#what am i even seeing here (i know i know its a rhetorical question)

[melodious-tear]

*SIGH*

[historicity-was-already-taken]

I hate what the Israeli government is doing but I'm scared of contributing to the rise in anti-semitism in the US. I'm not Jewish and not super keyed in to anti-semitism. Obviously, anyone talking shit about the Jewish people is someone I should fight, but there are things I should watch out for even when they say "Israel," right? What kind of rhetoric should I be on the lookout for?

What makes this hard, is that there is no collective Jewish take on this. There are some Jews who would tell you that any criticism of Israel is inherently anti-Semitic. There are other Jews who would tell you that Jewish support for the modern state is antithetical to the values at the core of our ethics and faith.

Both of those types of Jewish thinkers follow this blog, as do Jews holding views everywhere in between.

So what I'm going to tell you isn't The Jewish Stance on this, but the stance I've developed as a Modern Jewish historian who also happens to be a Jewish person with leftist politics.

Here is a list of narratives and rhetorical patterns to watch out for:

-individuals or spaces which view jews as inherently unworthy of trust, and require them to consistently prove that they are a "Good Jew"

-rhetoric which continuously singles out Israeli human and civil rights abuses, while failing to hold other states committing equal or much larger scale abuses to the same standards

-speech which implies that the Jews can fit neatly into the role of "white colonizer"

-visual languages which super-impose Nazi imagery over Jewish symbols

-Blood Libel rhetoric, which accuses Israel of using the blood or murdered Palestinian babies for its bread, or harvesting Palestinian organs for the black market. This type of rhetoric has been circulating the western world for literal centuries, and it always ends with Jews being expelled and/or burnt at the stake.

And this is kind of where the classic "I can't define it but I know it when I see it" porn definition comes in. Sometimes someone screaming about "The Zionists" is someone deeply disturbed by, say, the frankly fascistic behavior of Israelis in West Bank Settlements. Sometimes, that person is furious that Jews are asking them to critically examine the role of any or some of the above elements in their speech regarding Israel and Israelis.

Some Jews will weaponize a lot of our traumatic past to silence other Jews, and say that by writing this I am no better than the Jewish Police who rounded up their people for the Treblinka transports. Other Jews will say that by writing any of this, I'm silencing necessary speech regarding the war crimes in Gaza and that I'm complicit in the ongoing ethnic cleansing of Palestinian civilians as a result.

But this is my basic, 101 level response, and it's not going to change.

I really, truly, appreciate your how deeply you care about grasping these issues. If you have any follow-up questions I'd be happy to answer them under similar understandings of username exclusion.

[rose-petles]

Shower sex - S.JY [ 제이크 ]

Warning → Sex, bf jake, use of certain toys, swearing, petnames, bathroom sex, [ Unprotected]

Paring → Jealous!Boyfreind!Jake x Fem!Sub!Reader

Synopsis → Jake sees you pleasuring yourself and as a good boyfriend, he decides to help you out.

As Jake walked through the door he yelled out to you, "Princess? I'm home!"

You usually came running to him, but today was strange you didn't come to hug him. Since he found that odd and walked around, hearing the shower on he sighed as he thought you were just taking a shower.

But as he walked through the apartment, passing by the bathroom, he heard a rather loud moan. Jake gulped, and froze in his spot.

"What the—" He heard it again and decided to see what you were up to.

As Jake gently cracked the door, the moaning became louder. Jake eyes widened at the sight, "Woah."

He saw your hair wet as you pleasured yourself with on your toys, moaning his name in the process.

Jake could feel his buddy stiff up, as he saw you moaning his name. He decided to go to you and help you, and his buddy, of course.

You obviously didn't know Jake was home so when the curtain swone open you gasped. "AHHH!! Fuck Jake you can't do that."

Jake smirked, "i came home long time baby.. guess you didn't hear me.. anyways.. but damn princess, I never knew i had a slut for a girlfriend."

He looked at your pussy, "Look at this pussy, its drippin' all over the tub.. all because of a stupid fuckin' toy huh?" He started to unbuckle his belt, tossing it aside.

"I.. J-Jake not 'cause of toy.." you whined, "i-l.. missed you."

Jake smirked, "yeah? M'You missed me?"

"Mmm, Couldn't even wait for mommy huh?" He pushed down his trousers, then stepped into the bath tub.

"The question is." He held your chin making you look at his, "..Were you really missin' me or my cock Princess?"

You grip onto his shirt, "Both Yunjin, both." You said before pulling him down to your height and kissing her.

You guys made out, and obviously Jake took dominance over the kiss. She pulled away, causing a string of sliva to connect you both by the mouth.

He chuckled, "You needy slut.."

When Jake normally caught you jerking off or just using one of the adult toys he was more kind and gentle with you. He found it a turn on of you imagining her fuckin' you as you moaned his name.

It was such a turn on for him to know that you liked to moan his name as you pleasured yourself off with your adult toy that he got you.

So thats how you ended up pressed against the bathroom wall with Jake’s dick pounding into you from behind.

He was still jealous as you were still using something else than him to pleasure yourself. But other than that he wondered how much times you imagined him fucking you.

So he decided to ask you instead, "Do you normally fantasise of me fucking you, even if am at work? Or just not home.?"

He asked in a soft and hushed tone as if he isn't rearranging your insides with her big cock, pushing you to your limits.

"Uhuh.. mghh, I-, hah, think about you, a-ah, all the t-time, Jake." Your words came out in between moans but that only fuels his arousal.

They way his lips curve into a wide smirk knowing that you pleasure yourself off to your imaginaries with him, "F-fuck. You imagine my cock inside your little tight cunt when I'm not even here?" He askes rhetorically.

He starts to thrush into you harder and harder as the tip of his fat cock touched a certain stop inside of you.

"B-but.. f"hmm you know that size is way smaller than my own dick.. love.." he mentions and continues.

"J-Jake." You choke your words out with his hips growing faster in pace.

He puts his head in the corner of your neck you can feel his cock head go deeper and deeper into you, her thrusts were calculated, it more passionate. "I know princess, I know.." she coos against your neck.

His words so such an opposite of her thrusts, "You missed this right..?" You felt and he grasps your hips tighter. "You missed how I treat this fucking fat pussy huh..?"

Your neck arches as you toss your head back and you feel his fingers squeeze onto one of your hands whilst he presses it down into the walls.

Moaning quiet little babbles in agreement to his soft-spoken yet lewd words, your cunt gushes around his aching cock, almost invitingly encouraging her to continue talking like that.

You loved his dirty talk.

And who is he to ignore such encouragement?

Pressing against your ear again, he starts fucking you a little slower but noticeably harder, "Agh... Missed you too, pretty girl. Hah, missed how you," he emphasises that word with a heavier thrust,

"Takes me so fuckin' well, shit."

Then he moans into your ear and you think you can just cum at the sound alone. So clear and provocative, echoing in your ear and making your mind go blissfully blank.

"Ha-ah... ngh, J-Jakey, I... mmh.." You moan as his cock splits you open so deliciously.

Hell, that's all you could do.

He was pinning you to the wall completely as he drags hus cock almost all the way out of your twitching pussy just to give you a seconds rest.

Not that it really helped as he slipped her dick right back into you, his jaw dropping and a filthy moan leaving his wet lips at the way your cunt feels so utterly soaked and warm wrapped around his cock.

Not after long you reached your peak, "J-jake!! I'm gonna..!"

You came all over his dick, as well as clenching around her, aswell as milking him out in the process.

"F-fuck." He pulled out, the mixed cum running down your thigh.

"That was amazing luv." He mumbled as he took your washing sponge and started to wash you off.

→ A few hours later

You were cuddled in his arms. You guys wearing matching pyjamas as he was on his phone and he was dozing off to sleep on his chest.

You felt as he shifted you guys. He had laid you on top of himself, "I love you jakey.." you yawned.

"I love you too princess.." Jake said as he kissed the top of your head before dozing of to sleep with you.

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Copyright © 2024 rose-petle/Rostle. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.

[toxycodone]

i want swansea to finger me. i ❤️ fat men

ship. swansea x reader

content. fingering, reader is gender neutral but they do kinda ride his face

Jesus Christ.

Swansea’s had enough of this. Pony Express in general has always been on his ass, making him scoff and roll his eyes at every idiotic new rule or exception they make with hauls. But this one really takes the cake.

Having his fellow crewmate spread eagle on his work bench is fucking ridiculous.

Why do they keep hiring young people? He supposes it’s because they’re cheap, and this company’s the most penny pinching business in the game. But the costs surely outweigh the benefits.

They’re stupid, inexperienced. They can’t keep it their pants, and the effects of the haul start doing numbers on their psyche much quicker that the others. The tension between you two was palpable. Swansea could see the way you eye fucking him clear as day despite all his attempts to keep you focused on work at hand.

Fuck it. He huffs. He’ll take care of this himself. He’s not dying to some stupid mistake you make because you’re two busy imagining getting your guts rearranged to actually focus.

“Can’t believe this shit…”

Swansea hisses. His thick fingers trail down the expanse of your thigh, causing you to shudder.

Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh? He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so preoccupied with annoyance. But he can’t fully blame you. Swansea’s been there before. The hormones pumping through your body are begging you to fuck. Going without a good orgasm is torture to someone your age.

Good thing he’s here. A rugged, experienced individual like him. Yeah. Making a young thing like you fall apart on his fingers will be a piece of cake. You probably don’t know any better, anyways. Years of experience have polished him into quite the lover.

The thick callouses on his fingers force your thighs open, spreading your sex out in clear view. Swansea tsks, trying to fight back the heat that flares through his body at the sight.

“Not only do I gotta watch over you. Show you the ropes, keep you from killing yourself every ten damn seconds—but I gotta get you off too? The fuck does Pony Express think I am, some kind of prostitute?”

The least they could do is give him a raise. Fucking cheapskates. They probably think putting some young, hot piece of ass glued to his hip is a favor for him. Fuck it, they should’ve just been transparent and invested in a barracks bunny. It would save him the constant headache of having to train you.

“You better not take this for granted, kid. Once you’re spent, I’m expectin’ you to work twice as hard next shift.”

It’s a serious declaration. You better haul ass once he’s done this for you. Swansea’s large hand hovers right near where you want him. You feverishly nod in agreement. Whatever it takes to get those digits inside you as soon as possible.

“Good. Lay back and enjoy this, ‘cause I ain’t doin’ it often.”

He would, though. If you asked again. Swansea’s hand moves down the expanse of your thigh, settling over your sex. He trails his thumb down your outer lips a few times, humming in acknowledgement at the wetness that coats your pubes and spreads from his movements.

“Already wet too? God, you’re easy. Or have you been waitin’ for a chance like this?”

His question is rhetorical, obviously, because the way his thumb starts to round your clit has you throwing your head back—blocking any answer that would’ve come out. Swansea knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s had his wife spread like this plenty of times, so it only takes a few movements and studying your facial expression before he finds what pressure and movements have you grinding back into his touch. He’s even sure to pay attention to the underside of clit, poking the sensitive head from its hood just enough to make you jump.

The attention makes you embarrassingly wet. Just from the older man stroking your sensitive bud, he’s already got your hips bucking and wanton moans leaving your lips. Is this how guys feel when they jerk off? Because the way Swansea’s got you coming apart with ease has you inching closer and closer with each passing second.

And when he stops, you whimper. It’s pathetic. But you’re too damn horny to give a shit at this point. Being stuck on the Tulpar has left you at the mercy of your own hand and imagination. Having someone else touch you for once is electrifying.

