#//Unfair in both cases; for different reasons

[dutybcrne]

Okay Wrioney thoughts: they could make for a Pretty Good Beauty & the Beast au ngl-

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb (pt. 3)

Remus Lupin x f!reader, James Potter x f!reader (mentioned), Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, p in v, i think it’s protected atp idk, fingering, underage smoking, very dom remus, long af but omg i’m so in love with it

summary: the last part of your plan is far harder to achieve than the first two and it’s far more complicated.

word count: 5k

a/n: ahhh here’s the last part (i think?) anyway sorry it’s long i got carried away but ugh i love remus so much. sorry if my characterization is off, ever since atyd i see him as sarcastic. yeah i love this, hope you guys do too :)

~~~

Out of all the marauders, Remus Lupin was by far the most liked. He was quiet, but not invisible. He was the most sensible out of all the boys and the most polite. Though he did tend to be witty and sarcastic, he was kind at heart. But he was also the hardest one to get close to. Quiet, reserved, beautiful Remus with his nose always stuck in a book. There was always something about him that made girls fall fast. But that was the thing. It was always so easy to fall in love with him. So, if one ever wanted to shag Remus Lupin, they would have to deal with the consequences of loving him. Because he was nothing like his mates. He didn’t shag just anyone. No. He had to choose you. And to be chosen by him was the biggest accomplishment and the biggest curse. Because once you get him, you will never want to let him go.

~~~

Avoiding two of the marauders is nearly impossible. Each corner you turn it seems you run into one of them, or both. And each time their eyes find you they show the same expressions. Confusion. Frustration. Perhaps even a bit of sadness. You debate throwing away the entire plan daily. It’s unfair, the way you’re playing with their minds. But the lingering knowledge that you’re so close to completing the plan entirely keeps you going. Because surely, all your hurt feelings can’t be for nothing.

Right?

You speak to James only once after your shag in the broom closet. It’s a week or two after, he’s been chasing you around, and you’ve been avoiding him. But you decide he deserves some amount of closure. Sweet, lovely, innocent James. You find him alone in the library and take your opportunity. The way he smiles when he sees you approaching makes your heart ache terribly and regret fills your stomach.

“Y/n I’ve been trying to catch you, how are you?” He asks once you’re close enough to hear his quiet tone.

He looks so happy, you feel sick.

“Yeah, I just you know… haven’t been feeling too great,” you lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sit if you’d like, I’ve been attempting to study for the potions test. Aren’t you good with potions? Could you help me possibly?”

You inhale deeply. You could really use a cigarette right now. You’ve broken things off with guys before, but this feels different. In the other cases, you’ve had reasons. For this case though, you have none. James is innocent in all of this. It makes you nauseous.

“Listen, James,” you start, your voice soft. “What happened was great, I enjoyed it a lot, but it was a mistake. I like you, you’re very sweet, but I don’t think we should do anything else.”

Watching his face fall is by far the most horrid sight you’ve ever seen. All the happiness fades fast and leaves behind a bitter frown. He looks down at his papers, toying with his quill.

“I see…” He looks back up, a fake smile on his lips. “That’s alright, it was fun. I’m not really looking for anything serious like that either, so I understand.”

You swallow hard. “I really do like you James, believe me, but it’s just not the right time for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“And...” You pause for a second. “You won’t tell anyone?”

He nods. “Not a soul. This will be our little secret.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your potions. Thanks for... everything.” You give him one last smile before turning on your heels and making your way out of the library.

You almost put an end to it right then and there, but then you see the tallest marauder walking down the hall with Peter. His hands are in his pockets, his book bag slung over one of his shoulders. For a split second his eyes meet yours as the two of you pass each other.

He gives you a small awkward smile.

Fuck.

~~~

To catch Remus Lupin alone you must take the risk of losing your house some points. You wait a week before making your move, for safety. After your conversation with James, the only marauder to pay attention to you is Sirius. He’s still set on telling everyone that the two of you shagged, but thankfully, not many people believe him. Not even his best mates.

It’s a very quiet night when you sneak out after curfew. A night you know one particular prefect is doing rounds on his own. You wander through the castle quietly, making sure to avoid the areas in which teachers lurk. Goosebumps form on your skin, you should’ve worn more than a tee-shirt and sweatpants, but you needed to look casual.

As you’re about to turn a corner, you spot Filch. Panic surfaces inside you and you quickly turn around and run as quietly as you can down the hall. You take a few turns and just as you’re about to relax, you hear a voice.

“It’s past curfew, what are you doing out here?”

Your heart stops for a completely different reason.

It’s him.

You turn to face him and shyly smile. You watch his face change as he recognizes you.

“Oh, it’s you.” He narrows his eyes. “Off to shag my mate again, are you?”

“I never shagged him,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m out for a completely different reason.”

“What reason is that?”

You shrug. “Personal reason.”

“Ah well, hope it was worth losing your dear Ravenclaws ten points. Get back to your dorm before someone else catches you,” he says, turning away from you.

You watch as he walks down the hall, not giving you another thought. You would’ve replied sarcastically if you could speak for that matter. Once he disappears, all you can do is shamefully make your way back to your house's common room, now understanding why James likes being a chaser.

