#y'all are just anti black i fear

[thegetdownrebooter]

in too much birthday ken has a sign at the party that actually says "the notorious ken ready to die" but sure he secretly listens to mitski my bad.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Follow Up to the Follow Ups

Some feedback to the responses I received:

1) A lot of people said that fear and discomfort is what makes antiracism not worth standing alone for. Okay, so then I want you to say this phrase to yourself when it comes to that moment:

"I would rather be antiblack than be afraid in this situation"

Does it make you uncomfortable? More uncomfortable than speaking up? I want you to dwell on that! And no, I'm not saying this to hurt you; sometimes it is the better option to stay quiet. I recognize that you have to recognize your own weight class. (Not so much on Tumblr as it is in real life, granted 🙄) But this is often the outcome when we choose not to act. We just don't admit that to ourselves so directly.

Try to notice how often you make that choice, how often you even have to make it. If you find yourself saying this more often than not, do you still feel you identify as an ally when it comes to speaking up about antiblackness? I'm not saying you have to fight every single battle. I'm just asking you to take the time to notice how often you find yourself tolerating more than you don't. And if that's something that you genuinely feel isn't right, or that you want to change, do so! You have the option to strengthen your allyship!

2) I feel like my question about Black fans got walked around a bit. Tbh, that is already the reality Black people live in. The way you aren't comfortable speaking up, I don't feel safe assuming you're safe to be around. It's a far more perilous outcome for me, putting faith in the anti-racism of a person that I don't witness them express.

3) Fear, itself

How do you think I feel? 🤣 You're afraid to speak out on antiblackness because you're worried about the anger of, or- if we're being honest- the social consequences of speaking out? I have an entire page dedicated to addressing antiblackness in media while Black!

At any point, not for my own betterment but the potential- not even a guarantee, just the potential- of yours, I openly put myself at risk of racist ire to try make the space around me better. I've been called plenty of slurs and insults on my main discussing these things. It's not an easy choice to risk that vulnerability. Trust, I understand that!

It's honestly gone far better than expected, though part of that is because I have to police my own tone. I don't expect other Black people to do so, or to have to do so. I can only imagine an environment where people felt less inclined to treat me and my peers that way, that they felt the fear of social repercussions for their racism when they spoke instead of me.

My point here is, I'm not naturally built to be stronger than you when it comes to dealing with racism. The way you are afraid of your peers treating you, is the way they already treat me and my peers. I'm forced into resilience, I've spent a long time learning how to deal with this. If I can stomach living with this, you can occasionally take the risk and speak up. Again, I'm not asking you to fight every battle. But you're capable of more battles than you think.

That's it! That's the end of the introspection practice this week. Thank y'all for participating; I hope that you got some perspectives to take on with you.

[b0rderbunny]

♡ SLEEPY ♡

Giyuu tomioka x gender neutral reader

Happy New years everyone! I hope you all had a amazing 2023 and only wish you the best 2024 except for skz antis, y'all go fuck yourselves.

By the way I am like posting this at 6:12 am and I haven't slept so I will edit this in the morning.

❤️

A lot of your friends criticize you for marrying a demon slayer, a hashira at that.

"Oh ____, you know how those men are. They're just looking for a fun time nothing long term!"

They would say.

"He could die at any moment, and he's always out no?"

They would always criticize you too.

"Imagine being with a suicidal maniac?"

They would whisper.

He took them especially hard.

He always wanted your family and friends to accept him. Especially after he had lost his own, he practically prayed for your family's approval the week before dinner was set up to meet them.

"Giyuu?" You walked into the room letting out a laugh as you saw him kneeling on the floor in a praying motion. "What are you doing?" you asked, leaning against the door frame observing him with an amused glint in your eyes.

"Praying that your father accepts me" he replied not even batting an eye.

You let out a small laugh as you rolled your eyes again before approaching him.

As you stood beside him you bent down and picked up his praying hands.

"Baby you don't have to worry about anything, if I love you that's all that matters" you said bringing your empty hand to his cheek holding his hands with your others.

"But what if your family doesn't like me?" he asked, his beautiful blue eyes staring up with an emotion you couldn't decipher along with fear.

Your eyes softened at the scared look in his soft eyes, God you could melt into them.

"Them fuck them, because one thing that I do know of that I love you"

You brought his pale hands up to your lips before pressing a kiss to them as a soft blush spread to his pale cheeks.

"And that's never going to change," you said with a laugh. "You believe me right? you believe that I love you with all my heart, right?" You asked with a smile as he looked down, his blush deepening.

"Yeah" he mumbled shyly.

"Besides I'm sure it's going to go amazingly"

Spoilers, it didn't.

Immediately your asshole of a father began criticizing everything about him.

From his looks to his personality.

And to be frank, you couldn't take his shit anymore.

You two started arguing about his words and treatment as he continued to insult Giyuu even after your continued warnings.

And so you snapped.

A whole argument ensued and by the time you and your love left, Giyuu felt terrible.

He apologized over and over again.

He felt guilty.

He felt as if he had ruined your relationship with your father.

He apologized saying how sorry he was that he ruined it.

Your heart broke at the sight of him looking down at the floor apologizing the morning after.

Even after you reassured him countless times that this wasn't his fault he didn't stop with the apologies.

Until nightfall as you held him in your arms after your shower running your fingers through his long black wet hair.

You held his head to your chest as he kept his ear against your collar, against your beating heart.

It's something you learned after you got with him that he couldn't fall asleep until he knew you were safe.

Keeping his ear against your living heart reassured him that you were alive.

You were there.

"I love you Giyuu," you said as you played with the short hairs at the back of his neck.

"More than anyone and anything on this earth. In this world" you said as you heard his breath hitch a bit.

"Don't ever tell yourself that you did something wrong" you said as you looked down at him. "Because I love you and I'm always going to" you said pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Whether my family likes you or not." You said as small tears involuntary welled up in his eyes.

"Don't ever doubt yourself baby, because you are so beautiful and strong and handsome and perfect, smart, and I could go on forever about how much I love your blue eyes or the way that when you spend too much time outside in the sun your freckles show up. Or how when someone compliments you your ears turn red" you said caressing his already reddened ears.

"Or how your heart swells with pride when you accomplish something, I could talk about how much I love everything about you but we would be here for centuries" you said as he let out a small smile.

"The point is that no matter what anyone says I love you, and no one; not even my own father can change that" you said.

"I love you ____ ______" he said, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

"I love you too Giyuu tomioka" you replied, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

I am a sucker for soft boy Giyuu like I feel like he would be the biggest cuddler and he would always want to be small spoon just to always feel you around him. And I love the HC where he gets freckles every once in awhile and how that hashiras sometimes make fun of him for that 😭

Honestly I feel like my biggest flex is that I am a amazing big spoon 😍

He's so beautiful and I feel like someone always needs to remind him that he's loved.

He's so precious and he deserves all the love in the world ❤️

Anyways happy New years everyone and I hope you all have a great 2024🎉

Not me entering the new year single, depressed, and with a stray kids obsession 🤭

[ca-suffit]

Sorry, can I argue with the anon who said people are realising the show is shifting away "from the brown/black characters"?

First of all, there is a big fucking distinction between being Black and being a non-Black Person of Color. (Keep trying to elucidate this more but it just gets more inflammatory everytime I try. Sorry this the best I can do without calling people names 🤍)

Second of all, there is no point at which a Person of Color (Black or not) has been featured "enough" in promo or otherwise. I gotta get this out of the way. There is never "enough" promo for BIPoC. It could always be more and better. Armand was featured prominently prior to the season airing and he is at the SDCC panel. I do think AMC's marketing dept is undoubtedly being racist (left a MoC out of Mayfair Witches' promo too apparently). AMC needs to deal with that. We need to be on their asses about that. But don't play on Black fans (valid! Happened with Sleepy Hollow and countless others!) fears of this show sidelining US who BUILT this fucking show bcuz YOUR non-Black fave isn't getting his flowers! Especially when I know a lot of y'all weren't tuning the fuck in before the non-Black man had his moment in 2x05!!

And finally. Crucially. This is not a "brown" show. Even in that anon they put brown before Black. Ijbol. It's a Black show. With a Black lead. I'm sorry, this is not the time for participation trophies. Mind you, all day for weeks now Assadmand stans have been downplaying Jacob Anderson and Delainey Hayles ("I started watching for Armand!" "Armand was co-lead!" "This was Armand's szn!" etc EYE noticed 🫵🏿 that) while dutifully ignoring Armand's canon anti-Blackness (straight out of the Lestan Playbook ain't that curious) AND getting up Black Lescels asses for daring to like the wrong non-Black man better. Don't even get me started on cozying up to racist book fans for Devil's Minion tea. So let's not play racial solidarity games now cuz it has not been a fucking two way street. You can and should complain about AMC's racist marketing!! But do not turn around and try bring anti-Blackness into it bcuz who was featured just as heavily as always in promo? Louis and Claudia. And who do Assadmands constantly sweep under the rug unless they're shitting on Loustaters bcuz of Second Lead Syndrome? Claudia. How about the show, in this very szn, deconstructed the ideas of both the mythical anti-racist Europe and Black ppl being safer from anti-Blackness around non-Black PoC than white people? But here they are acting like the show isn't just going to be less racial in the future but has already gotten less racial... I wonder why 🤔

Anyway all the fucking doomposting after the finale... I know what they are doing. And I know why they bury the lede on this by making it about "brown/black" people in the show instead of just saying this is another racist failure of the famously inept marketing dept. Acting like the book fans talking abt how the show is awful and a flop and it's gonna get cancelled bcuz their fave non-Black man isn't the exclusive center of the universe.

Get real. Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining. - 🦁

.

[gabelesimp]

I had this fucking idea- 😭🤤 here me out please-

It's going to be a part of the School AU of Record of Ragnarok!!

The Shinto Siblings (+ Izanagi and Benzaiten, Yes. She's a Shinto Deity that has many names!))

Amaterasu: She's the Class President of Class 2, she's very nonchalant, Moody, and is of course, the Top student in that class. Often competes in competitions, such as Arts and Fashion. Clearly loves to listen to gossip, her friends are Aphrodite, Parvati and Benzaiten. Very early for classes, and hates being the leader during projects.

Tsukuyomi: He's a student in Class 4, Doesn't socialize with anyone except Beelzebub, Hermes, Shiva and Hades. He loves to listen to vocaloid, it doesn't matter who's the artist, he'll enjoy it. Often draws during lessons, he doesn't review for tests (But he still passes-), Hates it when his groupmates aren't his friends, He writes poems and owns a bunch of instruments. He loves to watch fights, especially after the Anti-bullying assembly, he records it and sends it to his friends, (They would make bets on who would win too), and who are those two students that fight often? Either Loki and Buddha, or Leonidas and Lu Bu-

Susanoo: He's in Class 4 with Tsukuyomi, he likes to sit next to his brother, (Because during a test, he'll ask for answers when the teacher isn't looking, but Tsukuyomi gives him the wrong answers, now he doesn't ask anymore-), His friends: Shiva, Anubis, Heracles and Kojiro. He loves Spring, He loves to sit by the windows.

Izanagi: He's the Head Teacher of the Philosophy Department, He clearly dislikes the Principal (Odin, because yea-), Often orders Tea to relax himself, or a cup of black coffee to wake himself up. Every Class fears him, because his students don't know him that much, since his subject is only on Wednesday and Thursday.

Benzaiten: Literally the one to start drama and win it. Clearly hates annoying people in general, and only tolerates her Friends' annoying behavior. She doesn't like group projects, unless she's with her friends. She's in class 3, just right next to Amaterasu's classroom.

