#Engaging spelling apps | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notanactressyayy · 6 months ago

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·˚ ₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on — only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone — something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat — she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah 🥹

thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! ♡

The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.

Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She’d never been good at this — being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.

Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?

She’d fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world she’d spent so long working against. She’d believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadn’t known she was capable of sharing.

And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else she’d tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government she’d once fought to protect. Her friends — her family — were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.

She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didn’t take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasn’t sure if she missed the fights or the people more.

A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification — some random email, one of these ‘no reply’ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Scrolling through her phone felt… strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didn’t recognize—vacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.

And right then, the name ‘Avengers’ didn’t make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think ‘oh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my stories’. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.

She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget she’d ever picked it up. But another part—the quieter, lonelier part—held onto it like a lifeline.

She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The dating app.

She’d installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldn’t. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. “Come on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesn’t want to kill you for once.” At the time, it was funny. She’d downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.

Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess she’d made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didn’t ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that — he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.

Natasha damned her heart every single day — for wanting a connection with somebody — for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.

What does she even have?

She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasn’t open — she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.

“Goddammit,” she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.

She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.

“Let's just get over with this.” She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app — SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-

“Captivating green eyes. Cat lover.” she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. “Great job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.”

Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203— having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared — she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesn’t know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldn’t do that.

Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information — before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.

Perfect. She does a little ‘tsk’ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.

Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it — trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.

Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures — men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another ‘problem’. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.

What a relief.

She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.

But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.

It was a minimalist profile — elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.

Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway

It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.

Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.

And it was posted just three days ago.

So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didn’t last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.

Out of all countries in the world, they were there?

She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.

A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.

No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.

Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.

But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.

The screen flashed: It's a match!

Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.

It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.

And this was just the start.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When the next day came, all of Natasha’s thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross — who was still after her — but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.

Talking to them was a relief — a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.

Talking to you.

Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phone’s screen. No, genuinely smile.

It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?

As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:

@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?

— eight hours later —

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?

@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.

Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.

It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.

@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.

@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.

@Y/n: Personally, I wouldn’t call a cat lover dangerous.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?

It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.

@Y/n: You just don’t strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?

With that, she debated whether to mention Tony’s dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If she’s sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: I’m just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.

@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what you’re looking for.

Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?

@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.

She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadn’t started with “hey, you’re cute” or “what’s up?”, and now? It felt like she was in a dream — to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isn’t so bad after all.

@Y/n: So you’re also here!

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.

Gladly, her phone’s camera wasn’t capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.

@Y/n: Of course I’m excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.

Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words — direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.

She hesitated, before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.

@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But I’ve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?

@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?

Her breath caught. You really didn’t waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again — she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasn’t smart, safe.

But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure — but she couldn’t knock it till she tried it.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?

@Y/n: I don’t have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.

Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins — that was determination.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: It’s not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?

@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.

And you two went on like that — talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some — receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.

And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.

But shockingly, for once, she didn’t feel like paying attention to her overthinking.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldn’t have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky — they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didn’t have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.

Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norway’s quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasn’t part of the plan — or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it — she couldn’t understand.

This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.

Instead, a picture greeted her.

It wasn’t posed or staged — just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldn’t let pass. The caption reads:

@Y/n: I don’t usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what you’ve been stuck talking to all this time.

It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.

Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasn’t just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldn’t tell where you were getting at with this action — actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasn’t expecting that.

@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?

She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.

She was feeling better, but not just that — she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.

And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.

The connection was becoming deeper — it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasn’t meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul — as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her — intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasn’t a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.

So she decides to share a picture, too.

She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasn’t smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.

Thankfully, for you, she didn’t have to be that.

So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation — her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while — like you were examining the picture and weren’t ashamed of it.

It gave her goosebumps.

The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.

@Y/n: You’re beautiful, Nat.

It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.

Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.

@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?

Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.

@Y/n: Hell, yes.

Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her — no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly — she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.

She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position — knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself — taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing — a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.

And something that she forgot about for the longest time.

The bullet scar above her left hip.

She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed — but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.

It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked… perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.

The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.

The reply came swiftly:

@Y/n: Wow. I’m speechless.

She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a first. Usually, you always have something to say.

The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.

@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.

Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Don’t let it go to your head.

@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.

For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if you’d seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?

In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.

Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.

@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best café within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.

Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?

It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.

The day and place was decided — it would be in Oslo, downtown — a café, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.

If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.

She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.

“Not everyone gets to see this side of me,” she murmured to herself.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

The café buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up — a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots — and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back — and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.

She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then — in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms — grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.

Natasha arrived early — of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasn’t racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.

Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.

She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.

Come and get me. This? Is all for you.

She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table — your clothes, your style, your body language — she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in it’s own.

“You made it,” Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug — the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.

“Of course I did. This date was all I could think about,” you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. “No. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.

“Feels good to finally hear your voice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. “In person. Not in audio messages or calls.”

After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

Eventually, the question came.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, your voice gentle but curious. “Being an Avenger?”

Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.

She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasn’t the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.

“It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “Not as glamorous as it looks on TV, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You smiled. “I’m sure. But it’s still something, isn’t it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.”

A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. “It was something, yeah. But it wasn’t always about saving the world.” Her gaze softened as she thought back. “There was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen — Friday’s cousin or something — to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it ‘Flamebot,’ and Steve…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Steve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was ‘worth saving.’”

You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.

“And Thor,” she continued, “he once mistook a microwave for some kind of… magical contraption. He tried to ‘summon its power’ with Mjolnir.”

“Did it work?” you teased.

Natasha smirked. “No, but we had to get a new microwave.”

The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team — the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didn’t push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.

“I can tell you miss them,” you said.

Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. “Yeah. I do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera — which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.

“You brought it!” she exclaims. “I almost forgot that you're a photographer,”

“I thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,” you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. “Can I please take a picture of you?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “A picture of me?” she asked, her tone teasing. “You know that’s dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?”

You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. “I’m not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.”

That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasn’t often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “But only if it’s a good angle. No pressure.”

You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. “No such thing as a bad angle with you.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. “No. Don’t pose,” you said quietly. “Just be yourself.”

That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.

“Be myself, huh?” she murmured.

You nodded, lifting the camera again. “Exactly. I don’t need the Black Widow. I want Nat.”

Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. “I-”

Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. “Perfect,” you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.

Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only the good kind,” you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. “So, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?”

You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in — the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.

Her unforgettable trip to Norway.

“It’s… good,” she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

“Good?” you ask. “It’s stunning. Just like my model.”

Oh, that…

The way you emphasized the word ‘my’.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.

“Alright,” she said, sitting back. “You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.”

She smirks, her confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way — like her heart was finally at peace.

“Should we get going?” you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.

Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show — leaning into you gently.

“Where to now?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Well, the hotel, if you’re up for it,” you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.

That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place — especially after knowing you for a good while now — tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. “What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. “These are for you,” you said.

Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly — deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.

“So you’re a hopeless romantic.. you didn’t take them to the café. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?”

You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. “But I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.”

Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were worth the effort,” you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.

Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “It is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted softly, stepping closer. “You deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you can’t always see it yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.

Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. “You… you don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.

She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say — she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.

They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.

She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.

As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either — your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you — as your tongues danced, a dance she hadn’t discovered before.

Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. And…

“I think your lipstick is a little smudged,”

Natasha felt that — every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.

“That was…” she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. “Wow,”

“You are ‘wow’,” you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. “You are perfect,”

“I'm not that- I'm not,” she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.

“I wish I could give you my set of eyes,” your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.

Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you — and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didn’t think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation — and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.

But she didn’t. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.

Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. “Just.. give me a second,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.

Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?

Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time — a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn’t lose this moment — not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?

Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It’s just a scar, she told herself. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t change who I am.

Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.

You’re not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person… they’re different. They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you.

The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her — only a thousand times more painful.

Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.

“You're crying,” you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.

“And you're bold,” she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. “Entering like that.”

“You're crying.” you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“I…” she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? “I don't know-”

“You’re hiding something from me and are afraid I’m gonna hate you?” you inquire, voice serious — not mocking, not pressuring.

What?

Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. “You’re part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. I’m aware that there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. I know where I’m getting myself into.”

“For the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,” she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. “You did just that. You’re that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.

“It’s not just that…” she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. “I longed- I long for.. touches, and..”

“And closeness,” you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. “Geez, you smell delicious,”

“It’s… Twilly D’Hermès,” breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. “My body lotion,”

It wasn’t cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.

“That’s.. pretty luxurious, one can say.”

“Can’t a woman spoil herself sometimes?” she retorts — interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. “B-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.”

“I see,” you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. “Can I?”

She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again — only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.

She was prepared for the question.

“Okay, hold on.” you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. “Damn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?”

“I wanted to feel beautiful,” she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.

So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire — finally awake again.

“I'll make you feel beautiful,” you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

“You already do.” She breathes.

She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win — an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles — which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sink’s counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. “Makes you even more gorgeous.”

“I—”

“You're fucking gorgeous.” you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.

Yup. Her dreams came true.

“Please,” she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.

Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder — coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself — making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance — having to hold her weight with one foot — as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.

You are no longer alone.

She took the message. And her world exploded.

Your tongue working on her — licking past her folds, tasting her — as if committing to memory, and not just using her — her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

“Yes,” She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. “Don't stop.”

None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past — not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring — it was truly her first.

In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed — your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself — in your body, your scent, your hands on her,

and your love for her.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened — the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.

Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.

Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.

“Hi, baby.” you embrace her.

“If I have to leave the country, for any reasons,” she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. “Will you come with me?”

“I'll go anywhere with you.” you reply, voice unwavering.

She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.

Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.

“Oh, and by the way,”

Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.

“My name is Natalia.”

#natasha marvel #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #g!p natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff soft smut #black widow #black widow x reader #avengers #natalia romanova #mcu

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astra-ravana · 10 months ago

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Types Of Witchcraft

Note: These are general/basic explanations of different classes of magick/witchcraft. Practitioners can fall into multiple or none of these categories. Ultimately, only an individual can choose their labels.

Green: Utilizing greenery/plants/herbs/flowers in herbal/nature magick, such as creating blends of different plants or primarily using herbs in spellwork. May keep a garden and take great pride in their workings/connection to the earth and nature.

Hedge/Shamanic: A type of magick that's more oriented towards spirit work, Otherworld and astral travel, dream work, spiritual power and healing. May work with psychedelic/psychotropic/toxic plants and fungi as spiritual tools (ie: flying ointments/teas made from amanita muscaria or datura)

Sea: A type of magick derived from materials/abstract ideas involving the ocean world. Sea magick is worked using various items from as well as one's own connection to the sea and its creatures.

Storm: Magick that is worked by combining one's own energy with the energy of the weather, most commonly storms. Storm witches may have practices such as collecting storm water or snow, "whistling up" or manipulating winds, or performing rituals during severe weather.

Hearth/Kitchen: Magick performed through kitchen craft and/or mundane tasks/crafts around the home or for loved ones. Typically worked daily through food, herbal mixtures, crafting, decorating, and hobbies. May also work with the Fae/elements/nature.

Tea: Those who drink tea, make their own tea mixtures, or enjoy blending herbal remedies and often use reading tea leaves as their form of divination.

Urban: For those who live in or prefer an urban setting/lifestyle. Magick that is worked in densely populated areas and big cities, without some of the seemingly "traditional" aspects of witchcraft.

Tech: Magick that is skillfully worked through technology. A tech witch might cast spells/do divinatory readings on the internet, use magick based apps/programs, or keep a digital grimoire/library.

Elemental: Magick that is worked by honoring/acknowledging all 4/5 elements (Fire, Air, Water, Earth, and/or Spirit). Elementalists may dedicate part of their alter to each element and call upon them during rituals/spells. Conversely, they may choose to focus on only one element changing the designation to either fire, air, water or earth witchcraft.

Fae/Faerie: The magick of those who work and commune with the Fae. Faerie witches may do rituals/spells around the Fae, ask favors of them, have regular communication sessions, and leave them offerings. The Fae are very unpredictable and strong but, with time and respect, they share their magick with special individuals.

Infernal: A system of spirit work/magick that revolves around Infernal spirits/entities, such as demons, djinn, or other spirits of a chaotic alignment. This practice requires a surprising amount of shadow work and dismantling of oppressive religious systems. They may summon demons, perform rituals/spells with them, make deals, or take them up as magickal familiars.

Necromancy: The practice of seeking the assistance of, summoning, communication, and diving through the dead. Practitioners may frequent cemetaries/burial grounds/haunted locations and perform magick and spiritual/divinatory readings there. Often employ the use of pendulums, dowsing rods, talking boards, black mirrors, grave dirt, and bones.