~~~

Some time passes before you get Remus alone. Each time you see him during the day, he’s accompanied by one of the marauders and you can’t sneak out during his rounds again because your fellow Ravenclaws were not pleased. You’re smoking behind the castle when you happen to finally catch him walking alone. You immediately take your chance.

“Lupin!” You call out to him. You get up from the bench you were sitting on and walk to him.

Thankfully, he stops walking and turns back to face you. “Y/l/n. Is there something I can help you with?”

You can tell from the tone of his voice he’s trying to be polite; it makes your insides warm.

“Yeah, actually there is. I was wondering if you could help me with my transfiguration essay. You’re the smartest lad in the year,” you answer, taking a small puff of your cigarette. You hold it up to offer him a hit, he shakes his head.

“Those things will kill you,” he says. “But I suppose I can help a bit. I assume you’re free right now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me take a look.”

A smirk forms on your lips, and you let out a breath of smoke purposely into his face. “Take a girl to dinner first.”

He swats the air, fanning away the smoke. “Are you going to show me or not? I have things to take care of.”

“Sorry.” You hate the way your face burns. “Come see.”

The two of you make your way to the bench and you take out your essay. Truthfully, you are already finished with it, and you think your work is good. But much to your dismay, only a few seconds after he starts reading it, Remus takes out a muggle pen and begins crossing things off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your spelling is shit, and you’ve contradicted your argument at least twice already and I’m only on the second paragraph,” he answers, his eyes glued to the paper. “Maybe if you spent more time studying than shagging and smoking, you’d have this information down. We reviewed it a few weeks ago.”

You scoff. “I have not been shagging.”

“Sure,” he mumbles, crossing off another sentence.

“I swear, Sirius is mistaken.” You lie.

He turns his head, his green eyes meeting yours. “Who said I was referring to Sirius?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you cough due to the smoke. Is he talking about James? Your heart rate increases, and anxiety flows throughout your body. Did James tell? You catch your breath, your eyes meeting his again. He looks unamused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t shagged anyone in months, not that it’s your business,” you say.

“You should really practice more on your lying; you are shit at it.” He hands your essay back to you and stands. “I left a few notes of some things you should change, but my biggest suggestion is that you reread the textbook, and perhaps find some more... enticing quotes. Is that all then? Like I said, I’ve got some other business to tend to.”

For a few seconds, all you can do is stare up at him, your mouth hung open ever so slightly. You previously thought Remus Lupin to be a timid boy who went along with the rest of the marauders because he couldn’t say no. Now though, you realize all those assumptions are wrong. He’s quiet, but not timid.

“What do you know?” You question.

“Quite a lot, thanks for the chat.”

Before you can even think of a response, he’s already walking away. You can’t let him slip away again.

“I’ll get it out of you Remus Lupin if it’s the last thing I do!”

He turns his head over his shoulder and chuckles, the sound sending warmth straight to your core. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, he’s gone, and you’re left flustered with rosy cheeks.