“Don’t bitch.” Swansea commands gruffly, adjusting himself in his work chair. You notice there's a gentle flush to his cheeks, but his eyes remain focused on your bottom half. His fingers stroke your slit again. The way he’s eyeing the slick that coats it is a little embarrassing—as if he’s assessing something. His middle finger pushes past your entrance, and at the sign of little resistance, the older man smirks. He adds his index finger in the midst of the third stroke, but keeps the pace slow.

Good Lord, his fingers are thick. Almost as thick as he is. They’re rough, thoroughly calloused from years of working with his hands. You can feel that texture on your inner walls as they split you open. Swansea’s thrusting them into you slowly still, but deliberate. Yes, he’s trying to get you closer and closer to that pending orgasm, but—

A choke moan escapes your lips when he finds it, that one spot inside you that makes your stomach drop.

“Right there, eh?” He’s smirking.

Those wide fingers curl around your g-spot, hitting it just right with each movement of his hand. He’s relentless, thumping against the area and speeding up his strokes. Your eyes roll back, vision blurred by stars as your orgasm comes tumbling towards you.

And you think that’s it, but the feeling of stubble against your thigh has you second guessing. Before you know it, Swansea’s lips seal around your slit. His other arm wraps around your thigh, fingers resting above your slit and pulling upwards to make the bud poke out at him for easier access. Your own hips involuntarily start to buck and grind against the older man’s face, smearing a mix of slick and saliva over his mouth and nose as you fuck yourself against it.

You cum quicker than you ever had in your life on his face. Never, ever have you been more thankful for Utility being so secluded from other parts of the ship. The sounds you make echo from the walls as you tense up and shudder. Vibrations from Swansea chuckling between your thighs make you whine as he continues to fuck you through your own release.

Your chest rises and falls with shaky pants as you fall limp onto the cold steel of the bench. With a hazy mind tingling body, you lie there, trying to recollect yourself after your superior just made you cum like that.

Swansea, ever so eager to stay on task, kicks back from the workbench, idly licking his fingers clean.

“Now you better pull yourself together, kid. We gotta job to do, y’hear?”

He tosses your clothes from the floor back at you. You take a few moments to gather yourself, before attempting to straighten things up. Swansea’s left the Utility room now—likely on the way to the bathroom to wash his own hands and start on his next task.

But on reflection, before you can tug your pants back on and get to work, you notice something off.

Your underwear’s gone.

(And somewhere, Swansea’s enjoying his new prize.)

[iiotic]

TWO WRONGS, DONT MAKE IT RIGHT, AFTERALL

summary: your relationship with wanderer is complicated, friends? friends with benefits? partners? enemies? definitely not the last one, yet you don't know the answer to that question.

tw: modern au, female reader, swearing, suggestive, ooc wanderer?? sexual topics, wanderer is taller than you, not proff read, lowercase intended, poorly written, cringe, if you'll find more please tell me!! MDNI | wc: 1.4k

"what are we?" the question hovers your mind hundreds and thousands times already, yet none of you two are brave enough to ask about it. pheraps in wanderers case its his pride?

instead, you just keep everything.. flowing. one time, he'll be as sweet as sugar and the next day he's as cold as ice. it's not the first time you bumped into him him with another woman and its not the first time he caught you flirting with another man.

one day, you're sitting in a cafe across the street from the university. you took a deep breath, scrolling through the social media mindlessly with your head in the clouds as you were lost in your thoughts. until a tall male took a seat infront of you.

a very known tall male with his signature dark blue hair and violet eyes, wearing a black shirt with some sweatpants for today.

"hello there" he greeted you, teasingly.

you looked up at him from your phone, an unpleasant expression formed on your face as you remembered the events that accured last night. as you were coming back from the local library you found him and some random chick making out in an alley way.

you obviously didn't care, why would you? its not any of your business who he fucks. you grumbled a greeting before looking back at your phone again, hoping that he can leave as soon as possible.

he gave you a subtle smile, while scanning your face. you were so lost in your thoughts, staring at your phone, that he was able to take a good look at you without disturbance.

"what's up with that face?" he asked, leaning his back on the chair.

"what's up with you."

his stupid signature smirk formed on his lips. you know him as well as he did with you. he knows your mood. he knows the possibility of whats bugging you inside, and him seeing you frown and pout like this, clearly means something is irritating you. however he decided not to push it.

"nothing much. just thought i'd stop by here." he responded casually. "and see you."

"why don't you stop by somewhere else where your woman is."

"i dont have a woman." he almost chuckled at your sassy remarks. "though, i do have a date in 30 minutes." he answered bluntly, giving you a glance before focusing his attention on the waitress.

he didn't look like he was going on a date, more like going to dig trash to find something to eat, but then not finding anything and starving to death.

"even better, how many woman have you seen this month.." you said, it was clearly a rhetorical question. you opened your mouth to say something but a waitress cut you off.

"may i take your order?" you looked at wanderer who seemed deep in thoughts before starting ordering a bunch of things. he stopped and then the waitress turned to you, you quickly dismissed her saying that you don't want anything. she looked confused at first as she thought you guys were on a date but walked away not questioning anything anyway.

"i thought you were going on a date in 30 minutes, why are you ordering so much, hell, why are you ordering anything at all?" you questioned him, clearly irritated by his doing and his presence here.

"i am." he answered bluntly, once again. not adding anything not even looking at you anymore.

the awkward silence accured, nor you nor wanderer saying anything to break it. 15 minutes passed and the food was put on your table, that you booked for yourself tonight, that you were supposed to enjoy alone.

"say, are you jealous that im going on a date?" he said finally breaking the silence, yet at the same time offending you.

"excuse me? i feel bad for all of the hearts that you've broken, these poor woman.." you said defending yourself and feeling pity for all of the females he hooked up with then just leave them feeling worthless, you glared at him as he started laughing, clearly not taking you seriously.

"please, they all know better that im not exactly into commitment. they know im not worth breaking their hearts. they just want to enjoy the ride, one night and nothing more."

"well, have fun with your new date." you said standing up and heading to the door. you heard enough from him, you had enough of him. you didn't care about him nor his sex life, then why did your eyes watered as you waddled to the exit?

"dont be so cold like that, im hurt!" he yelled, chuckling. that were the last words you heard from him before leaving the building.

why did the truth hurt? why did you care? why were you crying right now? your making messed up as you waited for your taxi to your apartment. yet deep down you knew that you're just as bad as he is, just as terrible as his actions; you thought as you rode the taxi driver, desperately needing a stress reliever.

the morning after yesterdays incident of bumping into eachother, you found yourself in bed with another man. was it the taxi driver? you thought, before leading him to the front door in only his boxers. the answer was positive. you kicked him iut of the house, before seeing that there's a package in front of your front door that he almost stepped on.

quickly picking it up and closing the door behind you, ignoring the taxis driver screams. you walked into your kitchen, looking for the scissors to open it. the package was medium size, not too small yet big enough to fit a cat.

you slowly, precisely opened the package not knowing whats inside. it didn't have a label on it, it could've been a bomb but you were met with a small box with a muffin from the cafe you were at yesterday, it was your favourite in fact and an small piece of paper that had something written on it.

"read your messages"

thats it? nothing more? just read your messages? you pulled out your phone to find 8 unread messages from kuni, 7 of the first ones were deleted, the latest one saying "sorry ig"

it was so stupid. then why did you caught yourself smiling at the sight? maybe you'll forgive him or maybe you've already forgave him.

if you were so mad at him then why did you talk with him the entire evening?

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

this is so cringe, might delete it later

[academically-stupid]

Avalon | Prologue

poly!bts x male!reader | vampire!AU | reader x vampire!bts | ot7 x male!reader

Caught one night when bathing in the river by his home M/n is taken by a group of men. Realising the situation he has found himself in, M/n's number one priority is getting out of there alive. Easier said than done when you've got to get past seven bloodthirsty and ridiculously horny vampires hellbent on making him their newest blood bag.

A/N: I got inspired while reading @colormepurplex2 's series, so go show her some support!! This is my first fic so pls give me advice or write if you notice any mistakes. Yess DPR IAN is my face claim for M/n, I love this man too much. Thank you thank you, enjoy!

His hands trembled as he followed the black-haired man down the hallway, thoughts running and changing faster than his mind could keep up with. Was this it? Was this where his life would end? Not that there was much of a life to begin with, but he had so many things he had yet to do, so many sights and places he hoped he would one day be able to see, even if only for a moment.

Stopping in front of a large oak door he paused, leaving a good distance between him and his kidnappers, just what did they want with him? If they were going to kill him then do it already? Why make him wait, why prolong the inevitable?

The man in front of him sighed, causing him to freeze up. Shit. Did he say something? Has he somehow made his situation even worse by making it seem as though he had not been listening, choosing to actively ignore the all-powerful man in front of him? The man who held his very life in the palm of his hands, free to do with it as he pleased. Free to end it any way he wanted. 

“You know," he said, looking back at him "for someone who doesn’t speak, you sure do have a lot to say”. Turning around he opened the door, with the taller man begrudgingly following shortly behind.

Beautiful. Truly whoever had decorated this building- this mansion- deserved the highest of praise. Deep maroon walls surrounded him, the colour seeming to match the aura of the brooding man before him. Only one window seemed visible, and even then, the curtains that hung from the high ceilings, cascading like a bloody waterfall, seemed to cover what little light managed to fight its way through.

“Well, are you going to come in or am I going to have to pull you in here myself?” Was all he said, cocking his head slightly, as though giving him a choice. Quickly he shuffled in as fast as his feet could make him. The illusion of a choice

Sure he didn’t really think this would in any way put a stop to his inevitable doom, but maybe listening to them would make the end less painful. Even if it sounded stupid in his head, the idea of there being even the slightest chance at a painless end spurred him to bite his tongue and do as the men told him.

Sitting down on the bed that stood in the middle of the room, the centrepiece, the man gestured to the space in front of him. Too close. He wanted him far too close for his liking. But what choice did he have? 

Begrudgingly he slowly made his way towards the man. Though perhaps he was too slow because the next thing he knows he’s being pulled by the arm, tripping over his own feet, falling to his knees in front of a now annoyed vampire. Shit.

A rhetorical question. He was obviously not expecting an answer from the man kneeling before him who had yet to say a single word. Did he not know that staying silent was useless, that he could hear his thoughts over the span of an entire forest? The very thing that got him into this situation in the first place? 

‘No’ Yoongi thought to himself, letting out a deep breath of frustration. There had to be more to it.

Of all the people Namjoon could have chosen from, why had it been him who was stuck on babysitting duty? No, babysitting was the wrong word for his current situation. The way that the man in front of him carried himself. The way he kept his legs tucked underneath him, hands clasped together on his thighs, the slight tremble visible only to the perseptive eyes of him and his brothers.

This felt closer to pet sitting if anything. He had not been blind to the way that he always kept a safe distance between himself and any of the guys in the house. Sighing he got up, for once having enough of the silence. The man was quick to jump to his feet. Whether to fight, run or hide Yoongi wasn’t certain.

"Stay here," he said walking towards the door he just came from. He had heard the front door open and close shut, signaling the return of the others. "I'll be right back, and I think we both know it would be in your best interest to stay put."

And with that, the door was closed. Sealing yet another victims fate.

Yet something kept bother Yoongi, as he walked down the corridor towards his brothers study, where the rest of them were bound to already be lounging about.

Why was this new humans scent so enticing? Was it even healthy for a living breathing human being to smell that much like death? Whatever it was Yoongi knew they were going to figure it out, with or without your cooperation.

One thing was for sure though;

This was gonna be a pain.

[cozymoko]

Alright no problem.

A category I would like is the upper rank demons. Thank you.

MODERN AU! YANDERE UPPER MOONS (some)

REQUEST: Upper Moons s/o grows distant from them. Then they start talking to someone new via their phone. It's implied or shown that they're gaining feelings for the person in the phone. Later, the yandere finds out.