Draconian: Draconian magick is a practice that involves engaging with dragons as powerful forces and allies in spiritual practice. It can include rituals, symbolism, and techniques to connect with dragons, and may be used for empowerment, healing, and spiritual growth.

Chaos: A type of magick utilizing new, non-traditional, and unorthodox methods. It is a highly individualistic practice that draws from many magickal disciplines (eclecticism).

Blood/Sanguine: A very potent class of magick that includes the use of one's own blood or that of another in powerful rituals/spells.

Sigil/Art: The use of sigils, symbols, glyphs, runes, or artwork infused with will and intention. This practice is vast, versatile, and diverse with each practioner producing truly unique results.

Lunar: Lunar magick is the practice of performing rituals during the different phases of the Moon to bring about physical or psychological change. They may honor/worship the Moon, do moonlight rituals, or make moon waters. Conversely, one could work with the Sun in much the same fashion.

Cosmic/Celestial: Magick that incorporates the stars and planets. Astrology is a dominant force in their lives and witchcraft and they consider the placement of celestial bodies before doing a working.

Crystal: Incorporation of crystals/stones in one's magickal practice. May make crystal grids, include them in their spells, use them in energy work, meditation, or for Reiki healing.

Glamour: Glamour magick is an enchantment type that adjusts or changes your outward appearance, or people's perception of your outward appearance and can include the enchanting of jewelry, clothing, and even makeup for magickal purposes.

Shadow: Magick with a focus on the elements of darkness and shadow. May practice umbrakinesis (shadow manipulation), magickal subterfuge and illusion, and feel at peace, and even practice, in pitch black darkness

Are there any you feel I should have included? Please let me know! I'd love to expand this list. :)

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tea-potato-gt · 4 months ago

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G/t Trope Bingo:

Borrower stories:

Captured/discovered while out borrowing

The dredded 🫙Jar🫙

Bean, the “no, it’s pronounced human BEING” conversation

borrower with artistic abilities

The “that’s not borrowing, that’s stealing” conversation

Befriends bean of the house

Hurt-Comfort

Drunk giant scene

Dealing with pets/animals

Borrowers named after objects, food, or plants.

Tails or animal ears

Fairy stories:

Losing ability to fly due to getting wet

Magic affinities/powers

Wishing to be human

Collecting human things

Odd names based on plants/magical objects

Curse(s)

Dragonfly or butterfly wings

Merfolk G/t:

Human drowning and saved by giant fish person

Speak different languages/can’t understand eachother

Put in air sack or underwater cave

Tiny fish person kept in a tank

Collecting human treasures

Pirates

Saving an entire sinking ship

Fantasy:

Jack and the beanstalk retelling

Princess/prince is engaged to a giant/tiny from a neighboring kingdom

Magic, spells, curses

Character goes on a quest to slay a giant (fails lol)

Kidnapped by a well meaning giant

Found family

Dark Borrower Stories:

Entire species is discovered

Kept as Pets or exterminated or experimented on

Borrower found by kind hearted bean, who shows them not all giants are bad.

Rac!sm/spec!es!sm

Humans think borrowers are dumb and underestimate them

Size-shifter:

Triggered by emotions (Scared/sad = small) or (Angry/happy = big)

Accidentally growing infront of friends and freaking them out

Accidentally growing in a confined space (room/box) and busts out.

Tearing through clothes or shrinking out of them, resulting in needing to make special clothing that changes size with them.

Modern setting:

Dating app misshap (accidentally unknowingly matching with a giant or tiny)

Disastrous first date

Fear of giants

Recently integrated school/jobs

Adopted by giant or tiny

Using phone twice your size

K!dnapped by school bully

Aliens👽:

Travel to or from other worlds/dimensions

Abduction

Different languages

Science experiments

Giant trying to convince tiny they aren’t evil

Mixed-sized families stories:

“Big” sibling & “little” sibling

Stairs and ramps around the house for easy access and travel

Tiny kid has giant sized room/bed

Extra rooms that are small scale (bathrooms and kitchens)

Small scale furniture next to giant furniture

Adopted kids/married in step kids

Protective parents (either giant or tiny)

Being carried to school/work by giant parent/sibling

Kids not telling friends they live in a mixed family (embarrassed.?)

***

Comment any other tropes to add! Also if anyone wants to make a bingo card 👀👀

I got recommendationsfor each G/t genre if y’all want any 👀 here’s some of my recs

#If you’ve been reading G/t stories as long as I have you’ll probably have noticed a lot of patterns in G/t works.#This is not at all negative mind you just an observation. (I’m also guilty of writing these tropes too.)#I just think it’s funny how consistent it is.#Several of these categories can fit into eachother like the Mixed family trope I’ve seen in a lot of modern stories.#Or fairies can go into Fantasy.#g/t #giant/tiny #gianttiny #gt #g/t shitpost #gt meme #g/t community #sfw g/t #g/t memes #g/t fluff #g/t meme #gt memes #gt community #gt shitpost

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mutedwinter · 5 months ago

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Nerdjo who whenever you’re studying together, he constantly tries to rest his head on your shoulder, chest, or lap because he claims he “thinks better” when he’s touching you.

Nerdjo who before you started dating, he actually wrote all of this texts in his notes app to check for spelling errors so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he texted you.

Nerdjo who gets into heated debates with Geto about which Spider-Man movie is the best and will die on the hill that The Amazing Spider-Man is the correct one. (Geto says it’s the one with tobey… BOO! TOMATOES! BOO!)

Nerdjo who gets genuinely upset when people misinterpret a character’s motivations. Especially when it comes to the legend of korra.

Nerdjo who kisses like he’s trying to memorize the feeling, like he’s in awe that this is actually happening. the kisses are a little hesitant, sometimes a little desperate cause he’s a starved man.

Nerdjo who accidentally broke his glasses the first time you made out in his dorm. (He got too into it and tossed them on the bed before they were inevitably crushed later on.)

Nerdjo who kicks his feet and giggles in the solitude of his dorm whenever you text or call him. (Geto is never home when this happens or he would never live this down until he died.)

Nerdjo who’s actually majoring in social work to help children in the foster system find homes (he will later on foster to adopt megumi!)

Nerdjo who is constantly talking about the hunger games books being better than the movies. If you say you liked the movies, he’ll be personally offended. (HE HATES THAT THEY LEFT OUT SO DAMN MUCH!)

Nerdjo who’s been planning your inevitable engagement since your first date. I mean…bro is like down bad. (It’s lowkey embarrassing. I didn’t say that, shoko did!)

Nerdjo who’s actually a lightweight. He’s not really a drinker because he says that it tastes awful. The last time he drank, he blacked out and ended up in the hospital. (It was something about his ankle getting slammed in a car door… no one really remembers honestly)

Divider by @v6que

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #nerdjo #nerdjo x reader #gojo drabbles #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru x you #mutedwinter #he’s so fine #he’s bad as hell #i want him

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naamahdarling · 9 months ago

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I'm probably going to piss some people off with this, but.

The use of AI and machine learning for harmful purposes is absolutely unacceptable.

But that isn't an innate part of what it does.

Apps or sites using AI to generate playlists or reading lists or a list of recipes based on a prompt you enter: absolutely fantastic, super helpful, so many new things to enjoy, takes jobs from no-one.

Apps or sites that use a biased algorithm (which is AI) which is not controllable by users or able to be turned off by them, to push some content and suppress others to maximize engagement and create compulsive behavior in users: unethical, bad, capitalism issue, human issue.

People employing genAI to create images for personal, non-profit use and amusement who would not have paid someone for the same service: neutral, (potential copyright and ethics issue if used for profit, which would be a human issue).

People incorporating genAI as part of their artistic process, where the medium of genAI is itself is a deliberate part of the artist's technique: valid, interesting.

Companies employing genAI to do the work of a graphic designer, and websites using genAI to replace the cost of stock photos: bad, shitty, no, capitalist and ethical human issue.

People attacking small artists who use it with death threats and unbelievable vitriol: bad, don't do that.

AI used for spell check and grammar assistance: really great.

AI employed by eBay sellers to cut down on the time it takes to make listings: good, very helpful, but might be a bad idea as it does make mistakes and that can cost them money, which would be a technical issue.

AI used to generate fake product photos: deceptive, lazy, bad, human ethical issue.

AI used to identify plagiarism: neutral; could be really helpful but the parameters are defined by unrealistic standards and not interrogated by those who employ it. Human ethical issue.

AI used to analyze data and draw up complex models allowing detection of things like cancer cells: good; humans doing this work take much longer, this gives results much faster and allows faster intervention, saving lives.

AI used to audit medical or criminal records and gatekeep coverage or profile people: straight-up evil. Societal issue, human ethical issue.

AI used to organize and classify your photos so you don't have to spend all that time doing it: helpful, good.

AI used to profile people or surveil people: bad and wrong. Societal issue, human issue, ethical issue.

I'm not going to cover the astonishingly bad misinformation that has been thrown out there about genAI, or break down thought distortions, or go into the dark side of copyright law, or dive into exactly how it uses the data it is fed to produce a result, or explain how it does have many valid uses in the arts if you have any imagination and curiosity, and I'm not holding anyone's hand and trying to walk them out of all the ableism and regurgitated capitalist arguments and the glorification of labor and suffering.

I just want to point out: you use machine learning (AI) all the time, you benefit from it all the time. You could probably identify many more examples that you use every day. Knee-jerk panicked hate reflects ignorance, not sound principles.

You don't have beef with AI, you have beef with human beings, how they train it, and how they use it. You have beef with capitalism and thoughtlessness. And so do I. I will ruthlessly mock or decry misuse or bad use of it. But there is literally nothing inherently bad in the technology.

I am aware of and hate its misuse just as much as you do. Possibly more, considering that I am aware of some pretty heinous ways it's being used that a lot of people are not. (APPRISS, which is with zero competition for the title the most evil use of machine learning I have ever seen, and which is probably being used on you right now.)

You need to stop and actually think about why people do bad things with it instead of falling for the red herring and going after the technology (as well as the weakest human target you can find) every time you see those two letters together.

You cannot protect yourself and other people against its misuse if you cannot separate that misuse against its neutral or helpful uses, or if you cannot even identify what AI and machine learning are.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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An adversarial iMessage client for Android

Adversarial interoperability is one of the most reliable ways to protect tech users from predatory corporations: that's when a technologist reverse-engineers an existing product to reconfigure or mod it (interoperability) in ways its users like, but which its manufacturer objects to (adversarial):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

"Adversarial interop" is a mouthful, so at EFF, we coined the term "competitive compatibility," or comcom, which is a lot easier to say and to spell.

Scratch any tech success and you'll find a comcom story. After all, when a company turns its screws on its users, it's good business to offer an aftermarket mod that loosens them again. HP's $10,000/gallon inkjet ink is like a bat-signal for third-party ink companies. When Mercedes announces that it's going to sell you access to your car's accelerator pedal as a subscription service, that's like an engraved invitation to clever independent mechanics who'll charge you a single fee to permanently unlock that "feature":

https://www.techdirt.com/2023/12/05/carmakers-push-forward-with-plans-to-make-basic-features-subscription-services-despite-widespread-backlash/

Comcom saved giant tech companies like Apple. Microsoft tried to kill the Mac by rolling out a truly cursèd version of MS Office for MacOS. Mac users (5% of the market) who tried to send Word, Excel or Powerpoint files to Windows users (95% of the market) were stymied: their files wouldn't open, or they'd go corrupt. Tech managers like me started throwing the graphic designer's Mac and replacing it with a Windows box with a big graphics card and Windows versions of Adobe's tools.

Comcom saved Apple's bacon. Apple reverse-engineered MS's flagship software suite and made a comcom version, iWork, whose Pages, Numbers and Keynote could flawlessly read and write MS's Word, Excel and Powerpoint files:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

It's tempting to think of iWork as benefiting Apple users, and certainly the people who installed and used it benefited from it. But Windows users also benefited from iWork. The existence of iWork meant that Windows users could seamlessly collaborate on and share files with their Mac colleagues. IWork didn't just add a new feature to the Mac ("read and write files that originated with Windows users") – it also added a feature to Windows: "collaborate with Mac users."

Every pirate wants to be an admiral. Though comcom rescued Apple from a monopolist's sneaky attempt to drive it out of business, Apple – now a three trillion dollar company – has repeatedly attacked comcom when it was applied to Apple's products. When Apple did comcom, that was progress. When someone does comcom to Apple, that's piracy.