(Enjoy y'all-)

[loreleywrites]

Loreley's TTRPG Characters: Kalliope Vex

I had y'all vote in a poll to see which of my TTRPG characters y'all would like to hear about first, and it was a clear win for the most problematic one. Good job, Tumblr! (Genuinely, good job; I love playing Kalliope.)

Kalliope Vex is my character in Armour Astir: Advent by Briar Sovereign, a PBTA game featuring magitech mechs called astirs, big-scope faction turns that change the course of your revolution, and narrative-first rules that embrace all the Cool Robots and War Is Bads a fantasy-bent Gundam-vibed game can offer. You can find it here.

ANYWAY.

Let's start with my favorite picrew I've made of Kalliope:

Kalliope (xe/xer) is 37yo, 6' tall, and weighs just under 200lbs. Xe's got lean muscle, a goth bob, dykey combat boots, and xer left eye has a glowing green iris and black sclera to reflect the power of xer patron. I'm playing the Witch playbook, which means in order to pilot xer astir, Kalliope struck a deal with a mysterious entity known as The Deep to access the powerful magic needed to construct and control such a large machine.

Xe's of the opinion that xe shackled this being in order to use its power, but The Deep has its own plans and helps and hinders Kalliope according to its own whims. Classic D&D warlock vibes.

Kalliope's whole deal at the beginning of our campaign is that xe wants to destroy the fascist empire, the Spellbound Republic, by any means necessary. Xe spent about a decade operating as a rogue astir pilot ambushing Republic squads whenever xe could hunt them down. Now, xe's part of the crew of The Adamant, a carrier operating with Fate's Inflection, the largest anti-fascist resistance force.

Xer astir is named Clatterhulk, and it's largely constructed from leviathan bones and obsidian. The cockpit is accessed by ribs opening up and granting entry. It boasts massive obsidian claws, a mounted cannon of focused bioluminescent light on top of its skull, and carries a sniper rifle that shoots bullets imbued with the crushing pressure of deep ocean trenches. Most notably, the upper arms, upper legs, sternum, and spine of Clatterhulk are etched with a series of arcane glyphs.

Kalliope has the exact same glyphs carved into xer upper arms, upper legs, sternum, and spine. These are glyphs associated with The Deep, and they link Kalliope's magical power to the astir and allow xer to do simple things like control the astir and complicated things like sense the heartbeats of every person in Clatterhulk's range while xe's piloting it.

Born in the slums of Glass Harbor, a coastal city built inside the rim of a massive caldera that embraces Crater Bay, Kalliope endured a childhood under rule of Amaurosia, the Goddess of Fear. Ever defiant, xe didn't understand why even adults let fear rule their lives. Young Kalliope reveled in scaring other children, and as a teenager began to truly understand the power one could gain through fear. Xe watched the Spellbound Republic leverage Amaurosia's power to control the populace, so xe joined an insurgent group called the Shatter Fists. When Kalliope was about 18, the Republic managed to capture and publically execute most of the Shatter Fists, leaving xer functionally alone in the world. This is when xer quest for power brought xer in contact with The Deep, xe constructed Clatterhulk, and xe began a bloodthirsty campaign of vengeance and violence against the Republic.

To Kalliope, all that matters is power. Xe's surly, rude, and arrogant (all to a fault), shielding xerself from having to genuinely connect to another person ever again. Xe doesn't do romance; sadistic hookups are all xe thinks xe needs (Kalliope carries a ritual knife carved from whale bone on a thigh strap, and xe does not practice safe kink with it.) Kalliope doesn't just want to kill fascists, xe wants to hunt and humiliate them. Xe wants to sow fear in their ranks the same way they used fear to rule a city.

Besides breaking pathetic women, Kalliope does enjoy live music and frequents dive bars for the music as much as the women and alcohol (Xe is a heavy drinker.) Despite Kalliope's rough edges, xe is a brilliant engineer and a talented scrimshaw artist (Xer ritual knife depicts a whale locked in combat with a kraken.) Xe also loves lollipops. I don't know why. I think I just loved the idea of xer flirting with someone by taking a lollipop out of xer mouth and shoving it into the other person's. Or crunching it in one bite. Mean ladies can like candy too.

ANYWAY.

Since we've been playing (a few months now), nobody in the crew really likes Kalliope any more than they did at the beginning except Captain Archer Mulligan, the captain of the carrier. He understands that Kalliope has turned xerself into a weapon, and so long as he can aim xer, xe'll be an asset to the war effort.

Xe literally broke xer against the wall trying to punch a squadmate who was laying into xer after xe had to retreat from a sortie xe recklessly launched xerself into.

Kalliope is starting to understand that working with other people, trusting them, can be an asset for xer goals too. The more people xe can leverage in combat, the bigger fights xe can win.

Xe's also started thinking about what happens when there's no more blood to shed. It's not a thought that ever crept into xer mind before (I think xe has internalized that xe's going to die fighting in this war, despite how much xe blusters about killing every last fascist in the world.)

The big development happened only last session, as I have declared a rival for xer! There's this sniper working for the council of fascist demigods whose gun can literally take down astirs, Ririka. Ririka has escaped from multiple sorties, so during the last downtime, Kalliope hunted her down to a dive bar and confronted her with the intent to intimidate her before xe inevitably kills xer. This is the most genuine way Kalliope has ever flirted with anyone, but I don't think xe knows it yet. I'm looking forward to seeing how badly Kalliope and Ririka fuck up each other's lives. Maybe they kiss! Maybe they don't. Gotta play to find out what happens.

Well, I think that about covers what I was planning on sharing. I hope y'all enjoyed hearing about this mess of a character I'm currently playing. Happy to answer questions about xer if folks are curious.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HERE, KITTY, KITTY (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnilingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: This took fucking FOREVER to type. Y'all know how much time smut AND action sequences take?? Please be nice to me. -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*********

EIGHTEEN.

Aizawa waits for you that night at the opera, and you appear out of the darkness to meet him. 

Literally. You’ve been hiding in the shadows of the alleyway across the street for nearly fifteen minutes after shifting out of your cat form.

You watch him now from the alleyway, anxiety mingled with arousal in your body at the sight of him. He looks absolutely scrumptious in his fly-ass black Armani suit, red bottom shoes, and low ponytail as he leans against the wall, one foot up and scanning the streets. He fits right in with the gaudy, wealthy folks that pull up to the theatre in their expensive cars. 

You hope to fit in with the crowd too, especially since you’re undercover. You look into the window of the shop you stand beside, the woman reflecting back at you looking nothing like you. She wears a slim red dress that highlights her complexion and gives the illusion of an hourglass shape.

The push-up bra she wears allows her breasts to sit perfectly in the sweetheart bosom of the dress, the rest of it sleeveless. Her braids are pulled back in a carefully-braided French braid that exposes her dangling gold earrings, matching choker, and glamorous makeup–dark eyeshadow; blush; red lipstick.

She made sure to disguise herself as much as possible. She stands tall in her pumps that are hidden under the floor-length skirts that she has to hold up in order to walk. 

She looks sexy; alluring; classy. Like an old movie star or a model straight out of the 1950s. And she’s you. Just like that, the fight earlier with Nemuri leaves your mind and all you can think about is tonight. 

After taking a deep exhale and saying a quiet pep talk in your head, you take a handful of your dress and strut across the street once it is safe to do so. You don’t stop or pause in fear of changing your mind or letting your anxiety get the best of you. You keep your eyes firmly on Aizawa and your mind on the mission. When Aizawa sees you, his eyes widen an inch. They skate down your body and up and down, taking in every feature of you.

“Wow,” he exhales. 

Your heart slows somewhat at the sound of his voice and the astonishment in his gaze. ”Well, that definitely calms my nerves,” you giggle, poking his chest with your clutch. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Already, you feel the anxiety you felt earlier leave you. 

Aizawa goes to say more, possibly something dirty, but stops, his face looking incredibly irked. “Hang on,” he grumbles. He presses against his ear where an earpiece sits, noticeable to only you.

“Yeah?” he curtly asks the person in his ear. “Yeah, I just got here. The show hasn’t started yet, so I don’t think he’s inside yet, but I’ll check.” He takes his fingers off of his ear and tiredly sighs. “Sorry. Damn cops keep buggin’ me about our target.” 

That anxiety that comes from reality comes rising back within you. You nearly forgot that you aren’t here for a regular date. “They don’t know I’m here too?” you ask. 

“No, but you can talk freely,” Aizawa replies. They can only hear me when I press the button on my earpiece.” He pauses to check his watch, pulling back his suit sleeve to do so. “The show doesn’t start for another twenty minutes so we have time to plan everything. Come on.” He presents you with his elbow and you take it, placing your hand on his arm. 

He escorts you towards the cherrywood double doors of the theatre where a line has already formed near the ticket booths. All you see are people in the most expensive of gowns and designer suits, dripping in finery and wealth.

With Aizawa by your side, so calm and collected, you feel as if you could fit in, at least for tonight. You can play the part well if it means completing this mission. When you and Aizawa finally arrive at the booth, you’re all smiles with your back straight and shoulders squared. 

“Good evening!” the young man at the booth cheerfully says. “How can I help you?” 

“Two tickets, please,” Aizawa replies, barely cracking a smile.

The young man luckily doesn’t take fear as Aizawa pulls his credit card out of his pocket and hands it over to the young man who completes the transaction. “Enjoy the show!” He chirps as he hands Aizawa two tickets. You give him a grateful smile before Aizawa whisks you away towards the theatre. 

There are several entrances into the theatre depending on which floor one is on, and each one has people flooding in. You try to get a quick look at each person’s face or demeanor, searching for something that makes you feel slightly off or unnatural.

You don't realize that you are gripping Aizawa’s arm until he visibly winches. You look down, finding your claws digging into his suit jacket and possibly scratching his skin. “I’m so sorry!” you gasp, horrified at yourself. You quickly let go of him and retract your claws, furious at yourself for acting so paranoid. 

Aizawa peers down at you, his brows furrowed in concern. “You okay, kitty?” he worriedly murmurs to you. You plaster on a reassuring smile, hoping he doesn't see through you. “I’m fine!” you squeak out. “Just…I’ve never been to an opera before. Or around all these rich folks.” 

But that doesn’t fool him for a second. “That ain’t it,” he grumbles, turning around to fully face you. You lower your head in shame, knowing damn well trying to lie was a foolish idea. “You nervous about tonight?” he softly asks. “Y/N, if you don’t want to do this, you know you can–” 

“No,” you firmly respond, fixing your eyes up at him. “I’m not leaving. You didn’t have to let me come along tonight, but you did. The least I can do is see this through.”

The worry in Aizawa’s eyes only makes you feel worse. You don’t want to disappoint him or make him feel as if you’re not fit for this, but you also don't want to deceive him any more than you already have. The least you can do is tell him how you feel. 

Embarrassment blooms inside of you, making you flush in your pretty gown. “I just don’t wanna fuck up,” you softly confess. “I wanna be good for you.” You feel weak; useless. You wither like a pretty, red flower, feeling oh-so horrible in your dress. 

Aizawa suddenly takes your hand and you see an intensity in his charcoal eyes. “Come here,” he demands, already snatching you off to the side. “Where there are no eyes.”

You have no choice but to follow him as he leads you away from the doorway to the theatre and down an empty hall. You’re breathing heavily, your calves aching to catch up with his long strides. “Where are we going, Shouta?” you demand, utterly confused. “What if the villain is here?” 

“Even if he is, he won’t attack until the show starts and the lights are off,” he replies, still focused on moving. “It’s called ‘the element of surprise’.”

He suddenly pauses and you nearly crash into him. You watch as he pushes open the door to an empty inclusive bathroom. “In here,” he mutters, holding the door open for you. Though you’re still confused, you tip-toe into the bathroom anyway, your cat eyes adjusting to the dark shapes of the bathroom sinks and stalls. 