You did save the best for last.

~~~

Falling for the third marauder is easier than anything. Almost unconsciously, you begin to fail classes so that he can help you with work, you learn his route around the castle to see him at least once a day, and you sneak around the castle some nights, but he always ends up finding you somehow.

One night, a little over a month after you’ve started your game, something unexpected happens. You’re out after curfew once again, tiptoeing around the castle to see where the tallest prefect is when he appears from behind you. Like usual, he crosses his arms and clears his throat, making you quickly spin on your heels to face him. How does he always sneak up on you?

“How many times am I going to catch you before you start following the rules? I’m sure your fellow Ravenclaws aren’t too pleased with you,” he says. You look up at him, a genuine blush on your face. He narrows his eyes. “You want me to catch you, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You look away nervously. The plan never involved gaining real feelings for any of the marauders, yet here you were. Standing in your sleepwear after curfew with your heart racing in your chest at the mere sight of one of them. Though you try to deny it, you know deep down you’re crushing hard, and you know it will only end badly.

“I uh... I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just on a little stroll back from a smoke that’s all,” you reply after a few seconds, your hands anxiously fiddling with one another.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what your objective is or has been, but whatever it is it’s not going to happen.”

“Remus I-”

“Sirius, I understand, he would sleep with the giant squid if it had tits. But James, really? He may be more of an... active person than myself but he has far more feelings than you think.” He takes a step forward; he towers over you. You swear you can’t breathe. “You may have fooled them, but you don’t fool me. I can see right through you y/l/n and you’re sick.”

You move backward; he follows each step. “You... you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

Your back hits a wall, panic rises in you. Your eyes fall to his hands, and a bit of relief washes over you when you see he’s not holding his wand. But then another thought takes over. Is he going to hit you? When you look back up, he’s only inches away from you, his hazel eyes piercing down into yours. He places one of his hands on the wall next to your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, really. I’m sorry,” you mumble, your words genuine.

“So, what was your goal then? To shag all of us and take your pick of who’s best? Peter would’ve been far easier than James you know,” he replies.

“It was just a stupid idea, I don’t know. It didn’t mean anything deeper I swear.” You’re rambling now, the threat of tears evident in the burning of your eyes. You try your hardest to keep any from falling, you can’t cry in front of Remus.

He sighs. “You’re lucky Sirius is oblivious, and James is trusting. If they knew the truth, you’d have the whole school against you.”

“Wait, they don’t know?”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. If they knew you’d be getting hexed almost all day every day.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I notice a lot more than people think. Did you honestly think no one saw you go up to our dorm with Sirius that night at the party? And did you honestly think none of us would notice James’s change in attitude? You think you know more than you actually do,” he explains.

For a few seconds, the two of you only stare at each other. You don’t know what to think. You should’ve known this would happen. Someone was going to catch on. You wish you had never done it. Any of it. Everything would be so much simpler if you’d simply stayed the quiet Ravenclaw girl who never interacted with the marauders. But you can’t go back, no matter how much you wish you could. You can only make it right moving forward.

“I’m sorry, truly Remus.” There’s so much more you want to say, but you can’t. You can’t fathom the words.

“If you’re truly sorry, stop. I won’t be the next pawn in your game,” he says, his voice slightly lower than before. You watch the way his eyes shift, the way he licks his lips, and moves his head down so he’s almost eye level with you. Your breath catches in your throat. “I suppose I pity you though because you and I both know this has become more than a game to you now.”

You turn your head, but he grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eye.

“You fancy me.”

“I-”

“Don’t try to deny it. Like I said, I can see right through you.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now,” you whisper, a tear nearly escaping one of your eyes.

He inhales deeply and you notice his eyes trail over your body for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “You’re right. It is over now.”

He lets go of you and backs away and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you feel like you can breathe normally. You stay on the wall, silently catching your breath as he walks further down the hall. But just before he’s about to turn a corner, he looks back at you.

“Or perhaps it’s simply my turn to play with you. Oh, and that’s twenty points from Ravenclaw. Goodnight.”

You fall asleep with his words burning in the back of your mind, and an ache between your thighs.

~~~

After that night, everything is different. You try to avoid them all and go back to the way things were before, you really do. You scribble out the page in your journal with their names, you keep your head down in the halls, and you skip the parties they host. It’s Remus who’s begun playing. Somehow, he continues knowing where you are and appears at random times. Whether you’re studying in the library, and he just so happens to need a book from that section, or you’re out by the lake with your friends and he walks by. You know it’s intentional, but it still manages to leave you hot and bothered each time.

“I thought you said the plan was off?” Your friend says one particular day when the two of you are eating lunch.

You look at her, confused. “It is.”

“Then why has Lupin been staring at you this whole meal?”

Instinctively, you look across the Great Hall and immediately catch those all-too-familiar hazel eyes. He doesn’t look away, at least, not for a moment. He stares at you with no shame, and even from the distance you can sense something different from the look in his eyes. Before you can fully figure it out though, he turns his attention back to the other three marauders.

“Did you shag him?” Your friend asks.

“No, I told you what happened,” you answer, focusing your attention back on the food on your plate. “I wish he’d stop.”

Your friend laughs. “Nah, you don’t.”