Apple has many tools at its disposal that Microsoft lacked in the early 2000s. Radical new interpretations of existing copyright, contract, patent and trademark law allows Apple – and other tech giants – to threaten rivals who engage in comcom with both criminal and civil penalties. That's right, you can go to prison for comcom these days. No wonder Jay Freeman calls this "felony contempt of business model":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Take iMessage, Apple's end-to-end encrypted (E2EE) instant messaging tool. Apple customers can use iMessage to send each other private messages that can't be read or altered by third parties – not cops, not crooks, not even Apple. That's important, because when private messaging systems get hacked, bad things happen:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2014_celebrity_nude_photo_leak

But Apple has steadfastly refused to offer an iMessage app for non-Apple systems. If you're an Apple customer holding a sensitive discussion with an Android user, Apple refuses to offer you a tool to maintain your privacy. Those messages are sent "in the clear," over the 38-year-old SMS protocol, which is trivial to spy on and disrupt.

Apple sacrifices its users' security and integrity in the hopes that they will put pressure on their friends to move into Apple's walled garden. As CEO Tim Cook told a reporter: if you want to have secure communications with your mother, buy her an iPhone:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/tim-cook-says-buy-mom-210347694.html

Last September, a 16-year old high school student calling himself JJTech published a technical teardown of iMessage, showing how any device could send and receive encrypted messages with iMessage users, even without an Apple ID:

https://jjtech.dev/reverse-engineering/imessage-explained/

JJTech even published code to do this, in an open source library called Pypush:

https://github.com/JJTech0130/pypush

In the weeks since, Beeper has been working to productize JJTech's code, and this week, they announced Beeper Mini, an Android-based iMessage client that is end-to-end encrypted:

https://beeper.notion.site/How-Beeper-Mini-Works-966cb11019f8444f90baa314d2f43a54

Beeper is known for a multiprotocol chat client built on Matrix, allowing you to manage several kinds of chat from a single app. These multiprotocol chats have been around forever. Indeed, iMessage started out as one – when it was called "iChat," it supported Google Talk and Jabber, another multiprotocol tool. Other tools like Pidgin have kept the flame alive for decades, and have millions of devoted users:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/07/tower-babel-how-public-interest-internet-trying-save-messaging-and-banish-big

But iMessage support has remained elusive. Last month, Nothing launched Sunchoice, a disastrous attempt to bring iMessage to Android, which used Macs in a data-center to intercept and forward messages to Android users, breaking E2EE and introducing massive surveillance risks:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/11/21/23970740/sunbird-imessage-app-shut-down-privacy-nothing-chats-phone-2

Beeper Mini does not have these defects. The system encrypts and decrypts messages on the Android device itself, and directly communicates with Apple's servers. It gathers some telemetry for debugging, and this can be turned off in preferences. It sends a single SMS to Apple's servers during setup, which changes your device's bubble from green to blue, so that Apple users now correctly see your device as a secure endpoint for iMessage communications.

Beeper Mini is now available in Google Play:

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.beeper.ima&hl=en_US

Now, this is a high-stakes business. Apple has a long history of threatening companies like Beeper over conduct like this. And Google has a long history deferring to those threats – as it did with OG App, a superior third-party Instagram app that it summarily yanked after Meta complained:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

But while iMessage for Android is good for Android users, it's also very good for Apple customers, who can now get the privacy and security guarantees of iMessage for all their contacts, not just the ones who bought the same kind of phone as they did. The stakes for communications breaches have never been higher, and antitrust scrutiny on Big Tech companies has never been so intense.

Apple recently announced that it would add RCS support to iOS devices (RCS is a secure successor to SMS):

https://9to5mac.com/2023/11/16/apple-rcs-coming-to-iphone/

Early word from developers suggests that this support will have all kinds of boobytraps. That's par for the course with Apple, who love to announce splashy reversals of their worst policies – like their opposition to right to repair – while finding sneaky ways to go on abusing its customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

The ball is in Apple's court, and, to a lesser extent, in Google's. As part of the mobile duopoly, Google has joined with Apple in facilitating the removal of comcom tools from its app store. But Google has also spent millions on an ad campaign shaming Apple for exposing its users to privacy risks when talking to Android users:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/9/21/23883609/google-rcs-message-apple-iphone-ipager-ad

While we all wait for the other shoe to drop, Android users can get set up on Beeper Mini, and technologists can kick the tires on its code libraries and privacy guarantees.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/07/blue-bubbles-for-all/#never-underestimate-the-determination-of-a-kid-who-is-time-rich-and-cash-poor

#pluralistic #multiprotocol #interoperability #adversarial interop #beeper #reverse engineering #blue bubbles #green bubbles #e2ee #end to end encrypted #messaging #jjtech #pypushbeeper mini #matrix #competitive compatibility #comcom

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poorly-written-fiction · 1 year ago

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a little bit too much (freaky edition) - logan howlett x fem!reader

A/N: holy shit the support i got on my first posted fic is so nice thank you all so much. i made myself the promise that i’d post another fic. this is a similar fic to the one i posted yesterday, but this time it does end in smut. hence the name. also we’ve upgraded from me writing in my phone’s notes app, yay!

tags: SMUT (18+ MDNI), dubcon kinda? pre-established consent implied (drunk sex but only Y/N is drunk. repeated and enthusiastic consent is given. if this bothers you, please don’t read.), alcohol consumption (Y/N is 21+), fem!reader (no specific physical descriptions given), age gap (legal but let’s be real every relationship with logan is an age gap relationship), plot what plot/porn without plot, fingering, unprotected PinV + creampie (PLEASE BE RESPONSIBLE WHEN ENGAGING IN INTERCOURSE THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION), car sex, swearing, spelling and grammatical errors i’m sure because writing this faster and harder than i ever have before

words: 1478 (yippee!)

Logan couldn’t keep his eyes off of Y/N. In a bar full of neon lights and signs, nothing was shining brighter than she was. Maybe it was the alcohol, which had allowed Y/N to let go of any stress she had been holding onto. She drank enough to give her the confidence to loosen up and have fun - not that she wasn’t usually fun, but sometimes it’s hard to be yourself in a bar mostly inhabited by older men. Eyes would tend to watch Y/N and Logan when they would come through the door, very aware that he was older than she was, they just didn’t know how much older, and they didn’t need to. Y/N was old enough to order her own drinks, and that’s all that really mattered.

She really did look beautiful, especially with her hips swaying in time with the music playing in the bar. Her hips, which were wrapped in a denim mini skirt, it was driving Logan crazy. He loved every inch of her, every bit of her soul, every fiber of her being. She brought out the warmth in him, one would think after living for roughly 200 years that Logan’s heart would be practically made of stone. She made him smile, genuinely, but also made him wildly protective. During their games of pool, any time she’d bend over to make her shot, Logan would stand right behind her and glare around at anyone who would try to look at her. Then she’d make her shot, stand up straight, and accidentally bump up against his hips. He’d wrap his arms around waist and hold her close to him, leaning over her slightly to kiss her on the cheek. They’d do this all night, until the game was done, or until Y/N had drank a little too much, whichever came first.

Tonight, they had finished their game - they didn’t really keep track of who won, they were just having a good time together. Y/N was a little bit stumbly when she walked, holding onto Logan’s arm for stability. Being the gentleman that he was, he paid their tab, and wrapped his arm around her to hold her upright while they walked to the truck. Usually, he would carry her, but he didn’t want to risk giving anyone in that bar a look up Y/N’s skirt. Logan unlocked the truck, opened the passenger side door, and lifted Y/N into her seat before buckling her in and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. When he was sure she was safe and sound, he closed the door before jogging over to the driver’s side and hopping in himself.

After 15 minutes on the road, they were stopped at a red light that seemed to go on forever. Logan looked over at Y/N to make sure she was okay, and smiled when he saw her looking back at him. “Hey there, princess,” he gave her soft thigh a gentle squeeze. Y/N placed her hand over her boyfriend’s, slowly pulling it up her skirt, moaning quietly when his fingers brushed against her core. Logan’s eyes widened when he made the realization, “Where the hell are your panties, darlin’?”

Y/N giggled, her mind still very fuzzy from the alcohol, “Wasn’t wearing any… wondered how long it’d take you to find out.” She rocked her hips forward so her clit bumped perfectly against his fingers. She whined at the contact, repeating the movement again, before Logan retreated his hand back to her thigh.

“Babygirl, you’ve had a lot to drink tonight, are you okay to do this right now?” He glanced at the traffic light ahead of them - still red - before his eyes met hers again. Y/N’s eyes were locked onto her lover, giving him a firm nod. Y/N would be lying if she didn’t admit she liked drinking a little bit too much and then convincing Logan to fuck her. He muttered a quiet fuck, before he noticed the bright green light ahead of them. “Can you wait until we’re home, doll?”

Y/N shook her head, “I want you Logan… I need you.” Her hands began to guide Logan’s back up her skirt. He was used to driving with one hand on the wheel and one on Y/N’s thigh, but he knew that they’d have to pull over before they took things too far. Thankfully, there was a secluded road they’d be coming up on soon. Logan brushed his fingers through her folds, already so wet for him. He chuckled quietly, before taking his lover’s clit between his middle and index fingers, rubbing it in small circles. The sensation was like electricity running through Y/N’s body. “Fuck… that feels so good, Lo, please… keep going.”

After what seemed like an eternity of teasing, they finally got far enough onto the wooded road that cars passing wouldn’t be able to see them. Logan pulled over to the side of the road, retracting his hand again from Y/N’s heat, this time to put the truck in park before shutting off the ignition. Once the car’s lights were off, Logan made quick work to adjust the seat back to give Y/N space, before unbuckling both hers and his own seatbelts and pulling her over the center console so she was straddling his lap. He pulled her close into a very heated kiss with one hand, while his other squeezed her ass gently. “You’re so fucking perfect for me,” he mumbled into the kiss, earning him a needy moan from her mouth. Y/N’s hands clumsily attempted to undo Logan’s belt, between the alcohol running through her system and her head buzzing with desire, it took her a moment. Eventually, she got the belt undone, and she had an easier time with his jeans, wrapping her fingers under the waistband of his pants and his boxers and tugging down on them. Logan lifted his hips slightly, pulling the clothing down the rest of the way. His cock rested against her core for a moment before he slowly pushed into her, drawing a string of pleasured noises from his beautiful girlfriend.

“Fuck… you’re so tight, babygirl…”

“You’re so fucking big, Lo…”

Logan grabbed Y/N’s hips, bunching her miniskirt up in the process. He rocked her back and forth on his cock, pulling more moans and gasps from her lips. He loved the way she sounded. Y/N began to fuck herself onto his cock in rhythm with him, holding onto his shoulders for support. Logan took the opportunity to gently press his thumb against her clit, drawing gentle circles around the small muscle. Y/N’s walls tightened at the sensation, earning a low moan out of Logan’s mouth. His pace sped up just slightly, which was just enough for Y/N to start coming undone in his hands.

“Please… just like that, Lo, please don’t stop..!”

“That’s it… good girl, I wanna make you cum.”

“I’m so close, please Logan..!”

He loved the way she said his name, so much desperation coming from her sweet lips. He moved his free hand from her hip to the back of her neck, pulling her into a needy kiss. He kept his pace, but his hips began to move with a harder intensity, fucking Y/N like his life depended on it. She moaned into his mouth, before breaking away, nearly screaming his name.

“Fuck, Logan… Logan, I’m cumming!”

“That’s it, cum for me, babygirl, you’re doing so good…”

Y/N’s nails dug into Logan’s shoulders as she began to ride out her orgasm, her insides contracting around his cock, and her legs squeezing around his hips. Logan’s own orgasm followed quickly, spilling warm cum inside of Y/N, who was still wrapped tightly around him. They took a few moments to enjoy the afterglow, sharing a few kisses and pressing their foreheads against each other’s, taking their time to catch their breath. Y/N reached over to the window on the driver’s side door, drawing a small heart in the fogged-up glass. Logan watched her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

After a moment, he slowly pulled out, then grabbed one of his flannels that he had left in the backseat of his truck and cleaned off Y/N’s thighs. Usually, he’d pull her panties back onto her after he filled her up, but she had decided not to wear any. He folded the flannel a few times, and placed it on the passenger seat - he was going to need to wash it anyways since he cleaned her up with it. He lifted her off of his lap, and got her settled back in the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt again, and giving her a kiss.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Lo.”

================================================

thank you for reading! if this fic seems rushed it's because it is, i need sleep but i also wanted to get this done. i hope you enjoyed!

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phantomrose96 · 7 months ago

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Sorry for making this everyone else's problem but "Do They Fuck?" Silt Verses edition

Carpenter: CAN fuck, could get it from pretty much anyone who isn't afraid of her. But ultimately she finds it tedious and she's offput by pregnancy/sti risk and the risk of the other person catching feelings for her. Hasn't fucked in 10+ years at this point and does not care.