You turn to Aizawa to ask him what the hell is going on, but the intensity in his eyes has begun to grow and it leaves you silent. He takes off his jacket and hangs it over the sink counter before popping two buttons to his crisp shirt, revealing his strong neck and bobbing Adam’s Apple. “We’ve got seventeen minutes until the show starts, which gives you just enough time to cum all over my face.”

You blink at him, perplexed. What the fuck did he just say? “W-What?” you stammer. 

He begins to walk toward you like a predator stalking its prey, causing you to walk backward until you hit the sink counter. He traps you between his arms and the counter, giving you the illusion that you have no place to run or ride. It’s so fucking hot. 

“You’re in your head,” he explains, “which will make it a lot harder to go through with this mission. If you’re gonna work with me, kitty, then you need to trust yourself and clear your mind.” He gives you a crooked, lustful smirk. “I’m here for that.”

Before you can protest or even take a breath, he yanks you into his arms and envelopes your mouth in a toe-curling, mind-blowing kiss. As his soft lips move against yours, one hand grips the back of your neck while the other palms at your ass in your dress, squeezing and needing the soft globes of flesh. “Shouta,” you sigh, grappling for his collar. 

Aizawa takes that moment to begin kissing your neck and shoulders, his lips touching every single sensitive bit part of you. “Tell me you want this,” he hoarsely tells you as his lips caress every part of your naked skin. “Tell me you want me to clear your head.”

His fingers glide under your dress to slip between your lips, touching your now-aching pussy through your panties. “Yes, Shouta,” you moan. “Please…just please do something!” 

You don’t care what he does to you. You just want him to take care of you. Aizawa wastes no time pulling you over to the sink and bending you over, his big hands on your hips. You softly moan as he does so, this dominant side of him turning you on heavily. You press your hands against the cool counter of the sink, your breathing labored and your heart pounding.

You feel his calloused fingers glide up the hem of your gown as he pulls it up over your hips. “Thank God for the slit here,” he growls. “Makes my life a whole lot easier.” 

His fingers then loop through the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your shaky legs. He doesn’t waste any time–his wet kisses are immediately planted all over your inner thighs and pussy lips as his hands begin to massage your ass.

You moan at the feeling, biting your lip to avoid getting any louder. The last thing you need is someone coming in here and seeing you…though the thought of it makes you wetter. Aizawa comments on it as his fingers glide over your slit, hissing quietly at the wetness he finds there. “You’re soaked already,” he groans. “What I wouldn’t give to fuck this wet, little pussy right now.” 

You whimper at his dirty words and close your eyes, already picturing him fucking you while you’re bent over the sink counter, completely vulnerable and open for him. “But we’ll have time for that later,” Aizawa softly murmurs before his face is planted in your ass and his tongue is gliding along your pussy. He takes his sweet time despite there being a very important mission, his tongue swirling along your clit and your slit. 

You moan and grind your hips back into his mouth, your mouth wide open as the pleasure explodes all over you. “Fuck, Sho, baby,” you whine, gripping the counter. “You’re so…so good!”

He moans into your pussy, occupying his tongue in your pussy while his fingers begin to rub soft circles around your clit. His soft touch nearly sends you into orbit. 

And though this feeling is good and amazing, it only does so much to curb your anxiety. No matter how good Aizawa’s mouth and fingers are, those intrusive thoughts about tonight come rushing back to you.

Thoughts of whether or not you’ll be good enough; if you’ll be able to keep up with Aizawa; if you’ll end up hurt or possibly dead. They propel you into a dark hole, farther and farther away from the pleasure and tender, loving care you’re receiving now. 

“You’re tense,” Aizawa murmurs from behind you. His hand moves to stroke your ass soothingly. “Relax, kitty. I’m here with you.” His hand then moves up your back, stroking it slowly. His fingers feel heavenly. “You don’t have to think about anything but what you’re feeling right now.” 

You flush, feeling guilty for your emotions. Here this man is, on his knees on a dirty bathroom floor and working his jaw like it’s his duty, doing everything he can to make you feel better. And yet, you just can't get out of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly say. “I just…I’m just scared.” You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Please continue. Don’t stop.” 

But Aizawa doesn’t touch you. Instead, he stands and you can feel him behind you. “You’re still shaking though,” he comments, his voice deep and blunt.

You flush with embarrassment, hating your body for betraying you. Now he’s going to stop and lecture you for being too insecure in your skills and abilities. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the dam of tears from breaking and flooding behind your eye sockets. 

“Turn around,” he orders, firmly but softly. You slowly do so, your eyes still closed. His hand touches your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. You slowly open your eyes to stare into the worried, charcoal pools staring down at you.

“I wanna do something for you to help, but I need you to be absolutely sure about it before you say yes. I know we’ve only been intimate for a short while, but I think this could help relax your body and your mind.” 

You blink at him, confused yet intrigued. “What did you have in mind?” you question. He continues to stroke your cheek, the feeling soothing you already, though he looks almost uncertain about his idea. His lips are drawn into a tight line and he seems like he’s in his own head.

But before you can ask what’s up, he drops his hand from his cheek and takes his suit jacket from the sink. There, he retrieves his scarves and turns to you. Even in the darkness, you feel the intensity of his gaze on you. 

“I’m gonna be upfront with you,” he bluntly says. “I’d like to tie your wrists and ankles with these, but only those. Restricting your limbs will help your body relax and your mind would have no choice but to focus on the pleasure because your body can’t move. I’ll only do it with your permission though.” 

You silently stare at him for a moment, the gears in your head slowly turning. He wants to what? Your eyes tick down to the scarves hanging loosely from his hands before ticking back up to his waiting eyes. 

You clear your throat, flushing. “Uh…you’re into that?” You can’t help but nervously giggle. You never thought Aizawa would be so kinky, but then again, he’s also the same one who groped you in a school elevator. 

Though you can’t quite make out his complexion in the darkness, you can tell that he’s blushing by his eyes flicking away from yours. “A little, but I’ve only done it with a few. Not everyone really…gets…what I’m into.”

Your eyes widen. What the fuck else is this man into besides bondage? You suddenly remember him mentioning a collar the night you two had sex for the first time and you blush. 

Aizawa takes your silence for discomfort even though your mind is short-circuiting. “If you don’t want to, I completely understand,” he quickly adds. “There’s no pressure. I just want you to clear your head for a while and feel every ounce of pleasure I want to give you because you deserve it.” 

You stare into his eyes, searching for any confirmation that he means what he says. He does. You can tell by the way he stares you down, his gaze soft but unyielding. You’ve never done something like this before. It’s way out of your world, especially when it comes to sex.

But the idea of being tied up by Aizawa’s scarves and given a good orgasm arouses you more than you understand. Your pussy clenches and gushes impatiently in your panties, desperate for this fantasy to become a reality. 

“Okay,” you decide. “Let’s try it.”

Aizawa’s eyes widen, obviously not thinking you would agree. “But only on one condition.” With a sway in your hips, you sashay up to him, your heels clicking against the tiled floor. You press a hand to his toned stomach and slowly slide it up to his chest, feeling him up. “When you tie me up, I want you to fuck me just like that,” you purr. 

The shock on Aizawa’s face immediately fades, replaced with a darker, more intense look. It’s intimidating. It’s sexy. “So I have your permission to do this?” he asks, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that excites you. You slowly nod.

“And you can revoke that consent at any point during this. Your pleasure and your safety are all that matter to me, and they should be all that matter to you.” He cups your chin in his hand, forcing you to keep his eyes on his. “Am I clear?” he asks. 

Though your mind is going blank and your tongue feels dry, you manage to answer: “Yes.” He raises an expectant brow. “Yes what?” he probes.

You swallow your now-dry throat, feeling like you’re in the damn Sahara desert now. “Yes…sir?” you timidly answer though it comes to as a question.

That satisfies him though, a crooked smile crossing his lips. “Good girl,” he chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now turn around and face the mirror with your legs together and arms behind your back, one wrist over the other.” 

Trembling in excitement, you do as he commands and turn toward the mirror. You watch the woman staring back at you place her hands behind her back and stand with her legs pressed tight together. Aizawa comes up behind her and gently takes one of her wrists into his hand where he begins to wrap his scarf around it. He does the same to the other until both are tied together, stuck behind your back. You flex your hands in your new binds, the restrictions tight but not painful.

“That okay?” he asks, looking up at you for your reactions. “It doesn’t hurt?” 

You slowly shake your head. “No,” you answer. “But I can’t move them either.” The grin that stretches across his face is no short of devious. “Good; now we do your ankles.”

He bends down and gives your ankles the same treatment, his fingers working expertly to tie a knot around the back of your ankles that pulls them tightly together. Finally, you’re finished and you feel completely stuck. You can hardly move and even if you try to, you know that you’ll trip due to your feet being restricted. The fact that you’re completely at Aizawa’s mercy makes your heart thump faster in your chest, especially when you feel his hand press on the middle of your back. 

That anxiousness twirling in your stomach is replaced with pleasure when you feel Aizawa bend you over the counter and lightly glide his fingers against your cunt. “You’re still so wet,” he growls, arousal deep in his voice. He begins to stroke you there, emitting breathless moans from your lips. You shut your eyes from the feeling, unable to hold yourself together.

You suddenly feel Aizawa at your side, his hot, minty breath fanning your face. “Is this turnin’ you on, kitty?” he teasingly asks, his lips at your ear. “Havin’ nowhere to run or hide because you’re tied up in my scarves? I could do anything I want to you at this point.” 

You whimper at his words, already picturing him doing that. He could fuck you in any position he wants; move your body however he sees fit. The more Aizawa plays with your pussy, the harder you can feel him becoming in his pants as he pushes against you, the wetter and more impatient you get. You need him. Now.

“Shouta, please,” you pitifully whine. “Please just fuck me. Please make me forget.” 

Sensing your neediness, Aizawa doesn’t waste time unbuckling and unzipping his slacks with one hand. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, and you feel his cock press against your entrance. He lightly strokes your slit for a few seconds, coating his head in your juices, before he pushes himself inside of your aching, waiting cunt, stretching you out. You gasp at the feeling, your toes curling in your heels and muscles turning to jelly. 

Aizawa slowly begins to rock his hips against your ass, creating a symphony of skin slapping against skin. “God, you’re tight!” he grunts. “Keep your thighs pushed together. Keep yourself tight for me.”

You do as he says, clenching your thighs tightly together, causing your pussy walls to clench around his cock. He takes that as his cue to go faster, bumping his hips mercilessly against your ass that bounces and claps against his lower stomach. Every time he thrusts, he strokes another part of your pussy walls that has you seeing stars and glides against the underside of your G-spot. 

“God, Shouta!” you gasp. “I can’t…can’t…” Your breath comes out in huffs as he fucks you silly against the sink. It’s too much. He’s just too good. Your mind is now a blank canvas, blinded by the euphoric feeling that Aizawa is serving you on a silver platter. You have no choice but to take it, your restrictions forcing you to.

“Can’t what?” he huffs with laughter from behind you. "Can't take it? You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck all of those bad thoughts out of that pretty brain of yours?”

He grabs your hips and rams into you faster, turning your pussy to mush. You can no longer hold back and start to sob and whine, your voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. “Talk to me, kitty,” he demands. “Answer me.” 

“Yes!” you sob, nearly crying at the sheer pleasure. “Yes, sir, I need this! I need you!” Aizawa continues to sharply snap his hips, ramming his cock into your pussy again, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with every thrust. You are gone, absolutely “Please keep fucking me like that!” you babble. “Please, please, Master!” 