You hate how she’s right.

~~~

Nearly two months have passed when you finally confront Remus.

You’re sitting in the astronomy tower, a cigarette between your lips, and a scowl on your face. You can’t take it any longer. Wasn’t he the one who told you off? Wasn’t he the one who told you to stop the games? He was. You know it. So, why has he kept it going? He had said that it was his turn, but that was many weeks ago. How long did he plan to keep this going? You let out a cloud of smoke, frustration taking over your body at the thoughts.

“How many points shall I take off tonight? Forty? Fifty?” You feel him sit next to you, but you refuse to look at him. “You haven’t been out after dark in a while though, I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want Lupin?” You ask, annoyed.

He chuckles. “What do any of us want really?”

You look at him with a straight face, hating the way butterflies take over your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Despite the scars on his face, you find him more beautiful than any boy. More than James, even more than Sirius. There is something so extraordinary about Remus you can’t explain. You wish it would go away.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” You question after taking another drag from the cigarette.

“I haven’t spoken to you in over a month, I don’t know what-”

“Yes, you know what I mean.” You cut him off. You exhale your last breath of smoke and throw the cigarette off the tower. “I’m trying to leave this all in the past and move on like you said but you’ve made it quite difficult.”

“Seems you don’t like the taste of your medicine love. It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to avoid someone when they always seem to end up exactly where you are. It gets rather annoying, doesn’t it? Especially when you secretly enjoy it,” he replies.

Your eyes meet again and that familiar trouble to breathe begins. He’s looking at you in a way you don’t know how to feel about. It’s not like Sirius’s drunken stare or James’s needy stare. No. This one, though the same lustful, is far deeper.

“Just tell me what you want Remus,” you eventually say, your voice lower than before. “What do you want?”

“I want you to get out of my head. I want to look at you and feel nothing. I want everything to go back to how it was before you decided to fuck with my friends and me,” he answers.

You swear your heart stops for a few beats. “Then let all of that happen.”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

You stay silent.

“I never wanted this, any of it.”

You look down. “I know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Merlin, I give up, you win y/n. You bloody win.”

You’re about to ask what he exactly means, but he acts faster. In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours. You can’t grasp it at first. You’re kissing Remus Lupin; Remus Lupin is kissing you. The boy who unintentionally caught your heart is kissing you. It’s unbelievable, it’s undeniable, and it’s far from underrated. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, even through your initial shock.

His hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs stroke your skin ever so gently. You wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands toying with the hair on the back of his head. He’s a good kisser, very good. That’s why when he parts your lips, you protest.

“Why did you-”

“If we’re going to do this, you have to promise me it’s not a game anymore y/n.”

Your head is fuzzy from how intently he’s looking at you. “I promise Remus, that game has been over for a while.”

“You swear it?”

“I do. Do you?”

“Of course.” There are a few seconds of silence before he sighs, one of his fingers now playing with a piece of your hair. “We have to keep it secret.”

“I know,” you say.

He brushes the piece of hair behind your ear, the intimate gesture sending tingles throughout your body. “I don’t want it to be a quick shag either,” he adds.

“What do you want it to be then?”

The smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. “More.”

~~~

More from Remus Lupin is everything.

After that night, the two of you begin something you don’t exactly know how to name. You would call it a secret relationship, but the thought of that gives you a stomachache. The two of you don’t interact during the day, at least not where anyone else can see. He passes you in the hall as if you’re a stranger, but the second he catches you around a corner in an empty hallway he showers you with affection. And at night when the two of you sneak off, he touches you in ways you never thought possible.

He shows you so many new places in the castle you never knew of. Secret passages, secret rooms, all of it. You never question how he knows all of it, you only hold his hand tighter as he guides you. When he suggests a more secluded place to meet, you of course agree. Though, you never expect that place to be the shrieking shack.

“There’s no way you’re serious,” you say. The two of you are outside, near the Whomping Willow. You make sure to stay out of its reach. “The shrieking shack? That place is haunted, the ghosts don’t even go there because of how scary it is.”

“Obviously I’m not Sirius love, you only shagged him once,” he sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes to emphasize his joke.

“Remus.”

“The shrieking shack is not haunted, believe me, that’s only a silly rumor made so that people won’t go to it. Me, James, Sirius, and Peter go all the time. It has a bed, and given our activities I say we utilize that,” he explains.

You bite your lip. “Are you positive?”

He moves a bit closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. “You know I would never let anything hurt you, you can trust me.”

“Alright, but how are we supposed to get there so late? It’s in Hogsmeade,” you question.

He chuckles. “Haven’t you learned by now the marauders have many secret ways?”

“Yes, but we’re not in the castle right now how are we to- Remus don’t go any closer you’re going to get hurt you-” You pause, your mouth hung open as you watch the whomping willow go completely still. “How did you...”

“Secrets love, now come, it’s getting late,” he says, holding a hand out to you.

You don’t hesitate to take his hand and follow him into the tree, nothing else is said.

Surprisingly, the walk isn’t too long. It’s dark, gloomy, and a bit cold, but it’s not terrible. At the end of the tunnel, there’s a door. Something in Remus’s posture shifts, almost as if he’s anxious. You squeeze his hand to try to reassure him of whatever he needs, he gives you a smile through the dark that makes your cheeks warm.

The shrieking shack isn’t big, not at all. It’s a simple building with a few rooms and a short staircase. Remus brings the two of you to what you presume is the bedroom though the only indicator is a mattress, blanket, and pillow on the floor. There’s a small fireplace in the room as well, shockingly full of wood and some candles placed near the mattress. The entire shack is creaky and dusty, but you don’t mind. As long as there’s no ghosts, it’s perfect. Remus lets go of your hand and moves to start a fire. You sit down on the mattress and light the candles around.

“What do you guys use this place for?” You ask.

“It’s just a place we come to sometimes when we don’t want to be around other people,” he answers. His back is still turned to you, you could stare at it all day. “Sirius was the first one to discover it wasn’t haunted.”