Faulkner: Does not fuck. That would require vulnerability and WHY would he willingly engage in that? So you can usurp him? Undermine him? Judge him in some way? Hates the topic the same way he hates admitting he can't swim.

Paige: Can and does occasionally fuck. Usually in the context of "giving that dating app another go" and heading back to her/their place after a nice dinner. Has had a few months-long relationships but they end up feeling like a part of the "comfort" that doesn't belong to her and can be taken away. They don't last.

Hayward: Only one with a canon answer but elaborating on that - Hayward fucked like 6 or 7 times between the ages of 22-25 and has referred to everything since then as "a dry spell" despite it being ~10 years at this point. Is still convinced he's capable considering he's done it before, but that's mostly for his ego. Actually COULD bag a one-night-stand since he's decent-looking and the cop-thing is a turn on to some, but s1 Hayward has too much wrong with him that he would never actually commit to following through. S3 Hayward is genuinely desirable but he hasn’t figured that out yet. Keeps missing hints.

#the silt verses #tsv #chrissy listens to tsv #one compound member to another 'see I told you. he’s too committed to the widow of wounds 😔'#Hayward unaware he just turned down his 13th advance this month ‘everyone here is so nice’

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iydiamartinx · 2 months ago

Note

idk if you’re aware but @ vintagedressesandfilms is accusing you of writing all of your material with AI

Hey! No, I wasn’t aware, but thanks for letting me know. That said, I honestly don’t care much. Writing is a hobby for me, and I don’t have the time or interest to engage with people who seem more focused on calling out others and policing a social media app.

For anyone wondering—no, I don’t use AI to write my stories. For full transparency, the most I’ve ever used it for is grammar and spelling checks, and on the rare occasion to help make sure a particularly difficult paragraph I wrote is clearly articulating what I need it to. My daily life is extremely hectic. I usually don’t get home until around 9 PM, and I’ll often stay up writing until 4 AM because this is my outlet. I don’t have the luxury anymore, like I did as a teen, to obsess over every detail with a fine-toothed comb.

I’ve always viewed AI as a tool—something that can assist in refining what you’ve already created. But it’s not, and never will be, a replacement for the creative process itself.

I’ll keep posting stories when I have time, but I have no desire to engage in any drama. I’ve always been clear that I write for myself, not for others. I share these stories because I genuinely hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them. But if anyone has a problem with my process? You’re free to move along, block me, or just not read. 🩵

#𓂃𓈒✧ chat with lila

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tgmsunmontue · 6 months ago

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A picture is worth 1000 words - 9/?

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT

He has time to kill and he is not engaging in the now dozens of comments on his most recent post and the increasingly annoyed messages he’s getting from Natasha in every single messaging app he has, as well as a couple of phone calls. Everyone has clicked that he’s going to stay with Hangman, Kara’s comment spelling it out incase there was any doubt. There is one person who is notable silent though and he licks his lips, suddenly nervous.

He opens up Instagram, rereads the messages and the final one he’d sent with his flight details and then the responding thumbs up emoji. No words. But he’s pretty sure Hangman will be there to pick him up. That this isn’t some massive prank. Fairly certain it isn’t because if nothing else Kara seems nice, and her message about seeing him seeing him soon seems sincere.

He stares at Hangman’s little icon, still can’t make out what the hell his profile picture is meant to be, but he realizes it’ll be one of the pictures in his profile. He opens that up, much more familiar with how Instagram works than he was a couple of weeks ago. There are hundreds of photos. Maybe thousands. He groans inwardly, but he has time, starts scrolling back through, because he’s curious and has nothing better to do. There are a lot of Hangman grinning and his stomach squirms, because there’s no escaping he’s a good-looking man. Who apparently thinks that Bradley isn’t bad looking. That’s kind of nice.

He doesn’t know how many years he’s gone back until he finds it, clicks on it and opens it up, and yeah, it’s a drawing clearly done by a kid. If it was a year ago he’d make some quip about Hangman’s artistic abilities. Or lack thereof. Not that he has any room to talk but…

>>Your profile pic.

>>Is it meant to be you in a plane?

>>Yep. My niece drew it a few years ago.

Oh. Well, that’s just… sweet. He knows Hangman has nieces and nephews, because he mentions them plenty. However, there’re no pictures on Instagram, and none on Kara’s either. Fair.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to cope if Hangman is sweet.

He goes back and likes the picture.

PART TEN

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfic #set post-canon #A picture is worth 1000 words

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tokkiwrites · 1 year ago

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ᘓ ♡‌ ꣒ ׄ ONE SHOT, NO LIME. ⏜ 🍋‍🟩 ◌

a Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x f!reader fic

summary: A group of (very attractive) men walks into the small bar where you work as a bartender. One of them, in particular, has caught your eye, and it seems like he's noticed you too.

tags: pwp, one night stand (but they live happily ever after in my mind!!!), afab/f! reader, dom Santiago but also soft kind of, sir kink (muehehhehe >:] ) he kind of likes to be worshiped ig, p in v unprotected ( you get a condom, theu get a condom, everyone gets condoms!!!! ), positions that idk the name of, Santiago manhandles reader, hair pulling, slapping, choking, head m and f receiving, throat fucking, pet names, creampie, Santiago is in love w reader by the end of it teehee. lmk if i missed anything!!

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ is it obvious im obsessing over oscar isaac?!?! :D HAHA. I need a fix every day but im p sure i saw all the content about him available on this app. this has 3.5k words and is not proofread so if u see any weird spellings no u dont. OKAY ENJOY !!!

The dim lighting of the small bar casts a cozy, intimate glow over the room. The low hum of conversation mingles with the soft strains of a jazz band playing in the corner. Behind the bar, you expertly mix a cocktail, the clinking of ice and the swirl of liquid a familiar rhythm.The door swings open, and a group of five, very attractive men stride in, immediately drawing the attention of the patrons. They exude an easy confidence, their laughter and banter filling the space. As you look up, your eyes are drawn to one man in particular. He seems to be leading the rest, at least thats what his presence gives off, with a chiseled, bearded jaw, curly, dark hair and eyes that seem to scan the room with sharp, yet relaxed precision.He catches your gaze, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you.

There's a spark, a silent acknowledgment that both of you feel the magnetic pull. He smiles, a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and you can't help but return it, feeling your heartbeat just a little faster.They make their way to the bar, and as he approaches, you can feel his eyes on you, a tangible presence even amidst the crowd. He leans on the counter, close enough that you catch a whiff of his cologne, something rich and woody. "Evening," he says, his voice smooth and warm. "What do you recommend."

You offer him a smile, feeling a rush of excitement at the chance to engage with him. "Depends on what you're in the mood for," you reply, your voice betraying a hint of playfulness. "Something strong and bold, like a whiskey sour, or perhaps something smoother, like a classic martini?" his gaze holds yours, a flicker of intrigue dancing in his eyes. "I'll trust your judgment," he says, his tone suggesting a willingness to let go of control, if only for a moment.

With a nod, you set to work, your mind racing with possibilities. As you craft their drinks, your fingers move with practiced precision, but your thoughts are elsewhere, caught up in the mystery of the man before you. The other men in the group engage in lively conversation, their laughter filling the air. your attention is focused solely on him, on the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, on the way his presence fills the room with an undeniable energy.

You decide to play a little game of your own. While the others receive their beers and cocktails, you pour the mystery man one large shot of strong tequila, no lime, because he seems like the kind of guy who can handle it. As you slide the shot glass across the counter, your fingers brush against his ever so slightly, sending a thrill through you. He meets your gaze, a silent exchange passing between you."Cheers," he says, raising the glass in a toast with the rest.

As the one man you're interested in raises the shot glass to his lips, the atmosphere around the group shifts slightly. There's an air of camaraderie mixed with an underlying tension, as if they're carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. "You know," one of the men says, his voice low but filled with determination, "we need to talk about the operation." The rest nod, setting the empty shot glass down with a decisive clink. "Agreed. It's time to finalize the plan." Their conversation drifts to murmurs, their voices lowering as they discuss the intricacies of their mission. They speak in coded language, mentioning names and locations that hint at the danger and complexity of their undertaking.

As you listen in, curiosity getting the better of you, you catch snippets of their conversation. They speak of distant lands and hidden treasures, of risks and rewards that seem almost too fantastical to be true.

But amidst the cloak-and-dagger talk, one name stands out: Pope. It's not mentioned in the same hushed tones as the others, but rather with a sense of respect and admiration."Pope, what do you think?" one of the men asks, turning to him for guidance. He meets their gaze, his expression unreadable. "We proceed as planned," he says, his voice steady and unwavering. "But we stay vigilant. We can't afford any slip-ups." somehow, despite the danger and uncertainty that surrounds them, you find yourself drawn to him even more.

A couple of hours pass by, filled with laughter, drinks, and shared stories. As the night wears on, the group begins to disperse, bidding their farewells and promising to meet again soon. The man you're interested in, whom you now know as "Pope," stays behind, offering to settle the tab.

"Is your name really Pope?" you ask, unable to resist the curiosity that has been gnawing at you all evening. He pauses, his brow furrowing slightly before a soft laugh escapes him. "Santiago," he says, his voice low but filled with warmth. "What?" you reply, caught off guard by the sudden revelation.

"My name," he repeats, his gaze steady as he meets your eyes. "It's Santiago."

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that has been brewing all evening. You feel a rush of excitement mingled with apprehension, unsure of where this newfound knowledge will lead. "Santiago," you repeat, testing the sound of his name on your lips. It feels right, somehow, as if it belongs to him in a way that "Pope" never could.

He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he slides a few bills onto the counter. "Santiago," he says again, his voice barely above a whisper this time. "What time do you get off work?" Santiago asks, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "Well, you guys were the only ones here since like 11 pm, so I'm supposed to close up in a few," you reply, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "Why ask... Santiago?"

"Curious," he says simply, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You can't help but feel a surge of excitement at his question, the implication hanging in the air between you. As you begin to tidy up the bar, Santiago lingers nearby, his presence a comforting presence in the otherwise empty room. As you lock up for the night, he falls into step beside you, the two of you walking side by side into the cool night air. The streets are quiet now, the bustle of the city having long since faded into the distance.

"So, Santiago," you say, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between you, "what now?"

He looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before a smile quirks at the corners of his lips. "Now," he says, reaching out to take your hand in his, "I take you back to mine, have something to drink, maybeㅡ?" You stop in your tracks, and he leans in closer. "If I may."

Your heart races at his words, the anticipation building as he leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear. "If I may," he adds again, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you search for any sign of hesitation in his eyes. But all you find is a quiet confidence, a sense of assurance that leaves you breathless.With a nod, you find yourself falling into step beside him once more, the electricity between you palpable in the air. As you walk together through the deserted streets, the world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of anticipation and desire.

Finally, you arrive at his place, a small, unassuming apartment tucked away in the heart of the city. He leads you inside, and you can barely suck in a deep breath before his lips crash down onto yours with a hunger that takes you by surprise, making you fall like petals into his strong grasp.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, his kiss igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole. His hands move with purpose, exploring every inch of your body as if committing it to memory. You respond with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his curly hair as you pull him closer, unable to get enough of the taste and feel of him. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace. As the kiss deepens, the desire between you intensifies, a primal need driving you closer together. In that moment, electricity that crackles between you like lightning in a storm.

And as you finally break apart, breathless and exhilarated, you realize that this is just the beginning, his eyes know flooded with a darkened haze and lust. "Do you know how much I had to hold back and not fuck you over that bar, in front of everyone?" he groans and you can only whimper shamefully as the thought of just that was a constant in your mind the whole night.

"God, you're so beautiful." Santiago groans, dragging his calloused thumb across the plush of your lips, the other hand tracing the curve of your hips. You gaze into his eyes, seeing a raw intensity that mirrors your own longing. With a harsh tug, he pulls you closer, his lips hungrily seeking yours again. His kiss wild and untamed, sweeping you away in a whirlwind of sensation. You respond with equal fervor, surrendering yourself to the pleasure of his touchㅡ every light one sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your whole being.

"How do you want it?" he pulls away, breathlessly, both palms now settled on the small of your back. "How do you want me to fuck you, baby?" The man asks, almost pleading, his tone low and grazing at the growing heat from your core. "Any way, justㅡ" you're short of breath "Please, I need you.." you shy your eyes away from his, but Santiago is quick with his grip, taking your face by squeezing both cheeks with one hand, forcing you to look back at him. "C'mon. Say that again." he teases, prompting you to speak again. "I need you.." you say again, a little louder.