Your eyes pop open, horrified at your words. Aizawa falters for a moment in his thrusts, obviously catching that word too. ‘Oh, no,’ you lament inwardly. ‘Now look what you’ve done, stupid! Now he’s gonna think you’re weird! You’ve ruined every–‘ 

The self-critical thought is instantly squashed when Aizawa begins to claw at one of your breasts, bringing it out of your dress to fondle as he proceeds to fuck you dumb again. “Say that again,” he hoarsely demands, almost begging you. “Call me that again.” 

Your pussy clenches desperately around his cock, your clit swelling as you get closer to that orgasm. “Please, Master!” you beg. “Please make me cum! I’m so, so close…” A string of mewing moans leaves your lips as he speeds up, doing his damnedest to make you both cum.

“Cum all around my cock,” he growls. “Do it right now. Give it all to me, kitty.” As you clamp down around his cock, prepared to do just as he ordered you, he grips your breast and your hip hard enough to draw bruises. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” he grunts. “Gonna cum deep inside this pretty lil’ pussy…” 

After a few more earth-shattering thrusts that knock the wind out of you, he grips your body to him for dear life and bursts inside of you with a primal growl that makes you unravel in his arms and scarves. Combined with the feeling of being restricted, his dick gliding over your G-spot, and his warm cum gushing inside of you, you finally cum all over his cock. Your orgasm washes over you in a blissful tsunami that has you curling your toes in your heels and biting your lip to keep from screaming at the top of your lungs. 

You are overcome with mind-bending, back-breaking pleasure. And Aizawa. Your senses come alive with every part of him–his scent; his touch; the warmth radiating off of his body.

And for the first time since tonight started, you feel good. You feel so good that you can hardly control your breathing. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the aftershocks of your orgasm take over your body, making you writhe and buck against the restraints. Aizawa slowly slides out of you and presses his nose to your cheek, nuzzling it. 

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers. “Just breathe through it.” 

You do as he commands, slowly inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils until the aftershocks fade. Aizawa pulls away enough to let you lean your head back into his chest. You feel spent and sweaty but oh-so satisfied with what just happened. “Thank you,” you mewl softly. “That was amazing. Definitely did the job.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I am to please. Now let’s get you out of my scarves.” 

You feel slightly disappointed when he unties your wrists and ankles. And then you’re shocked at yourself feeling such a way. Did you really enjoy being tied up by him like that? Do you like the idea of being vulnerable and possibly controlled by him?

‘Very,’ you think, and you bite your lip at the naughtiness of it. You never considered yourself that submissive, but something about having Aizawa dominate you yet still takes immense pleasure in your pleasure is totally arousing to you. 

After you and Aizawa wash your hands and clean up, you quickly get dressed. You smooth out your gown, check your hair in the mirror to make sure it doesn’t look too fucked-out, and apply fresh lipstick in the mirror. You don’t need anyone questioning where you were. Once finished, you turn to Aizawa who is fully dressed and tucking his scarves into his suit jacket.

He turns to you, his gaze soft and giving you butterflies. “Ready, kitty?” He asks, and the pentane you’ve become so familiar and accustomed to makes your heart soar. 

You smile at him as you strut up to him, a newfound confidence in you that can only be given by a good fucking. “Yeah,” you reply with conviction. “Let’s do it.” And off to the opera you go, hand in hand. 

No one is around when you two come out of the bathroom, fortunately, so the trip to your seats is smooth. Everyone is already sitting in their seats, the entire place packed. Aizawa lets you enter your aisle first to find your seat before he follows. The seats are under a balcony where others sit above you and though high up, you still get a great view of the stage below.

“The show starts in five,” Aizawa whispers as he sits next to you. “He should be here soon.” 

You bite your lip as you begin to scan every seat surrounding you–down, up, left, and right. “What does he look like?” you whisper, eyes still scanning the audience below.

Aizawa does the same, his eyes shifting among the sea of heads. “Look for a man with terrible, scarred skin, green eyes, and long, black hair. Supposedly, he’ll be wearing a black suit and he’ll be here with a woman too, obviously as a cover for a hit tonight.” 

You cross your legs and put your hands in your lap, clutching your purse in an effort to relax. “What do you want me to do if I see him?” you ask, unable to calm down.

Aizawa puts his hand in yours, holding it. “Just squeeze my hand twice and I’ll know. You can just be my lookout for now.” He goes back to looking straight ahead at the stage, looking calm and collected, but you can tell he’s alert. 

You wonder how you can be like that. How does he stay so calm in such a high-alert situation? You can barely keep still. You’re jumpy; unable to keep from voicing your concerns to Aizawa. “But what if–“

Before you can get the rest of your words out, the lights in the room are dimming, shrouding the audience in darkness, and the crowd is excitedly applauding for the start of the show. 

You instantly grip the arm of your chair, your claws sinking into the cushion there and ripping it. You’re reacting as if a villain will pop right out of the stage. Aizawa grips your hand, his thumb running comfortingly across your knuckles. “Relax, honey,” he coos. “Just keep breathin’ for me. You’re doin’ great so far.” 

On stage, a spotlight appears, illuminating a woman in a long, black gown and the most beautiful, glossy curls you’ve ever seen. As she opens her mouth to sing, a string section below the stage begins to lay alongside her melody and a big, white moon rises above her in the background.

“It’s not that,” you whisper fearfully. “What if he sees us first and attacks us?”

Aizawa shakes his head. “He wouldn’t do that unless he wants to make a scene. With how low-key he’s been, it wouldn’t make sense for him to do such an irresponsible thing. That would be like painting a target on his back.” He turns back to the stage, paying attention to the singer…or at least acting like it. 

You try to do so, but the loud sounds of horns, flutes, and drums coming from the band below make your anxiety reach a crescendo along with the music. You busy yourself with being Aizawa’s trusted lookout and slowly scan the audience to your left. Thanks to your cat eyesight, you can make out each face in the darkness. You check their eyes; their hair; their features.

You see no one that matches Aizawa’s description of the villain or one that looks remotely close to being a threat. You can feel yourself becoming frustrated. How are you supposed to find him in such a big audience? He could be anywhere! 

But when your eyes scan up to your left towards the balcony seats, you know you’ve found him. He stands out immediately like a sore thumb. And he might as well be–his skin is terrible, pebbled with healed scars across his cheeks and jaw.

His hair is long and black like Aizawa’s, but not as luscious or sexy. It looks oily and cascades down his shoulders in waves. He wears a dark indigo suit that matches his eyes and the dress of the beautiful woman he sits next to. They sit in their own seats isolated at arm’s length away from the rest of the audience.

While his date doesn't give off the vibe of evil, he certainly does. His appearance makes you weary and the way he sits–back straight and rigidly as if he’s about to get up at any moment–makes you uneasy. 

You know for a fact that you’ve found the villain. You waste no time squeezing Aizawa’s hand twice and he immediately turns to you. “See him?” he whispers. You nod, motioning your head to your left where the balcony seats are. 

He shifts his body to look, pretending to be whispering to you. You shift your eyes to the left to keep your eyes on the villain and his date. She leans over to whisper something to him, her hand on his knee. He nods and whispers something back, making her grin and slap him on the arm. She then rises from her seat and walks towards the exit behind her.

“Looks like she’s getting up,” Aizawa whispers, already rising from his seat with you. “C’mon before she comes back.” 

“What!?” you quietly hiss, shocked that you are already moving in action. What are you supposed to do?

But Aizawa doesn’t explain, instead taking your hand to get you out of your seat. He whispers “excuse me” to your seatmates as you squeeze past them before heading up the steps to one of the exits. With his hand still in yours, he hurries to the next exit on the left where the balcony seats, and your target, are. You see the back of his head and feel those nervous butterflies return.

You turn to Aizawa for comfort but he is busy talking to someone in his earpiece. “Yeah, I see him,” he tells the person in his ear. “I’m approaching the target now for interrogation.” 

Your eyes shift to the villain and back to Aizawa who proceeds to creep towards the balcony. You stop him, your hand on his shoulder. “Wait, Shouta,” you protest.

He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused. “He may recognize you and freak. Let me try to get him first before you do.” You know the villain won’t recognize you and if you act right, you would seal the deal on this mission for both you and Aizawa. 

The pro looks uncertain and a little afraid. “You sure?” he worriedly asks. You nod, determined to show him that you’re more than capable of doing this. He finally nods, presenting his hand in an “after you” motion toward the villain. “Go get ‘em, baby.” 

You grin, wanting to kiss him. ‘I certainly will.’

Slowly, you creep towards the balcony seats, glad that the singing is loud enough that your heels clicking across the floor aren’t heard. You move slowly and methodically, keeping watch of the villain’s head to make sure you're not heard. But he’s too busy staring ahead. Holding your breath, you finally make your way to the seat next to him and sit down, finally exhaling. You try to keep calm and not give yourself away as his cologne hits your nose. 

He barely glances your way when you finally settle into his date’s seat. “You’re back,” he says, his voice gritty and low. “That was quick.” You feel his hand move to grip your thigh. You do your best to not claw it off. “I just couldn’t wait to get back here and see your handsome face, darling,” you purr. 

You glance at him, watching his scarred face morph into a scowl. He finally turns toward you and his eyes widen in shock. “Who the fuck–“ 

“Nice outfit, right?” you chuckle deviously, motioning over your red gown. “I did a quick change. And how ‘bout my nails? You like ‘em?” You present your hand to him where your claws jut out of your nails, sharp and glinting in the darkness. 

Before the villain can say anything more, he is suddenly yanked back into his seat by his neck where a scarf is wrapped tightly around it from behind. “Say one word or make one move, and I’ll snap your neck,” Aizawa warns, his voice dangerously low. “I’m gonna ask you some questions and I want you to answer them honestly. Maybe then the cops will go easy on you.” 

The villain grunts slightly as his breathing is slightly restricted but not enough to choke. “Eraserhead?” he chuckles in disbelief. “They got you?” His indigo eyes shift your way, ticking up and down your face. “Who’s the chick?” he curiously asks. 

Aizawa’s fists clench around the scarf wrapped around the villain’s neck, causing him to wheeze. “Her name is Night Claw and she’ll most definitely put those claws to use if you don’t start talking.” You flash your claws at the villain and even grip his knee for good measure, causing his body to tense. “What’s your real name?” Aizawa demands. 

“Toyoma Kaneki,” he hoarsely responds. Aizawa nods as if expecting him to say that. You don't doubt that he did. “What are you here for?” he demands. “It can’t just be for a night out to enjoy the singing. You’re here for someone.” Toyoma defiantly grits his teeth and Aizawa tightens his grip, causing Toyoma’s face to turn beet red as he tries to choke down air.

Aizawa finally releases his hold and the villain gasps. “God!” he coughs. “It’s him! Multi-millionaire and politician.” He nods at the bald man wearing glasses sitting several seats below. “Someone paid me to do it, but I wasn’t gonna kill him!” 

“How can we believe that?” you scoff. “You have a track record for murder and assault, apparently.” 

Toyoma visibly shakes as Aizawa’s tightens his grip again. “I-I just get paid to it!” he stammers. “Plus, these people are bad news too: blackmail; money laundering…I’m doing the streets a favor for takin’ them out.” 

“That’s not up for you to decide, Toyoma,” Aizawa lectures, sounding like a father lecturing his son for bad behavior. “So what do you wanna do here?” Toyama continues to stare ahead at his target, a scowl on his face. His shoulders then slump in defeat. “You caught me, I guess,” he sighs, raising his hands. “I know if I do anything, you’ll fuck me up. If the cops are waiting for me outside, just take me to ‘em.” 