Includes: Akaza, Douma, Gyutaro, Koukushibo

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, weird ass writing

AKAZA

Akaza has watched you enter your password thousands of times, so, of course, he knows it by heart. However, he never felt a need to go through your phone despite how viciously his curiosity gnawed at his restraint. He trusted you undoubtedly though it was foolish to do so.

The poor soul; betrayal is truly a curse. A brisk gleam had piqued his interest and he wish it hadn't. He wants so badly to not believe his eyes, praying for a means of deception or even a facade. All the lies about who you were texting, and who you were with had to be true! He could not fathom you doing such a thing, slicing him so deeply with what felt like the sharp-edged end of a blade.

His actions after were merely on impulse — on rage and desire even. Yet he did not feel an ounce of remorse. He was unable to sympathize with the person who tore you away, and instead dwelled in the satisfaction their death had brought him.

⠀⠀WORK HAD BEEN especially tiring that evening. Fatigue had wracked your body like a dangerous drug, rendering you with little desire to move. Alas, you had to make it home. Your phone had died, leaving you no source of contact with the one who had slowly captured your heart.

⠀⠀Once you got home you were greeted with a comfortable silence. It wasn't all that strange seeing how Akaza enjoyed working well into the night, and getting off earlier left you a few hours at your disposal. You were quick to dive into the white duvet of your mattress, relishing in its warmth. A nap had followed suit with your phone set securely at your bedside, powered off, as you gleefully waltzed into a land of undiscovered dreams.

⠀WHAM!

⠀⠀You jumped at the abrupt sound. It was loud and left you quite concerned for the condition of your door's hinges. Nonetheless, you hastily descended down the short flight of steps as your bewildered hues were quick to meet his own only a mere inch from the entrance.

⠀⠀“You're home?” A rhetorical question. “Where were you out so late?”

⠀⠀Your inquiry was more off instinct rather than anything else, but the quick flashing of the clock had proved you right. It read, “3:00 am”; four hours past his usual time of arrival. It hadn't bothered you too much, though it was very unlike him.

⠀⠀You sighed at his lack of response. Another thing that was out of character. You approached him in calm yet confident strides. However, the closer you drew, a familiar scent wafted at your nose; metallic like pure polished iron. It made you sick. Your brows furrowed in mild concern as his current state struck you with great worry.

⠀⠀There wasn't any blood that you could see. But the scent was pungent, so much so that it had begun to cloud your senses.

⠀⠀“Hey, Akaza, are you okay—”

⠀⠀“Are they...better than me?” He was quick to cut you off with a biting tone. It brought a shiver down your spine as it was the coldest you'd heard from him. “Answer me.”

⠀⠀Choking on your words you stutter out a response, “Wha...what do you m-mean?”

⠀⠀His sharp eyes narrowed into slits, nearly lacerating you into two. “I saw them.” He continued. “The messages.”

⠀⠀As though it were second nature, your hand ghosted over your pocket in slight desperation, feeling for your phone. But it wasn't there. You were sure you grabbed it and the thought of losing it had instantly soured your mood. Patting, digging, tugging on your pockets but to no avail. It was gone and you had no clue as to where it could be.

⠀⠀“W...here...”

⠀⠀Looking up at Akaza he wasn't the slightest bit impressed. He reached into his pocket, taking the device in his hand. The device you'd recognized as your own. “Looking for this thing?”

⠀⠀A sickening CRUNCH! resonated through your shared apartment; loud and wretched to your ears. Your phone had clattered to the floor and with it the contents it had once held. You struggled to swallow the bile crawling up your throat, plunging to your knees with a harsh thud.

⠀⠀“You won't be needing that anymore. I have a feeling that ‘friend’ of yours is no longer with us.”

DOUMA

Indeed, he is quite favored amongst nearly every person he's come across. Darling, look at him. Even so, his attention remained on you from the beginning to the very end. Thus he's rather confused; why are you going behind his back?

Surely you must know Douma is no fool, for he knew about your little conversation from the start. Yet it fascinated him. This searing pain in his chest, bubbling and boiling with an unrecognizable emotion — could it be agitation? He asked himself. Nonetheless, it was only welcomed for such a short time before he no longer desired its presence.

Jealousy is such a pain; but he's not heartless, darling! I jest — he absolutely is! It'd be best to listen to him while he's playing nice because knowing him, he'd much rather give you an ultimatum than simply mutilate your little mistress or maistre. However, you can never be too sure.

⠀⠀THAT EVENING Douma had dragged you to the basement of your shared home, much to your dismay, claiming there was a surprise awaiting you. You'd thought nothing of it as he was always quick to shower you with anything you could ever ask for. But if given the opportunity you'd run like your life depends on it. Not for any particularly reason.

⠀⠀Though this time it was different. He had a strange skip in his step that made your heart quiver. Not many things in this life made his heart squeal with joy, or even jump for the matter, so what could've possibly done it now? The sheer thought of finding out made you all the more uneasy.

⠀⠀Something wasn't right.

⠀⠀Squeaky hinges were quick to interrupt your peace as they cried out under the weight of Douma's hand. Upon opening, a foul scent hit you like a harsh slap in the face, nearly causing you to gag at its intensity. Instinctively, your hand shot from your side and to your nose, but it did very little to ease its pungency.

⠀⠀You glance to your side and shockingly enough, Douma wasn't fazed in the slightest. He looked bored rather, as he silently waited for you to collect yourself. Though not for long.

“Ah~, it's a shame. You don't like it do you?” Douma whined. “Getting my hands dirty is no fun, even when it's for you, yknow!”

⠀⠀The sight of the mutilated corpse made your heart stammer. It was subtly rotting, suggesting its time in this place. The features adorning it were all too familiar. The realization had dawned on you far too late. The one who made you happy. Who comforted you on endless occasions. Who loved you He killed him.

⠀⠀Douma twirled the man's phone between his fingers before huffing loudly, successfully acquiring your attention. “You've been texting me for the past week and my, my, I wasn't expecting that behavior from you in the slightest~!”

⠀⠀Why hadn't you noticed it before?

⠀⠀That week his (not Douma's) responses struck you as somewhat abnormal but you'd merely presumed it was a figment of your imagination. The increasingly flirty texts that you so foolishly played along with would soon become your downfall.

⠀⠀“Don't cry now, dear,” Nimble fingers dig themselves into the softness of your cheeks, making you pucker up like a fish. “I'm sure you never thought about how I felt seeing you go behind my back so often.”

⠀⠀“So don't be so selfish.”

KOUKUSHIBO

Kokushibo, more formally known as Michikatsu, has never been a confrontational man. Yes, he indeed found your strange actions to be interesting. His strong infatuation proved such.

Being the attentive man he is, Kokushibo was quick to notice your peculiar actions regarding that phone. The field of giggles that would often slip past them. The long nights you spent staring at its flashing screen instead of attending to him who was at your side. The times you sneak out with no regards

Kokushibo had followed you, for his curiosity had truly bested him. He's always been number one no matter where he went. Thus he can no longer feign maturity. He had grown desperate for your attention and time. The demon could no longer lay restless at night, dreaming of you being held in another man's arms.

⠀⠀THE TRUTH was on the tip of your tongue just waiting to be told. His stare shook you to the core, leaving you fearful and uneasy. You shifted on the balls of your feet in anticipation, hurriedly waiting for him to break the silence.

⠀⠀You had gotten all dolled up for your scheduled night of rendezvous, expecting to slip into the night like a ghost as you always did. But of course that wasn't an option, not today. For a man who you once called your lover was seated on the couch with a thick book tucked beneath his fingertips, as waited for you to make an appearance.

⠀⠀And you did not disappoint.

⠀⠀“What've you been up to?” He had asked, a simple question that required a simple answer. You were an adult so it couldn't have been a problem, right?

⠀⠀Right?

⠀ WRONG.

⠀⠀“I...I was just...” You cursed under your breath at your useless stammering, opting to grip the end of your shirt to provide some solace. “Going out...I was just going out...”

⠀⠀“Where?”

⠀⠀Your knees trembled, ready to give out under your weight any moment now. Something about his gaze made your stomach churn. It was so kind and yet very knowing, as though he was well aware of the late-night endeavors you partook in. And yet he could not look at you with anything more than love and true understanding. You felt guilty.

⠀⠀You had caved and crumbled to your knees, begging him for forgiveness. You'd never felt so weak. So stupid. Deceiving such a kind man who would never do anything to hurt you or those around you (that's not true). He even feigned obliviousness to your terrible actions when he had the choice not to.

⠀⠀Kokushibo swept you into his arms, carefully rubbing smooth circles into your back. Your nails dug into the soft fabric of his kimono, searching for comfort within his arms. A faint smirk grazed his lips. You truly were perfect, always making his job easy for him. He hardly had to lift a finger!

⠀⠀Nothing ever gets past him. No one will ever take you away.

⠀⠀“Forgive me for what I've done, but it'd be best that you do not contact that person any longer.” He presses his lips to the shell of your ear . “They're gone.”

[niki-phoria]

Hello there! If its okay can you do gn neutral reader x Chishiya,so the scenario is Chishiya seeing his campus crush on borderland and they are the new excutive member who is sarcastic, kind but mean as a joke and pretty intelligent and THEY ARE REALLY REALLY ATTRACTIVE.I hope it's not much if you do it, it will be a another motivation for me to shift tysm!

xiao's love of doctor chishiya gifs returns

pairing: chishiya x gn!beach executive!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff, comfort (??) word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda ooc chishiya, reader gets shot with an arrow (non descriptive), mentions of blood, implication of stitches, the person helping reader is supposed to be tatta but i couldn't figure out to bring it up (my boy deserves better), niragi, poor depiction of the beach executive scene, niragi, i am a niragi hater and a dori lover until the day i die, tumblr glitched and the original post i wrote for this didn't save and it scared the shit out of me lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i couldn't really figure out how to add reader being chishiya's campus crush so it just starts with them knowing each other lmao. thank you for being so descriptive with reader's personality that's super helpful i hope you like it :))

additional note: i'm almost at 500 followers (HUGE thank you btw that's crazy) and i was thinking of doing an event thing ?? but i'm not sure if anyone would be interested so lmk ig lmao

requests are open !! read my rules first

“y/n?” you perk up at the familiar voice, quick to leave your conversation with ann and mira. 

“chishiya!” he stands with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a white jacket. he’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and sandals. you can barely see his wristband from where the sleeve of his jacket ends. “i can never get rid of you, can i?” you tease.

“i suppose not.” chishiya leans back against the wall, a little uncomfortable at the stares of the other beach members in the room. 

sensing his discomfort, you glance over your shoulder at them. “ah, i should give you a tour. have you picked a room yet?” 

“i was hoping you could help with that.” 

you tug chishiya along with you, guiding him through the different areas of the beach. 

your shoulders brush against each other as you sit by the pool, dunking your legs in the cold water. “how long have you been here?” you ask. 

“just a few days,” chishiya replies. “i’m still not entirely sure what’s going on.” 

you glance behind you over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a whisper. “you know about the visas and the cards?” he nods, subtly leaning in a little closer. “hatter thinks we’ll be able to send someone back to the normal world once we collect all of the cards.”

“you don’t think so?” 

you sigh. “i’m not sure. we only have a few cards right now, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.” despite the pool being completely empty, you lean in even closer to chishiya to whisper in his ear. “i don’t think we can trust the people here.” chishiya shivers. your breath is warm against his neck. he can feel his ears burn slightly when you pull away. 

an unfamiliar feeling settles itself in his stomach. fear? dread? anxiety? you kick small ripplies into the water, slowly reaching over to hold his hand. despite all of the unknowns he’s sure you’ll be forced to confront, chishiya finds comfort in the feeling of your hand in his. 

chishiya paces along the outside of the beach, continuously looking out at the horizon. “waiting for someone?” kuina asks, leaning back against the wall of the hotel. chishiya sighs, knowing her question is rhetorical. 

