are concepts which i think need to be discussed, especially as they affect so many of us.

before we start, celest1albeing on twitter inspired me to write this post! make sure to check out their thread on there as well.

disclaimer.

these are concepts that don’t serve me personally. i don’t expect you to stop believing these concepts or make them apply to you and the world if you have no problems with them. if you can resonate and identify with these, that’s perfectly fine.

concepts of love.

information · these are all only examples which i seem to encounter frequently and which seem to be common.

young men cannot commit · men only treat pretty women with respect · all male friends of women just wanna hit · if he wanted to he would · they categorise you into sweet, sexy and pretty �� he doesn’t love you if he does this · men always cheat and lie · they all only want one thing · they only like ass or tits · all men are the same · you can't change his type · you aren't his dream girl · men love quiet women · if a man doesn’t pay he isn't the one

you are just an option · once you are married your partner will become less romantic · after 3 months their true colours will show (honeymoon phase) · true love doesn’t exist · after the talking stage you either get into a situationship or go no contact · getting into a relationship is hard ·

women can’t be friends with men · women are complicated · they only want your money and wouldn’t want to date men who earn little · there is always another woman · they always look for someone better · you have to work on your divine feminine energy · you need to get out of your masculine energy · a woman needs to know her place

concepts of work.

money doesn’t grow on trees · it’s hard to get money · you have to work hard in order to afford your lifestyle · only if you do the work you can get a promotion · you could never be a ceo · you need to be privileged and born into richness for this position · this generation is lazy · no one wants to work · they are all going to end up jobless and poor · nowadays we are only evolving backwards

concepts of school.

you need to learn in order to get good grades · you cannot be smart without putting in the effort · teachers always have their favourite students · it's almost impossible to get good grades by teachers who can't stand you

concepts of health.

pasta makes you gain weight · you need to eat xyz and you cannot eat zyx · junk food is unhealthy · you need to workout in order to be fit · you can only lose weight by eating less · good skin requires an expensive skin care routine · t's hard to treat acne · you cannot get rid of scars on your face

self sabotage.

all in all, it all comes down to one thing: but is this what you want to believe in? do these beliefs serve you in any way? can you continue believing in them without worsening life for yourself? see, i am not the one shoving these concepts down your throat and expecting you to tweet "men ain’t shit". it’s all up to you if you want to claim these concepts as your truth or not. but if you keep believing in any undesirable concept that you KNOW does not help you in any way, you are only self sabotaging yourself IF you know that you can change these beliefs of yours.

evaluation.

the reason why i made this post is to emphasise that you can CHOOSE to believe in these concepts or not. you aren't tied to them. you don't depend on them. and you don't need to follow these concepts either.

i know we live in a society where even if you don’t initially believe that men suck or that you will get cheated on one way or another, we are still influenced by the experiences of others and may end up experiencing these things regardless. but you don’t have to!!! just because jessica had a man promise her the world and left her with nothing it doesn’t mean that it’s gonna happen to you as well. you are NOT her, you aren’t — and you don’t have to be — ANY of these people telling you about how awful people are, how sickening it is to date in this decade, etc. you don’t have to believe ANY of these things, in fact, you can change these concepts and the people around you.

in conclusion, you are your own person with your own individual beliefs. however, you have the CHOICE. no one's forcing you to believe any of these concepts, nor do they hold a universal truth to them. they come from the same awareness that can state the exact opposite.

with love, ella.

[propertyofkylar]

princess kylar thigh worship fic?

worshiping the princess - f!kylar x gn!pc

word count: 1827

tags: royalty au, thigh worship, cunnilingus, dubcon, bit of yandere nonsense, i cannot help but tease kylar whenever i see her it's a disease

“Seize them.”

That was the first and last thing you had heard the princess say, and now you were jailed in her castle. You were sure you hadn’t been behind bars too long, but it was nearly impossible to tell. It didn’t help that you were entirely alone here, too. It seemed this princess didn’t frequently imprison anyone. So why you?

In your travels, you had become somewhat familiar with this kingdom. Princess Kylar was the ruler, and there were many rumors floating around about what had happened to the king and queen, most seeming very unlikely to be true. But you weren’t sure. Anything was possible. 

You were mulling this over when the princess herself approached the bars. At first, she said nothing, merely looked at you. You figured you may as well look back, and so you studied Kylar. 

She was a pretty young woman and very small. She wore a dark gown that looked old and tattered and her long hair was tied back with a bow that was equally tattered. The princess’s face was so close to yours that you could count every freckle on her nose. Her green eyes bore into yours and her long eyelashes fluttered with every blink. 

Eventually, she gave a simple nod. And then, surprisingly, she unlocked her cell. 

Before you could react, her small hand wrapped around your wrist. It was soft and clammy. Feeling bewildered, you looked at her again. Kylar huffed. 

“Would you rather be locked in there forever?” She said, starting to walk and tugging you along with her. 

“Um…no,” you said, rather lamely. To be honest, you weren’t sure what you had done to justify being locked up in the first place. But this princess seemed temperamental, so you figured you better not risk anything by speaking out of line. 

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered, and you got the feeling that despite her demeanor, this entire interaction was making her quite nervous.

You opted to stay quiet as she led you through the large castle, which was rather empty and everything seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. Aside from the odd servant here and there, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in here. 

Kylar took you into what you realized were her quarters. Having never been inside the bedroom of royalty before, you were taken aback by how messy and disorganized it was. You had always pictured a princess’s bedroom to be neat and clean. But Kylar had random bits of clothing tossed all over and drawers that were slightly ajar. There were also various novels scattered about, and you idly recognized some as being steamy romances. Interesting. That didn’t seem befitting of royalty. 

The princess closed her door behind the two you of you and the air became thick with awkward tension. What the hell was going on here? You were so caught up in how odd this entire castle was that you only just now realized - what the fuck were you doing in the princess’s bedroom?!

Kylar uncomfortably cleared her throat, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “So,” she began. “You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here instead of being locked up.”

“Well, yes,” you replied hesitantly. 

Forcing her head up, Kylar looked directly in your eyes. “I have decided you seem useful. You have a handsome face. I think there are better ways for you to serve out your sentence.”

You said nothing, letting her continue. Kylar sucked in a deep breath before saying more. 

“You will stand by my side and assist me in…whatever ways I need,” Kylar’s face flushed as she spoke, and you quickly realized what exactly she mean. 

“What?” You couldn’t help but let your shock slip out. Was this princess really suggesting you be like some…some sort of prostitute?

Kylar clenched her fists and looked away. “You don’t have to. But if you decline I will make it known that you have committed many grievous crimes and should be locked away permanently. Or maybe you would rather be executed?”

Your blood ran cold at that. Was she serious? You didn’t know much about her, but she did seem a little scary. She might really be willing to kill you…

“No,” you said quietly, clearing your throat. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Kylar replied with a smirk. “Then you should kneel.”

You immediately dropped to your knees in front of the haughty princess. She wasn’t very tall, but looking up at her still invoked fear within you. She was quite intimidating.

“Excellent. You’re a good listener,” Kylar was acting tough, but her voice was shaking a little still. She moved over to her bed and sat down on the edge. You quickly realized she wanted you to follow her and so you awkwardly crawled over. Several beats passed before she hiked up her skirt, revealing her bare thighs and a thick bush of hair. Her face turned red as she struggled to remain composed. 

“Touch me.”

Her words, while unsteady, were commanding. You weren’t sure why she was making you do this, or how the hell you ended up kneeling before a now half-naked princess. But her thighs were rather mesmerizing. They were thick and even-toned, and looked very soft. And having lived the life of a bandit, you were aware there were many worse experiences out there than being forced to pleasure a beautiful princess.