You and Aizawa instantly share a look of pure confusion. That doesn’t sound right. Before you can question Toyoma if he's serious, the clicking of heels startles you, and your ears perk up high on your head. You and Aizawa turn, finding Toyoma’s standing there in a state of shock. 

“What’s going on here?” she demands, squinting at you. “Who are you?” When she sees Aizawa, her eyes just about pop out of her gorgeous skull. “Eraserhead?!” she gasps, loud enough to catch some eyes. Before either of you can speak, Toyoma suddenly sinks into his seat and disappears into the floor like he isn’t made of solid matter. You can hardly believe your eyes. 

“Fuck!” Aizawa growls, already racing to the exit past Toyoma's distraught date. You follow him as fast as you can in your heels. As you do, you rapidly search the area for a way downstairs, knowing Toyoma could be on any of the lower floors.

You swear you get blessed when you find a staircase near the elevators. “Shouta, this way!” you shout before quickly venturing down the staircase. Aizawa follows close behind, his dress shoes slapping against the stairs as your heels slam furiously down each step. You know you’ll be feeling this tomorrow. 

The staircase is luckily only five floors, leading right down to the final floor: the basement, right behind a door. Though out of breath, you immediately grasp the doorknob and jiggle it, finding it locked. “The door!” you growl, frustrated as you continue to pull and push with no use.

With his hand on your shoulder, Aizawa silently moves you out of the way, keeping you as far from himself and the door as possible. He then raises his left leg and forces the basement door open with one swift kick. The door nearly breaks off its hinges as it slams open, revealing a dank, dark basement with creaky floorboards, cement walls, and dusty tools, stage equipment, and dining tables. 

Aizawa carefully walks in first, his movements silent and methodical. Before you enter after him, you unstrap your heels and carry them instead, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise. Walking barefoot allows you the silence you’re looking for. The basement is quiet but not unnervingly so when you follow Aizawa into the room. When the door shuts behind you, it engulfs you in total darkness.

You’ve never been more thankful for your senses than now when your feline sight kicks in, allowing you to see the shapes of different items and Aizawa standing in the middle of the room. “Sense anything?” he asks, his voice hushed and low. 

You take a moment to tap into your senses. Though it’s dark, you don’t see anything move; not even the tiniest bug or dust particle. You don’t hear anything despite a show happening several floors above. You also don’t smell something out of the ordinary that isn’t mold or dankness.

You don’t sense…anything. And that frightens you. Toyoma is clearly a very skilled villain which means he knows when to attack and when not to. Aizawa has to keep on his toes. You turn to warn him, but before you can, you suddenly find yourself being kicked hard in the middle of your back and falling chest-first on the floor. You gasp, the wind completely knocked out of your lungs. 

“Y/N!” Aizawa shouts, racing to help you but is stopped when Toyoma materializes from the solid floor beneath him and punches him in the face.

Aizawa falters slightly but manages to quickly recover and scoop you up with one arm. Carefully, he carries you away to the other side of the room and lays you on your side. “Y/N, stay down,” he demands. “I’ve got him.” You can’t even protest; you’re in too much pain. 

You have no choice but to watch Aizawa as charges at Toyoma, drawing his scarves and immediately targeting them at Toyoma. His attack is done in vain when Toyoma disappears into the floor again.

Aizawa barely has time to look for his opponent when he suddenly appears right behind him from the floor and wrenches an arm around his neck. Toyoma is incredibly fast, you realize. So fast that neither of you can sense him. 

Aizawa grunts, his knees buckling as Toyoma locks his arm around his neck. “You should’ve known better than to have followed me down here,” he grunts, working his damnedest to choke Aizawa. “You should’ve let me leave.”

Aizawa gargles and grunts in Toyoma’s deadly hold, his face turning a dark shade of red the more time he goes without breathing. 

He’s killing you, you realize with fear flaring in your gut. And if you don’t do something, Aizawa is sure to die.

Thinking quick and concealed by the darkness, you press a hand to your stomach and roll over to the nearest wall where you find an old toolbox. You grab the first thing your eyes land on–a crowbar–and quickly rise to your feet. You run towards Toyoma and quickly hit him over the head with the crowbar, glad for your swiftness and the silence your bare feet allow you. 

Toyoma grunts in pain as he falls to his knees, grabbing the back of his head. Aizawa immediately crumbles and begins to cough, gulping down air.

Toyoma glares up at you like you just murdered his entire family. “And you should’ve known better than to have fucked with us,” you growl before bringing the crowbar forward to hit him across the face. 

Toyoma quickly sinks into the floor and appears again through a wall, this time on the far left. You’re on him immediately, ignoring the pain in your stomach as you draw your claws and swipe at him. Toyoma backs up with every single swipe of your hands, moving as you do.

You dip low to try and kick him from below, but he one-ups you by grabbing your leg and swinging you around like you weigh absolutely nothing. You shriek as he does, becoming dizzy from the constant whirl. When he finally releases you, you go soaring into the air and quickly twist your body to land on your hands. You then flip backward and land in a squat, your heart pounding and lungs burning. 

Toyoma chuckles at your skill. “Your bitch can fight, Eraser,” he spits. “But she’s not gonna stop me. Neither one of you fuckin’ idiots are!” He opens his jacket and Aizawa is on him, quickly charging toward him with his scarves drawn and eyes flashing red.

But before he can stop him, he reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a small canister, and forcefully throws it down. As soon as it hits the floor, the canister explodes into a plume of thick, blinding smoke that has you coughing and your eyes tearing. You find sanctuary on the nearest wall and press your back against it as the smoke gets thicker. 

“Y/N!” Aizawa shouts in the smoke. “Where are you?” His voice is loud and clear despite the smoke concealing your sight. He sounds close by, but where is the question.

You begin to try and walk along the wall, keeping your hands on it to give you some balance. “I’m right here!” you call to him, squinting into the thick, gray fog. “The motherfucker was ready, apparently.” 

“Stay right here you are,” Aizawa grunts. “I’ll come to you.” You want to ask him how when the fog is too thick, but you stop when you hear something: the honk of cars. It is coming from your left, right where you remember the small window being. Toyoma is escaping. “Wait, I hear him!” you shout. “He’s near the window! He’s getting away!” 

“Y/N, wait!” Aizawa warns. “Don’t go anywhere!” But you don’t listen, too pumped up on adrenaline and the fear that this piece of shit will get away for good.

Crouching in the fog, you quickly crawl on all fours, navigating through that way until you feel another solid wall. You trail your hands up until you feel nothing but the cool night breeze on them. The window.

Reaching your hands out, you grasp the window and open it further. Hopefully, the air will clear the fog for Aizawa’s sake. 

Quickly, you securely grasp the top of the window ledge and climb through, now squatting in the window. You twist your head to look up, finding a poster for the opera hanging there. You sink your clothes into the fabric and begin to climb up one at a time, grunting as you do.

The farther you climb, the more distant the sounds of the street become, but you don’t look down. If you do, you know you’ll stop. You keep your eyes up, trained on the stars above.

‘Do it for Shouta,’ you think. ‘He needs you.’ 

When you finally reach the rooftop, you pull yourself up with all of the strength you can muster. Toyoma is there, standing at the ledge with his back to you. When he hears you, he barely spares you a glance. “Don't move,” you demand, your voice low and dangerous. “If you know what’s good for you.” 

You can’t help but wonder why Toyoma didn’t just use his quirk to escape. You get your answer when he turns around and reveals the bomb sitting there, attached to dozens of wires. “Do you know what’s good for you, bitch?” he mocks you, an overly cocky smirk on his face. “If you take one step toward me, I’m settin’ this thing off. Consider it my plan B.” 

He retracts a device from his jacket–a remote with one single button. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that it’s for the bomb. Fear flows through you like ice was just shot into your veins, making you freeze up.

'So that’s why Toyoma came up here: he’s planning to bomb the theatre.'

He cocks his head to the side, staring you down like you’re nothing more than a child playing dress-up. And you do feel like you’re a child playing dress-up right now. You are now faced with one of the most malicious villains you’ve ever come across. 

“I knew one of you stupid heroes would be here undercover tryin’ to stop my mission,” Toyoma spits. “So I improvised. If you even think about comin’ near me, I’ll kill every single person in this building, including you and your man.” His thumb grazes the remote button, making your heart lurch. “Just leave me be and I won’t do it. I’ll even spare your life.” 

You know that all he spouts are lies. He may even kill you or worse, Aizawa even if you let him off the hook. Even worse though, he could be telling the truth. If you do as he says, you know it’s only a matter of time until he successfully accomplishes his mission or kills someone else the way he’s been doing so far. But if you decide to attack, he’ll bomb this entire place.

Sweat gathers at the back of your neck as you find yourself caught between decisions. ‘What do I do?’ you think in a panic. ‘What would Shouta do?’ 

You squeeze your eyes shut as frustrated tears prick at your eyes. You wish you could disappear somehow to take Toyoma by surprise. Maybe shrink down enough to sneak behind him and…wait. A lightbulb flickers in your head and you nearly laugh. ‘That’s it!’

Toyoma continues to stare at you, his thumb hovering tauntingly over the button. “What are you still standin’ there for?” he cackles. “What’s the matter? Cat gotcha tongue?”

You smirk at him, using those lines as the perfect time to shift. The world suddenly gets bigger and Toyoma appears much taller than he is when you shrink down onto all fours, your skin and clothes morphing into fur. Toyoma watches in horror and awe as your limbs shrink, your human ears shift into points, and your hands and feet transform into paws. Whiskers protrude from your cheeks. Your nose is now a snout. Your cat irises shift, directed right at him. 

“What the fuck?!” He shouts, nearly dropping the remote. You waste no time rushing towards him on your feline legs and pounce on him, your claws extended and fangs drawn. The shock on his face is absolutely hilarious, even when you drag your set of claws across his cheek and sink your teeth into his nose. “Ow!” he screams, holding his now bleeding face. 

As you land perfectly on your feet, you take the remote from his hand and into your mouth. Quickly, you shift back into your human form and slip the remote into your back pocket. Toyoma gives you a deathly stare, ragged claw marks on his cheek, and blood bubbling from the teeth marks in his nose. “That’s for calling’ me a bitch, bitch,” you hiss at him. “And this is for bein’ a dickhead.” You begin to charge at him, prepared to tackle him off of the building. 

You don’t count on him suddenly disappearing through the rooftop, stopping you dead in your tracks. You barely have time to look for him when you suddenly feel his hands grip your ankles from below. You shriek, trying to free yourself, but you only lose your balance. You gasp as you find yourself teetering off of the ledge of the building. Quickly, you grip the ledge with both hands, your claws scratching at the stone. “Shit!” You gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. 

You scramble to press your feet to the wall but you’re unable to find your footing. You sneak a look down below, finding the city traffic below you. Even if you did manage to land perfectly, you’d be squashed by one of the cars. A whimper leaves your lips as you grip the ledge, desperate to climb back up.

But Toyoma stops you when he appears in your line of vision and gives you a menacing smirk. “Now who’s the bitch?” he chuckles down at you. “That’s all you’re ever gonna be when you splatter all over the pavement for playin’ pretend.” 

He kneels down to give a good look at his eyes. “You think don’t see that you’re not a real pro?” he asks, squinting at you. “That I can’t see right through you?” He presses his foot to one of your hands, nearly crushing your fingers. “Now look at you: seconds away from death. Let’s see if cats really do have nine lives.” 

“Please!” you beg, but you can’t stop him when he pries your hands off of the ledge. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait to feel your body hitting the ground…but you don’t feel pain or hear the splat of your body hitting the cold pavement below. 