“y/n’s not back yet.” 

kuina pushes off of the wall, suddenly serious. “they’re not?” he shakes his head, looking out into the darkness again. “well, do you know who they were with during their last game? maybe someone knows something.” 

“i haven’t seen anyone since i came back.” 

“what about the other executives? have you told them?” chishiya doesn’t answer. “there has to be something we can do, right? what about-” 

“hey!” in the distance they can barely see a man struggling to pull someone towards the beach. “help me! i need help!” 

kuina is quick to react, rushing over to the man. chishiya watches her as she runs to meet him, gasping. “chishiya!” she yells. “it’s y/n!” 

he can almost feel the blood in his body go cold. kuina shoves herself underneath your other arm, helping the man pull you to the beach. it feels like the world has stopped - everything frozen at this moment in time. 

after what feels like forever chishiya manages to will his body to move, rushing to you. blood coats your side and jacket, seeping through your shirt. he presses a hand against your wound, supporting your weight. 

“what happened?” he hopes his voice isn’t shaking. 

“they had crossbows,” the man pants. “i had to pull it out but i think it went straight through. i didn’t know what else to do.” 

“chishiya,” you whimper, clutching his body. 

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “it’s gonna be okay.” 

you grunt as he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting your body into his arms. you cling to his body, letting him carry you into the beach’s basement. he gently sets you on a metal table before frantically searching through the room for medical supplies. kuina leans over you, pressing a towel against your side. you wince at the pressure, tears stinging your eyes. 

“sorry,” she whispers. “i’m sorry.” 

chishiya takes over for her soon after, moving the towel to the side. “this is gonna hurt,” he warns. you grab his hand, squeezing it. 

“i trust you.” 

the pain is sharp and sudden. it feels like someone is pressing on your chest, preventing any air from entering your lungs. the ceiling above you blurs into a mix of blue lighting and gray metal before it all goes black and the world disappears. 

the pain has subsided greatly when you wake up. your vision is blurry as you blink a few times, trying to clear your vision. sunlight shines through open curtains, illuminating the hotel room you lay in. it’s clean - cleaner than your room. the sheets feel nice against your skin. 

you grunt, forcing yourself to sit up. your body aches as you lean back against the headboard. the door opens quietly before it closes. a man sighs before he enters. “chishiya?” your voice is raspy when you try to speak. your throat stings. 

“y/n,” chishiya rushes to your side, opening a bottle of water and handing it to you. you gulp it down quickly, desperate for any liquid. “how are you feeling?” 

“sore.” 

chishiya takes the empty bottle, sitting down next to you. he reaches out to grab your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. his voice is quiet when he speaks again. “you really scared me, you know.” 

“about me dying? come on, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” you squeeze his hand. “chishiya,” you whisper. he looks down at you. “i’m okay. you saved me.” 

“i know, i just…” he sighs, staring back down at your hands. you intertwine your fingers together, a silent way of encouraging him to continue. “i can’t lose you. you were back late, and then when you make it here you were hurt. and then you passed out and…” chishiya takes a deep breath, tension from his shoulders relaxing a little. “i don’t want to see you hurt. i love you.” 

“‘shiya,” you bring a hand up to his face, wiping away a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. you lift his chin, forcing him to look at you. “i know everything will be okay as long as i have you. i love you too.” 

chishiya gives you a small smile, pulling your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles. “don’t ever do this to me again.” 

you chuckle. “i won’t. i promise.” 

you pull the chair out between chishiya and niragi, taking your seat at the executives table. arisu stands uncomfortably at the other side of the room, watching you. chishiya raises his hand, waving at him. you playfully elbow his side. “he’s nervous, leave him alone.” 

“i’m just waving,” he retorts. 

“you looked just like him when you got here,” you tease. “give him a break.” 

mira, ann, and kuzuryu sit across from you. on your right, next to niragi, aguni sits at the edge, right next to hatter. 

“we are here to discuss the potential promotion of our very own, arisu!” hatter enthusiastically introduces, pointing over at the man. arisu shifts uncomfortably at the attention. 

niragi scoffs. “are we really trusting him to be an executive?” 

“we’re trusting you to be an executive.” niragi glares at you, reaching for his rifle before ann interrupts. 

“he was able to win a seven of hearts. we haven’t seen that card before.” 

“it’s a seven of hearts,” mira exaggerates. “if arisu was able to win the game, then, we should be able to send someone back to the normal world soon.” 

“she’s right,” kuzuryu says, leaning back in his chair. “heart games are the most difficult.” 

“i vote for promoting him.” you say. under the table, chishiya reaches over to grab your hand. “he won a heart game we’ve never seen before. people have been promoted for less.” 

“why don’t we test him? send him into a game with an executive and see how he operates under the pressure.” ann suggests. hatter points at her, tutting. 

“now that’s a good idea. any objections?” after a few seconds of silence, hatter stands. “perfect! this meeting has been concluded.” 

chishiya’s hand remains in yours as you leave the room, slinking through the various corridors of the hotel you’ve found to a private area. “what are you thinking about arisu?” he asks. 

“he won a heart game and you said he was good in tag. he could be a useful ally.” he hums in agreement. 

the fire burns around you as you re-enter the remains of the hotel you used to call your home. a man stands in the center of what used to be the lobby, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“chishiya?” you call, avoiding the heat as you step closer. he glances over his shoulder at you, picking something up off of the table. you lean over to see what he’s holding. it’s a card. the ten of hearts. 

“you were right, you know,” he says, throwing the card back onto the table. he smiles when you cock your head at him in confusion. “when i first arrived, one of the first things you said to me was that i shouldn’t trust the people here. you were right.” chishiya steps closer, intertwining his hands with yours. “i’m starting to think collecting the cards was pointless after all.” 

the flames around you only grow stronger. “as much as i’d like to bask in your praise, we really need to leave,” you say, reaching over to grab his arm. “let’s go. kuina’s waiting.” he hums, pressing a kiss against your temple as he follows you out.

[smaller-comfort]

Djoseras/Zultanekh Mildly NSFW In the aftermath of the treaty between Ogdobekh and Ithakas, there are still territorial disputes and high tensions on both sides. A wedding between houses from both dynasties will serve to resolve some of that lingering tension. Djoseras might not have chosen to attend such a wedding, ordinarily- but when the invitation comes directly from Zultanekh, how can he refuse?

Yeah like this was gonna happen without a fuckton of notes from me lol let's fuckin goooooooooo

This is my first time participating in an exchange! @ocelly bullied me into it, and I'm grateful for it. XD

I was halfway convinced I was going to default a week before the deadline but I somehow got my shit together at the last minute. December turned into an entire shitshow from start to finish.

I made a few concessions to general fanon around Djoseras here- you can blame his drink preferences on the necron discord server and his hair on various necrontyr fanart conceptions.

My personal headcanon is that Djoseras is asexual and as much of an ascetic pre-biotransference as he is afterwards; his head would've been shaved, and hot water is too spicy. (Oltyx's head is also shaved, entirely out of a desire to imitate his brother.) So this is not actually a pairing I ever thought I was going to write, except in the context of unrequited pining on Zultanekh's part.

I am very glad I did write it, though! It's funny how much this Sanguinalia has had me thinking about Djoseras, when I was originally firmly of the opinion that the books had said all that needed to be said about him.

Zultanekh looks like a Minoan statue- lots of curly hair, big curly beard. Amazing tits. Dedicated service top but willing to do anything Djoseras wants him to do, and generally Short King Djoseras tops.

Zultanekh is weird even by Ogdobekh standards- *especially* by Ogdobekh standards. He and Enashkebet were terrors as children. Zubenakr often threatened to drown them both.

"how will someone guess its your fic" well I WAS going to say probably from all the weddings, but then there were like six wedding fics in the exchange. So now I'm not really sure; I don't know how distinctive my voice actually is relative to other writers in the fandom.

At any rate, I really was very very excited to get these prompts- even before assignments went out, the wedding one was giving me ideas. I was slightly nervous about not quite meeting the prompt exactly, so I'm really glad my recipient was pleased. I had a lot of fun writing it.

I didn't manage a full reread of the books before writing this, but I did go back through most of the necrontyr flashbacks in Ruin and a lot of Zultanekh's scenes in Reign. What we see of Djoseras is largely only through Oltyx's extremely biased memories- or through Zultanekh's extremely biased memories.

Much like Oltyx, my memory of his character after reading Ruin was kind of wonky. I feel a little better about my understanding of him now, but I had to switch around some things in the story for canon compliance. I realize that canon is, at best, a suggestion, but I'm too fond of these books to try and twist too many details.

Djoseras tells Oltyx he made the decision when he went into the furnaces to never stray from the correct and loyal path again; this story is set while he is still conflicted about things, obviously. It may be that biotransference itself is the catalyst for that decision, or maybe it's something that happens between him and Unnas after this story takes place.

I'm still not fully satisfied with the way I wrote the Ogdobekh dialect; Zultanekh in the books doesn't actually use the rhetorical question framing as much as I thought he did. The intent is for third person and rhetorical questions to be markers for the formal register- addressing someone directly can be considered very rude depending on the social standing of the people involved. Zultanekh dropping into the informal/direct mode when he says "I have dreamed of this since Vorronezh" is meant to be impactful, but I'm not sure I pulled it off. He's slightly less formal with Djoseras in general after the wedding, though.

If you think Djoseras would use anything other than vague euphemisms to talk about genitalia, I dunno what to tell you. The word 'cock' has never passed this man's lips. whether or not the thing itself has is another matter entirely

I couldn't get my brain to produce anything fun for the wedding ceremony but, you have to understand, I was raised catholic and my parents got married in the orthodox church. The actual ceremony is not the fun part; the fun part comes after you spend three hours standing and chanting.

The "you have to have a partner" rule from the prompt only gets applied to actual members of the wedding party, who stand in the ritual circle. So if Zultanekh and Djoseras hadn't partnered up, they'd have both been banished to the peanut gallery.

I should've included something about astromantic equations determining the correct number of witnesses for an optimal union. Odd numbers are right out; they were lucky Djoseras and Zultanekh could be paired up without having to add or remove anyone else.

Enashkebet always kicked Zultanekh's ass when they fought as kids. Her threats were genuine.

(Sorry not sorry all my necron/tyr OCs are loud women and their tiny spouses. *facepalm*)

Zubenakr is technically a vitriform noble; her house has been serving the Ogdobekh royal family for generations. Her daughters are all responsible for raising the children of the nobility in the palace; they are also responsible for the deaths of at least a third of those children in infancy. (They all become deathmarks in the war.)

Enashkebet and Imireth have a whole West Side Story forbidden romance going on- intrigue! romance! secret encoded messages! Disapproving family members and direct intervention of the king! Love blooms on the battlefield! A huge amount of diplomacy, bribery, political assassination, regular assassination, and threats of exile went on behind the scenes to make their wedding happen. Enashkebet did a lot of it herself, but Zultanekh was covertly involved.

Meanwhile, Djoseras and Zultanekh themselves are just the romantic comedy B plot.

Zahndrekh and Obyron are also in there somewhere, having a different romantic comedy B plot. I wanted to include them in the wedding feast more explicitly, but ran out of time. (If this were snecrontyr-verse their b-plot wouldn't be romantic comedy, it would actually just be hard-core porn.)

(I haven't decided if Enashkebet and Imireth survive the War In Heaven; if they do, they manage to escape back to Ogdobekh territory after Shadrannar's rebellion, thanks to Djoseras 'accidentally' letting them escape during a battle. If they don't survive, it's probably one of their children who leads the rebellion, and Djoseras still lets them escape.)