So, tentatively, you reached your hands out to grip her thighs. Kylar whimpered as soon as there was skin-on-skin contact. Your initial thoughts were correct - her skin was incredibly soft and smooth. Befitting a princess, for sure. You began to lightly stroke her thighs, as gently as possible, and noticed how immediately her skin pricked with goosebumps. 

You looked up and made direct eye contact with Kylar. She was gazing at you almost adoringly, and you felt a sudden pang in her chest. She behaved somewhat oddly. Her castle was in disarray and empty. Princess Kylar must have been a very lonely girl. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you moved your head in and began to place light kisses on her thighs. Kylar twitched and her hands gripped her bedsheets. She cleared her throat and you looked up at her again. Her face was bright red.

“Worship me…” she whispered. “Please.”

You were in no position to reject a princess. Thus, your fingers went to work tracing random patterns across the smooth expanse of her thighs, while your kisses grew more fervent and occasionally you bit down, enjoying the way Kylar squeaked and squealed with every move. Honestly, it was pretty attractive, and you felt yourself begin to grow aroused. 

Kylar’s legs parted instinctively and the unmistakable scent of arousal hit your nose. Sure enough, when you looked you noticed her cunt was practically drooling onto the bed. You stifled a smirk - her getting so turned on by just some touching was pretty funny, but her volatile attitude kept you subdued in this regard. You still were a little afraid that she might decide to execute you, after all. 

Your teeth bit down into the plush skin of her inner thigh, and Kylar moaned. “Princess,” you breathed against her, casting your eyes up. She was looking away. 

“Y-you may speak,” Kylar stammered. You smiled.

“Your skin is so soft,” you murmured against her legs, pressing kisses all over. “It’s so nice. You must take very good care of yourself.”

“Oh,” Kylar replied, clearly not expecting you to say what you had just said. “Um. I don’t know. Not really. I took a bath in rosewater earlier, I guess.”

Mm. That’s what that smell was. “Very nice,” you said quietly, moved your head closer to her core, continuing to lick and suck all the way. Her whole body squirmed when your nose bumped her clit. Then, you pressed a kiss there, too.

“Oh!” Kylar unintentionally pulled back slightly, but quickly fixed herself. “S-sorry…I mean!” She cleared her throat, clearly flustered. “You m-may continue.”

Your hands teased and scratched her thighs as you began to lick at her wet cunt. The faint smell of roses tickled your nose and mingled with her own district flavor. As soon as your tongue made contact, Kylar’s hands flew to your hair, embedding her fingers in there. “Fuck,” she said quietly.

You lapped at her drooling juices before twisting your tongue into her hole, taking one hand off her thigh to rub at her clit. Kylar’s breaths were coming out in short, stuttered bursts at this point. She was enjoying this, and truthfully, so were you.

Your tongue explored inside of Kylar, as if you were trying to drink her juices directly from the source. You curled your tongue inside of her, and Kylar’s grip on your hair tightened. When you tugged your tongue out to flick her clit, she almost yelled.

“Feels so good,” she mumbled, wiggling back and forth as if she were trying to get more friction. “Your mouth feels so good…”

Again, you weren’t going to deny a princess what she wanted. So you dove in, licking her soaking folds even more fervently, taking the time to memorize how Kylar felt; how Kylar tasted. 

As you drank her up obediently, Kylar’s hips began to wiggle more and more and her breathing grew more heavy. “Oh–I think–I’m gonna–”

You didn’t stop. You simply kept at the same pace as Kylar ground her crotch against your face and moaned loudly. Her fluids soaked the sheets beneath her and your own face felt incredibly damp and sticky. 

As you pulled away, you licked your lips subconsciously, committing her taste to memory. You unceremoniously wiped your now-soaked face on your sleeve and looked up at Kylar again. Her face was redder than you had seen her and her chest was rising and falling heavily. She took a few moments before she began to speak again. “T-that was…it, um…” she cleared her throat. “Good work. I think this will work out…”

Unsure of what to do now, you simply offered her a smile. Upon seeing your face, Kylar suddenly looked like she might faint. It was like something had just snapped inside of her. She nodded several times in succession and then grabbed your wrists, pulling you up to the bed with her. And the way she looked at you was intense, to say the least. She had a crazy, lovesick look in her eyes, that sent a chill through your body. What had you just gotten yourself into?

Kylar grinned widely at you as she pushed you down so you were laying below her on the bed. She crawled over you with that same look in her eyes. “I knew I made the right choice when I saw you. Oh, this is great,” she giggled girlishly, laying her head down on your chest. “We’re going to be together forever and ever now!”

Maybe you should’ve stayed jailed…

[even-disco-baby]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You’re pretty good with that boy, Cuno.” She says it thoughtfully, as though she’s turning this fact over in her mind as she works at the tangled net in her lap. The sea is a soft roar over the horizon, and the world is tinged a dusky blue.

“Really? It doesn’t feel like I am. He still calls me anything but my name. Usually a slur.”

“It’s tough love, Lilienne, that’s all. A kid like that needs discipline.”

“He’s not that hard to deal with. He just wants somebody to play along with him. That’s all any kid wants.”

“He was good to me first.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She arches an eyebrow. “Really now…”

DRAMA — She isn’t doubtful, sire. Just surprised.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Well, I hope you’ll keep on being good to each other, then. The kid certainly needs it.”

EMPATHY — And so do you, she thinks.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “You seem good with the young people around here in general,” she muses. “Cuno, those kids at the church, Lily and the boys… You said you used to be a teacher, didn’t you? Maybe that’s why.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A familiar ache squeezes your lungs. The same ache that drove you to become a teacher in the first place. An incalculable and long forgotten loss.

INLAND EMPIRE — Don’t follow this thread any further. Let it unravel.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“No, there’s something else… Lost children, a lost Indotribe…” [Follow the thread.]

“I think I wanted to be a father, once.” [Change the subject.]

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She pauses her work, strands of the net wrapped loosely around her fingers, but does not look up. “…Oh?”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, it’s never too late! Now’s your chance to give fatherhood a shot!

“Any chance *we* could make it happen?” [Give her the finger guns.]

“I wonder why I did…”

“It was a stupid thing to want.”

“I still do.”

“I guess it never worked out.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Hm…” She goes back to her work, slowly and carefully. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Can’t remember.”

“In *this* economy?”

“Things never lined up right, I guess.”

“I bet it was *her* fault. She ruined my chances forever.”

“Too poor and drunk and sad.”

“I’d never want to inflict myself on a child.”

“Just look at me.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She does look at you. There is no pity or disgust or whatever other terrible thing you expected in her gaze. Just a quiet acknowledgment.

EMPATHY — To her, you look just like a father she once knew. This only makes her more inclined to agree with you.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “…When I first got pregnant with the boys,” she says quietly, returning to her work, “I was uneasy. Wondered if it was… right to bring them into this world. Into *our* arms…”

PAIN THRESHOLD — A rare pang wracks her. She does not like to think about these things.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I never did decide one way or another. I just knew what I wanted, and so I went ahead with it. *We* went ahead with it. And then again with Lily, even though…”

EMPATHY — Even though at heart she knew, by then, how it would all end.

SHIVERS — Five years ago, a man stands on the boardwalk where the corpse of a different drunken husband will one day be discovered. Bottle still clutched tightly in his hand, he fights the urge to throw himself into the dark water. He wins the battle today, but he will ultimately lose the war.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “However things turned out for you, I’m sure you had your reasons.” She sighs, and cuts a strand of the net with the tip of her knife, then ties it back together. “Though that probably sounds shallow, coming from me.”

“A little, yeah.”

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Go ahead.”

“Do you regret having kids?”