What you do feel is something gripping your wrist to stop your fall and hear Toyoma grunting from above you. You open your eyes, finding Aizawa’s scarves wrapped around your wrist and Toyoma’s body, restricting his movement.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Aizawa demands, rage written all across his handsome face and in his eyes that glow pure, deadly red. Toyoma's eyes widen for a moment, obviously feeling the effects of Aizawa’s quirk draining him of his power. “No!” he growls and squeezes his eyes shut behind he sinks through the rooftop once more. 

Aizawa isn’t too concerned with that though. He’s way more concerned with getting you up to safety. He begins to pull you up by one of your arms though you’re afraid to let go. “I’ve gotcha,” he grunts. “Grab my hand.”

He reaches his free hand out to you. Though hesitantly, you do so and he yanks you up by both of your wrists. Once you feel your feet touch the ground, your claws retract and your body relaxes though you still tremble. 

Aizawa immediately unties his scarf from around your wrist and wraps his arms around you. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. All of the fear and relief you can feel radiating off of his big, hard body pressed against yours in his tight embrace. He is solid, real, and true. Everything that you need to know that you’re okay.

You reach into your back pocket, presenting the remote to him. “I-I got the remote for the bomb,” you softly stammer. "He was planning to bomb this place.” 

He silently nods, not even acknowledging it too much. He just continues to squeeze you as if afraid you’ll disappear again. You lean into his chest, allowing yourself to melt into him, even feeling those tears threatening to rise to the surface. He rubs your back soothingly, reassuring you (and possibly himself) that everything is okay now. 

But everything isn’t okay. "Goddammit!” you growl frustratedly in his chest. “He got away again.” Tears begin to flow freely down your face now, ruining your makeup. "I almost had him! I almost–“ 

“Stop,” Aizawa firmly demands, taking hold of your shoulders. “You don’t need to worry about him right now. I knew he was gonna get away anyway. He’s skilled, remember?” His hand moves to caress your cheek, his thumb wiping away a lone tear.

“But I had him, Shouta!” you shout, feeling so much like a loser. “He was right there! If I would’ve just…” You hang your head in shame. “I’m a failure,” you defeatedly mutter to yourself. 

“No, you’re not,” Aizawa growls intensely, his stare firm and almost angered. “I don’t wanna ever hear you say that shit again, do you understand? You’re not a failure, Y/N. You’re strong, intelligent, and a damn great fighter. You’ve shown me tonight and so many other nights that you’re needed by my side.”

He wipes away another lone tear, cupping your face into both of his hands now. ”Don’t ever call yourself a failure, understand?” 

Knowing he wants an answer, you defeatedly slump your shoulders. “Yes,” you huff under your breath. His grip on your face tightens.

“What was that?” he firmly asks.

You try to ignore the way your heart leaps at his dominance and the effect it has on you. “Yes…sir,” you hesitantly repeat.

He nods once, pleased with that. He opens his mouth to possibly say more, but his expression morphs into one of irritation and his hand goes to his ear. “Eraser!” a gruff voice yells from the earpiece. “Eraser, come in!”

He sighs, pressing his ear. “I hear you, chief,” he huffs, irritated. “I lost him, unfortunately…yeah, I’ll visit the department later tonight with information on him. Stay put.” 

“Do you need me to come with you?” you ask, hoping he’ll say yes and you could be more help to him. You could make up for losing Toyoma.

“No,” he replies, and disappointment blooms inside of you. “You almost got knocked off a building tonight, baby. Go home and rest.” His lips stretch into a thin line which means he definitely doesn't want the backtalk tonight.

But you never listen. “But I–“ 

“No buts,” he firmly states. “Get home. Now.” His charcoal eyes drill a hole in you, daring you to protest or argue. But you don’t, the exhaustion of tonight being just too much.

You smile up at him despite yourself and fix his tie. “Still so bossy,” you softly giggle. That earns you a smile. 

Minutes later after collecting your heels and getting escorted outside by Aizawa, you do go home. But against his wishes and your better judgment, you show up at his door hours later in the night.

You sit and wait for him patiently by the door and once he arrives in his tracksuit hours later, you give him a big greeting, purring and curling your tail around his ankles. 

“Hey, you,” he coos. 

[roses-bel-air-darling]

For those who want to make a spiderpunk aka hobie brown playlist.

I have a couple of punk bands suggestions for y'all. Sorry for my music loving goofy self. I just wanted to share some suggestions for those who want to create a hobie brown playlist and don't know where to start.

Classic punk

*The Cramps

*The Clash

*The Misfits

*The Adicts

*Dead Kennedys

*The Sex Pistols

*Black Flag (Ok, how can you guys not add rise above? It fits hobie perfectly!)

*NOFX

*FEAR

*Subhumans

*Rancid

*The Damned

*Siouxsie and the Banshees (I know the band is literally one of the founding bands for goth music but the band's early years were punk)

*Fugazi (check out Ian Mackaye's band Minor Threat.)

*New York Dolls

*The Vandals

*The Stooges

*Ramones

*Blondie

*Bad Religion

Other bands with a hint of punk/a mix in between genres, or modern punk.

*No Doubt (Early albums)

*L7 (All female punk band)

*Against Me!

*The Distillers

*War on Women

*Debbie Harry

*The Cure

*Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

*Rage against the machine

*Joan Jett

*The Runaways

*Glenn Danzig or danzig (former singer of the misfits, had his metal band Danzig during the 80s-early 90s. Covered some of the misfits songs).

*Rollins Band (Former lead singer henry rollins from black flag band during the 90s)

*Green Day

*Blink-182

Not exactly punk, but are vocally anti-establishment and or anti-capitalist.

Ok. I gotta admit. These two are my favorite bands but I'm going try to not be biased here.

*Motorhead (despite being a metal band. Motorhead is embraced in punk culture. Due to lemmy's views on life and politics. He hates the British government, politicians in general and calls out their hypocrisy time to time in his songs, and the same goes with religion.) The band has a lot of albums. So here is some songs to add or give a listen.

-Eat the rich

-Org*smatron (Yes I understand the song name is a bit dirty, but the lyrics are the total opposite and it's one of the most badass songs I've heard.)

-Greedy Bastards

*Nine Inch Nails

(Their whole album of pretty hate machine, year zero and with teeth.)

*The legendary Johnny Cash. (Do I need to say more on this man? I know conservatives love him but if they actually read his lyrics. They would hate him.)

Banned/hobie would hate them

TW: SA

*The casualties (the front man is accused and outed for SA by a fan.)

*GG Allen (please don't... this man is the absolute scum of the earth.)

This is all I can think of and give some of them a listen or two.

[soartfullydone]

Back at you! Five favorite and five least favorite reads of the year

[rubs hands together gleefully]

My Top 5 Favorite Books of 2023

Battle Royale by Koushun Takami (translated by Nathan Collins) floored me with the depth of its personal character stories along with its understandings of humanity, desperation, and love. It's also just an incredibly engrossing and tragic thriller book that ends more hopefully than I ever expected. I avoided reading it for so long because I don't care for "violence of violence's sake" narratives that say nothing else. The gap between Squid Game and Saw is vast in my eyes, and while I didn't sob buckets like I did for Squid Game, the attachment I have to so many of the students in Battle Royale cannot be understated. It remains my favorite and most dynamic read this year.

Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo took an entirely different direction than I anticipated or hoped for—and shockingly, the direction Bardugo took was better than my imaginings. I thought Ninth House was an interesting genre switch for her, but it wasn't my favorite by any measure. Hell Bent, on the other hand, said, "Y'all want demons? Y'all want deeper character bonding moments? Y'all want a journey to hell that is literally, symbolically, and cuttingly personal?" Also, Darlington was very hot, I'm going insane.

The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss reminded me not only how much I miss the Kingkiller Chronicle but also how much I love Rothfuss' musical writing. He also understands fae so deeply that it's a pleasure to read about my fae husband, Bast, and his bargains with the local kids. Bast is the perfect character to follow around for a day, embodying the whimsical and mischievous writing style Rothfuss employs, and the many illustrations throughout the novella were so lovely. This is my idea of a cozy fantasy story.

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch, boooooooyyy! I loved every part of this, but I didn't expect the book to be as genuinely funny as it is, no implied laugh-track necessary. Underground gangs and rogue shit will always capture my heart and intrigue if done well, and Scott! Lynch! never! missed! How Father Chains trained his thieves to steal from the rich to ???? Be little shits? Excellent! The romance friendship between Locke and Jean? Beautiful. The cat-and-mouse cons that increasingly go wrong? Incredible. The barrel??? Brutal, I'll never get over that.

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh shattered my every expectation, and I gotta say, they weren't initially favorable. I thought, as a standalone, there was no way the book was going to do everything it claimed without pulling its punches and rapidly softening itself, and I was not only wrong; I was delighted. Hey, do you want to know what it's like to be part of a death cult? Do you want to follow a protagonist who sees herself as the model of this death cult and its bigoted society? Do you want to see how she fights, kicking and screaming, against the truth that upends her entire life until she can't deny it anymore? Do you want to believe in stories about redemption and people becoming their better selves? Do you also want a solid sci-fi story with aliens? Believe me, I am so happy that a sci-fi book made my favorites list this year.

Honorable mentions: The Poppy War (reread) by R. F. Kuang, Empire of the Vampire (new) by Jay Kristoff, The Stolen Heir (new) by Holly Black

My 5 Least Favorite Books of 2023

Seasonal Fears by Seanan McGuire is here because I am just. So. Disappointed. I adored Middlegame and still believe it to be one of the most technically impressive novels I've ever read. Seasonal Fears proved that Middlegame was not only a fluke but also that it should've remained a standalone. Melanie and Harry are insufferable protagonists, the plot meanders to such an anti-climatic ending, and characters I loved from Middlegame are here, not to help or to hinder, but to be the most annoying people on the planet. Giving my time and hope to this almost feels like a betrayal. I've just learned a third book is supposed to come out, and.... I can't do it again. I'm not strong enough.

The Serpent and the Wings of Night by Carissa Broadbent is BookTok mediocrity at its finest. As cumbersome as its title, the world-building and plot are each jokes I am not in on. People call this book "The Hunger Games with vampires," and I'm so sorry, Suzanne Collins. I'm so sorry people compared your thoughtful work to this hack job. In truth, Broadbent goes out of her way to distract the competitors of this "deadly" competition from going after each other to the death, especially her super-special human MC that can keep up with immortal beings no problem. It's full of insta-love and plot convenience, of telling without showing, of characters so stupid that none of them thought to bring poison weapons to the death game like the MC did, which you can also dip out on at night. When vampires are most active. It all culminates in 1-2-3 plot twists that are as laughable as they are story-breaking. See Battle Royale reigning supreme up there? Now look at this sad sack of shit. How could I possibly take this serpent girlie seriously?

Red Tigress by Amélie Wen Zhao is another that turned out to be disappointing and is the reason I won't finish the trilogy. While not having the most imaginative premise, Blood Heir at least proved an entertaining read, and I was invested in Ana's story, in her slowburn romance with Ramson, and in some minor characters who were introduced to have greater importance later. This YA novel also tackled the modern slavery issue that is human trafficking, and I was interested to see how the rest of the series would develop that conversation. Turns out, Red Tigress would not be doing that. It just became another shallow YA series that hand waves political alliances, the logistics of war, the necessity (or not) of a monarchy, and the justification of rebellion. It became a story where you Always Have a Choice, where the protagonists always have the Right information and make the Right decision (and that decision is always Good), and it stops asking realistic questions altogether. Oh, and then there's the intolerable Sorsha. Fire, murder, kill.