I tried to be careful about not having anyone on the Ogdobekh side use explicitly gendered terms when talking about Anathrosis, although I realize that "phaeron" is technically male. Anathrosis was so upset about the treaty, she decides to transition about it. If I had written this in snecrontyr-verse, they'd have used null-gendered pronouns to refer to Anathrosis during the transition period. (I do think she probably fully transitioned in the furnaces, though.)

It's not uncommon for necrontyr to change their gender markers; there are forms you fill out, and you update your interstitial signature to use the correct forms, and that's usually it. But there are longer and more complicated rituals that can be observed if you want to, and generally those aren't optional for higher ranking nobility.

[remusawoooo]

anon here, excited to read the essay! i asked you because i really like your takes and i see people in the more canon-adjacent parts of the marauders fanbase to complain about the extremes of the fanon one, though personally ive never really seen anything Too extreme, tho thats probably just tantamount to how well i curate my spaces i suppose (ive seen people say that fanon makes remus really “alpha” or makes sirius “bimbofied” and while ive seen hints of those extremes here and there, mostly it looks like it varies from person to person. ive just seen remus be more assertive than he probably is in canon, or sirius being more dramatic and “fem” than he probably is in canon). from what i know people like exaggerating events (the prank, etc.) or shifting some personality traits, but i dont really think thats a bad thing - i personally enjoy it. as long as they dont completely turn characters into stereotypes (though its a pitfall of every fandom, i fear), then whatever its just camp.

people are allowed to criticize stuff like that though, not taking that away from anyone, i personally just dont really care enough to be totally accurate esp since this hyperfix is kind of the bottom of the barrel for me LMAO. but i ask mostly bc im just curious to see what other peoples opinions are, and bc i think - especially in a fanbase like this - that its incredibly important to be at least a little critical with your media experience and reflect on it. saying “oh fuck canon we’re just having fun” is fine and all, i dont think anyone is stopping you, i think the personalities people have made up for characters that have zero screen time are super fun and the little ships are not everyones tea but like its fine. but even still, people should be way more aware of what characters theyre dealing with and from what franchise, and like reflect on any biases you may have. if youre making shit up for a random DE character, or retconning some sutff, okay, whatever, but be sure to not defend or like suddenly turn to really weird rhetoric. idk i think its the bare minimum in a fanbase like this

i definitely rambled way too much here, super sorry op! i hope this doesnt bother you, feel free to reply or feel free to not. i just really like hearing peoples thoughts on things, and i like your takes and your blog so i hope i didnt catch you by surprise. i really am just an outsider trying to look in LOL

hello anon, I'm sorry I lost your ask. I was writing on my laptop and saved the draft (but apparently had to press on alt, and didn't do it) so I basically lost your question and half of my initial response. Ty for sending in another ask!! Not a bother at all, i find this very lovely :D 

I was mortified to find that someone who isn't really a part of the fandom was perceiving me while I was complaining about fictional characters ahahaha. still, thank you for validating me and asking my thoughts on the mischaracterization of marauders!! I do talk about it daily, unfortunately, and without any prompt too. I'll try to gather all my thoughts here. I don't necessarily come across fanon as much as I did when I reentered the fandom and honestly, I can not be more with you about curating your space !! at the end of the day, I am just here to have fun, and really, pointing out these issues is not a good time at all! But I do post a lot about these, I can't be bothered to bottle up any thoughts lol.

I think the major issue I have with current interpretations is the underlying bigotry that comes along with it. There is a lot of unchecked problematic content that doesn't sit right with me.

Flanderizing characters in fandom interpretations is not limited to marauders fandom obviously. any popular media will face this because so many of us want to interact with one character so their traits are simplified for easier consumption and to find a common ground. this is also not limited to new marauders fandom. even in the older era, leather jacket-wearing, motorbike-driving quintessential bad boy siruis was a thing. so I won't nitpick on silly simplifications.

I just want to say that this isn't about me wanting everyone to have the same interpretations as I do about the canon. I follow so many lovely people and I don't agree with all of their posts. But, we all just simply share the love for these characters in the text and form an imaginary community. So, if we were to remove all the issues I will mention, it is still very well possible to have different personal takes.

Here are some of my issues:

Queerness, Gender roles, and misogyny:

My biggest problem is the representations of queer relationships. the fandom packages these couples in a strange and obvious heteronormative mold where the individuals fit into male and female gender roles. mlm and wlw are now an “f/m”* stereotype and characterization gets affected by the ships. Heterosexual relationships shouldn't have these limitations either, anyway. There is no one way to be a woman or a man. With queer relationships in particular, we have reclaimed the word queer now but it was used to describe the unconventional weirdness in the relationship. We didn't fit into the normal portrayal of a loving relationship. So, it really bothers me, even in fiction, that queer ships are popularly consumed in a way that represents a traditional template. (*this is not about gender itself but the gender roles! f/m can very well be queer!). 

Let's take the biggest victim in this fandom: sirius.

Sirius’ portrayal concerning his gender and sexuality has heavily changed his characterization in the fanon. We have a character who is popularly headcanonned as trans and is it a coincidence that all their traits have changed from the og material? Sirius is suddenly vain, whiny, and dumb. Canon doesn't suggest this interpretation, it has to have stemmed from somewhere. It's the implicit bias. Sirius becomes a caricature of what a woman “should be”. When we focus on sexuality, there is the suddenly short twink sirius who has the same new traits- proving the point of fulfilling gender roles. These characteristics are a stand-in for the “female” role of the traditional relationship and it becomes more clear in the example of new age wolfstar. Remus is now the big alpha stoic manly man- the obvious stand-in for the “male” role. I could go on, it is apparent in the way you can see remus becomes a caretaker and sirius is taken care of.

The point I am trying to make is not to discourage gender/sexuality hc. I love them, keep them coming. But, why is female sirius not tall suddenly? It is not inherently bad at all to have a feminine and masculine pairing! But why do we need to change the constitutions of these characters to consume their relationship?

I'll keep dropping disclaimers because I hate being misinterpreted: I don't obviously mean every single person is doing this or that doing one of the things means doing the other too. 

Race:

It is related to the point above. I was personally so excited to see the popular desi james hc. Even in fanon, I have never seen such a prevalent and encouraged brown rep, it was quite sweet to come back to that. But the problem is the change of characteristics that comes with race hc. Desi james is also a manly dude who is big and buff as opposed to the white petite and delicate regulus within jegulus ship. The melanin is directly proportional to the manliness here. 

This is a propagation of race stereotypes. Maybe jegulus was a bad example because usually there are seen as blank templates. I will raise the argument that this can't be all we can come up with for blank canvases then. Either way, my point about race still stands when you repeatedly design interracial queer relationships so they fall into heteronormative roles. Anyway, same issue with wolfstar when there is a brown remus.

Canon, JKR, and hypocrisy:

Refusing to engage with source material is funny when we are picking characters out of it. the interpretations of the characters will be from their book. otherwise, they are just original characters with the same name. you can add onto the traits and a lot of the time fandom comes to a consensus regarding a few things! This is common in every fandom but I don't think I have seen such reluctance to not only critically engage with media but also shame others who do. We are surely in special circumstances with this fandom but I really do think jkr and how we navigate the fanon should be two different things.

Most of us don't condone jkr or even remotely agree with any nonsense she spews on the daily. Most of us can see the problematic nature of even consuming this media and staying in this fandom. It is one of the reasons I even left the fandom. Most of us are simply doing our best to engage carefully while distancing ourselves from her. So, it is quite laughable when some love to take the moral high ground for rejecting canon while still engaging with the same characters. (the rejection of canon in question being sirius’ height, lol)

(Sirius' height is quite a polarising fact apparently. Unfortunately, the point about height is also discussed so disingenuously. When I talk about sirius’ height, it is not really about him being 6 or 7 feet. It will not really impact my life. It is about what it represents. He is bimbofied as he becomes short. It's an issue of "WHY" again.)

Of course, this isn't an accusation of intentional bigotry from everyone here. The problem with this fandom is that the people in it tell themselves that it is progressive and to run away from the problematic creator as much as possible. We are not progressive if all we do is co-opt queer and racially diverse identities on such a superficial level. The bias manifests in subtle forms. I just wish we check ourselves from time to time, that's all. 

There is a lot of hostility when we try to discuss issues in the fanon. Things are interpreted in the most misguided way to just win the argument. Like I said in the beginning, we all just want to have a good time. That also means creating a welcoming space for vulnerable groups (especially when the same identities are used to pat yourselves on the backs for inclusivity points). I didn't even cover everything btw, I just wrote about the issues that concern me. queer and poc also partake in biased representations, I also probably have some biases that I didn't identify yet. I just think it would be super neat if everyone tried to make an effort to unlearn and engage with media without hurting anyone. 

I have other issues but they are all just super subjective opinions and smth I can ignore when others do. ex: I really don't like giving tragic backstories to bigots in the story. Not every supremacist loser has a trauma that forced them into oppressing people! There is also "tropeyfication" of all major ships. Just an overall issue in the reading world I think, though.

Anon, I didn't mean to make it preachy in any way btw. You probably asked for a silly little rant and I went full lecture mode, so I apologize for the tone shift!! I mentioned these because every other issue can be brought down to these imo. Like you said, I also don't have any fixation on everything being canon-compliant. I only complain by asking about the thought process behind certain kinds of changes, if that makes sense! I hope this wasn't a drag really and you can see where I am coming from. If I misspoke anywhere, pls lmk. Thanks for sharing your opinions too!!

This is a long long rant, anyone who read everything, you are wonderful and patient. Thank you for taking the time. This huge post and the content can make you think, “who cares this much?” or “it's not that serious” and yaa it really isn't that serious. The characters aren't real but we all are. the identities projected are real. so, it does matter to talk about this.

Everything said this is a fun place to be once you find your own corner in the playground.

[esta-elavaris]

A/N: So, this is the same OC that I wrote with Beckett a little over a year ago, but I have since begun another full-length (non-Beckett) fic that features an OC with the name I’m using in that, so this OC used to be Cora, and is now Clara. So totally different. The depths of my imagination continues to induce awe.

Also a disclaimer – what little I know of the British peerage system is more around hierarchy, and what I have gleaned via excessive period drama consumption. There will be flaws here. I am mildly sorry for them x

Was there anything more tedious than the festive season?

That wasn’t a rhetorical question – for the answer was yes, and Clara was discovering that first-hand. Guests during the festive season. Especially when one was an eligible young bachelorette, with already two seasons under her belt and no husband. At least her mother was despairing. That was rather funny. Though she kept that from her face and tongue both.

It was just so ridiculous. Had she dragged herself through two seasons with no offers, she might be worrying herself, but there had been offers, they just weren’t particularly good ones – not by her own reckoning, at least. They had money, yes, and social standing, of course, but they were so boring. Smiling, tittering, flattering, agreeing with every word that came out of her mouth until she wanted to ram her head through the nearest window just to wipe the insipid smiles from their faces.

 They’d give an opinion on something, anything, only to then immediately switch their previously very firm stance the moment she disagreed. They’d declare they much preferred summer over winter, she’d declare an adoration for the cold just to be difficult, and in the next second they’d be wittering on about how summer was intolerable and how they could not wait for a chill to return to the air. She’d make a terrible joke, and they’d laugh like they’d never heard anything funnier. Sometimes she even turned it into a game, seeing what she could make them laugh at, stripping them of what little dignity they had one quip at a time, and at least that was amusing. For a while.