“Uh… never mind.”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She smiles, and there’s an uncharacteristic sadness in the lines around her eyes.

“No,” she says softly. “Never once.”

EMPATHY — She wonders if this is proof of her own selfishness.

It isn’t the children she regrets. It’s the world that she brought them into.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “Now that they’re here, all we can do is love them. And you’ve got plenty of love in you for the children, it seems. That’s more than a lot of fathers could say…” She sighs, her eyes shadowed and sunken. “Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say anymore.”

DRAMA — But you know what *you* would like to say, sire. Go ahead. Now’s your moment!

REACTION SPEED — No, it really isn’t. Please don’t push your luck.

“Lilienne…”

Don’t push your luck.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She turns to you, expression inscrutable with the light of the setting sun behind her. “Yes?”

“Do you think *we* could ever… try again?”

“Do you think you could ever see *me* as… a father?”

“Do you think there’s any hope in this world for any of us?”

“Do you think the children will ever forgive us?”

“Do you think I’m… a good man?”

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — She looks at you, her chin no longer held high, a tired slump in her shoulders and something searching in her eye. Her hands are all tangled in webs of fragile knots.

“I think…” she says slowly, evenly, “you’re looking for something that I can’t give you.”

-1 MORALE

“Okay. Well. Khm. Right.”

“What the hell does *that* mean?”

“That’s not really what I asked…”

Say nothing.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — “I know what you’re asking,” Lilienne says frankly. “I’m just not so sure that *you* do…”

EMPATHY — For love.

RHETORIC — For vindication.

INLAND EMPIRE — For a lifeline.

VOLITION — For a future.

LILIENNE, THE NET-PICKER — Lilienne sighs, watching the twins in the distance, starting the long march home from the beach before dark. “At some point, Harry, you’re going to have to be okay with your life.”

SHIVERS — You have twenty two years left to reach that point.

[whalesforhands]

since dyf!mc has a staring problem, how much would she stare if she saw suguru with his hair down for the first time?

did u mean before or after she has a crush on him LOL. either way, her reaction is still the same

warnings: geto-centric post, ily geto and my apology for doing bad things to him

If Gojo Satoru was dazzlingly beautiful, Geto Suguru would be the definition of hypnotically captivating.

His narrowed, purple eyes that screamed mischief and trouble, his broad and toned form that boasted his strength. To simply his charming, affable demeanor. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

But your favourite part of him? The sheer beauty that encompassed him. His presence. The dark, mystifying beauty that shrouded him in mystery. An enigma that you want to slowly take apart piece of piece and just simply admire what he simply was.

And admire you will, for you were shamelessly looking at him right now.

Luscious, black locks that cascaded only slightly past his upper arms, smooth and slightly damp from the shower he just took.

Evidenced by the towel that hung low around his hips and his bare upper body.

You don’t think you can tear your eyes away from his head, despite the absolute feast for the eyes that was the rest of his body.

His hair. It’s gorgeous.

You’re gulping even as he tries to hurriedly tug his bathrobe on, back turned to you only to show off even more of his beautiful tresses that shined beneath the light of the bathroom, swaying with his movements as you are just entranced.

“I didn’t…” He coughs awkwardly as he ties the waist of his robe. “Hear you come in.”

You’re far too taken by his existence to think of anything else now. Your brain has been for too mesmerized.

“Suguru…” Your eyes are constantly acknowledging the way droplets of water are slowly sliding off the ends of his locks.

“Can I brush your hair?”

——

You’re seated upon the side of his bed, Suguru’s head resting on your knees, his back turned to you as you slowly comb through the smooth hair whilst he sat on the carpeted floor.

It’s stress relieving.

(And he’s too tall even when you’re both sitting down.)

“Suguru.” Your hand is threading itself inbetween his locks, gently massaging his scalp.

“You’re too pretty.”

You hear him let out a light chortle.

“Am I now?” You feel him shifting his body, front now facing you as his hands settle on your hips. Pulling you forward as he rests his cheek against one of your thighs.

You continue to brush through his hair with your fingers, satisfied with the silky smoothness of it. As you mindlessly let your mind wander.

“Shoko’s still prettier.”

You hear another handsome laugh again, and feel another nuzzle into your lap.

“My biggest competitor, it seems.”

You wordlessly continue to feel his head, tilting his head up to look at you, staring into his dark crevices.

You say nothing, simply smiling and reveling in his presence as you hold his face in your hands.

You feel happy.

“Yoooo!” Satoru bursts into the room, snacks in his hands as a waving Shoko trails after him.

“Unannounced sleepover time!” He plops down right next to you on the bed, causing Suguru’s head to bounce lightly as he rolls his eyes at his intruding partner.

Shoko is settling down onto Suguru’s pillow, laying down as she scans through the snacks Satoru brought along.

“You all can do as you please,” Suguru begins, his hands dragging you forward and tugging you towards him, arms now circling your waist and pressing his head into your navel.

“I’m staying right here.”

Notes:

“Hogger!”

“Dirty cheat!”

Shoko and Satoru eventually physically dragged him off of you since his hug was making you sleepy.

“You’re not going to sleep yet! The night is still young!”

You all sat in a little circle and did each other’s hair.

You -> Shoko -> Suguru -> Satoru

You gave Shoko little pigtails that caused Satoru and Suguru to lose their heads laughing at.

“WAHAHAH, IT DOESN’T SUIT HER AT ALL!”

“But she’s cute…!”

Suguru is desperate to hold back his laughter. “Very…” He snorts a little. “Cute…!”

“You all better watch yourselves tonight…!”

Shoko gave Suguru space buns.

Suguru tied Gojo’s hair into little bunches with several hairties.

“My little cactus.”

Satoru isn’t particularly skilled. Whatever he gave you ends up being a mess as the other 3 miserably try to stop themselves from laughing.

“You’re… So pretty!” Shoko holds your hands as she says it, her face red as she tries so hard to not lose it.

You’re glowing with happiness at her praise. You genuinely think Satoru is good with hairstyles now.

When everyone fell asleep, Shoko drew on Satoru and Suguru’s faces with permanent marker.

Suguru was given cat whiskers and other feline details.

Satoru was given the ugliest moustache she could draw with a messy beard and monocle.

You couldn’t stop laughing the entire morning.

[the-raven-lady]

Psychoanalyst anon here. ‘Why does every warhammer x reader fan have a breeding kink?’ ‘why do we keep writing about astartes nutting inside us??’ Look, and I’m metaphorically grabbing you by shoulders here, 99% of the x reader fics everyone writes are about the Horus Heresy narrative. The very famous 60-something book series called the Horus Heresy. The very famous book series about a family tragedy.

The entire premise of it is not only about daddy issues, but also about how extremist beliefs destroy families, and it’s also about how you can never leave a family, no matter how hard you try. 10,000 years in and every single space marine still carries a legion/chapter specific bit of trauma with them, I mean take a look at the blood angels, they straight up have their dad’s ptsd. It’s not something any of the marines or the primarchs or the custodes can’t run away from, a tapestry cannot run from the thread it’s weaved from, a person cannot run from the genetics that created them. And the genetics that created them are like, the literal worst, straight up coloniser dna.

In many books they refer to each other as ‘blood relations’, and in many books that blood is spilt over and over and over again. On first glance the space marines, primarchs, and custodes seem to be just a parody on that ‘manly macho man’ trope, but the closer you look at it you start to realise that it’s all about the cyclical nature of generational trauma.

So is it really that surprising that a lot of people who enjoy the ‘worst family ever’ book series would also have a breeding kink about it? I think that what we’re doing is just engaging with the source material in a meaningful and slightly kinky way.