“Oh? How did he find that out?”

“He’s always been the bravest out of us, though I think he just wanted another rule to break.”

You chuckle. “That sounds like him.”

He finally stands and turns to face you, a bright fire burning behind him. “You would know, you shagged him.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say as you slide off your shoes.

He begins to walk to you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“This context doesn’t seem good, but yes you can,” you reply.

“Be completely honest, out of the three of us, who’s the best?”

He’s standing right in front of you now. You look up at him, a coy smile on your lips, and begin to untie his shoelaces. “You are of course.”

“For some reason, I think your answer is biased,” he says with a laugh.

You trail your hands up his legs after he steps out of his sneakers, stopping once you reach his belt buckle. It quickly gets undone. “What would make you say that?”

He laughs again. “Just a hunch I guess.”

Your moment of control is taken fast when he pushes you down on the mattress, his lips attacking yours. It isn’t a lie though; he is the best. Unlike with Sirius and James, you share such deeper feelings for Remus. Each time he touches you, you practically melt into the palm of his hand. He’s caring. He’s gentle, but rough when need be. Though the two of you argue sometimes, it always is resolved with a hug, a kiss, or a shag. So, in the simplest of words, Remus Lupin is the perfect boy in every way.

All your clothes are discarded quickly, his too. He kisses you deeply as he uses his fingers on you. Sometimes you wonder where he’s learned all his skills from, but even thinking about him with another girl has started to make your stomach hurt. Instead, you focus on how good two of his fingers feel inside you. They’re so long, so slender. More than once in class you’ve been completely distracted by the sight of his hands, specifically his fingers, even more specifically when he’s wearing rings on them. They feel just as you imagine, extraordinary.

When you cum, you’re moaning a mess into his mouth, your body shaking. He milks every last bit of your orgasm out of you before stopping. You watch through heavy lids as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum, the sight makes you audibly groan.

“I need you,” you whisper, running one of your hands through his hair.

“Do you?” There’s something in the tone of his voice mixed with the way he’s looking at you that makes your heart ache in your chest.

You nod. “In so many ways Rem.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He moves inside you slowly at first, but he finds a decent pace after a few minutes. Because of his height, you weren’t at all surprised at the size of his cock. It’s by far the biggest you’ve ever encountered and the best. Though sometimes it leaves you sore, it always leaves you in a daze of dopamine.

Remus struggles to keep his head at your level as he fucks you. He presses soft kisses to your forehead, one of his hands intertwined with yours. You’ve never felt such intimacy in your life, it almost makes tears form in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, his voice shaky. “Even if it’s not true.”

“I’m yours, Rem, completely,” you reply. His hips meet yours harder, and you moan. “All yours I’m all yours.”

Neither of you lasts much longer than that.

In the aftermath as the two of you hold each other, he rests his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair softly, the sound of his breathing like music to your ears. It’s at this moment you realize just how deeply you care for him. You hate what you did with that silly plan, but you don’t think you’d change it. If ending up in this moment only came from the plan, you’d do it over a million times.

“Is this real?” Remus asks after some time.

You sigh and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Yes. This is real.”

And so, it is.

[morbidmorbid]

Daryl finally reaching the point of the relationship where he can just surrender to the one he loves. Him, on his knees, face buried in your cunt just because he understands now just how much he loves you and can bare himself to you completely.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ADD TO THIS!!! THAT PERSON HAS SINGLE HANDEDLY LEFT ME FERAL OMG!!!! i need that man, I think we ALL need that man 💳💥💳💥

i got uuuuu and sorryyy i’m so late to this i’m a slow writer plus life but here u go !! um this wasn’t supposed to be.. all of this but i can’t help myself. explodes.

18+

⁀➷

it was challenging to get daryl to sleep sometimes.

eyes peel open, gradual, slow. sleep doesn’t weigh heavy on your lids, hadn’t deemed the chance to for prolonged rest was difficult to come by. still, finding idleness was an almost unfamiliar casual occurring and while slow to get comfortable with, it wasn’t completely unwanted. so when your muscles ache and the death in your face suffocates you, you take the chance of a bed and a falsified home even if it comes to be fleeting.

daryl sits perched on the windowsill, cigarette alight.

his dislike for new or change wasn’t the case now, perhaps it was that constant uneasiness that came with the ignorance of another world. daryl, in this state of the world, didn’t kneel to forged comfort—he’d told you that not with his words but with the emptiness in alexandria where his presence should be. he’s recruiting with aaron, he’s on a run, he’s not here. you understand his reservation and while you often touched convictions with him, this was a bit different, this one felt close enough to right.

you don’t bother maneuvering much, only turning a curious head over in his direction. the tidied sheets beneath you ruffle in contact.