"I'm gonna have so much fun with you, baby." a promise you'll come to find out he will deliver on. in no time you're naked, left only in your not so for the occasion panties, all though Santiago doesn't seem to mind, seeing as they're stained with a wet spot between your legs. He's slow, as he traces his fingers across your pebbled nipples, teeth grazing your neck as he whispers dirty nothings. In no time, you're on your knees in front of him, who was settled on the cushioned couch in the middle of the room. His pants were zipped down but not off yet, that was 'your job' as he put it. he asks you to call him 'sir', and you didn't even know you liked that so much until you felt how wet it got you when he made you say it.

"Dollface." Santiago taps your cheek. "Eyes up here. you want it, don't you?" and you nod your head eagerly, eyes already weepy. he coos, almost making fun of you, then grips your head by the hair. "Aren't you something. God, can't wait 'til I get to fuck this pretty face." he takes his time staring you down, making you understand how this was going to go and where your place was: at his feet. but you didn't mind that one bit.

"I don't have a problem with waiting, baby. We have all night. Maybe if you're good I'll give it to you tomorrow too." Santiago pushes your head towards his crotch and you obliged. "if you're good. can you do that for me, angel?"

"Yesㅡ" you agree, a tinge of shyness quivering into your voice. "Yes?" he quirks up an eyebrow, the pull on your hair, tightening."Yes, sir." You breathe out, mind already dizzy. "Good girl... You're gonna be so good to me, yeah?" and you mewl a soft 'yes, sir' at his request. the next thing he commands you to do is take off his pants along with his briefs, which you do, and you can't seem go get over the Goliath of a dick you had in front of you. It intimidated you, a visible thing to read on your face, eliciting a low chuckle from Santiago. "You scared, beautiful?" you can only muster a soft 'yes', provoking yet another harsh hair tug from him. "Good."

the first few strokes were slow, you shunned away for a bit but as you got into it, you could hear the plaintive moans that tumbled out of his mouth, instigating you to go a bit faster, your lips finally wrapping around his tip that as leaking precum all over your tongue, the bitter taste enveloping your papillae. cautiously, but surely, you sink your head down and start bobbing it. you weren't even halfway, yet the tip was hitting the back of your throat, which prompted Santiago to push your head further down, tears beading at the corner of your eyes. you gag and moan around his length as he shushes you like he didn't just impaled your throat with his dick. "Breathe, baby, breathe." he instructs, and you struggle for the first few seconds as he has your head fully pushed low.

you manage to get used to the feeling, all though difficult to do, you let him fuck into your throat as you breathe through your nose. your gags and wet noises filled the room as Santiago left out low moans and little praises for you to know you were doing well. make-up was smudged all over your face, cheeks red from his repeated slaps and drool dripping down your chin, your brows contorted into a pleading frownㅡ it was the most beautiful sight somebody has bestowed upon him. "Shit, you're so beautiful with my cock down your throat, angel. So hard not to come immediatelyㅡ" he admitted.

he pulls you away from his length and you gasp for air. your vision is fuzzy from the lack of air and tears. "Up. And bend over." in no time, you're bent over the armrest of the couch, ass up and face flush with the mattress. the cold air hits your clothed cunt and your knees still hurt. Santiago gets behind you, fingers hooking around the hem of your panties as he pulls them down to reveal the soaking mess you were. "This pussy is crying for me, huh?" he's cocky with the way he says it, two of his fingers gathering up the glistening liquid from your puffy lips, then bringing them to your mouth. "Be a doll." he's playing with you, but you? you do as you're told because he has you so drunk on him, in a way you've never felt before. you lick around his digits, tasting yourself and he delivers a proud slap to one of your asscheeks. "You pretty slut." back behind you, he crouches on one knee before drawing a long strip from your sensitive clit to your entrance with his tongue, the same two fingers you had licked, now slipping inside of you.

your back arches as a wave of pleasure breaks over your body like water on a shore. his licks are now concentrated on your bud, fingers quickening their pace as Santiago hums at your sweet taste. You moan and writhe, that familiar warm feeling building up inside of you again. but as soon as you soon were there he stopped. He stopped, pulling back to see the shaky, wet mess you were. "P-lease, sirㅡ"

he tuts, slapping your plush thighs. "You take what I give you. So don't get greedy. You're lucky if I'm gonna let you come at all right now." this pain that a sick pleasure envelopes you and you sit with your cunt exposed as you hear Santiago fumble the pockets of the pants he had you take off. 'condoms' he mumbled, as if he knew what you were thinking.

"I'm clean.." you manage a whisper. "And on birth control." he sighs in relief. "Good." you can feel he is less tense now, his presence still behind you. with no warning he flips you over, back on the couch and ass on the armrest, that had your legs settle around his hips with ease. "Spread 'em." so you do. you spread your legs as much as you can, giving him a full view. Santiago smiles, thumb back to rubbing circles onto your clit. "You're so beautiful." it was so sincere, so sweet you could almost taste it.

his gentle gaze soon got replaced by the hungry one he had all this night whilst staring you down. Finally, he aligns the tip of his shaft with your entrance and slowly pushes the tip in. Your breath got stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thornsㅡ every prick of discomfort is countered by an unexpected surge of delight. Your tears fall down onto the mattress under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're okay, baby, you're okay. C'monㅡ" he assures you, asking you to surrender. "Take it all- theere we go.." Santiago praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. He moves gently, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements.

you wrap your legs around him loosely but he takes you by your ankles and almost folds them over your stomach, providing him a better position to pound straight into you, hitting that sweet spot on and on. his hips dive down, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat. your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, baby, knew you could take it." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each timeㅡ your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around Santiago.

Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, giving you a chance to take in a big gasp of air. "want me to breed this pussy, huh? feel you up with my babies?" the room spins around you, body floating as if ready to plummet back down, you try your best to reply. "yes, yes- please, please, sir, I'mㅡ"

"Go ahead." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much sir." you say as if praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into you. he pounds into you as you come down from your high, your body almost too limp to register your surroundings. he slap your thigh, strong grips now onto your breasts as he comes ropes inside of you, then as he pulls his length out of you, some landing on your stomach. He watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him. You squeeze around nothing, licking your lips, as you feel the warm trickles of come dripping from your stomach to your chest due to your position. you're both quiet for a bit, catching your breaths, as you scoot lower on the couch.

"I thinkㅡ" Santiago begins, breaking the silence, "I'd wanna do this for more than one night.”

#oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia smut #triple frontier fanfiction #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac smut #oscar isaac imagine #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector smut #marc spector imagine

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astra-ravana · 5 months ago

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Technomancy: The Fusion Of Magick And Technology

Technomancy is a modern magickal practice that blends traditional occultism with technology, treating digital and electronic tools as conduits for energy, intent, and manifestation. It views computers, networks, and even AI as extensions of magickal workings, enabling practitioners to weave spells, conduct divination, and manipulate digital reality through intention and programming.

Core Principles of Technomancy

• Energy in Technology – Just as crystals and herbs carry energy, so do electronic devices, circuits, and digital spaces.

• Code as Sigils – Programming languages can function as modern sigils, embedding intent into digital systems.

• Information as Magick – Data, algorithms, and network manipulation serve as powerful tools for shaping reality.

• Cyber-Spiritual Connection – The internet can act as an astral realm, a collective unconscious where digital entities, egregores, and thought-forms exist.

Technomantic Tools & Practices

Here are some methods commonly utilized in technomancy. Keep in mind, however, that like the internet itself, technomancy is full of untapped potential and mystery. Take the time to really explore the possibilities.

Digital Sigil Crafting

• Instead of drawing sigils on paper, create them using design software or ASCII art.

• Hide them in code, encrypt them in images, or upload them onto decentralized networks for long-term energy storage.

• Activate them by sharing online, embedding them in file metadata, or charging them with intention.

Algorithmic Spellcasting

• Use hashtags and search engine manipulation to spread energy and intent.

• Program bots or scripts that perform repetitive, symbolic tasks in alignment with your goals.

• Employ AI as a magickal assistant to generate sigils, divine meaning, or create thought-forms.

Digital Divination

• Utilize random number generators, AI chatbots, or procedural algorithms for prophecy and guidance.

• Perform digital bibliomancy by using search engines, shuffle functions, or Wikipedia’s “random article” feature.

• Use tarot or rune apps, but enhance them with personal energy by consecrating your device.

Technomantic Servitors & Egregores

• Create digital spirits, also called cyber servitors, to automate tasks, offer guidance, or serve as protectors.

• House them in AI chatbots, coded programs, or persistent internet entities like Twitter bots.

• Feed them with interactions, data input, or periodic updates to keep them strong.

The Internet as an Astral Plane

• Consider forums, wikis, and hidden parts of the web as realms where thought-forms and entities reside.

• Use VR and AR to create sacred spaces, temples, or digital altars.

• Engage in online rituals with other practitioners, synchronizing intent across the world.

Video-game Mechanics & Design

• Use in-game spells, rituals, and sigils that reflect real-world magickal practices.

• Implement a lunar cycle or planetary influences that affect gameplay (e.g., stronger spells during a Full Moon).

• Include divination tools like tarot cards, runes, or pendulums that give randomized yet meaningful responses.

Narrative & World-Building

• Create lore based on historical and modern magickal traditions, including witches, covens, and spirits.

• Include moral and ethical decisions related to magic use, reinforcing themes of balance and intent.

• Introduce NPCs or AI-guided entities that act as guides, mentors, or deities.

Virtual Rituals & Online Covens

• Design multiplayer or single-player rituals where players can collaborate in spellcasting.

• Implement altars or digital sacred spaces where users can meditate, leave offerings, or interact with spirits.

• Create augmented reality (AR) or virtual reality (VR) experiences that mimic real-world magickal practices.

Advanced Technomancy

The fusion of technology and magick is inevitable because both are fundamentally about shaping reality through will and intent. As humanity advances, our tools evolve alongside our spiritual practices, creating new ways to harness energy, manifest desires, and interact with unseen forces. Technology expands the reach and power of magick, while magick brings intention and meaning to the rapidly evolving digital landscape. As virtual reality, AI, and quantum computing continue to develop, the boundaries between the mystical and the technological will blur even further, proving that magick is not antiquated—it is adaptive, limitless, and inherently woven into human progress.

Cybersecurity & Warding

• Protect your digital presence as you would your home: use firewalls, encryption, and protective sigils in file metadata.

• Employ mirror spells in code to reflect negative energy or hacking attempts.

• Set up automated alerts as magickal wards, detecting and warning against digital threats.

Quantum & Chaos Magic in Technomancy

• Use quantum randomness (like random.org) in divination for pure chance-based outcomes.

• Implement chaos magick principles by using memes, viral content, or trend manipulation to manifest desired changes.

AI & Machine Learning as Oracles

• Use AI chatbots (eg GPT-based tools) as divination tools, asking for symbolic or metaphorical insights.

• Train AI models on occult texts to create personalized grimoires or channeled knowledge.

• Invoke "digital deities" formed from collective online energies, memes, or data streams.

Ethical Considerations in Technomancy

• Be mindful of digital karma—what you send out into the internet has a way of coming back.

• Respect privacy and ethical hacking principles; manipulation should align with your moral code.

• Use technomancy responsibly, balancing technological integration with real-world spiritual grounding.

As technology evolves, so will technomancy. With AI, VR, and blockchain shaping new realities, magick continues to find expression in digital spaces. Whether you are coding spells, summoning cyber servitors, or using algorithms to divine the future, technomancy offers limitless possibilities for modern witches, occultists, and digital mystics alike.

"Magick is technology we have yet to fully understand—why not merge the two?"

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bibittybopittybadbxtch · 7 months ago

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Snoop

Pairing: Choi Sungcheol x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend knows you’re a snoop. He’d never actually keep it in the house. You find a “ring box” with earrings inside. Christmas morning you go to unwrap the “earrings” and find your own personal easter egg.

Warnings: None…I think.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Hi hoes and hoochies (said with only affection)! I’m baaaccckkkkkk!!! Did ya miss me?? I have recently discovered that my ult bias had changed. This is his introduction into my oeuvre. Everyone say hello to Choi Sungcheol. *cheers and applause👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏* Please enjoy, I had sooo much fun writing this. Likes and Reblogs are welcome if you feel so compelled. BEWARE‼️‼️ spelling errors and grammar mistakes may lie ahead. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION ⚠️⚠️

XOXO, Bibi

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

P.P.S

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate 🎄

Thanks For Reading ❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s here. You know it is. You look in every secret hiding place you can think of, but you can’t it anywhere. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re convinced he’s going to propose. Sungcheol had been hinting at an engagement for months. The two of you have been together for almost 4 years. It’s time. You were sure that you both were on the same page. But where’s the ring? You just want a peek.