The other reason for why most people here have a breeding kink about it is even more obvious. The entire kink is just a part of your brain that controls reproduction going a tiny bit overdrive sometimes. And how could it not? The characters in the HH series are always described as either being the most gorgeous, powerful, or intimidating people to ever appear in your pitiful baseline field of vision. So of course the ‘maybe I should have kids’ part of your brain would fixate on a big strong beautiful guy that could protect from all harm.

Especially so when it comes to the primarchs, because that’s literally how the Emperor intended them to work. ‘You see how hot this man is? Yes? You want your kids to be 50% him, don’t you? Well congrats because you can! All you have to do is just send any young children you already have to your nearest astartes initiate program-’

But again, I’m not a licensed anything so don’t take my word for it. I don’t know your brain.

Thank you for blessing my inbox. I'm sorry I fell asleep before you appeared.

I know for me personally, my breeding kink existed far before any interaction with 40k. I actually think the assessment of "Big man who is pretty" is closer to my side of things than the daddy issues side of 40k.

Now that I'm sober, I posit another explanation as an addition to what you've already given: It ties back into domination and devotion.

Being marked and claimed by someone large and powerful who can protect you definitely appeals to the lizard brain, but I think there's a little bit more to the consensual domination of being marked with someone's seed that appeals to me personally. And generally, the before, during, and after tend to be full of praises and devotionals and excitement from your opposite. "You're going to look so good carrying my children," etc. Getting doted on and taken care of by a devoted partner is probably the second largest appeal to me, but you've already eaten us alive over that and left no crumbs, so I digress.

I appreciate

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 28 : Snatchable lil guy

Macaque is getting kidnapped with Sanzang!

Perhaps they should have been more cautious. It's not as if Macaque wasn't aware that the journey was dangerous but he usually never participated in battles, staying in the back with the frightened monk. He left the fighting to the golden-furred monkey. He would never admit it but Wukong's fighting form was quite beautiful, he couldn't help but sneak a glance or two every time the sage wielded his staff. The wind made sure to remind him of his wandering eyes at every opportunity, it was becoming quite infuriating.

Macaque sighed as he looked up at the tied-up young monk. Sanzang looked terrified and it was quite understable, being snatched by demons wasn't a pleasant experience. The black-furred monkey was in the same predicament, tied up by a lil thread. He could get out rather easily. He was a master when it came to escapery. But the demons that caught them had a rather troublesome artifact that Macaque wanted to avoid at all cost.

The two demon brothers were parading in their lair, brimming with joy at their catches.

“Can you believe it, brother? We caught the monk!” Cheered the silver horned demon as he put his hand on his hips, Yin, if Macaque recalled right.

“It's all part of the plan!” Chuckled the golden horned demon, Jin. “What do we do next?”

Yin took out a book and flipped the pages, he narrowed his eyes and read very carefully.

“Now we eat him!”

“Excellent ! Let's roast him!”

“Actually, brother. I think steaming him would be better. Makes it tastier.” Intervened Yin as he closed the book. Jin narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, not happy with the interruption.

“I say we roast him.”

“And I say we steam him!”

Macaque couldn't believe those two idiotic demons managed to catch him off guard. His battle skills became rusty after months of letting Wukong do all the fighting, he needed to get back in shape soon. The black-furred monkey gazed at the calabash tied on Yin's slashes, if he managed to get this thing away from the troublesome brothers then escaping this place would be rather easy. Macaque looked up at the monk and quietly loosened the threads around his wrists. Sanzang squirmed in his spot, visibly worried.

“Hush, kiddo.” Shushed Macaque, hoping to come off as reassuring. Sanzang looked even more worried. “Just… keep quiet.” Mumbled Macaque as he crawled towards the brothers.

Macaque dived in the shadows and traveled silently while the brothers were bickering about cooking techniques. The lil guy almost managed to graze the calabash but he was interrupted by someone destroying the wall. Wukong looked absolutely feral, fur bristled, eyes shining like molten lava. His gaze swept off the place and narrowed on the two brothers who held into each other for dear life. He approached them with a razor sharp walk and leaned over the two horned demons.

“Where. Is. He?” He growled, fangs glinting in the dim-lighted cave.

“T-the monk is here!” Yelped Yin as he pointed to Sanzang, who was being rescued by Wujing. Wukong looked over Sanzang, his gaze softening a lil in reassurance (Macaque knew Wukong had a secret developing soft spot for the pilgrims!) but then he whipped his head towards the two brothers and growled once more :

“Where. Is. He?”

Macaque took the opportunity to kick the calabash away from the brothers, getting the dreadful artifact as far away as possible; how those idiots even stumbled upon this was questionable.

“Macaque!” Wukong ran over Macaque, grabbed him and brought him to his face. He then rubbed Macaque against his cheek. “Are you okay? Do you want me to kill those guys? I swear if they touched a single hair on your pretty head I’ll-”

“I'm okay, big guy.” Chuckled Macaque as he put one of his lil paws on Wukong's lips to shush him. “Let's just get out of here.”

“Yeah, sure! Anything.” Mumbled Wukong as he walked out of the cave, gripping on Macaque tightly, as if he was afraid of letting him go.

The same night, as the pilgrims were sitting around a campfire, Wukong wasn't letting go of Macaque.

“Come on, Monkey. Is he your teddy bear now?” Sighed Bajie as he dived in the bowl of soup he prepared. Macaque had to admit, despite the pig being insufferable at times, he was getting better at cooking.

“Shut it, Piglet. You know nothing of best friend bonds !” Growled Wukong.

“My, my, let's not get this heated, right?” Laughed Wujing as he passed a bowl of soup over the golden-furred monkey.

“I'm just glad it's over.” Sighed Sanzang as he rubbed his back, being tied up was not kind on his back.

“You know, when you were snatched up, Macaque, Wukong almost teared up.” Chuckled Ao Lie as he slurped his soup. Wukong looked at the dragon horse in betrayal.

“You when we talked about things that you should keep to yourself Ao Lie?” Sighed Wukong as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?” Answered the dragon horse.

“This was one of them.” Groaned Wukong. Macaque laughed quietly as he finished his thumb-size bowl of soup.

+ cut scenes

Wukong *after Macaque was snatched* : Nooooo, Bae!! 😭🥺

Wukong *one minute after* : I'm gonna commit murder 😡

 

Wukong : You know Ao Lie, sometimes you should...keep the tea to yourself, you get me ? 😔

Ao Lie : I don't drink tea? 🤔

Wukong : just stop spilling my feelings to my crush, please 😭🙏

 

Sanzang : today is gonna be a good day 😌

Sanzang *is being snatched* : here we go again 🥲

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[iwaoiness]

It happens on the fourth day of the second week of the VNL. Akane Yamamoto finally gets the chance to interview Iwaizumi in person, who is happy to speak with her again and compliments her about her new role as a sports journalist at the renowned television network.

The interview flows in an engaging and even fun manner. All the questions focus on JNT, the most problematic players he has encountered, his routines, and his professional future with the team. Iwaizumi laughs at a few responses, and Akane really enjoys the conversation.

Then, Hajime's smartwatch starts to vibrate remembering the meeting with the technical team and the coach.

Akane apologizes and asks for just five more minutes, which Iwaizumi happily grants, postponing the alarm. She quickly reviews her notebook, sighing in relief when there is only one last question left to ask. She then looks up at the athletic trainer again, her smile widening.

"Iwaizumi-sensei, there is one last thing all the viewers want to know before we say goodbye and wish you the best of luck for the match against Poland. Since today is your birthday, what would be the perfect gift for you?" she asks, directing the microphone towards Iwaizumi.