“so that’s why i couldn’t sleep.” you say and it’s light, a quip that gently prods. it’s a joke at him forgoing the spot in bed beside you for hard wood beneath him and smoke in his lungs.

daryl takes a drag and pinches it between fingers. inhale, eyes you, exhale, turns away. “right, sorry.” he apologizes for it in his seriousness, watches your eyebrows scrunch in hilarious disbelief and tips in: “looked pretty damn sleep to me, though.”

he hadn’t bothered to crack a window amidst his smoke and it infiltrates the air. it fills your lungs and keeps you from biting back at him that, yeah, you might’ve been somewhere drowned in a dream—whatever those conjured up to be in this time—and it’s an odd thing. to sleep, to fall in deep enough to become unaware of the real around you, and you stick daryl on that development. perhaps things wouldn’t be that simple or easy, there wouldn’t be the opportunity, the comfortability in letting go for a breath.

if not for him perched right where he sits against the glass and looming around you in your vulnerability, likely ignorant to the umbrella of defense he creates.

the sun is long gone and doesn’t burn against the glass like before you’d dozed, only now the enveloping darkness.

“when did you get back?” you ask. his crossbow leans dirty against the wall near the threshold, arrows bloodied. daryl hasn’t shaken the vest or his shoes, nor the dirt on his hands and wedged beneath his fingernails. you reckon thirty minutes, though daryl surprises you.

another drag. “sun was still shinin’ over ya.” he says. it’s been a long while, then. had he eaten? or had he’d smoked his few stale cigarettes and chewed on his thoughts in the stretch of time and that itself is an upsetting possibility.

you purse your lips and your locked fingers dance against eachother, thoughtful. while he seems as he always is, he isn’t. there’s a reason behind everything, the good and the bad, and this one fell between both. “can you come over here? i’m cold.” daryl was a cautious man with little trust and that was good in this world, but right here his hesitancy to pursue not only this false town but you as well was not as pretty as good reasons go.

but that was selfish thinking and unfair to daryl’s morals.

he watches you and years prior he’d been unreadable, but you’re accustomed and he looks like someone who doesn’t believe your words. “it’s sweatin’ balls in here.” he unnecessarily shoots back. daryl, always running behind with your jokes, or maybe he understands but shies away from what you’re asking. daryl was always someone who’d have to work back into accustoms if detached for a while, always slow to reciprocate—even though he so strongly did—lest you’re persistent.

“well, i’m shivering.” you’re saying as you make to rub two hands together to search for warmth. warmth you didn’t need for it already filled you, but a tactic is a tactic.

daryl scoffs a laugh that’s too quiet to catch, but it’s seen. he stubs out his cigarette then, marks the wood in an ugly manner. when he makes the small walk towards the bed, towards you, you’re meeting him halfway as you walk on knees to the edge.

he stops when you speak up. “you’re not getting in bed with all that shit on, are you?”

“was.” he confirms and shrugs and it’s humorous to see how serious he is, how he doesn’t grasp onto the issue.

“take it off, it seems uncomfortable.”

“i ain’t uncomfortable.”

“daryl.”

daryl could be good with orders—could be, a meticulous sort of arrangement—when he agreed with them. this was a mixed case whereas he seemed pulled between the two; the look in his eyes and the firm stance before you screaming i’m fine, i’m staying put. then the other end of the stick with what he eventually complied with in the form of slouched shoulders, guard down, capable of finding that same comfortability in your ways that strived for his growth that he does in his own ways.

still, he grumbles. “ya killin’ me.” and then his jacket goes, his vest, his worn stitched gloves.

you know that daryl prefers to be prepared no matter the situation, doesn’t like to be bared to the world for not even a breath and his heedfulness is commendable. though right here in the warm box that isn’t your inauthentic bedroom but your presence, you recognize his needs are a broad category and this is one of the many.

daryl needs his own relief to come back to despite the state of the world—everyone else has their own, whether in another or in themselves or in between, and daryl deserved just as much.

when he goes to indulge you, two hands coming down against the mattress, you dodge. “don’t forget your shoes, dar.” and he’s all eye contact before finally crouching down. “no shoes in bed, it’s barbaric.”

“guessin’ i oughta get my underwear off, right?” he smiles a small one, sarcastic. “beat ya to the punch.”

you shrug for the joke and he scoffs at it. he bends at the knees nevertheless, lightly hitting the floor and fingers reaching to shove themselves in the heel of his shoe. one goes and joins the pile, but before he can twin the other foot, you’re bringing a hand to his hair. he’s a bit sweaty there, strands darkened in consequence and instead of grimacing, your chest swells with pride, gratitude; daryl’s a fighter and it shows even in the smallest things.

“thank you, by the way. really.” you say when you notice he’s halted his movements. he doesn’t budge even when you move from strand to strand, fixing him, watching his forehead come into view. his brows and shoulders remain lax which is good, encourages you. had it been before he would’ve been a quick hand on your forearm with alarm, unfamiliar in the intimacy, hesitant.

he doesn’t look up yet. “thankin’ me for?” and against your palm he leans.