Between the 10+ years he had spent with Jeonghan and being your boyfriend for years, Sungcheol had learned how to deal with a snoop. He knew you’d check. So he thought he would leave something for you to find.

“Where the HELL is this ring!?” After flipping the 12th pair of underwear, you were frustrated. Determined to find a ring you flip over pair 13, and apparently today it’s your lucky number. Bingo. Ring box. Excitement floods your veins. Just a tiny peak. You take a deep breath and open the box…revealing a sparkling pair of diamond earrings. They’re gorgeous and probably cost a small fortune, but you can’t help the disappointment that you feel. You’re incredibly hurt and confused but Sungcheol will be home any minute, you’ve gotta get it together.

“Hey baby” Sungcheol greets as he enters the house. The moment he sees you he knows you had found the earrings in his drawer. Part of him feels bad. He never wants to be the reason his girl is upset, but this was a lesson you needed to learn. He makes his way over to where you’re lounging on the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. “Hey” you half hardly reply. You’re trying your best to remain indifferent but your feelings are hurt. S.Coups doesn’t question your mood, he knows the cause. He plops down next to you and grabs a few goldfish from your bowl. Despite your mood, you try to relax and enjoy the rest of your evening with your boyfriend. In the back of your mind you’re still thinking about, what not finding a ring means for your relationship. If he doesn’t want to marry you now, after all these years and the long talk the two of you had about a life together on your last trip to Jeju. Will he ever?

*Christmas Morning*

You wake up on Christmas morning both thrilled and anxious. Your best friend had flown in from out of town to spend Christmas with you. You make your way down the hall, to the guest bedroom where she’s staying. You knock before waiting for her response. When she welcomes you in, you plop yourself on her bed heaving a big sigh. “What’s the matter with you” she asks as she turns to rummage through her suitcase. You stare up at the ceiling for a second before speaking, “It’s Christmas and my boyfriend hates me”. She turns and looks at you puzzled. “What are you talking about, that boy is obsessed with you” she gets up and shoves you over so she can lay beside you. You give her a sad smile, “Apparently he’s only obsessed for now. Forever with me isn’t appealing to him.” She looks over at you and resists the urge to hit you. Instead she simply says, “You don’t even believe yourself.” You don’t have the energy to fight her so you stand and ask if she’s ready for breakfast.

After breakfast, the three of you move to the living room to open gifts. This is the part you’ve been dreading. You watch with a small smile as your best friend opens her presents. The three of you has played rock paper scissors. She won, Then Sungcheol, you were last. Once she finishes S.coups pipes up. “Okay, my turn.” Sungcheol unwraps his new watch and looks at you with a big dimpled smiled. “Thank you my heart, I love it. Okay Baby, your turn.”

This is it. You can do this. You begin unwrapping the box you had stolen a glance at last night. You will your hands not to shake as you begin to pry it open. Your mouth flies open in shock at the diamond ring inside. Your eyes raise from the box in your hand to Sungcheol who has shifted from his place beside you to on his knee in front of you. “Angel, will you say yes to forever? Will you say yes to late nights with crying babies and early mornings with teething toddlers? trips around the world and nights on the couch at home? Will you say yes to the rest of our lives together? Baby I wanna build our life together from the ground up. Will you marry me?” Sungcheol doesn’t get a chance to blink before you launch yourself into his arms. “YES!” you squeal, before burying your face in his neck and crying. Right now you’re to happy to try and figure out where the this ring came from. You were sure you’d checked everywhere.

Later that night you’re staring at your newest accessory, when something occurs to you. “Coupsie, where did you have the ring at?” Sungcheol turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Wow. You gave yourself up that quick huh?” Your eyes go wide as you realize your mistake. “I- wait…what?” He shifts his body closer to you and clears his throat. “After we had that talk in Jeju about getting married, I immediately started looking at rings. I knew that meant that you would also start snooping for a ring in the house.” He pinches your side playfully before speaking again. “So, I went and looked at rings for a month after work before I found the perfect ring. I went online and had it ordered to the store near your best friend’s house. She’s been keeping it with her this whole time.” Your eyes tear up at his confession. You feel guilty for the way you had felt prior to his proposal. “When I couldn’t find the ring. I was convinced we weren’t on the same page, and you didn’t want to marry me.” you confess. Sungcheol sighs before pulling you into his arms. “I also figured that would happen. But I needed you to be surprised. You deserve to feel special. I want to make plans for you. Just relax, let me take the lead sometimes. I’ve got you.” You look at him with a soft smile, eyes brimming with tears. Never in your life had you felt so seen. You snuggle closer to him and shut your eyes. Sending out an internal “thank you” to the universe for bringing the two of you together.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt #svt carat #choi #sungcheol #scoups #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups x y/n #scoups imagines #chirstmas #kpop #kpop bg

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yanderedrabbles · 4 months ago

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congrats! Ur work has rlly paid off

If ur not uncomfortable(if u r pls ignore), how'd u do it? I've started out at the same time and dont even have quarter the amount u have which rlly bums me out and makes me want to stop posting

One totally simple secret- I post a TON. Like almost every day.

The only month I didn't post almost every day was January, and while I don't have a screenshot of my activity, my notes absolutely plummeted. From about 2000/day to about 400/day. It took the whole of February and most of March to get them back to my pre-hiatus levels.

Let's look at the stats:

I didn't post a new fic yesterday or today and you can see how my notes tanked from around 2000 to about 1000 in just a day.

POSTING FREQUENTLY IS THE BEST WAY TO GROW!

I'm sorry to yell at you gorgeous, but it's true. While I put a ton of work into variety and into improving my craft, the biggest factor has been posting frequency. It keeps me on top of common tags and recommendations, so new readers are a lot more likely to stumble on my stuff. It keeps my current readers engaged. It's the main way I've gained followers.

Okay, we got that out of the way? Let's get into some of the more nuanced practices that boost reach.

You can see that my fic length varies a lot. There are plenty of posts under a thousand words, but also a few topping ten thousand.

I think that having variety keeps things interesting for my readers. Most of us don't have time to sit down and read a 10k word fic every day, but we still want to have our yandere fix. That's where my shorter stuff comes in.

I think having variety in length also draws in new readers. You might be skeptical about reading a 12k word smut if it pops up on your dash and you have no clue who the author is, but you're probably down to read the quick 600 to a 1000 word drabble. And if you like it, you might just check out more of my stuff! Yippee!

I also aim for variety in style. Let's look at some of my more popular posts:

Yandere Best Friend

Yandere Greek Champion

Yandere Yakuza

Yandere Fairytale

Did ya notice anything? All four are pretty popular fics on my blog, and they're all VERY different. In length, in formatting, in the approach to storytelling.

Variety is the spice of life! Have fun with your writing, experiment, take risks. If it doesn't work, then at least you took the chance and learnt something. Your readers are not going to complain, I promise.

Editing is also a must. You're almost always going to miss a typo or two - they're like mosquitoes in summer, they somehow always manage to slip through the cracks - but a fic should be pleasant to read. If I see five typos in the first paragraph, it's a bit of a turn-off. Most apps have a built-in spell check, and I've recently been experimenting with Grammarly. Even just doing a final comb-over before you post makes a huge difference.

Tag your stuff too! I have my go-to set of tags that I usually use on my posts, but I'm always on the lookout for new tags that are applicable to my posts. How else are people going to see your stuff? How else will Tumblr know to recommend you? Use tags babe, I promise they don't bite.

Oh, and don't forget to ask for feedback either. Beta readers and writing groups are the backbone behind so many famous real-world authors. Your Tumblr moots will be happy to skim over your stuff and give you some pointers. We're all in this together, and that means striving to get better together.

And finally, I'm always trying to learn more about writing. All the tips and tricks behind it. All the ways I can make my stuff just a little better - my dialogue a bit more snappy, my prose a bit easier to read.

My go-to writing guy is James Scott Bell. Especially Voice - the secret power behind great writing. James is funny and easy to read, so I HIGHLY recommend his books on writing. Currently, I'm reading How to Write Pulp Fiction and it's soooo helpful. Am I actually getting better as a writer? That's debatable, but I'm constantly putting in the effort and I think my readers can sense that.

"But Val, I can't write every day! I've got obligations, work, school, a hundred different things to get done! Hitting 2k words daily just isn't possible for me!"

I hear ya kid. But guess what? I couldn't clock 2000 words a day at the beginning either. But I forced myself to sit down and write as much as I could between all my other obligations. Over time, you'll learn to write faster. You'll learn to push through all the small worries holding you back. You'll learn to optimise your workflow so that you clock an easy 1k in an hour.

Every little bit counts. Even if all you can spare is 300 words a day or half an hour of editing, it adds up. By the end of the week, that's already a 2.1k fic ready to go.

I used to think writers were just insanely talented and naturally creative. And I have no doubt so many are. But it takes practice and patience to improve.

We all get those moments when we ask ourselves if we should even bother. What if I'm a total hack? What if I'm the worst person to put paper to pen since the author of My Immortal? What if what if what if -

Stop. Just keep writing.

Don't listen to those voices. If you do, you won't write anything at all, and how are supposed to improve if there's nothing to improve upon?

Sometimes, it's like a kick to the jaw to see another writer doing well. Why isn't that me? What are they doing that I'm not? I deserve it just as much as they do, so why am I not getting the same amount of notes?

Don't even bother entertaining thoughts like those. Take a deep breath and then keep writing. You have your own voice and style that your fans love. Your only competition is with yourself.

There you have it. Simple as it gets.

I promise you, you're an author worth reading. You have fans who love you, who can't help but scream when you post a new fic. Just keep putting in the hours and it WILL pay off.

#Val's writing advice

43 notes · View notes

kidspawn · 5 months ago

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go on the rant GO ON THE RANT ANOUT MISCHARACTERISATION did I even spell that right

Sorry for taking so long oh my lord, I got a little intense with this. I wanted textual evidence, and I went on a few fanfiction-reading and tumblr sprees to really gather my points here. I treated this like a college essay. So consider this a sociological essay on fandom behavior and ill incorporate it into my thesis. So, Thank you for this opportunity to vent one of my biggest fandom pet peeves! I shan't squander it!

My issue with mischaracterization comes down to the characters being mischaracterized and the traits of theirs that are warped. Now don't get me wrong, OOC is a fandom-typical behavior. I did it a lot when I was younger, and I even engage in it now for goofy moments! Is exact characterization necessary for a fluffy AU or a goofy little dribble? No. Sometimes we just want to write something cute and fun.

My issue with it comes when we're writing something that does require accurate character interpretation. Now, I won't directly tell someone they're writing OOC - I usually just ignore it and keep reading or I just press the back tab because it's really not that deep. But it does bother me. I'm not the ultimate authority over how a character should be written - that changes based on the creator, narrative, how the creator interprets and even projects onto them.

To express why, allow me to do a bit of a case study of characters who are often mischaracterized in the (numerous) fandoms i participate in. I've seen some shit. If you don't know the character, don't worry, it'll tie into some cohesive point. Bare with me. Remember, this is just my opinion. I actively encourage intellectual conversation about things we disagree on! This isn't targeted at a specific person, it's just a list of some trends i see in fandom behavior. Also this isn't edited.

(If you want to skip down, there's a TL; DR at the end. But be warned I was just sleep deprived enough for this to be hilarious and you'd be missing out on my utter genius. Never ask an autistic to describe their favourite characters if you don't want a 20 page notes app essay.)

1. Wylan Van Eck - Six of Crows.

Now, this is the character that spurred my thoughts here. Wylan's mischaracterization in the SOC fandom is interesting because I think it just shows a misunderstanding of the character and his arc. Maybe you only read the first book or watched the show. The majority of his development happens in the second book, where his true personality is allowed to shine. But there are definitely hints throughout all his "screentime" if you will.

Wylan is often portrayed as a bit of a "sunshine boy", an understandable interpretation because several characters in universe seem to agree. It's one of the biggest commentaries on him from the rest of the cast - he's a little rich boy, he's innocent, he's barely qualified to be their demolitions expert. None of which is true, by the way, but that's the base level explanation given to Wylan. (Actually the unraveling of this portrayal is integral to his relationship with the other crows but more on that another time.)

Wylan did grow up relatively sheltered, which can make him pretty naive at the start of the story. He hasn't really been participating in the criminal world for long. But innocent he is not. Wylan is pretty quickly revealed to be remarkably intelligent, even a bit of a mad scientist. He's directly compared to Kaz on multiple occasions, and his backstory serves as a direct parallel to Kaz's. He's a well meaning kid, who expressed a deep empathy towards others on multiple occasions. Which, once again, isn't innocence - it could maybe be a product of him being a bit naive? But I've always interpreted that as a special strength of Wylan's. He blossoms into a bit of a mad genius, but one who still cares about people. The idea that caring about others makes you weak is one that we see being addressed with Kaz, actually, so I always find it interesting when that same concept isn't applied to Wylan? I love Kaz and I love Wylan and the thread between the two is one of my favourite aspects of the series.