Akane hopes he will respond with something as cool as winning today's match or securing first place in the tournament. Or perhaps he will simply wish for health and a bright future for the JNT. Or maybe he'll ask for a raise for being the professional babysitter of the monster generation. Or he might just laugh, unsure of what to wish for.

What Akane doesn't expect is for Iwaizumi to smile warmly and soft, his gaze fixed beyond her, and then to gesture in that direction with his chin.

"That."

In a flash, both Akane and the camera held by her cameraman swiftly turn around.

Near the billboards, just a few meters away, Oikawa Tooru is kneeling in front of a little girl no older than ten, scribbling on a towel resting on his thigh. He looks radiant, his hair tousled from his recent victory over Germany, his blue shirt clinging to his broad torso like a second skin, his new compression sleeves wrapping around his chiseled muscles of his arms, and his knee pads now resting at his ankles.

He smiles genuinely at whatever the little girl is enthusiastically telling him, oblivious to the camera and Hajime's gaze. When he finishes signing the towel, he hands it to her, and she squeals with delight, proudly showing it to her mother before giving Oikawa a high five and saying goodbye.

As Tooru stands up, a shy young boy approaches him, holding a volleyball under his arm and a black marker in his hand. And Oikawa greets him with the same genuine happiness as before.

Both the cameraman and Akane return to Hajime. The journalist, cheeks flushed, closes her mouth, which she had unconsciously left open, and blinks at Iwaizumi like an owl. He looks at her, amused, with his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't my gift so pretty?"

That segment of the interview goes viral within days (just a few weeks before the All Star Match, for Kuroo's delight). Countless theories are published, the most popular being the true meaning of the ring Oikawa always ties to his shoelaces during every match—not a good luck charm, but a real engagement ring (Tooru didn't help by responding to the entire thread with a simple o(≧▽≦)o). A certain Hanamaki begins accepting interviews (with payment upfront, of course) only to answer ambiguously and send greetings to his mother from various networks. A certain Matsukawa gives away I <3 IwaOi shirts with the purchase of a coffin. And Oikawa finally re-uploads all the photos with Iwaizumi to his public account, from the selfie where Tooru playfully bites Hajime's cheek while he laughs, to the photo of his hand on Iwaizumi's solid, muscular, and broad back, his long fingers caressing the scratches at the height of his shoulder blades and the trail of hickeys on his neck.

...

every june day it's iwa's day

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[dorka]

Most mar a garbage day is megirta (egybol ossze is omlott a site)

Over the weekend, the always-excellent John Burn-Murdoch, over at The Financial Times, posted an alarming bit of demographic analysis that has now gone very viral. It’s from a column Burn-Murdoch wrote titled, “A New Global Gender Divide Is Emerging,” which shows a tremendous political gap forming between young men and women around the world.

Burn-Murdoch followed up the column with a lengthy thread on X hypothesizing as to what may be causing this gap and thousands of other users have offered up their own diagnoses, as well: Smartphones, video games, economic inequality, lack of education, an over-correction post-#MeToo.

Interestingly enough, though, the bulk of Burn-Murdoch’s reporting focuses on South Korea, the US, Germany, the UK, Spain, Poland, China, and Tunisia. Which, aside from China and Tunisia, were all countries I worked in, covering elections and far-right radicalization, in and around the time period those countries’ respective political gender gaps began widening. I’m not saying I have a tremendously in-depth understanding of, say, Polish toxic masculinity, but I did spend several days there following around white nationalist rappers and Catholic fundamentalist football fans. And, in South Korea, I worked on a project about radical feminists and their activism against the country’s equivalent of 4chan, Ilbe Storehouse.

In fact, between 2015-2019, I visited over 20 countries, essentially asking the same question: Where do bad men here hangout online? Which has given me a near-encyclopedic directory in my head, unfortunately, of international 4chan knock-offs. In Spain, it’s a car forum that doxxes rape victims called ForoCoches. In France, it’s a gaming forum that organized rallies for Marine Le Pen called Jeux Video. In Japan, it’s 2channel. In Brazil, it’s Dogolachan. And most, if not all, of these spaces pre-date any sort of modern social movement like #MeToo — or even the invention of the smartphone.

But the mainstream acceptance of the culture from these sites is new. Though I don’t actually think the mystery of “why now?” is that much of a mystery. While working in Europe, I came to understand that these sites and their culture war campaigns like Gamergate were a sort of emerging form of digital hooliganism. Nothing they were doing was new, but their understanding how to network online was novel. And in places like the UK, it actually became more and more common in the late-2010s to see Pepe the Frog cosplayers marching alongside far-right football clubs. In the US, we don’t have the same sports culture, but the end result has been the same. The nerds and the jocks eventually aligned in the streets. The anime nazis were simply early adopters and the tough guys with guns and zip ties just needed time to adapt to new technology. And, unlike the pre-internet age, unmoderated large social platforms give them an infinitely-scalable recruitment radius. They don’t have to hide in backrooms anymore.

Much of the digital playbook fueling this recruitment for our new(ish) international masculinist movement was created by ISIS, the true early adopters for this sort of thing. Though it took about a decade for the West to really embrace it. But nowadays, it is not uncommon to see trad accounts sharing memes about “motherhood,” that are pretty much identical to the Disney Princess photoshops ISIS brides would post on Tumblr to advertise their new life in Syria. And, even more darkly, just this week, a Trump supporter in Pennsylvania beheaded his father and uploaded it to YouTube, in a video where he ranted about the woke left and President Biden. Online extremism is a flat circle.

The biggest similarity, though, is in what I can cultural encoding. For ISIS, this was about constantly labeling everything that threatened their influence as a symptom of the decadent, secular West.

(X.com/jeremykauffman)

Taylor Swift, an extremely affluent blonde, blue-eyed white woman who writes country-inflected pop music and is dating a football player headed for the Super Bowl. She should be a resounding victory for these guys. Doesn’t get more American than that. But due to an actually very funny glitch in how they see the world, she’s actually a huge threat.

Pop culture, according to the right wing, should be frivolous. Because before the internet, it was something sold to girls by corporations run by powerful men. Famous pop stars through the ages, like Frank Sinatra, America’s first Justin Bieber, or The Beatles, the One Direction of their time, would be canonized as Great by Serious Men after history had forgotten they rocketed to success as their generation’s Tumblr Sexymen. But from the 2000s onward, thanks to an increasingly powerful digital public square, young women and people of color were able to have more influence in mainstream culture and also accumulate more financial power from it. And after Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign was able to connect this new form of pop influence to both liberal progressive politics and, also, social media, well, conservatives realized they had to catch up and fast. And the fastest way to do that is to try and smash the whole thing by dismissing it as feminine.

Pop music? It’s for girls. Social media? It’s for girls. Democrats? Girls. Taylor Swift? Girls and also a government psyop. But this line of thinking has no limit. It poisons everything. If Swift manages to make it to the Super Bowl, well, that has to become feminine too. And at a certain point, the whole thing falls apart because, honestly, you just sound like an insane loser.