But over the festive season, she was at least free of it. Ordinarily. But her mother’s despair had driven her to desperation, and now they had guests for Christmas. And really, what sort of desperate creature came to visit someone who wasn’t family at this time of year? Was this to be the sort of man she’d be foisted upon? It was lucky that her father was so fond of her as he was, or else she’d be being fitted for wedding dresses before the New Year was even upon them – but even his patience had its limits, and she doubted it would extend past a third season. There was eccentricity, and then there was stupidity.

So, she found herself garbed in golden florals – not the mulberry silks her mother had wished for – on the front steps of their country manor, alongside all of the servants, and her parents, watching as the carriage trundled up the path. This gown wasn’t her best, not with her colouring, but that was deliberate. She’d tempt the fool either way, so why bother making the effort? It also had the effect of making her look far more girlish than she truly was, which was good. Let him think she was a little idiot, ready to simper and smile at his every look. Let her enjoy the look of realisation on his face when he realised that he was wrong, far too late.

The drew to a halt at the centre of the drive and a footman stepped forth, opening the door. Out stepped Lord Warrington, their invited guest, and after him...well, it had to be Lord Beckett. His invited guest. Really, coming to bother non-relations for Christmas was one thing, but bringing cronies? Clara’s lips pressed firmly together as the man stepped down the carriage steps and then straightened. Imp-sized cronies, at that. Warrington had some nerve. She smiled prettily as he approached.

That smile remained frozen on her face as her parents and their shiny golden titles, Viscount and Viscountess, were introduced, and then finally the two men turned to her.

“...and this is Lady Clara Thorne,” Warrington spoke to his friend, before turning to her. “Lady Clara, this is Lord Cutler Beckett.”

She gave an incline of her head and a twitch of the knee that might just pass as a curtsy to those keen to see one. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

This Beckett was more dour than Warrington, bowing at the neck after affording her a look that lasted only a handful of seconds. And then her mother took over. Luckily, she was useful sometimes. Just, typically, not when Clara most wished for it.

The day dragged on. They sat through tea in her mother’s sitting room, during which she made all of the appropriate comments about the weather, and whether or not they were in for a white Christmas, and after that topic had been suitably exhausted, Warrington regaled them with tales of the journey here. Although ‘tales’ seemed a poor word for how he felt the need to divulge every detail of every weed the carriage had rolled past, every sharp turn it had to take, and every gust of wind that hit its windowpanes.

Beckett tired of it swiftly, retiring to the opposite corner of the room with her father, and bits and pieces of that conversation trickled in here and there, filled with words like pirates and Jamaica, and all were far more interesting. Unhappily, however, that conversation was closed – with a handshake, no less – long before Warrington was done droning on, and on...and on, and Beckett took his leave of the room shortly after her father did.

Only when the man sitting on the sofa across from her began to talk about his predictions for the return journey back to the city did she have enough and took her leave, citing a headache...before making swiftly for the library. Her bedroom would be the first place they’d look for her, and the gardens next. The library afforded a good view of the gardens, and so she’d see that happen and be able to act accordingly.

Leaning back against the library door, she closed it as softly as she could, and then uttered a soft ‘ugh’.

“The universal sound of Christmas cheer, I gather.”

At the flat words that were spoken to the far right side of the room, Clara whirled and saw Lord Beckett, sitting at the desk by the window, evidently making the most of the dying daylight.

“What are you doing?”

Beckett gave her an exasperated look – one which he then transferred down to the letters before him, and seemed to decide it was answer enough. He returned to his writing.

“That’s my father’s desk,” she said.

“Well, I hardly thought it belonged to a stranger, Lady Clara.”

“He’s rather territorial about it.”

“Then I shall consider it a great honour that he offered it for my use,” his tone remained bored.

“To work?”

“Evidently.”

“On Christmas?”

“Christmas eve, technically.  Though it makes little difference.”

As he spoke, Clara swept closer, lowering herself down upon the settee nearest to the desk – though she turned her side to him, pretending instead to contemplate the fire.

“You’re not a fan of Christmas, then? Some might deem you a heathen.”

“By all means, invite me to dance around a bonfire on tomorrow’s eve.”

“That doesn’t seem like your ideal pastime.”

“I told you to invite me. Not that I would attend.”

She snorted. Before she could help it. And that was quite enough for her. Rising, she made for the door, but he called after her – not loudly, but his voice still rang clear throughout the otherwise empty library...where they were entirely unchaperoned.

“That eager to return to Lord Warrington?”

Outrage and intrigued clashed within Clara. Fascination that he should so easily see her distaste for his friend, but annoyance that he would be so brash as to point it out without care.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because you can stand him little more than I can. Unfortunate, it seems, for you, given that he doesn’t intend to marry me.”

“He hasn’t proposed.”

“He intends to – on New Year’s Eve.”

The news came like a bucket of ice water dumped atop her head. She shuddered as though seeking to shake it off.

“Oh, God in heaven...doubtless with some terrible little speech about along the lines of let this be the last year we spend without being pledged to one another.”

Now it was Beckett’s turn to snort, though when she stared at him, his features remained expressionless.

“It’s as though you were there while he practised it in the carriage.”

“He didn't.”

“I’m afraid so. It was the longest journey of my life. You’ll only have to sit through it once.”

“You didn’t have to give an answer.”

“No, you’re right. Nor sit through the next fifty years of wedded bliss, for that matter. All the better for me. Were I you, Lady Clara, I’d pray for an early death in childbed.”

He’d have never spoken to her like this had any other been present – not so frankly, nor so...so vulgarly. So interestingly.

“God isn’t that good,” she muttered.

 There was a light sort of clattering sound as he set his quill down, and when Clara looked to him next, Lord Beckett was…considering her.

“What will you tell him?”

“I don’t know.”

It wasn’t any of his business, and her first instinct was to tell him so rather than responding honestly, but they’d fallen so swiftly and easily into this refreshing sort of honestly that once again donning the mantle of the good and proper Lady Clara Thorne seemed too heavy a burden for her shoulders, currently.

“You like him little,” Beckett pointed out. “I should think the answer would be obvious.”

“If you thought it so obvious, you wouldn’t have asked the question.”

“Perhaps I wanted to see how you would answer.”

“And now you’ve received your answer,” she countered.

“Yes. A nonsensical one.”

“Oh don’t be so naïve,” she rolled her eyes. “Warrington’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot I can handle. I won’t escape a third season without accepting someone, and what if the next lot of candidates are worse than him? It’s just…good business.”

He smiled then, and his smile was a strange thing, bitter and utterly devoid of mirth. He wasn’t a particularly handsome man, and the expression added little to that fact. But god, how she preferred it to all of the tittering and simpering that was going on not two rooms away.

“Not overly confident in your ability to handle a man who isn’t an idiot, then?”

“When I meet one, you’ll be the first to hear it.”

“Speaking of idiocy,” he replied, “I could go and tell them all precisely what you’ve just told me. Being Lord Warrington’s friend, it would be my duty, would it not?”

“Perhaps. If you liked him at all. But who would believe you, Lord Beckett? Knowing that your assertions were the mere fabrication of a jealous man, one who finds himself ungrateful to his hosts at that, telling such lies about their only child?”

“Warrington might still doubt.”

“But he’d want to believe me. It’s amazing, how powerful that can be.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is he that desperate to wed you?”

Clara’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t go down that route, not when we were speaking so frankly. You’ve looks. Plenty of women have looks. A sizeable dowry, no doubt, but there are others with that, too. But that’s it. The title can’t go to you, nor to him by extension. Nor the land.”

“Says who?”

“The entail, I imagine,” he said frankly. “Tell me, who does it all go to? Some distant cousin?”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s how these things go. Why not marry him? It would be very neat.”

Clara’s lip curled.

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Not one of our sort, then.”

“My sort,” she corrected. “Tell me, Lord Beckett, has the wax seal yet dried on your shiny new title?”

He was unfazed. She liked that.

“What is he? A politician? Lawyer? Banker? Bricklayer? Stable hand?”

“He’s none of your business, is what he is.”

“Correct. Happily.”

At that, she said nothing. There was nothing to say, and she’d come in here to escape pointless conversations in the first place. And Beckett was alarmingly close to the mark, in any case. This cousin was the last living heir who could claim rights to their titles and land both, once her father was no longer around – as they’d discovered in a most unwelcome manner, when he’d been trying to a string or two to force everything to work out in their favour.

“If you think Warrington’s an idiot, this cousin is the king of all idiots,” she grumbled.

“As well as the soon-to-be king of this estate,” Beckett mused, casting an appraising eye about the library.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“We’ve established that,” he replied.

“Not in this library, here at all. For we’ve also established that you relish all of this about as much as I do. So why come?”

“It’s unbecoming for a bachelor to spend this time of year alone in his own home. Apparently.”

“Ugh.”

“Quite.”

It was then that he returned to his letter – impressive, really, given how the dull grey of the day was now dimming to the point where they’d soon be able to see their reflections in the windows more than they’d be able to see outside.  Her mind drifted, and for a moment she considered picking up a book, but she knew she’d only stare at the ink much in the same way she stared at the fireplace now, so it seemed yet another tedious venture.

Only when she heard a door click open somewhere out in the hall did she snap back into reality, straightening and then tensing as Warrington’s grating laugh echoed outside...and then grew softer, signalling that he was walking away rather than drawing nearer. Sighing in relief, she leaned back against the sofa once more. And pretended she didn’t feel Beckett’s eyes on her all the while. 

A/N: More parts of this pairing to come -- and then I'll post 'em all on AO3 when this is done!

Dividers by cafekitsune.

[bigfemboyenergy]

woah!!!! again?!?

remember that one post i made with a gf/dp crossover in which the ghost zone actually CONTAINS the mindscape? dont lie, i know you dont

i just remembered how cool that felt to me so !! im thinkin i might write a bit (just., gotta find it)

original prompt post: https://www.tumblr.com/bigfemboyenergy/749856656479879168/ok-ok-this-will-be-the-last-time-i-promise?source=share

Bill laughs as the kid stares straight through the hole he just shot through Bill’s bowtie. “I’m immortal here, kid! It’ll take more than that to kill me!” Immediately, the human changes his stance, as if preparing for some sort of violent response. Bill doesn’t even bother to so much as flick him as he says, “Whoa, whoa kid! How much trauma have you dealt with?” He openly laughs, his strange voice filling the odd, infinite space.

The boy adjusts his posture, tensing up a bit, as he seems to prepare a blast from his hand. To this, Bill stops laughing and continues to act fairly casual. “You know, you’re quite the sight for sore eye! I haven’t seen anyone in this realm outside of myself before!” He watches the human get a little less tense, before tensing up again, as if waiting for some surprise attack. “Look here, kid. I’m not in a fighting mood,” Bill starts, with a laugh. It’s obvious he’s being a little more serious, before he quickly returns to his overly odd cackle, “No matter how much you seem to be!”

Danny can’t help but suspect the thing. He can’t tell what it is, especially since it has no ghost-like aspects outside of its regeneration. After all, a yellow equilateral triangle with one giant eye, a bowtie, a cane, and a fashionable hat doesn’t seem..quite normal to become, for those who’ve passed. It irks him to see something so strange and oddly, uncomfortably threatening, within his domain. Danny can’t help but feel protective over his realm, as the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, a title he gained since his defeat of Pariah Dark. His obsession with protecting others also doesn’t help.

But Danny really knows something’s up. He’s never even heard of such an odd being in the Realms before, something he doesn’t expect despite its vastness. With a deep breath that he doesn’t quite need to take, he finally speaks to the creature: “What even are you?” Danny doesn’t even care to sugarcoat his words. This being surely hasn’t done so with its own, so why not be so straightforward?