“i don’t know, everything—for fighting.” you elaborate and it’s then that he’s lifting his head, squinted eyes sharp.

daryl was always shy eyes when commended. he holds your gaze in increments now and you take the moment to let your hands travel. they’re slow and deliberate where they land along the expanse of his jaw and against the hairs on his face. daryl moves with you in whichever direction you think to turn him, and while it’s cute and certainly heavy intimate development on his part, you don’t call him out on it for he embarrasses easily and having him shy away now was not a good call.

“ain’t just me.” he finally says and since he doesn’t like spotlight, “it’s you, michonne, rick—“

“i know.” you cut in. daryl reads into your simple response almost immediately if the expression he holds is telling; a bit taken aback, slightly flustered, understanding. there’s something in your chest that screams pride when daryl comes to realize when you’re making things about him, when you’re specifically singling him out, when you’re picking out all of his goods and positives and displaying them before himself.

daryl preens under your touch. the touch of yours that continues to travel, dancing in his hair, brushing against the skin of his face, running knuckles over cheekbones and forehead wrinkles. every crevice, every bump different. it’s distracting for daryl, you learned prior, lures his mind to a standstill, tugs the words back down his throat. he’s typically left with little to say to you when you’re on him like this, instead speaks with his eyes of a solace he finds between the both of you.

“your hands.” he eventually comments.

“my hands?” although now under scrutiny, they don’t pause their exploration.

“warm. said you were freezin’.”

your lips purse then at his delayed reckoning, laughter at the tip of your tongue. it slips despite your efforts, low and loose, makes daryl squint in situational ignorance. at the prison, daryl had once complimented your laugh under and against the metal of the cell beds, had thrown a ‘nevermind’ in quickly after you’d cooed at him for it.

“well, of course they’re warm now.” you bring them to his neck now, tip of your thumbs caressing his ears. “still cold all over, though.”

and instead of questioning you further, instead of coming up to engulf you in a hug, daryl brings his face into your abdomen. it’s not a punch of air that you lose, but your ability to form coherent thoughts. it’s him not exactly nuzzling, but breathing steadily into the cloth of your shirt, soft inhale, soft exhale. this means something because it always means something.

daryl hides the sudden salacious fervor on his face in the shield that your body creates. it’s obvious, so obvious, because he’s strong and unmoving where you attempt to lift his head.

while it is sudden, the dots seem to connect—daryl, with his lack of space to ever position himself to submit, does so openly right now because there is an opening for it. while he so genuinely kneeled for his shoes, you picked up on the way his pupils dilated when he did find your eyes—ever so brief during those three second variables. it was then that you knew.

“everything okay?” you ask lightly. everything is okay, daryl is so evidently okay which is why he pursues this. you ask anyway, though. daryl says he likes verbal confirmation and reassurance from you and he’d be a hypocrite to not like for you to reciprocate.

“mhm.” it’s muffled against your body which begins to gradually curl around him, between your legs which have swamped him in. “just ain’t comfortable down here.”

“really? you aching already?” you retort with a low laugh.

daryl doesn’t say anything else, nor does he make to stand.

“dick’s hard.” is what he comes up with and it’s so sudden and not at all vague.

you’ve thought it to be the case, so it doesn’t surprise you much. it was apparent the moment he hide himself in what you’d call shame. shame that looked to only follow him in the structure of built up carnal strain that’d been canned inside of him. daryl behaved like he didn’t have a clue that he had it or how to exactly deal with it. when the relationship had sprouted into a much more personal manner, it was always you who’d ‘handle’ daryl even when he struggled finding it in himself to.

he’s bringing hands up and they’re situating themselves on your waist. his hold isn’t suffocating, but it’s tight, fidgeting where he tries to keep his energy levels even.

“if you want something, daryl..” you begin slowly, anticipating where this will take you both. where your hands still sit in daryl’s hair, you pull again and he finally gives way and holy shit.

“ask ya for it.” he finishes, and before you can ponder too long why he already looks so fucking out of it, he’s already beating you to it. “think i busted.” he grunts around the words, fingers twitching against you and he forgoes his hold to wipe the back of his hand against his lips. it looks to be a habit that has budded from his nerves which he strives to conceal.

“did you?..”

daryl curls his lips inwards, another habit, adjusts his knees on the floor. “well, it ain’t piss.“

“oh. you wanna clean up and come up here? we can just—“ daryl was weird with embarrassment, and while it was fun to poke and prod, he’d probably string himself dry thinking back on this, so you try to move it along—not mention it for a moment longer.