[bomberqueen17]

assorted, and snippet

it is a rainy sunday. we had a glorious last-gasp-of-summer week, 70s and sunny and lovely, and then last night as the sun went down it suddenly got cold and is going to stay that way.

today's my late father's birthday. he'd've been 79 today. farmsister asked the family groupchat if we wanted to do anything special but like, what? no, so we're just having our normal sunday family dinner. she decided to make enchiladas because while the tomatoes are done, there are still tomatillos, so she's roasting those. i decided to thaw a pork butt and i'll make a sort of al pastor kind of pulled pork for the filling, later. but at the moment i'm out in my cabin, which is a disaster area and needs cleaning. but at the moment i'm just listening to the rain on the metal roof, and i have the propane stove on to get it up to room temperature in here, and i'm dying to take a nap but probably won't.

i told myself i could sit for an hour and maybe write. I sorta don't want to write, I sorta want to fuck around and nap, lol. I'm at a bit in Peace-Tied where I'm trying to fold in stuff I wrote ahead that doesn't quite fit now, so that's complicated-- I've been resorting to using two monitors to have the old doc open in a window so I don't have to tab back and forth. But Fit For Thrones is also in an awkward spot where I wrote stuff ahead and like not a lot has changed, but I realized there needed to be a new thread introduced, so I've got to work that in, and I'm realizing a scene I wrote ages ago that was just fluffy and didn't show a lot of character development is going to have to get overhauled to fit the new concept in, which at this point is just a slight complication but later I wanna hang like a whole plot off it, so it's gotta be here-- if I put it in later it won't have any support and might not really properly hold all the weight it needs to, so. And this scene was just fluff anyway and needs more stuff in it. So that's fine. But it's hard. Because of course all I want to do is skip ahead and write the juicy weighty scene this is gonna support. But if I do that (again, as i've been doing a lot in this series, ugh) i'll get there and it won't fit and i'll have to do more of this fiddly kind of work.

I did only miss Friday's update because I was physically too busy at the time, though. It's the wind-down of the farm season but that just means people have started to peel away to do other things, there's not actually a lot less work, and so those of us left are kind of juggling a lot more balls, even if they're less heavy than they were. (more wittering specifically about FFP behind the cut, and a snippet)

So I have a bunch of stuff allllllmost ready to post, but a bunch of tricky work to do for the continuations of them. There has been a spate lately of very nice comments, some rereaders and some new readers, and I appreciate all of you and it keeps me going, really it does.

I can't find the one, though, someone commented on the latest FFT that they thought Morvran might wind up a bit subby perhaps, and I literally cackled out loud. (Someone else was speculating that he's more traumatized/demi/gray than pure ace, which I also have been trying to convey-- he's ace-spec for sure but gray, is where I'm headed with him.)

I don't think Ciri is going to wind up being particularly domme-y in her preferences-- she also would like a pretty lady to push her around please-- but understand she was raised by a bunch of dommes all around, so I had a very early slightly-cracky notion that she thinks this is how het relationships have to work (this did bear fruit in an outside-of-series published work on AO3 thanks to the Smubbles folks, here: What Every Young Woman Needs)-- but there's an excerpt here I haven't quite yet fit into the FFP continuity, which I suppose I'll put here for everyone's delectation (Ciri POV, of Morvran):

He glanced up only briefly at her arrival, flashing her a quick smile but returning to whatever he was writing, clearly intently focused. She propped a hip on the edge of the desk, waiting, and he finished writing the line and looked up at her.  There was something about the way he looked up at her, like this, something open in his expression that usually wasn’t. It sort of made her want to pull his hair, and made her suddenly understand some things about the way her-- Geralt and Yennefer had acted, around one another. She’d always thought Yennefer was perhaps too mean to Geralt, but she could suddenly understand Yennefer’s perspective, and see that maybe it… well maybe it wasn’t being mean.  But. She didn’t know Morvran near well enough to offer to pull his hair.

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope

~ Chapter 14 ~

Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester save a young woman —Natalie Johnson, from a coven of witches who are after her deceased grandmothers spell book. At first Dean doesn’t trust her, will he ever? Natalie is just simply a woman who gets roped up in the supernatural world from a mistake her grandmother made.

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warning: Age gap, slow burn, smut (not until the later chapters), language, gore.

Word Count: 997

A/N: I may post one or two more chapters tonight. Happy reading! ♥️

The morning after the heated confrontation, the air in the motel room felt a bit lighter. Sam was still recovering from his injuries, but his color was better, and he was awake and alert. Dean was pacing the room, his mind already on the next hunt, and Natalie—sitting at the small table with her laptop—was focused on her own task.

Dean had suggested Natalie stay behind for this one. After the previous hunt went sideways, they agreed that it would be best for her to handle the research side of things this time, especially given her knack for hacking and digging up information. Sam needed rest, and they needed someone with skills to help them out remotely. So while the boys went off to investigate, Natalie had stayed behind to provide support.

As the day wore on, Dean and Sam were deep into their hunt—a string of strange deaths that pointed toward a revenant. But they had hit a dead end and needed more information. Specifically, they needed access to a secure database that could provide insight into the location of the revenant's burial site. That's where Natalie came in.

Sitting in the motel room, Natalie was in her element, typing furiously on her laptop. Her fingers flew over the keys as she accessed databases, searched for encrypted files, and hacked into restricted systems. The government security on the local archives wasn't anything she couldn't handle—she'd faced worse in her professional work—but this required finesse. The information they needed was buried deep in city records, and she had to bypass multiple layers of protection to get to it.

Dean's voice crackled through the phone as he and Sam stood outside a small graveyard, waiting for her to come through.

"Natalie, we need this info like... yesterday. You got anything for us?"

She rolled her eyes, smirking at the impatience in his tone. "Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on. I'm working on it. Whoever set up this system did a pretty decent job, but..."

Her voice trailed off as she clicked through a series of firewalls, each one falling as she bypassed their defenses. Within minutes, she was in. Her eyes lit up as she found the records they needed—burial records and land ownership that hadn't been touched in years.

"Got it!" she said, a note of triumph in her voice. "Looks like your revenant is buried in an old plot on the edge of the cemetery. I'm sending you the exact coordinates now. You'll want to be careful, though—there's mention of an unmarked grave, which means you're probably going to have to do a little digging."

Dean's sigh of relief was audible through the phone. "Good work, Nat. You just saved us hours of guesswork."

Natalie grinned, feeling the familiar rush of satisfaction. "You're welcome. Anything else you need?"

Sam's voice came on the line next, sounding tired but grateful. "Actually, yeah. There's some encrypted police files on the previous deaths that we couldn't access at the station. Think you can get into them and see if there's any common thread between the victims?"

"On it," Natalie replied, her fingers already flying over the keyboard as she worked on cracking the police database. This one was more challenging, but she was in the zone now, her mind focused and clear. After a few minutes, she let out a satisfied hum as the files unlocked.

"There we go," she said, scrolling through the records. "Looks like all the victims were buried with personal items—family heirlooms, jewelry, stuff like that. Could be what's keeping the revenant tied to them."

Dean grunted in approval. "That's what we needed. You're killing it, Nat."

Natalie smiled, her confidence growing. She hadn't just hacked a secure government database—she'd done it faster and more efficiently than she thought possible. The work was exhilarating, and even though she wasn't out in the field with the boys, she knew she was contributing in a big way.

"You guys owe me dinner for this," she teased, her voice light.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, we'll get you something. Just keep that line open. We might need more help when we dig this thing up."

The hunt ended successfully, with Dean and Sam managing to locate and take down the revenant before it could claim any more lives. By the time they returned to the motel, covered in dirt and sweat but victorious, Natalie had compiled a detailed report on everything she had uncovered during her research.

As they walked in, Dean tossed his jacket onto the bed, nodding toward her with a smirk. "Gotta hand it to you, Nat. You pulled through again. That hack job you did on those city records? Impressive."

Natalie looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, was that an actual compliment?"

Dean shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Don't let it go to your head."

Sam, sitting on the edge of the bed, chuckled. "Seriously, though, you were great today. We wouldn't have been able to get this done without your help."

Natalie felt a swell of pride. "Thanks, guys. Honestly, it was kinda fun. You might want to leave all the tech stuff to me from now on."

Dean snorted, but there was no edge to it. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't go getting cocky."