The beast’s singular eye almost illustrates the emotion of grinning. Danny only notices now, but the creature almost pulses as it seems to speak, with no mouth in sight. “I’m a dream demon, isn’t it obvious? The name’s Bill Cipher, make sure you don’t forget it!” It asks, a clearly rhetorical, purely joking, question, before continuing. “From a world in which direction, dimension, and disaster have no meaning! Where 2D is the new 3D, and life is near worthless!” Danny watches as the thing calling itself a ‘dream demon’ bursts into a fit of laughter, it seeming to find everything very entertaining. He must say, he isn’t satisfied with the being’s answer. It just seems to leave even more questions.

Danny lets himself relax as the demon questions him right back; “Who, rather than what, are you, kid?”

Bill watches the human closely with his eye, waiting for an inevitable response, whether with words or actions. It’s rather exciting to practically hear the gears in the boy’s brain turning as he thinks deeply. Within a minute or so, the kid responds, “Phantom. People call me Phantom.” Bill nods, in a way that his unusual body will let him. Everything about the boy only seems to get more interesting. “Say, what business do you have here, Phantom?” Bill questions, with a smirk-like look in his eye.

Phantom gives Bill a calculating look. “I am the ruler of these realms, actually.” This greatly surprises Bill, who rotates his cane in his hand thoughtfully. “Well, who’d have thunk it! Why, kid, you’re quite the little mystery!” He laughs, his voice once again resonating through the infinite space.

It seems like the two are in for a ride- one of the “emotional rollercoaster” type.

[fanficonly]

Wenclair X Reader -

What Are You?- Part 5

TW: physical Abuse, description of blood

This chapter was a bit darker than I originally wrote it but it ended up this way so it makes sense for the story in the future.

Please don't read if you will be triggered, it's not a lot but that's my own feelings towards it and everyone's different so be careful beautiful readers

Meanwhile*

You trailed behind the women, reluctant to continue on knowing exactly what was going to happen. You stare down the entire time watching the twigs and leaves crunch beneath your studded black boots while you trudged along warily.

You're lost in thoughts, the image of Wednesday's horror etched into your brain by the blade of your own misfortune. You're so out of it that you don't realise the woman who had stopped so abruptly in front of you causing you to collide into her back and stumble backwards. She lets out a somewhat unnerving giggle before smiling and looking down at you amused.

"We're here" she announces and as you look up expecting an extravagant vehicle or the royal guard, you are instead met with a rusty old cabin, that's falling apart at its edges, looking like it's seen better days.The plastic windows cracked, the splintered door and it's frame mould-ridden and discoloured with it's all round unkempt look being the eye-sore of the beautiful forest it occupied.

"Wow bit of step down for you don't you think?" you speak with a twinge of snark and smirk at yourself, still stood coldly with your hands glued to the inside of your pockets. Honestly one day your sarcasm will be your demise, but it's hard not to be slightly petty with her after everything she had done to you. If you asked the woman however she would say 'After everything I've done FOR you' which would only make your insides twist and turn uncomfortably.

"Hmm" she hums "Inside" she jerks her head in the direction of the door and you walk in hesitating with every step, rather annoyed at yourself for complying so easily. You reach for the door and twist the knob, cringing as it creaked loudly and taking one last look back at her before stepping inside.

Upon entering your eyes grow wide, partially from confusion the rest in awe.

"What the fu-" you begin before the women snaps at you, cutting off your speech.

"Language." She scolds you before the curse could barely even touch the surface of your lips

"Sorry" you mumble still admiring the, deceiving from the outside, rustic cabin. The furniture was very modern, the fire was lit creating a light and calming glow and the inside wooden beams were fully varnished and sturdy. It was as if you had stepped through a portal into a completely different house and you knew it had to be some kind of magic or cloaking. Yet that didn't stop you from feeling a little insane and misdirected. You could clearly see the windows double glazed glass, now uncracked, and patterned like those in a 1 million dollar mansion, your eyes glued to it. Mostly because it proved just how close you were to Nevermore still, where you could see the bricks of the school peaking from between the trees outside. Fair play your vision was currently enhanced right now so you weren't that close but you were close enough that the idea of anyone finding this place made your stomach churn once again.

"It's rather insulting that you would believe me to take up residence in such an unflattering building" she comments while your eyes scan the rest of the decor. Of course, you shrug before again having your eyes pulled wide in realisation.

Take up residence..." There's a pit in your stomach as you repeat her words "You're..." You try to ask "you live..." Again you can't bring yourself to finish the question

"Yes I am currently living here Y/N" she confirms your unsaid question with a slight sinister tone "What?" She asks rhetorically "Did you think I was going to allow you to leave us without some kind of supervision?" She breathed out a chuckle causing your face to twist into a frown. You can't help the rise of anger building inside you. The only silver lining in transferring to Nevermore was the freedom you would have from ... Them. She stares at you but all you can focus on is settling your emotions which you weren't succeeding in.

"I didn't leave I was forced out" you mumble and she tuts a little responding only with

"I"m sorry what was that?"

You knew she wasn't really asking. In fact that kind of tone only meant one thing. She was giving you a chance to change your response or atleast take it back.

So you decline to answer her, shrinking away from her and awaiting further instructions or atleast explanations from her instead. Anything that would make you feel more at ease.

"Your eyes are glowing again Y/N" She gives you a disapproving look, one you had grown far to familiar with in the last 5 years. You wanted to comment. Make a snarky remark, tell her to fuck off, leave the cabin and yet you couldn't. With all the conditioning you had been subject too it seemed to be impossible. So you curse yourself mentally, not just for failing to halt your powers but also for turning into this beaten, broken submissive puppy as you always did. And no matter how hard you tried to hide it. No matter how hard you tried to force it down... You just ... Couldn't.

"Oh no I'm sorry it's fine I can..." Your words become quiet when you watch her leave, you assume to retrieve the one item you really REALLY didn't want her to return with. "I can control it!" You yell louder so she can hear you from the kitchen.

You scrunch your eyes together and begin to breathe deep and slow to attempt to control your emotions. You needed to get a handle on this trigger and FAST.

She returns, a disappointed look still covering her features

"I can control it" you shake your head slowly as she approached, you could only retreat, taking a step back still willing it to go away. It was the single most difficult task you ever had to do, once you had a tiny taste of power any subtle hint of strong emotions would spark it up again like a match hitting gasoline. Control the uncontrollable. No amount of water would mix with that fire.

"Aww" she faked a sympathetic tone "Stop lying to yourself sweetie" the most condescending and venomous tone left her lips so sadistically. There she is. That's the woman you knew. You were sure she took some kind of sadistic pleasure in "helping" you control your abilities

"No I can-I can control it please" You try to reason with her as you had done a thousand times before but her blunt and unbothered expression said it all. Stumbling backwards as the back of your knees hit the velvet couch, you buckled falling back into it.

She ignores your tumble then sits beside you and strokes her hand across your face trailing her fingers to your chin to turn it to face you. With how fast and hard your eyes slam shut it's as if they made a thud sound that violated your own eardrums and again you wince.

"Open your eyes Y/N" she instructs but you just shake your head slowly in response, a stray tear betraying you and trailing down your cheek.

"Open. Your. Eyes." She demands more forcefully this time

You practically gulp in fear, but make no move to even turn towards her let alone look at her.

She sighs again, more disappointment and more irritation rising within her, you can practically feel her negative energy penetrating your own sad aura.

"I'm sorry sweetie you have to learn" she almost sounds sincere this time but you know it's all an act, a trick to lure you into a false sense of security before experiencing the pain you let yourself believe you deserve.

"No I can I can control it please please just" you repeat and pull away from her, refusing to sob and instead forcing the tears to to stay put causing your vision to become blurred and fuzzy.

"I'm sorry" she says plunging her jagged nails into your back, causing your head to fly backwards, your eyes to fly open and the water to finally burst from your tear ducts. She grabs your chin with her other hand, slashing your cheek accidentally due to your twitching and struggling . "Ahhhhhhhhhh" a strained scream erupts from your throat followed by a weak whimper. The sting comes next as she blows a light breath in your eyes, It's almost beautiful, the blue tinted sparkly substance that danced towards your eyes like meteors crashing into the earth. And then they land so lightly onto your open pupils and you scream at the embers setting them alight.

"You need" she digs deeper "to learn" you struggle away from her, the pain of the glittery substance still burning your retinas. "To control it" she digs even further and twist her nails emitting a small charge and watching as you fall to the floor panting breathlessly. Paired with the fire in your eyes, the electricity that was pulsating through your body was almost unbearable and you can't help but scream "Fuck!" As your knees hit the harsh ground and you're left digging your own nails into the splintered floorboards beneath you.

"Language!" She scolds again

"FUCK YOU" you're unable to stop yourself from, twisting your neck to bark the hateful words at her. She rips her hand from your spine and plunges one more time, you throw your head back to the sky the light in your eyes dimming, as you push off from the floor. She pulls away again and you grunt in pain gripping the coffee table now more upright, your powers subsiding aggressively.

"There." She smiles and you look back at her with pure hatred in your eyes "That should do it" she proudly states as if abusing you and forcing you to keep your powers buried within was some kind of proud mum moment.

"You're evil" you spit, between breaths.

"Honey" she sits back crossing her legs and pulling out a hanky to wipe your blood from her finger tips "You know it has to be done. Pain is the only way to control your unique abilities" she explains to you. The same speech you have heard a thousand times over penetrating your ears, now nothing but a pointless explanation falling on deaf ears .

However unruly, you knew it was true. Since the day you started showing signs of being this creature you had been subjected to the horrors of "Controlling your unique abilities" and yet you never got used to the horrid feeling.

"Have they stopped glowing then?" You ask her, looking up hopefully your anger subsiding along with your powers.

"Yes. Now relax I will make us some tea, get you a change of clothes and then you can return to Nevermore" She replies

"Can't I just leave now" You whine barely looking at her as you settled your breathing.

"Oh come on. You don't want to spend time with your dear old Godmother, we're family after all" a wicked smile crosses her lips and she tilts her head unnervingly. You wriggle in your clothes, feeling the wet liquid seeping into your white shirt causing it the stick to your back. A change of clothes started to feel like a necessity but right now you needed to address her weak attempt at declaring herself family

"Just because my parents shipped me off to you when I was 12 doesn't make you family" You breath out one more time now able to stand to move as far from the wicked woman as possible. You stride away and vere towards the door slowly.

"No but it does make me responsible for you" you hear from behind you. She rushes to block the door with her arm and continues "And I would hate to have to bring you back to the society grounds" she explains but it feels more like a threat. Well... It is a threat actually and you know better than to fight the sadistic Bitch.

"It's not even been a day Auntie! You have to give me a better chance" You plead with her, now using the term you knew she secretly somewhat liked hearing you say. But of course it's not enough, it never is and she just responds with iron clad logic and condescension.

"A chance to do what? Run around with wolves stealing thier powers and draining ever student you see" she scoffs and looks away elegantly, extremely aware of how right she was. She doesn't say it. She doesn't say what you are. But you know she hates being near such a dangerous human.

"What did you think I was doing at the society it's no different! Maybe at Nevermore it will be" the glint of hope glazed across your eyes seemed to have no affect on your GodMother and instead she continues

"Nevermore outcasts are stronger than our lot and I was hoping with less ... Emotional distractions it wouldn't be necessary for me to intervene as much as I had to there" she says and your mind drifts back to the countless incidents you had caused over the past 5 years. You shake the thoughts from your head and glare at her in response to her slight jab at you.

"Whatever. I haven't even settled in yet can I go?" You ask finally returning to your usual self and staying blunt, just wanting to leave and get out of here.

"Let me look at you" she grabs you by the cheeks inspecting your features aggressively umm'ing and aww'ing as she did

"Give it an hour" She says and you just walk to sit back down slumping in the chair, complying easily once again. The worst was over, now all you had to do was endure her unfortunate company for an hour.

....