A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid is Ava Reid dumbed down for a YA audience. There, I said it. A Study in Drowning tries to be a lot of things. A gothic novel. A fairytale. A rivals-to-lovers romance. A feminist work about women reclaiming their stories from men. It succeeds at exactly none of these things. Its feminist messaging is so ham-fisted, countering acts of misogyny in a way that is so over-the-top because it can't afford you missing it. A shame that it calls so much attention to it because the novel crucially lacks meaningful female friendships, moments of female empowerment and growth, and true reclamations of agency. While I generally loved its imagery with water and rot, its protagonist was also a huge drain on my interest and patience. I almost DNF'd this, and I kinda wish I had.

In a Garden Burning Gold by Rory Power is... Well, I'll be honest. I have almost forgotten everything about this book; it was such a slog. The main characters weren't likable or interesting, even in their goals or relationships with each other. The family involved in this should've been my kind of messy, but it pretty much amounted to Dad Bad, Younger Brother Overlooked, Twin Siblings Important But Somewhere Else, Younger Sister Is Also Here? The world felt very small, the stakes present but not remotely urgent. The main characters were truly in their own heads so much that they missed all the warning signs that danced naked in front of them. There's a sequel and I don't know how or why.

Dishonorable mentions: Godkiller by Hannah Kaner, A Fire Endless by Rebecca Ross

[mallowstep]

Not sure if I’m sending this in the right place but, as someone who identifies as “centrist” in this whole anti pro thing (I don’t like either side, harassment and overzealous hatred over fictional characters bordering on obsession is unhealthy and definitely really harmful to minors in those spaces but a majority of proship shit I’ve come in contact with during my attempts to kinda figure myself out were also very black and white when it came to arguments over fictional depictions of certain topics, consumption of media and honestly at times reminded me of the fandom culture I was groomed in) I agree with you the most and genuinely enjoy a lot of what you write, and it’s refreshing to see someone else who has similar opinions and ways of handling these topics in their works with a nuance that people lack when looking at any of this stuff which infuriates me. I’d send this off anon but I do kind of fear backlash from outing my stance on this stuff ��� this whole controversy is dumb, I do wish people who could handle your approach on dark subjects gave your writing more of a chance, your mosspelt story was a very well put together piece on grooming and it’s effects while not being too graphic and focusing on an emotional journey and i really loved it, I wish people in general could use more nuance when looking at fiction and interactions with said fiction because these black and white arguments get us nowhere

[this ask was initially sent jan 31]

thank you so much for this ask.

(cw: i do not discuss any details of what certain fics contain, but i do discuss that i have written fics dealing with various kinds of abuse with some being graphic.)

the mosspelt piece is one of my proudest works, and i think it definitely...goes down the easiest? (in contrast with, say, no one held me to the flame, a concept i didn't expect any amount of support for or engagement with.)

i would like to take this moment to remind everyone that you don't have to engage with everything i write, just in case anyone needs to hear that today. if something is upsetting to you, don't read it. love to everyone.

anyway. as someone whose stance is tax paying adult/whatever is funniest/whatever people have decided today, i don't really like to acknowledge shipcourse. i've got friends who bear both labels, and they both agree with me. so. i think that pretty accurately describes how nonsensical this whole thing is, that two people on supposedly opposite sides can have the same opinions.

i was talking with one of my friends who has the same stance as me (altho, if forced to label ourselves, we would pick differently), and we were talking about how it ultimately comes down to how do we actually stop harm.

banning topics from ao3 doesn't stop harm. things will happen no matter what. you don't have to like it, but that's the reality. (for a tangible example of this happening, look into how FOSTA/SESTA made it harder for law enforcement to do their jobs.)

as some of y'all know, i was most engaged in this discourse when i was at a deep low point. (or high point, as it were, seeing as i was trending towards mania.) it's been a while since i've spoken on it because i needed a good long time out.

ultimately, characters on a screen or in a book do not matter and cannot be harmed. real people can. what matters to me is therefore the normalization of abuse.

a talking point that continues to bother me is the idea that just acknowledging something exists and happens is normalizing abuse. i think anyone who's read some of my fics can agree with that. i think if you read no one held me to the flame and manage to get off to it, or otherwise think it's normalizing abuse, then i'm a much worse writer than i thought. (i name nohmttf specifically because it goes as far as deliberately depicting the acts.)

i don't know where i'm going with this, just...it's all pretty senseless. if the super dark stuff like nohmttf isn't your cup of tea, i don't want you to read it. i want you to enjoy your time reading my fics.

[moon-sparks-system]

Greetings Earthlings & aliens alike !

We are the Moon Sparks, live from our Moon-centric system ! Kinda confused ? New around here ? Here's a few things to know (if I don't get lost into rambling again...) !

✪ Who will use this account ?

Well, members of the Moon Sparks system ! We figured out it could be nice for the whole system to get a sideblog instead of making a blog for each member as not everyone is as chronically online as the host-host, me, Léa/Léo/Kevin (also going by "Moon" to a few members). I guess I'm going to be the main writer of the pinned, haha. I'm the main host and the core I guess (we're still new to proper system terminology haha). I type like this ❢ You may see me use "❢" instead of "!" and a few kaomojis with flowers too. I'm a boyflux ace panromantic lad from France. As for other members, it depends on who wants to use the account ❢ We're like, about 30 members big ? That's a lot of potential bloggers, don't you think ? A few other people can write an intro, if they wish to.

Xx HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY !!! >:D It's me, Exe !!! I talk like THIS !!! I'm apparently a co-host ?!! Didn't know keeping Léa awake was a system role LOL! XP Anyway I'm cool, I like chatting, feel free to hit me up to discuss stuff ! :D I do bite LOL, but I'm nice about it ! I have my own dedicated sideblog here ! Check it out, it's cool as fuck ! Uuuuugh I've already said a LOT on my own blog LOL, so check that instead. Oh and I'm not affiliated with Exetior, FNF or whatever. Just call me "Exe" or "X" and we'll be good ! xX

• Hiya ! I'm Bendy, another frequent fronter. You can call me "Ink Bendy", but don't call me "the Ink Demon" or worship me, even as a joke. "The little devil darlin'" is perfectly fine though, and much appreciated ! I'm a lad with he/him pronouns I guess ? I'm mostly unlabeled, outside of the clear and certain fact I'm asexual. And I believe I'm sex-repulsed, so beware of that ! •

It's Léa again to say we have members of all ages and identities, but you'll mostly see fellas from Sonic, Mario and somewhat OG Sonic.exe. We do have a few people with no source too (like me !).

✪ Do you have a DNI ?

Oh we're not very picky when it comes to that. Just in case you care about such things, here's a short list :

No TERFs, no alt-right, stuff like that, the classics ; bigots won't be tolerated

No "little space", "agere", age-regression focused blogs in any of our notes. Yes, even if you're SFW. It's mostly just because of me (Léa)

Uuuuugh the fucking "pro-shippers"/"anti-anti" people. Y'all nasty go away

No NSFW accounts. So many aces in this system, and a bunch of littles too. Please be mindful

We could add a few things related to specific triggers of our members in here, but it's better to not expose your triggers in public. if you're curious about something : send us a DM ! /nm

Also it's not really a DNI but just know we're not particularly looking for sourcemates, and Bendy has isssues with most BATIM peeps so I fear we're not gonna be able to bond over that ; but we can try to talk still ! It's just not a criteria when we try to make friends

✪ Anything else I should know ?

Ummmm...

We don't talk too much about the details of our system publicly yet, but you can send asks about it I guess ?

"Doubles" are typically fine, we don't bite about that.

The body is an adult & black, and that's basically the only things you'll get to know about it.

We have a Simply Plural ! We can give you our username in DMs ! It's not fully up-to-date but most members wrote their own bio there.

We're still figuring out our typing quirks...

If you need something tagged : just ask !

And I think that's it !

Have a nice day everyone !

[wernher-von-brawny]

Wait -- I missed where "writers deserve attention more than actors" became a thing. This is the first I've seen that said.

My understanding, and what I've seen presented in the socials, is that Writers are joined by Actors are joined by UPS drivers and maybe Autoworkers and others to come.

Frankly, when I see someone dropping a hot take about a controversy I haven't heard mention of before, my first thought is "Nice try, cop."

So I Googled the phrase.

First and only divisive return outside of this Tumblr post -- lots of meditations on the word "deserve", but these seemed to lump all greedy creatives together -- was a Twitter bro saying "Writers deserve more respect." Not the same as "more attention", but still…

Smells like cop BS to me.

Like, COINTELPRO laid out how a major tactic to undermine anti-capitalist movements is the use of moles to stir up trouble, encourage extremism and self-destructive activity, and exacerbate tension between potential comrades.

And sometimes to tell the cops and the FBI exactly which bedroom Fred Hampton was sleeping in so they could bang. bang, bang away the looming potential electoral power of the Black Panthers.

Every moment spent engaging with statements like these -- even to refute them -- is a second stolen from building solidarity. At least that's my opinion.

EVERYBODY is getting fucked by, as Comrade Burnham put it, "the pedophilic corporate elite".

So even entertaining discussion about internal heirarchies of "deservedness" is triggering to my ancient, PTSD-addled nerves.

It calls to mind how the Boomer counterculture movement, united by fear of forced conscription, "ended a war" (as they unceasingly bragged well into the 90s), and then -- lacking a unifying pain point -- splintered off into special interests (like cocaine, disco, and money -- zing!) and fragmented their collective power, just at the post-Watergate moment when they might possibly have been able to force socialized medicine or a Constitutional amendment on reproductive rights or Glob know what else past a demoralized conservative establishment.

Instead, everybody went off to do EST and "personal work", and then voted Reagan into power. (Thanks, Boomers!)

In any case, my point is when these bitter and biased old eyes of mine see stuff that could even possibly be misinterpreted as neoliberal copaganda, that only the most paranoid crank (hi there!) would suspect of being a false flag attack on left unity, my brain fires off that most sacred of incantations: "Nice try, cop!"

And so I exhort all y'all who are engaged in the struggle: don't compete over who has the deeper grievance or the greater suffering.

First, get the job done: kill the rich, un-enclose the commons, save the planet.

And after all that has been accomplished, and you are in your comfortable, UBI-subsidized, eco-socialist retirement years, you can gather on your rent and mortgage-free porches, enjoy the sunset through clean, safe air…

And THEN you can indulge in that prerogative of bitter old cranks, and bitch and moan about who had it worse.

Dinner first, my comrades. Then dessert.

"writers deserve attention more than actors" literally only 2% of actors can pay the bills with acting. For every megastar on screen there are a dozen other people in the shot who are SAG. Acting gets so glamorized but there are SO MANY people in SAG who NEED residuals to live on. Background Party Girl #4 needs her check too!!!! There are people who play recurring characters on syndicated shows who cant afford health insurance!!! Ke Huy Quan gave an oscar winning performance and LOST HIS HEALTH INSURANCE the next year.

[wrotelovelytears]

Being Black in America is so funny because you already know what systems do and don't work and the fact most were started during slavery. Like y'all really thought the system that didn't let Black folks vote until 1965, white women in 1920s, Asians and Natives in 1950s would ever do something good? I wish I could be that ignorant because life would be easier. America would never let a Black woman (I do not care if she's half Asian, the Asian community mainly the Indian one did not ride for her as hard as Black folks did and that's just anti Blackness at its finest) get that seat. White women would never let a Black woman have something they want before them. All that girlboss, sisterhood, "female rage", pink hat shit was never for anyone but them. Asians would never fully consign someone who is part Black as one of them because that means all the systems they benefit from (as non Blacks) would have to be dismantled and questioned.

Like this isn't just her being a woman, she's a Black woman. And society (regardless of where you at on the planet) hates to see a Black woman in a position of power. They hate it because they fear we would turn around and do them how they did/do us.