Despite the banter, there was an unspoken understanding between them now. Natalie had proven herself, not just in the field but behind the scenes as well. She wasn't just along for the ride—she was part of the team. And that meant more to her than she could put into words.

As the three of them settled in for the night, with another hunt successfully completed, Natalie couldn't help but feel like she'd found her place. She might not be swinging machetes or firing silver bullets, but she was still in the fight. And for the first time in a long while, she felt like she truly belonged.

[jungle-angel]

A Selkie in the Sunshine State: Part 1 (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: When you were young, you had heard tales of the seal people. Many thought you were completely crazy, until you met one for yourself. You just didn’t know how much it would change your life for the better. 

Tagging: @lt-bradshaw​ I know I’ve gotta do a taglist but I’m completely inept with technology and with this hellsite in general (lol). 

Key West, Florida

You stepped out into the bright Florida sunshine, feeling so much more at ease now that you had all the time in the world to yourself. Sunshine, sunscreen and sandals....you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

Moving to Key West had been the best decision you had ever made, getting away from the cold winters in your hometown and far, far away from the things that bothered you day in and day out. Your health drastically improved with the tropical sunshine, your eating habits had gotten better and you could walk to and from work with no problem. Hell, you were finally able to wear all those pretty clothes you loved that would have normally had to be packed away during the winter.....but here, you could finally be yourself. Your wonderful, free, self. 

Down to the white, powdery sand beach you went from your little cottage, the turquoise and peach pink shuttered little structure facing part of the street with its little white picket fence and porch while the back faced the ocean. The turquoise and teal water gently pulled in and out off the beach, the smell of salt and sunshine tied together in the breeze. Today was sure to be perfect. You had a feeling that you just knew that everything about today would be perfect. 

All along the shores you went, gathering shells and sand dollars, the water washing over your feet as you stepped over a small pile of seaweed. Your eyes suddenly fell to a yellow-green piece of something in the washed up weeds, something plastic with thin threads that formed a diamond lattice.....part of a ripped up drag-net. 

It wasn’t uncommon that you found something like that. Every now and again, you clipped up those pieces along with empty soda can rings to make sure no sea critters became their unfortunate victims. Yet something else caught your attention from further down the beach, something that sounded like crying. 

You rushed to the commotion, following the noise until it grew louder and louder when you suddenly laid eyes on what was making the noise. 

“Oh buddy, I’m so sorry, c’mere, you’re ok.” 

It was a little grey monk seal with thready little rings of white around its eyes. The poor little thing bawled and cried, tangled in the drag-net that had washed it up on shore, the seaweed hanging from it like clumps of dark green hair. You clipped away at the tough, plasticky threads with the Swiss army knife you kept in your pocket, trying painfully hard not to hurt the little guy who squirmed and wriggled. 

“Ok, ok, you’re almost out,” you cooed to the seal.  

No sooner did you cut the last plastic thread that something frightening and strange unfolded right before your very eyes. The seal’s skin seemed to drop away like wet cloth as flashes of a pale, human form were revealed. The seal skin hung from one shoulder, a wet, bedraggled mess as the figure kept his hands planted in the dirt, coughing and spitting up water. Your breath stilled as you reached out your hand to touch his well-muscled back, your movement slow and tentative, fearing that when he turned around, he’d instead be some hoary, razor-toothed horror of the deep. 

Your hand had barely touched him when he let out a loud gasp, both of you startled by it all. You instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth, in complete disbelief at the man who faced you. He wasn’t some terrifying humanoid from the darkest depths of the ocean. His eyes were of the deepest cerulean blue, the features in his face soft and shy looking. His chin and pencil thin lips wobbled a little, from what, you had no idea. His hair was a soft, dark blonde that grew lighter in the midday sunshine while perched on his nose was a pair of wire-rimmed aviator glasses......birth control goggles as the airmen from Pensacola would call them. 

“I.....you.....what are you?” you stammered. 

“Miss please I.....I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just.....” 

You were still tentative to even speak as the grey seal skin fell from his shoulder. The only noise you could remotely hear was the gentle slapping of water. “No, I should be the one who’s sorry,” you told him. “I didn’t....I didn’t know.” 

The young man cleared his throat, the sunlight making his unusually pale skin a near blinding white. “I um....I would stand up but.....” 

“You have a cut somewhere?” you asked. 

“No it’s.....it’s a little more complicated than that Miss uh.....” 

“(Y/n),” you answered. “My name is (Y/n). You?” 

“Bob,” he answered. 

“Bob?” you said, chuckling a little. “I’ve never heard of a selkie named Bob before.” 

Bob’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening like a guppy gasping for air. “How do you....?” 

“I read alot,” you admitted. “C’mere, I’ll help you up.” 

“Oh (y/n), please, I don’t think you want to do that,” he said, turning bright red.

“And why not?”

“I’m.....I’m naked.” 

You blushed a little too, a snicker escaping your nostrils. It wouldn’t have been the first time you saw a man naked nor would it be the last time. You took his hands in yours, instantly aware of a strange, warm sensation rippling through you. Not a bad one, but something warm and comforting.....just like home. 

“How about this,” you said, biting your lip and trying not to cast your eyes downward. “I have plenty of clothes back at the house. You can borrow them until we can get you some new ones.” 

“Thank you,” Bob chuckled. 

He picked up his seal skin, shaking the sand off its damp surface before he wrapped part of it around his waist and followed you back up to the cottage. 

[husbandomail]

OKAYYY heres the request! Can we please get an venoct x reader (pref romantic but platonic is fine) oneshot where a powerful yokai like dame deadtime or smthn idk is plotting to do something terrible to reader because she is seen as a threat, so he has to help her. But when he meets up with reader, he has to double take because surely not?? Reader is girly, pretty and decked out in hot pink + zebra print combo. (If you catch my vibe) Bro was expecting a 45+ incredibly wise, gruff man to be this apparent yokai master not this random girl?? Thank you in advance 💕💕

I hope this is okay!! it made me want to replay the first game again dfghgfd

It’s not the kind of thing that can be explained to someone who’s never experienced it. A pull in Venoct’s chest— a thread that drags him forward, from the yokai world back into the midst of humanity. Some nights, it’s annoying; he has other things he could be doing. The inexplicable ties to the yokai watch are nothing but a distraction.

On nights like this, though, he should probably be glad it makes his job a little easier.

“This way, this way!” Springdale is covered in the thick, swirling fog that signals Terror Time— the air is split with the roar of an angry oni intent on eating whoever is walking through nightmares, and Venoct doesn’t have any time to assess the person he’s rescuing. All he can do is trust that ache in his chest brought him to the right person.

Keen eyes finally catch sight of the door that materializes in the dark; Venoct slides to a halt, nimble fingers catching on the ethereal frame and dragging the door open. There’s a flash of light, a pulse of energy, a sigh of relief from a voice he doesn’t know, and Terror Time dissipates.

All at once, the night is far too quiet. The air is crisp and clear as it invades his lungs, and the ringing roar of the nightmare oni has been replaced with the loud buzzing of cicadas in trees.

Even a seasoned yokai needs a moment to readjust after adrenaline-fueled escapes, so Venoct is caught up for a moment, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. A strange energy thrums through his body as well; he can’t usually say he’s nervous, but he also can’t remember the last time he interacted with a human. Besides, if Mckraken is scared of the person with the yokai watch, they must be very—

—pink? 

“You’re— not—”

“What you were expecting? Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” Absently, you spin the dial on your yokai watch, the hands ticking rapidly as they spin. You don’t even sound winded, after that chase through the town, and Venoct tries to bury the baffled amusement that bubbles in his chest. The young man— well, the yokai— in front of you tilts his head and narrows his eyes. For yet another moment in his long unlife, Venoct is glad most people can’t see him. 