Eventually she let you leave after a grueling 70 minutes of talking and because of this you couldn't help but whine all the way back to Nevermore.

When you reached the gates you took a shaky breath in, preparing yourself to start over.

"Okay ... Do over let's start this again" you say aloud before smiling and taking large strides towards the school. You meditate to yourself in your head and walk through the halls, pulling the information you had been given by the principal out of your pocket to find your room. As you pace up the stairs to the top floor you pass by 2 doors on your right and reach the end of the hall a small almost unnoticeable door to the left and open it.

[buttercuparry]

Now that I have slept on it, I feel like I can talk about Ming. I don't really have anything new to say that others haven't said before, but this is just me assembling my thoughts. So it is kind of long

Ming has issues. He has issues that he has never worked on and it manifests in the worst possible way, especially when he feels jealousy. He is used to throwing money at people and them complying to his wishes- he had someone prepare a separate van for him during the ad shoot, people on crew seem to comply to his wishes regardless of what it would mean for the project, he is sure that he can make the new guy act as an escort for him- so you know the usual entitled rich guy stuff but now notched up higher.

Like I said, Ming as a person hasn't changed. And the show isn't trying to have an argument against that either. Rather everything that's happened in the "after" scenes reiterates that while his affections have found a new home, there has been no personal growth. There won't be any redemption- it is what it is.

There also won't be an escalation to Ming being a full on sadist. He isn't a character from Strangers From Hell, he isn't Hannibal. There is nothing of that sort. If anything, he is just like every other abusive and overbearing partner in a relationship. Only in shows like Marry my husband, we get to see the female lead overcoming them, but here we have our protagonist get back with Ming, because something works by the end I guess. It is a standard BL and it will stick to its format and people who are enjoying this show, know all of this and watching it for what it is.

So I don't have a problem with all the "romantic" scenes. I don't think the show is deliberately trying to make you feel sorry for Ming- it is going only as far as it needs to get Joe back into accepting him. So it is more for Joe, the character than about the audience.

Now in the storyline this means that we have Ming who is very reserved around other people, talking only as far as to give an order and that's it. I don't think most characters see the worst of him and it is because he just isn't bothered about anyone outside of those he considers important. So he will be considerate and kind to May. He will give Tong the respect of a brother in law as per the culture that's common to so many Asian countries and he will be his most hateful self with Joe.

I think Ming does suspect that both these people are the same person. We have seen the preview and even this episode starts with an interrogation about the date of the accident and if Joe dreams about anyone. So in Ming's head there is something going on that's no less than a plot of an action movie. Maybe memory loss and plastic surgery...really who knows, anything except for the soul transmigration.

So we see the Ming who locked Joe up in jealousy and the Ming who would have forced himself on Joe out of jealousy. This remains the same. The only difference here is Joe, and he is done with Ming's bullshit. He is done with Ming questioning him about Tharn. He is done with Ming questioning him about working with Sol and what not. The contract Joe entered was about having sex with Ming, which is why he said " I am your dog, aren't I. Come on ask me for the paw then" So basically you bought me for sex, force yourself on me then, I can't do anything about it. But not this...he didn't sign up for this jealousy when he thinks he is once again a Tong stand in.

I will be honest. I do not empathize or sympathize with Ming. I cannot get behind the rhetoric of him being a hurt, broken boy. He drove his lover to death because of his jealousy ( he accepts this), mourns this but then does something horrible to the guy he suspects having some connection to his dead boyfriend because of jealousy.

My question is when the truth is revealed- what happens then? Because Ming wouldn't suddenly turn into a new leaf. So would they be having a conversation? Or would this be something hanging uncertainty over the relationship for eternity.

Or

Would Joe be into it, if he realizes that all of this has been for him and not Tong...

( I know, I know, no need to boo at me for the last line- I am just thinking out loud here).

[sixpennydame]

"so if eruri is triggering for you, I’d suggest you start filtering certain tags so you can curate the kind of experience you want here."

I guess you think I don't really filter them out, but you're wrong. Believe me, no matter how much I ban everything related to this ship, it comes up in every way. For example eruri shipper Levixreader writers. Even in the Hcs/fanfic's they write, they are in every way squeezing their own ship under the guise of "this is not ship discourse" and they write the dynamics of that ship under the name of 'levixreader' in order to show that their ship is canon. And you naively Rb'd them and think that Levi's character is really like that. He's a perpetually angry man, he's a cruel selfish man who hates the weak and who hates the weak and who immediately abandons you because he's weak, who puts his feelings for erbin ahead of his duties 🥺 who puts humanity through hell for erbin. but someone who is a dog and a softy for him and someone who threw S/o out of the window for him. Yes he loves S/o but he would even sacrifice S/o for the landlord whose dog he is 😔 But again keep saying "great Levi fic post 😭".

And that's what I'm talking about when I say don't let them manipulate you, because even one of your recent articles is similar to their writing style. I wouldn't be surprised if you soon write Levi as an ass upturned, bed whining, super fanon twink whiny lowlife sub. One of your Rb's in particular is a super delulu shipper levixreader writer, and they so much portray Levi as Erwin's lapdog, order dog, loyal dog, someone who never questions whatever action he takes, never wavers in his loyalty, that Cosmic finally had to write them a misleading reply that Levi is not like that Lmaoo. And they are egotistical and self-righteous enough to say "I know better than you" when they see criticism that contradicts their fanon thinking. Man its 2024 and fucking ackerbond has been debunked years ago and even Isayama's dusty old interviews deny it. Yeah, no matter how much I filter eruri, I see exactly that in both Levi tags and Levixreader tags 🙃 and now whenever I want to read fic or browse Levi posts, I have to look at them with hesitation and fear. I don't understand if I should filter Levi directly?

I'm so tired that I would love for Isayama to drop a bombshell that will disprove both the selfshippers and shippers and all their rhetoric, all their Hc's, and leave us all in a big disappointment. For example to give him a really random female partner. Or I would like him to write a characterization where he really doesn't care about everyone and throws them into the fire, where he thinks about himself and his life instead of thinking about them, where he focuses on himself, where he is truly selfish. Then we wouldn't have to see discourses, dramas and fights like "Levi cared about X the most" "He did this and that for X" "Levi doesn't have a canon ship, but if he did it would be X"

*sighs heavily*

I don’t know what to tell you, Anon. If my reblogging and my moots bring you so much distress, you are free to block me.

I refuse to get involved with ship discourse - that’s not what I’m here for.

But I will say this: the writing I do is xreader, but I love to read and view Levi in many forms - canon and AU, eruri, LeviHan, and everything in between. I’ll be sure to make that clear on my ‘About Me’ page.

I love my moots’ writing and art, and will continue to reblog anything that I find beautiful or pleasing to me. Because that, dear Anon, is why I am here.

[mumms-the-word]

May prompts: I need borrowed clothing involving either ardynn/halsin or freyr/minthara

I was going to say “bold of you to assume Freyr can fit into Minthara’s clothes” and then I was like “oh wait” not that Halsin can fit in Ardynn’s clothes either but that’s what my brain gave my first lol

Ugh both are so good how am I supposed to CHOOSE? that’s a rhetorical question I know exactly what I’m gonna do

Edit: Also I’ve been informed that this event is meant to be written about other people’s Tavs and Durges but for the purposes of this request I'm just going to respond with a normal little fic!

But because I appreciate YOU I'm including some of your awesome photos of Ardynn in this :>

Story under the cut!! Warning, it is super silly.

~*~*~

Ardynn and Halsin had finally settled into their new home in the Reclaimed Lands, making a home out of a haphazard cabin that was formerly the ruins of a farmstead. To say that Ardynn loved her new life here was an understatement. She and Halsin had worked together to patch up the walls of the cabin, using a combination of old boards and climbing vines, mortal ingenuity and natural solutions. Thaniel had helped raise the collapsed roof of one room by growing a tree inside the structure, allowing dappled sunlight to stream in through the branches of the tree and the hole in the ceiling. Their home was a living home, built up and bending around a healthy tree and its roots, with flowering vines creeping up the sides and sunlight streaming in through the windows and roof. It was everything she dreamed it could be.

On this day, Ardynn was continuing to work on their home, arranging furniture and organizing their few (but growing) personal possessions. Halsin was out with the children, ambling about as a bear to give them rides on his back and play with them, and she didn't expect him back for some time. She sat cross-legged on the floor, folding away her clothes and his, thinking idly to herself that they would have to obtain warmer clothes for the winter.

After a moment, she picked up Halsin's leather and green fabric shirt, running her thumb over the patterns carved into the leather. He had taken the Emerald Grove emblem from the front a few days ago, so the front looked almost...empty. She wondered if there was something she could replace it with.

As she was examining the shirt, she noticed other markings she'd never noticed before. Pressed into the leather, near the collar, were little magic symbols, runes that were somehow familiar. After a moment of studying them, she realized they made up an enchantment to disappear or morph the shirt during his wildshapes, so that when he turned into a bear, or perhaps something even larger, or even stopped wildshaping halfway through to become a kind of hybrid man, the shirt wouldn't just rip into shreds.

She wondered...

She glanced over her shoulder, as if he might be walking into the door at any moment, and then stood up. She pulled off her own shirt and then hesitated, standing in nothing but her trousers, feeling silly all of a sudden. But the curiosity was greater, and she pulled Halsin's shirt easily over her head.

For a moment, it was comically large on her, the armholes alone big enough to fit several arms of her size instead of one. But then, just as she suspected, the shirt shrank down, fitting itself to her body until it pressed against her breasts and ribs. A perfect fit.

She moved to stand in front of a dingy-looking glass they had recovered from some wreckage a few days ago, turning this way and that. She had to admit, she looked pretty good with Halsin's shirt hugging her body. Add a few leather arm straps and maybe...

In the looking glass, she saw movement near the open front door and whirled just in time to see Halsin ducking into their home. She froze and then he froze, staring at her with eyes wide with surprise.

She didn't know what to say, and she could feel her face getting as red as her hair. This had to be the most embarrassing thing she'd ever done in front of him, bar none. But she couldn't move or unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

He blinked once, twice, and then lifted a hand as if going to gesture to her. "My heart. Is that..."

"I can explain," she blurted out, and that just made things worse because no, she couldn't actually explain. She wasn't just wearing his shirt, she was wearing his shirt that was now shrunk down and shaped as if it was tailor-made to her body.

Halsin closed the door behind him--something they rarely did except when they didn't want to be disturbed--and took a few slow steps forward. He stopped just a foot away, looking down at her. She held her breath as his eyes roved over her form, following the patterns on the leather and fabric as they curved over and around her body.

"It suits you," he said quietly. Huskily. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized that the look in his eyes was no longer confusion or surprise but...hunger. He reached up and skimmed his fingertips along her side, causing her to shiver. "In fact, I think you wear it better than I do."

She swallowed, trying to keep track of her thoughts. "I was just...I saw the enchantment runes and I..."

He didn't seem to hear her. He smoothed his hand down her arm, seemingly distracted by her. "I am tempted to let you keep it. But, I fear, it would become a distraction."

"A distraction?" she breathed.

A faint smile graced his lips and he leaned in, bringing his lips down close to her ear. "I shall be unable to think of anything but you in my clothing, my heart. Even now, it is difficult to focus."

Her heart began to race in her chest. As he pulled away to look down at her, she met him gaze for gaze and found herself torn between wanting to diffuse the situation (it was the middle of the day) and wanting to tempt him further.

Her baser nature won, in the end.

She tilted her head, trailing her fingers along the bottom hem of the shirt. "Should I...take it off?"

She felt a little proud of the way his eyes followed her fingers, only to glance back to up to meet hers, hazel eyes already faintly glowing with a thin ring of gold.

"Yes."

~*~*~

More pictures to cool everyone off 🥰