Also, I think it's important to point out that in terms of sexuality, Wylan isn't some uwu innocent gay boy? He's heavily implied to have at least some degree of sexual experience, whether it's rumour or reality. And if you factor in the TV show, he's plenty confident in his sexuality and its expression thereof. So the strange interpretation of him as someone who's never engaged in any sexual activity is interesting to me?

His relationship with Jesper is often mischaracterized, as well. This weird depiction of Wylan woefully pining after Jesper with little confidence or desire to do anything about it came almost out of nowhere? And the whole Kuwei situation. It's been awhile since I read the books, but I distinctly remember Wylan being pretty pissed about that whole situation. Like, really pissed. And super abrasive about it. He knew he and Jesper liked each other and he put that boy through the WRINGER over that kiss. Like saying Wylan is an uwu soft sunshine boy when he actively threatens to throw people off a boat because they have a crush on their partner is kind of hilarious, to be honest. Wylan was locked the hell in when it came to Jesper. It was very much not a sad one sided crush. And as much as I like the TV adaptation (Jack Wolfe as Wylan is the definition of perfect casting btw) I do think it strips a lot of the nuance of the relationship. Or not. I like both portrayals, but Wylan is infinitely more assertive in the books. He actively challenges Jesper and pushes him. Jesper noticeably likes him more when he, for lack of better words, "bites back." When he stands up for himself. Which he is good at doing. He also lies to and manipulates Kaz. Before that, he frequently talked back to and challenged Kaz at every turn. Is he always right? No, but he has his principles and he puts his foot down. The kid is stubborn. I equate Wylan's arc to Parker's from the show Leverage, which has a lot in common with SOC. Namely that Wylan is almost being fashioned into someone who could take Kaz's place, if that makes sense? Actually, the Wylan/Kaz comparison is so important to me and that could be a separate post.

Wylan's mischaracterization is fascinating because it's less a gross misunderstanding of who he is, and more ignoring the depth and multiple facets to make him seem submissive (don't even tell me that's not what it is lmao) and soft and super sweet. Wylan is kind of a snarky shit! And that's ok! He's also stubborn and intelligent and yes, a little naive, and overall kindhearted, but he sticks to his guns He'll help hijack a tank and blow shit up, but he's also a highly empathetic and sweet artist. He's a little unnerving, if you think about it. He's cryptic about his background, he likes bombs, he plays the piano, he matches Kaz's freak, he lies constantly, he's sixteen and a member of the merchants council and attempting to overturn its entire structure. He built bombs for a living. He likes chemistry. Have you ever met a chemistry nerd? They're weird. In the best possible way. Wylan is weird. Please write him weird, please write him as a smartass. He's a sweet kid but he's mouthy.

Edit: I was rightfully called out for saying Wylan likes chemistry, and I was wrong. Which is really funny because this was meant to be about mischaracterization and I actively perpetuated a mischaracterization. Anyway.

Anyway,

2. Adam Parrish - The Raven Cycle

This one is personal. Not just because I was (affectionately?? I hope??) called the "Adam Parrish my friend group" (To this day, how am I supposed to take that?) or because Adam is probably my favourire book character of all time, but because the softening of Adam by fandom really ruins a lot of why he's such a well-written character? Idk, I know many people (including Maggie Stiefvater herself) have expressed that he's difficult to write. Which is fair. He's a walking contradiction. But reducing him to sad abused boy (which, like it or not, is what fucking happens) really bothers me. Because Adam's anger and his coping throughout The Dream Thieves cements him as one of the best examples of healing I've seen in awhile. Because it isn't pretty or enjoyable to watch. Adam is actively lashing out. Understandably so, btw. He's angry and he feels cornered and he's attempting to undo a lifetime of internalized hatred and trauma. And he's doing his damn best not to be like the people who hurt him. This portrayal means everything to me - as someone who, to start, is in constant fear of being like their abusers, and who hadn't ever seen abuse victims being angry before. I read this series when I was sixteen and filled with anger, and to read it again in my twenties when I've only just started to understand that this anger was a result of emotional and physical abuse. Anyway, it's difficult for me to not make this part a little personal, because Adam is a very personal character to me. And no, I have never murdered a man, but tbh I would if I had been in his position and I'm in full support of anything he does. Adam spends TDT attempting to reclaim agency. Because Adam is a little control freak and everything in his life has spiraled out of control, and he's grasping onto what little he can control. So he gets mean, and he's angry and scared and it's not pretty and it's not what people always want to see. But it's also very realistic, especially for a teenager with very little emotional intelligence. (Adam I love you. You are not emotionally aware.)

But once again, he's written as a lot softer by fandom. And not in the way he chooses to be softer (because Adam does actively fight and choose to be softer, especially when he loves someone - I think Opal is a great example.) but because it's easier to write. Which, fair, Adam isn't the easiest to write. I could reiterate and explain that Adam can kind of be an asshole and he's emotionally constipated and he is willing to malewife, manipulate, manslaughter his way out of a situation. Adam is willing to do what it takes to survive, even at his own expense. He's spent seventeen years in survival mode, and he never really learns how to turn it off?

Like with Wylan, who I compare to Kaz to emphasize how he's mischaracterized, need i remind the crowd that Adam and Declan would form a fascinating venn diagram? I'll never get over Adam being called a "creepily clever little fuck" or Adam admitting to studying Declan's behavior and imitating the behavior of people he actively dislikes because he wants to be respected and seen as one of them. While actively hating their guts, mind you. Also him and the Grey Man. Who Adam is also constantly compared to. I'm surprised more people don't talk about his active identity crisis in the Dreamer's Trilogy. He's only found one person he can be himself around. Adam has spent years and years building personalities and fabricated backstories and stretching truths. He's polite because people want him to be, he's gentle because it's what's expected. And I'm not saying these aren't parts of him, but it's almost like he's stretching these parts of himself to hide the parts of himself he finds less appealing. I think an integral part of Adam is having secrets, and as much as he'd like to known, he's too used to being unknowable to open up?

I also think his dynamic with Ronan is frequently mischaracterized. Which, by the way, I love p

Pynch so much? Like they make me physically ill. Ronan and Adam are, affectionately, two assholes who love each other very much. The fact that Adam is comfortable enough to fight with (i think I even recall a few allusions to some lighthearted physical fights, nothing full on) and bicker with and be abrasive Ronan is a big deal. He isn't worried saying the wrong thing is going to send him running? (I also think part of this is Ronan likes that a pretty boy is kinda mean to him which is very valid im not gonna lie) They've both gotten used to each other's jagged edges and they show the uglier sides of themselves because they know the other can handle it without judgement. Pre-series pynch is really fascinating to me and I wish we had gotten it more, actually. They had a really beautiful friendship dynamic, and seeing how comfortable Adam is around him really speaks to how well they work together. I bet if Ronan had kept it up at that pace, they'd have gotten together in ten years. He was just playing the long game, guys. He had a plan. This is often just scraped and turned into an enemies to lovers dynamic (which, i guess, was how Adam maybe perceived it? Ronan was doing a victorian slow burn.) And I wish I could speak on Adam's character without bringing up Ronan but these codependent motherfuckers make it impossible. Ronan's involvement in Adam's arc provides a lot of insight into who Adam really is, not who Adam desperately wishes he was.

Am I going somewhere with this? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I just want to gush about Adam Parrish. Can you blame me?

The pynch dynamic is where Adam is often miswritten, in my opinion. It's subtle, but the two aren't always written as equals, and them being and feeling like equals is a huge deal to why they work. Because they treat each other like people, not projects. Neither of them thinks the other needs fixing, neither does either of them expect everything to be easy. They're both relatively abrasive individuals, and it works because they're able to be openly abrasive with each other. Not because either of them is fixing the other. They slowly learn to be more vulnerable and depend on each other, but that's because they establish that by being their authentic, untempered selves. It's why the best Pynch fics involve them flirting by picking on each other.

Also, and this will seem petty, and it's probably a personal gripe of mine more than anything. In universe, Adam is not oblivious. (Like I said, everything is different and I have both written and ready oblivious Pynch!) He is fully aware that Ronan has a crush on him. It's actually my favourite part of that mid series dynamic. Adam knows. Ronan doesn't know that Adam knows. Adam doesn't know that Ronan doesn't know that Adam kno-

Adam chooses to be oblivious because he has poor self esteem and doesn't think he's worthy of being the object of Ronan's affection. Not because he can't tell. Because Ronan was being so obvious I picked up on it in the first chapter they showed up in together, but I digress. Adam is smart. But he's also really insecure. And has a huge fear of being overly reliant on other people. Which creates friction.

But when he locks the fuck in and decides "eh screw it im getting a boyfriend out of this" and just starts shamelessly flirting thats djsjdjsjdj. Like good on him. Adam just goes "fuck it someone needs to make shit happen." Which happens, mind you, after Adam has begin to reclaim his agency and sense of self directly after escaping an abusive situation. People grow and find themselves once they're in safety. Pynch progresses because Adam is able to heal on his own terms.

However, my biggest gripe with how Adam is written in his relationship with Ronan revolves entirely on the really odd gender roles people sometimes force on Adam? I like their relationship because it's a queer relationship where both characters are very masculine. (Assume I'm using the antiquated concept of masculinity). I mean they're both very obviously teenage boys. And they interact like two very dumb teenage boys who are in love with each other. I like seeing them be young and stupid and in love. I think of the grocery cart scene daily. Sometimes Adam is written in a way that almost feminizes him and ruins that refreshing element of their dynamic. Ignoring that out of the two, Ronan is probably the most unconventional in his masculinity. Just by the way. But I digress.

This turned into a meta analysis on Adam and Ronan but I hope my point was clear nonetheless: write Adam how he's written. Which is achingly complex, and difficult to simplify for a specific reason. He wouldn't work as a character if he was stripped of any of these details. Please don't reduce him to make him more palatable.

(I could rant about Adam more, specifically his bisexuality but Ive gone too far. Maybe another time.)

3. Akechi Goro - Persona 5

I have a Persona 5 icon and it's my duty to talk about Akechi Goro, my favourite little guy. My unhinged little man. What a little freak. What a delightful slap in the face.

I've compared Akechi to Adam before, which to many seems like a bit of a jump but rest assured when I lay it out side by side I'm kind of on to something.

I like Akechi a lot. Major comfort character. And he's a controversial character within the Persona fandom because he's done some pretty shitty stuff. Mostly because of the murder and blackmail and the betrayal and the-

But this isn't to defend Akechi. He needs no defending. He did it all and I don't care he should walk free anyway. Can we blame him? He's a Gemini. Also, he was SEVENTEEN. Probably younger when the (multiples) murders occurred. I feel like we ignore this a lot when talking about Akechi. Do you think his prefrontal cortex has been developed??? Look at him. He's got until at least thirty before his neural networks are refined. Also, and maybe this is controversial, as somebody with daddy issues, if I thought murdering someone would get people to care about me I probably would have as a teenager. Because guess what, the parent who cares about you literally dying, then not having parents, then having a parent who refuses to acknowledge you and uses you as a tool to achieve their own goals tends to send some people a little off the rails. Also, mathematically, that is a young teenager doing murder. A literal child. He doesn't need prison he needs therapy. Also sometimes murder is the answer and I think we should consider he was just doing what needed to be done. More of us should murder. And maybe he was just flirting? If you criticize the attempt, maybe you're just homophobic.

Ok, so all joking aside, yes Akechi did some appalling shit. Like. Enough for a life sentence. And when people jump through hoops to say what he did was ok ("oh he didn't have a choice" "oh he's just a victim uwu") it completely disregards why Akechi is such a well-written character. I dislike people trying to sanitize Akechi, because that directly contradicts what his arc is about - being authentically himself, after years of pretending to be something he isn't. (Are we seeing a trend here, folks?) Stop writing Akechi nice. Stop making him some sad misunderstood little boy. He's a teenager who, yes, did what he did by convincing himself it was how to survive and take back control of his life, but he also committed several unforgivable atrocities. We can understand, even sympathize with, his actions, while acknowledging they were horrible. Reducing him to an uwu sad victim ruins the nuance and intrigue of who he is. He's an asshole, he's cynical, he hates the world, he's never had anyone he can be himself around prior to meeting the protagonist, he won't accept help or support because free will is his greatest pride. He wants to be his own person. Also he's kind of funny. Just saying. I think we can forgive him a bit for being funny. As a treat.