Trump getting office makes sense, am I happy no, and I been knew the world hated Black folks. I didn't realize it was to the point people would do themselves in. But hey, anything for a slice of American pie huh?

The Muslim (ie Arab Muslims, because I'm not getting lumped in that shit) community choosing Trump is the exact reason why Palestine is suffering. Sudan, Mali, Somalia etc Muslim countries but they Black ones so ain't no one finna talk about that. Yemen been having a famine my whole life, but people ain't finna talk about that. Shit even what the Taliban is doing is older than me, and again it gets mentioned as a token talk piece but people do not care. The "conflict" been going on for almost a century, ain't no way people never met a Palestinian before the 7th, y'all didn't give a fuck because it wasn't trendy to talk about it. I wouldn't be shocked if y'all actively ignored them until last year. It's getting the Stop Asian hate and Black Lives Matter treatment and I promise you people bout to "move on" as soon as the next "new" big issue happens.

The internet is so funny because none of this is new, y'all thought a country built on slavery and genocide was going to let a Black woman in that spot.

And like said in my past post Europe ain't no better because they benefit from the same exact systems. Switzerland, the Netherlands and all those "quiet" countries made money off of slave ships, off of selling weapons to other colonial powers, off of the labour or South East Asians, West Indians, and Africans. So no Europe isn't a good place they just better at hiding they shit if someone don't know where to look.

The patriarchy won't go away until white supremacy does. White supremacy won't go away until anti Blackness does. Anti Blackness won't go away until non Black people acknowledge their bias. The bias wont go away until people realize all skin folk ain't kin folk regardless of race.

I'm not pissed, I'm tired.

[pixeljade]

re: a reblog u made saying "If you are not fighting against republicans with every fiber of your being at this point you are not a trans ally. If you tolerate the republicans in your family without challenging their ideas about trans people you are not a trans ally. Fight for us goddamnit or we will be culled and our blood will be on your fucking hands."

I wanted to point out that I feel like this was a very harmful thing to say. As a black girl, fighting against republicans is very scary for me. Republicans (a lot of them are white men) are very racist and sexist, so me and a lot of others "fighting" them could put me in danger. Of course, this is true for a lot more than just black girls/women. Also, I feel like asking someone to challenge republican family members could get then kicked out as well, even if they're not trans. Just being openly allied to them could put you against your family members and threaten your safety.

I think that telling people who are scared or tired of fighting that they're transphobic and blaming them for the rampant transphobia won't make them act out, it'll just make them feel worse about themselves. We're not all activists, some of us are just people... people who are terrified. Anyways, thanks for reading!

Hey so

First of all you're misreading my whole damn thing here. Everyone seems to be actually so let me clarify

What I said does not translate to "You specifically, no matter your situation, HAVE TO challenge the people in your life". It translates to "You do not get to claim the Trans Ally title if you do not put in the damn effort to defend trans people".

Like. You're black right? To make a comparison (obv not a perfect one because different forms of oppression work differently, but bear with me here) this ask is like if I, a white person, went up to you saying "Hey so I never go out of my way to defend black people in my life or challenge racism, but I'm still considered anti-racist, because I said so!" Wouldnt that piss you off a little bit? For the record, I have fought for my black friends, and have been to Black Lives Matter protests and lifted up their voices and so on, but even then I dont believe I have the right to claim the title myself. Because, as a white person, I dont get to decide what "anti-racist" looks like. Y'all do, because you're the ones who are suffering from racism.

Same basic idea applies here. If you are cis, as I think is implied by this ask, you do not have the right to decide what qualifies you as a trans ally. Our lives are on the fucking line in this specific issue, and therefore it is our voices that count towards what allyship looks like.

Additionally, you seem to think this is a binary thing, where if you aren't a trans ally then you are transphobic, which is another thing that I did not say. No, you can be neither a trans ally or transphobic. You could be a neutral party. Now if that idea bothers you, because trans peoples lives are on the line and you decided not to help them out of fear of the risk that comes with it, thats your own thing to deal with. I do think its cowardly, to accept that trans lives are being threatened and to stay silent in fear, but honestly. We're all cowardly sometimes. Thats the nature of being human in such an era of fear. But ask yourself, are you okay with that cowardice? Are you okay watching people die knowing you could have risked yourself to save them? This is what I am trying to challenge people to question here. Because the fact is, that is exactly what will happen if people remain silent en masse. You can say "oh my condition is different, I have a REASON not to stand up and fight", but really, doesnt every single person alive have a reason not to? The risk alone is a reason! If we all just said "never risk yourself" then that would mean the fascist bullies that comprise the bulk of the Republican Party win, and therefore, that means that the rule of law is whatever they decide it is. Do you want to watch that happen and do nothing?

So there you have it. You're allowed to do nothing, you really are. And hell, I'm not even gonna go and make a moral judgment of you for it: I do think that morality is subjective and therefore if you decide its morally okay with you to stay silent then good for you. However I will not give you a cookie for doing bare minimum shit. I will not tolerate casual acceptance of those who are literally legislating away my existence. You do not get to call yourself a "trans ally" for doing nothing risky, you get to call yourself a "coward" instead. But hey, you're the one who has to live with that label. Me? I get to die with mine.

[wumblr]

The green energies cannot support the grid entirely. If you want constant brown outs and black outs go for it but I want my grid able to support the entire energy demand not just when it’s sunny or when the wind blows just right, consistently. That consistency only comes from either coal or nuclear. I don’t want coal either, so for the sake of the future we need nuclear power. What we don’t need is your fear mongering.

don't know to what this is in regards, but i've said before i can agree with nuclear greens, and in real life i often work with many of them (they are FAR more common than dyed-in-the-wool anti-nuclear hippies, probably because they hunt us for sport)

the problem i have with this is that i am very willing to recognize your side of the argument, capitulate on all of my principles about this entirely in order to let you build the reactors, since i know i'm not getting together a good old fashioned reactor-cancelling protest because the numbers simply are not there -- and no matter how clearly and calmly i state it, y'all are woefully delusional about what comes along with the reactors (longterm storage, police, and bombs, let alone the health effects from waste mishandling, like cancer or miscarriage). you just don't and aren't willing to hear one goddamn word i say

the nuclear greens that i'm willing to compromise with behave a little differently about that. i don't develop compromises with the ignorant. if you want the compromise, you need to know what deal you are making

and again if you had read one word i said, you would know i don't want oil or coal either. we need immense and immediate degrowth on all of the big four (natural gas is the fourth). the source of the problem is capitalist industrial production, not your internet connection or LED lightbulbs in your house. i've gone over basically every detail of energy flow in the united states and all to no avail (does anybody even remember when i pointed out we could double the capacity of the energy budget by simply figuring out how to not lose half of it to waste heat? that was a critique of oil, combustion engines in particular)

i have also pointed out that it required a coup in bolivia to source lithium, solar panels are made using multiple conflict minerals (gold, copper, cobalt), and windmills require vast amounts of plastic or concrete (both of which require oil to produce). find someone else to be mad at

[russenoire]

i think this is primarily an american thing, or at the very least an anglosphere (british commonwealth and former territories) thing.

speaking as an american: i am a member of a minority group here. people of african ancestry number ~13% of the population, and this country has done its utmost for centuries to make us feel like shit for existing, to varying degrees.

i have lost count of the americans in general i've encountered who see anime characters as white unless explicitly stated, because 'white' is still considered 'default' in the US even though this hasn't been true from a purely demographic perspective for some time. i'm not even going to get into the wall street journal regularly freaking out about this, or much of the anti-abortion fervor here being driven by this specific fear. the people who draw characters as black just want to see themselves included in the media they enjoy, period. or represented in a positive light for once. my guess as to why we rarely see other racebends is because other PoC maybe don't feel as left out with respect to skin tone representation?

outside the US, this center doesn't hold; this just reads like PoC erasing representations of other PoC. asians are also PoC; their cultures are important as well.

whenever i see serizawa from mob psycho 100 drawn as black because he has extremely curly, pouffy hair...

or hear about people who claim nurugai (indigenous sanka) from jigokuraku,

or mugen from samurai champloo (indigenous ryukyuan),

or anthy from revolutionary girl utena as black,

i wonder. are y'all also reading the characters like this because you don't know that not all asians are pale-skinned with bone-straight hair? anthy actually wears a bindi.

like, how much of this is lack of awareness and how much is desire for honest representation?

in the case of nurugai, american fans took to twitter to complain for days that she didn't 'sound black' in the english dub. this whole line of protest was so unintentionally racist in so many directions that it looped in on itself: nurugai's VA, cassie ewulu, is actually black.

WTF does it mean to 'sound black'?? why savage the casting of an actual black person, who did an awesome job voicing her character, for not 'sounding black'? need i mention again that nurugai is an indigenous japanese girl that people chose to read as black because of her dark skin and pouffy hair? a real-life case of fans imposing their character headcanons on the actors who play them.

the casting of witch from mercury's suletta in english saw similar fuckery; suletta looks like she could be west asian if you squint hard enough, and fans demanded she be voiced by someone with middle eastern ancestry (it didn't happen, and her dub VA jill harris also did a fantastic job despite the initial hate). make it make sense...

white americans who lighten the skin of darker characters emphatically do not have the same aims. they already claim the bulk of media representation in the US; so often when they do this, it's about 'correcting' a supposed imbalance brought on by the presence of PoC where they 'shouldn't' be (as an example, the sheer amount of white folks in the US who are unaware of the historical presence of PoC in medieval europe is, um, distressingly large), or pushing back against calls for more racial diversity on a larger social scale ('keep your "woke politics" out of my entertainment'), or an only slightly more innocent and defensible preference for lighter-skinned characters in general. this kind of shit gets called 'whitewashing' by PoC for a reason; i refuse to call it racebending.

other races? they've been sidelined for so long in the US that they may as well not register in some parts around here. the USA touts itself as a very diverse place, but that diversity is NOT evenly distributed. there are swaths of the country, mostly rural and suburban, where the only place you'll find real live PoC is on TV. or working as unseen domestic/agricultural labor.

outside the US? it gets simultaneously more and less complicated, and can look just as problematic as black racebending in fan art for non-american audiences... especially with respect to anime characters. almost half the world's population is asian and it's just a different kind of erasure.

i would love to see more black characters in anime! but we're even more rare in japan than we are in the anglosphere, and racist anti-black/dark-skin caricatures are not uncommon (terraFORMARS, anyone? superalloy darkshine from one punch man?).

though i'm grateful for whatever decent actual representation black folks get, i would rather see none at all than... whatever ethnicity the otherwise forgettable takeuchi from mob psycho 100 is supposed to be:

i don't read him as black, for what it's worth, but his coloration and little black sambo-redolent character design are fucked. up. what were y'all thinking, studio bones??

this is takeuchi in the manga, btw:

i must add: on this website where saying something at all is frequently equated to silencing others...

my voicing my opinions does not take away anyone's rights to their headcanons. i have reblogged some racebent art! i appreciate the skill of the artist and genuinely like the art, outside of my own complicated feelings about racebending. nuance exists and contradictory thoughts can coexist in one person. so please, do whatever the fuck you want. if anyone harasses you and i see it, i will speak up for you. if i don't love your art, i won't reblog and i will keep scrolling. it's that simple.

this does not apply to cosplay. black anime fans should be able to cosplay any character they want without harassment or death threats... cosplaying someone of an ethnicity different from one's own is not racebending, and it's usually the only option black cosplayers have.

</end rant>

The automatic assumption of so many people in fandoms that every character with a darker skin color = black and every character with a lighter skin color = white. And the absolute outrage that ensues for some reason when artists draw dark-skinned Asian characters as Asian instead of black. More races than just black and white exist, people.