He doesn’t want to be seen next to you.

Venoct’s face scrunches up as his gaze travels your body. You’re very— well, pink, as he’d first noticed. And a lot shorter than he’d been expecting. And— a girl. Very much a girl. Mckraken is scared of this—?

“Are you going to keep staring, or did you actually need something?” Your voice bursts through his thoughts, and Venoct isn’t sure he likes the way his heart turns in his chest. He scoffs back at you, arms crossed, the serpentine heads on his scarf snapping vaguely at the air around him.

“You’re not the hero type,” he states plainly. His gaze pointedly narrows on your shoes— as bright as the rest of you, they glow whenever you take a step, and he can’t help but assume that might be what really set the oni off before the chase. “Just because you have the watch doesn’t mean you’re the kind of person I’ve been looking for.”

“Oh, shut up,” you snort back, planting your hands on your hips. “Yeah, you may’ve saved me this one time, but I seem to recall defeating Slimamander by myself.”

Venoct falls silent at that; no wonder the big, ugly yokai had come slinking back home the other day. And a girl did that—?

He must’ve taken too long to respond, because you’re turning on your heel and waving at him as you begin to walk. “Well, thanks for the help— I’m on a time limit, though.” You hold the yokai watch up in a way that almost seems like a challenge, the glass dome glinting in the moonlight. “I’m sure I’ll see you again. It looks like this thing attracts trouble.”

There it is again, that tug in his chest. Most yokai had assumed it was a big, important deal to feel such a draw to wherever the watch is on Earth; now that he knows it attaches him to you, though, Venoct isn’t sure how he feels about that “honor.” His heart hasn’t pounded this hard for centuries. “—I just saved you. Are you calling me trouble?”

“Only if it means I’ll see you again.”

[skojukebox]

Stayed up really late last night and watched Noroi: The Curse (2005). It had to be done.

This is a found footage film, but not in the style of most you would find in America; it's not a video tape of people walking around a haunted house or the woods for an hour and a half. There's very little blood, violence, or gimmicky camera tricks. Instead, Noroi is a sort of compiled media collage. The primary section is a film shot by fictional horror/paranormal documentarian Masafumi Kobayashi who is slowly pulled into a web of strange happenings surrounding the disappearance of a young psychic child and the seeming haunting of actress Marika Matsumoto.

Interspersed with the documentary are various other programs spliced in which develop the story further. Very accurately recreated Japanese variety shows, news reports, a filming of a talk show... There's a bunch of little things that are very well done that keep the movie throwing curveballs at you. These segments, from what I've read, feature the actual hosts those shows would have which is pretty interesting. Similarly, the aformentioned Marika Matsumoto is an actress that's in a bunch of stuff (nerds may know her best as the japanese voice of Rikku) just playing herself which gives another weird meta-layer of reality to this.

The most difficult portion of Noroi is the beginning. There's some good stuff in there that is quite creepy, but it takes a good 30-40 minutes before threads start to begin to get tied together. Before that, it really does feel like a bunch of odd things are being thrown at you and it can be a little hard to follow. Out of curiosity I looked at others talking about this movie online and a pretty common criticism is "nothing happens." I believe a lot of people who say that just kind of just switched off during this portion of the film. I don't entirely blame them, but that's still a very disingenuous criticism.

Around the halfway point, Masafumi's investigations all begin to revolve around a flooded village and a demon called the Kagutabe. This is when it really starts to hit a stride and the mystery and intrigue are what carries it the rest of the way rather than raw in your face scares (though there are a few of those). This portion of the movie is one of, if not the best found footage stuff I've ever seen.

I am somewhat mixed on the ending. In a movie which is fairly low on the violence spectrum of things, stuff gets kinda spiked in the last five minutes and suddenly things get very raw and physical. Part of me doesn't entirely like that, but another part of me acknowledges it was the ending it needed and it does manage to be one of the most harrowing scenes in the whole thing.

Overall this was easily the best movie I've seen this year. The director went on to make a few other interesting-looking movies I want to poke my head into in the future. I'm on a bit of a j-horror kick at the moment, dunno if that will hold up or I'll switch it up next time...

[spellboundheartsaga]

Hearts of Bronze: Building Cultures

I like to think of myself as a creative person who can come up with completely new and fresh ideas that in no way real world things but that is honestly not accurate. Now that I'm no longer young and naive about where my ideas come from I have fully accepted and embraced using real world references.

It really started off with names. I don't like to use common everyday names in my fantasy worlds like John or Jane. There's nothing wrong with doing it. Sometimes a familiar name next to wildly unrealistic concepts is a really interesting juxtaposition and a lot of writers explore this relationship. It's just not my jam.

I wanted names that were unique to my worlds but I began to notice that all my names sounded the same. That's fine if all your characters are from the same country/region but I tend to write about things happening in big cities or empires, or journeys across continents. It's a ton of fun picking names out for major characters and reoccurring side characters but stories are filled with NPCs that are only mentioned in passing (I mean, I guess in a story they're all NPCs, but I do have a gaming and DnD background so in my head, that's how I refer to the minor characters that may only get a line or two. I often still name them because I think it helps me fill in the world and add dimension).

I now use things like fantasynamegenerator.com because it has the high fantasy names but it also has generators for real world names. Some of these are too commonplace to appeal to me but some are pretty unusual. I pick a real world culture and use that to inspire names for a specific country or culture in my story. This way characters of he same region have a subtle thread that ties them together and outsiders stand out.

In Hearts of Bronze, I have Khem and Carthago as two rival desert countries and the empty desert between them is the main location for the story. My refugees are from a Northern country called Aethel, that was defeated and absorbed by one of their rivals (haven't named the conquerors yet as they will not be a player in the story).

I am using ancient Egypt as an inspiration point for Khem, Phoenicia for Carthago, and Rome for Aethel. I call these inspiration points because while I pull references from them, I am not trying to set the story in these locations or be historically accurate to their cultures and traditions.

Having said that, there is a logical reason that the Egyptians dressed the way they dressed and built their homes in specific styles. Loose, linen clothing would be comfortable in the hot desert sun and mud brick buildings with thick walls and flat roofs make sense in an environment where the walls insulate and keep the inside of the home cool. There's no need for a steeply pitched roof if it never snows and hardly rains. At night, that becomes very pleasant additional living space if it's flat. You don't put your cooking oven inside your living space when your goal is to keep that area cool.

I'm also looking to historical references to add some realism to the technology of my world. Yes, there's magic and that will change significant parts of my cultures and their daily lives. But, it helps me to have a baseline and then consider how that changes society. In this story, I'm looking around 700-ish BCE. We're into the Iron Age but bronze is still commonly seen in weapons and tools. Steel is exceedingly rare. One of my mistakes already is thinking that archers would have been standard but as I research the Roman army of this time period, they actually had slings as their long range weapons. I hadn't at all considered dedicated spear men in addition to swordsmen but this was a staple for them. A massive part of my story is he founding of a whole new city, taking a dried up oasis and starting from scratch. I don't know how many fields a city needs to grow enough food or how the city would be laid out given that it is totally planned and not developing organically over time.

Which is why I'm now at my local library reviewing reference books on ancient Egypt and Rome. I'll use their traditional clothing to inspire my world's fashions. If the terms are obscure enough, I'll straight borrow them. I'm not ashamed of my references. I'm also looking at how their cities were laid out to add realism to my own. My Aethelians will try to build their new homes in the style of their homeland but that's not going to be livable in a new environment. Part of my story's drama is them making mistakes and learning to adapt. To do that, it helps to know how an Ancient Roman's home would look like and how that differs from those in Ancient Egypt.

How do you develop your cultures and countries?