Also, in regards to shipping (because poorly handled shipping is the bane of every nuanced characters good writing) Akechi is not only canonically very rude (i get a little jolt of happiness when writers make him rude, btw. it's like a little treat. here, mean!Akechi) when he's not playing a facade (even when he is, he's just passive aggressive), he also actively wants to be better than other people. Which affevts his dynamic with Akiren, who is the other side of the same coin. And he gets a little... uh....stabby when he's not. Maybe he hurts our feelings when we've spent hours befriending him only to be told he hates us-

But need I remind you a few details about Akechi fandom forgets that pisses me off: He's implied to regret some of the murder (not a justification, just a regret) but sees it as necessary, he likes that Akiren is willing to be combative and disagree with him, he appreciates honesty and authenticity, he doesn't believe when people like him, he's a little fucking unhinged, he trauma dumps every opportunity, he likes bouldering, and he is TALLER THAN AKIREN. Everytime we twink-ify Akechi an angel loses its wings. In my heart he's alive and he went to therapy and got the diagnosis he needs. I've read some gorgeous fic that really addresses the nuance of Akechi growing up and learning some healthy coping mechanisms. And getting a dog. I think Akechi should get a dog.

4. Tim Drake - DC Comics

...

So.

You've made it this far. Congratulations, you've hit my peak brainrot. As a DC Comics fan, I'm accustomed to varying characterization. Tim Drake is a character almost no one can seem to write well. Because there's little to no consistency. So it's difficult to say "hey this is wrong or bad writing" in fan works because... well, there's probably a comic or show or cartoon with that characterization! Even his arguably best comic, Red Robin 2009, is out of character - though this out of character decision is thematic and works for the fact that his entire life has been tossed into a fucking blender on puree mode. So, it'd be easier to say how Tim shouldn't be written? And the biggest issue here is that the poor writing is an example of fanon bleeding into canon. Preaching to the choir here, I know. But seriously.

Tim Drake's feral wet cat energy seems to get thrown into an interpretation that he's some sad, simpering little guy who just bends over backwards and lets shit happen to him. Which is just... not my favourite writing of him. I think we forget that Tim Drake is kind of an asshole. Like, I've always compared him to Peter Parker in that regard. I'd actually encourage more people to lean into Tim being a messy, skateboarding, too-smart-for-his-own-good teenager. Because it's my favourite interpretation of him. Bro is too smart to finish high school. That's so funny to me. But guess what, because of that and dropping out of high school he's lost a significant amount of socializing time with people his own age.

Which brings me to my biggest gripe with how Tim is written: He has negligent parents. Like. Not full on abusive, according to most interpretations, but parents who either weren't there or didn't really give a damn, or who kind of gave a damn but didn't really understand him or really try. Which doesn't necessarily make them the worst parents in the world, of course, but depending on the severity upon which it's written Tim is easily a kid who grew up way too fast. It's probably why he developed the relationship with Bruce that he did - he's been trained to behave and act like an adult (though he chemically is incapable of that, mind you) and to take care of himself, and that has led to him being a little emotionally stunted. And a little isolated from people his own age. Is this a trauma like... say.... being beaten to death in a warehouse at fifteen then brought back to life? No. But it is a specific form of trauma people love to dismiss. Because as a post I recently reblogged pointed out: Normal teenagers with normal parents and healthy coping skills don't become vigilantes. I don't know where the hatred of Tim Drake comes from but calling Tim Drake well adjusted and self actualized is so fucking funny, actually. The closest we got was the end of the Red Robin run, which was immediately eradicated with the arrival of New 52. Idk, Tim wasn't properly loved or socialized with kids his own age and that can really mess a kid up. Just a thought to consider.

Also, Tim is snarky and maybe a little full of himself in a way teens tend to be. Like... he got his ass beat by his dead predecessor and not only held his own but continued to mouth off and insist he was better when he was being threatened with murder. Damian went "hey I'm gonna kill you" and Tim basically said "OK bet." Awkward little boy Tim Drake (WFA Tim Drake, to be fair) is fun! It's cute! But it leaves out how utterly unhinged and unsettling Tim can be. Depending on who you ask, Tim has a bit of a stalking problem. And if you read a different set of comics, at best he hyperfixates a little too hard. The usual points for why hes a weird dude stand, but most of those come from the Red Robin run (which, as I mentioned, is kind of OOC because of the trauma dump) and aren't typical Tim behavior. But I'd also argue most well adjusted people don't engage in half the actions Tim resorts to during periods of stress....?

(Not to mention he's canonically the Robin most likely to become a supervillain.)

(He's also a bad boyfriend. He's a better friend than a boyfriend.)

I did notice the mischaracterization took over when he was confirmed queer! Which is! :) Interesting! :) I wonder! :) What about him being :) queer :) could have POSSIBLY :) led to his mischaracterization as an :) awkward soft boy :)

I love gay panic Tim and I actually liked the foundation of his relationship with Bernard, but it came at the expense of everything else I like about Tim which is that he's messy and a little pretentious. And does shit like "hey i can have a girlfriend as Robin and a girlfriend as Tim". i also loved the idea of his identity crisis being tied to a sexuality crisis! Then it just fizzled out. Not the point, but I did notice an influx of mischaracterization when he was confirmed queer and they sanitized all his problematic traits because DC seems to be afraid of making their queer male characters interesting and messy. Messy bisexuals deserve representation too.

Tim can also legitimately be very sweet. His relationship with all his friends is a testament to that. I've never loved romantic Timsteph, but their sweet moments are very important to me. I love the idea of them developing a platonic relationship. And not because i want more gay stuff, but because i think they're healthier when they're platonic. They're better for each other as friends.

Also, his relationship with Bart and Kon. Believing in Bart when people dismiss him as being a hyperactive idiot. The emotional depth of his and Kon's friendship. Like, romantic or not WOW. it's incredibly well-written. Tim is legitimately just... a messy teenager. A well-meaning, snarky, emotionally stunted teenager with parental issues. Him being a teenage CEO does nothing to negate how messy he is. I'd argue he should be written messier. Let messy people be messy.

Also give me more overcomplicated plots to solve issues that really shouldn't be complicated? When I say Tim is too smart for his own good, I mean he's the type to plan a military coup to cover his coming into class late. Some of the best Tim characterization I've seen shows him being paranoid enough to set up a ridiculous amount of schemes for simple issues.

Basically, people like to dumb him down or they don't make him dumb enough. Because he's smart dumb. He's smart but he's stupid. He's a 90s dork. Alexa, play I'm Just A Kid by Simple Plan.

5. Nico Di Angelo - PJO

I could speak on any PJO character here, frankly, but I'm choosing Nico because he's been stuck in my head since I knew how to analyze characters. I took one look at that little gremlin and I weaved him into my identity for the rest of eternity.

I forgive people for this one because Rick Riordan can barely figure out how to write Nico, but it's ok because he's Uncle Rick and he tries. I figure the best way to explain Nico's writing is that when Rick is on his shit, it's some of the best writing I've ever seen. When he's off, it's almost unreadable. And I love Nico. He introduced me to gay people. I did not know you could be gay before Nico was gay. But OH MY GOD i need this fandom to write Nico with SOME depth, even when his author can't. And as a disclaimer: I like most Nico ships. I'm so pro shipping in almost every capacity. I think shipping is fun and goofy and should just be a good time. Jason and Nico? Hell yes. I love them. Nico and Leo? Underrated dynamic. Nico and Will? Did I mention learning about gay people??? Solangelo introduced me to Troye Sivan and it was all downhill from there. Now I'm trans and biromantic. The transitive property of homosexuality. But when I say shipping can mean the absolute downfall of a character? Yeah, I'm thinking about Nico.

When Nico gets shipped he can often be stripped of all his interesting qualities. Nico and Percy's relationship loses a lot of it's depth, the intrigue and the best parts of it are reduced to Nico having a crush. Nico and Jason is reduced to a gay crush. Nico and Will become a perfect, fluffy gay couple. This is, obviously, not for everyone! I follow some wonderful individuals who ship and create content for these ships who really nail it! But when people don't, it just dhshfhsjhfrjjr Do we not like interesting things????

I liked Will and Nico because they pushed at each other. Will had a backbone and he kind of calls Nico out on some bullshit. Now, if Nico had been given an opportunity to explain that he wasn't imagining his isolation and if Rick acknowledged it was a weird choice to retcon that....? But nevermind.

Going into Nico's character. I might get a little mean. Let's power through!

Nico is classified homosapien, category emo. Which is cool. I'm in my early twenties and I also wear black nail polish and old band t shirts! But the weird fixation on it by fandom is so weird to me. Specifically because if Nico shows an ounce of developing past that, fandom gets so weird about it? Like, TSATS is a flawed book. But I like Nico getting to be a little happier. If it was fleshed out a little longer, Nico could slowly become someone like who he was at the beginning of the series - not exactly the same, because that's not how healing works! But him joking around is a good thing. Him smiling and laughing and healing is good. He's still struggling tremendously, but he is healing. And there's some weird push against that idea. I don't love how it was portrayed, either, but I actually love the idea of Nico healing.

Nico, prior to the big splat, was awkwardly social. And probably autistic. But thats a conversation for another day. He was traumatized, yes, but he had interests and he got excited about things! The absolute trauma train that followed battered him down and warped him. And that was something I, and many others found comfort in. Seeing a mirror image of our trauma in a character is such a big deal, especially when you find out this character you adore and have latched onto for years is queer! But the second Nico shows any development past being sad and worn and beaten down the entire fandom seems to work itself into a frenzy??? He's not a sad boy all the time and for some reason that pisses people off.

Also, Nico is more multifaceted than fandom (or Rick??? for some reason???) gives him credit for? He's mouthy and self destructive and overconfident in his powers. He's self loathing and insecure and polite to adults. He gets along with Dionysus of all people. He's quiet and introspective and notices the little details. He befriends odd creatures no one else seems to like. He gets excited and infodumps. He's a dork. He's worked towards pride in his identity. He's still grappling with internalized homophobia.

He's short. He's gay. He's empathetic. He's also an incredible swordsman. He's creepy. He's tremendously powerful. He gets reduced to a gay stereotype by fandom all the time. And by Rick, sometimes. Which... don't get me wrong, Nico finding Anakin Skywalker hot is funny as all hell. But there's so much nuance in how Nico is portrayed as a queer character. Specifically because many people didn't see it coming because Nico is so much more than a gay guy. Or he was, to start. But surprise surprise, once he's confirmed queer fandom attitude just... shifted. In a weird direction. I think, once again, taking the parts of a character that maybe make them seem a little "unsavory" or "complicated" and reducing them so they're easier to like or write is just in poor taste and comes from a deep misunderstanding of the character.

I could go off longer about Nico, but I think I've made my point. Once again, I see fandom reducing him to a handful of stereotypes and making him softer and less complicated.

Honourable Mention to Oikawa Tooru, who didn't fit the theme. Megumi Fushiguro, who didn't fit the theme. Neil Josten, who i would've written too much about. And many more.

TL;DR:

"Wow, Jay, what an odd combination of characters you've selected! How could you possibly tie them together!?" What do these guys all have in common? They're almost all queer men in queer relationships who have dealt with trauma as crucial point within their individual arcs.

(Disclaimer that Akechi is not confirmed queer, but his VA and the game itself likes to poke at it, and fandom has almost unanimously decided it's canon. People who write him almost always write him as a queer man. And it's my post.)

My ultimate point here is, that while mischaracterization happens to characters in every area of fandom, the trend to make queer male characters who have suffered trauma into soft boys is a particular pet peeve of mine. And I don't think I'm reaching with that. Characters like Tim or Nico, who were treated differently pre and post queer arc, are examples of how them being in queer relationships alters how people think of them. They're stripped of their nuance and their personalities and their grit so can fit into a mold for their queer relationships. Which is a massive disservice to their character, and an even worse disservice to what their attitude and behavior when healing from trauma represents. Characters like Adam or Akechi, who have what many consider "unsavory" responses to trauma (and contradict the perfect victim mentality) get sanded down for shipping purposes.

I hope this is insightful. I went into several cans of monster and my fingers have gone numb, but I needed to get this out. If I made you angry, please tell me why. But also know it's fandom and I acknowledge that fandom culture and behavior is all in good fun! OOC isn't always a bad thing, it can be fun! But I find analyzing fan behavior and character analysis absolutely fascinating and love getting asks like this!

#damn i should start a youtube channel #wylan van eck #six of crows #adam parrish #the raven cycle #akechi goro #persona 5 #tim drake #dc comics #nico di angelo #riordanverse

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