“nah.” i’ll stay here is what he says with his actions, bringing his face back to your abdomen, kisses through the shirt. despite his own interference daryl is still there; he shows that he still feels the sensual crave all within himself with the way he simply picks back up regardless of the mess in his pants.

admittedly, it brings a slight tremble down into the pit of your stomach.

you’re whispering out a light okay as he proceeds, hands at your waist shifting and bringing your shirt upwards, tidbits of flesh now exposed. it seems purposeful because he’s then all dry lips and scratchy facial hair against your skin, drinking you in, dirty hands squeezing where they can.

you’re calling out his name to which he responds to with a stronger aggression in action; oddly firm presses of his lips evolving into these tiny nips of teeth, pushing against you enough to send you back onto your palms.

rare were the moments that daryl’s usually subdued needs make such a sudden head. when he’s functioning one moment, high off plenty cigarettes in his normal, and the next he’s chasing you lewdly like he’s just always been without fornication—and he has.

daryl advances south, hands still at your waist, breath fanning over your pants. they’re of comfort with no zipper or buttons to act as a task to undo, so daryl gets to you easily. his hands shake a little as he hooks fingers in the waistband of your pants, not all nervousness but moreso an eagerness that it seems he struggles keeping at bay.

though despite this, he handles you with a certain gentleness and allows himself this moment of vulnerability, of exploration in a way that leaves you both bare in every sense.

your bottoms pull down and you help to kick them off and away.

“gentle.” you say when he stuffs a sweaty face directly into you, hands cupping your legs from beneath, spreading them enough to fit himself comfortably between. “i’m not as flexible as i used to be.”

“can’t tell.” he shoots back in his playfulness that is typically delivered dryly.

he shifts on his knees again, but doesn’t seem entirely too bothered, instead doesn’t spend another second without a tongue pressed wetly against you through the fabric of your garment. he laps at the cloth, grunts incoherencies, presses thumbs into your under thigh, tries to hide the not so subtle clenching in his abdomen. he’s hard again, straining and obvious, at the mercy of his body’s natural instinct to relieve the pressure by humping, rutting, fucking up into anything, searching for something.

“daryl, daryl.” you hiss when he tries to get his mouth on you whole down there, not stalling for anything. “shit, you—let’s take it slow.”

and you know in his current state it’s absurd to ask, he’s already gone.

but still, he hears you because he’s reluctantly pulling away, obedient.

“alright, now take them off, please.” you order, bringing a hand to his hair again. it creates a sort of stability for yourself, whilst for daryl it only tips him more towards the edge.

and since daryl runs on orders, he’s quick to move again with hands sliding you out of the underwear and down your legs. you assist with kicking them off and away, and daryl doesn’t give you a breath in between because he’s a wet tongue on you in an instant.

it’s like something shifts in him—like something breaks, gives way to a heavily chased after relief—seeing the way his shoulders slack. you gasp, feeling the pleasure ripple up your spine, sit hotly in your gut.

“look at you, oh my god.” you begin to taunt and it’s s bit broken off, but still holds its weight. “you look so right down there.”

daryl gives a groan in return, fingers squeezing in protest, but you know he believes it, too.

your chest fills with a breath when he pops off, and it’s beautiful how concentrated he seems with the task. for once, his cheeks tint an airbrush of pink, featherlight and detailing to you just how aroused he is.

to use emphasis, in his still state, you use the opportunity to reel him back in at the hair. it elicits something loud and ruined out of him—a moan, a whine almost. he breathes through his nose when he’s tongue and teeth and cheeks all over you again, and it makes your back arch. the sounds he produces alongside the wetness that you are has you bringing ankles to his backside, locking him in and daryl’s moans are muffled and slightly garbled in reaction.

“you’re gonna—“ cracked. “you’re so good for me, you’re gonna make me cum.”

at that, he pursues you heavier now. like he’s eager to taste you, like he wouldn’t miss it for the world, daryl brings a hand up to rub what he can’t get. it’s wet and nasty and lewdly noisy, and your moans alike. with him using two times the pleasure, it sends you over just as fast.

your eyes squeeze tight as your body racks with the aftershocks, and daryl is ragged breaths somewhere in the void and you’re not sure if it’s him coming as well or the hand deep in his strands has him that strung out.

the wound up muscles in your body release as does your hold on him, and you’re falling to your back against the mattress.

it’s a while before your eyes are peeling open again, head lulled a bit. daryl stands to his feet again at the foot of the bed, cracked bones and all.

“hey.” he starts quietly, haphazardly wipes his mouth. he hovers over you laid out on the bed, arms encasing your head and body heat transferring. “we alrigh’?” his concern etches outside of his tone and into his hot hand that now covers your cheek and ear. his thumb runs over your moist cheekbones and his eyes stick to yours like syrup.

you nod. “yeah.” you assure and watch his expression ease up. “i’m definitely alright. are you?”

he mimics your nod. “mhm.”

“don’t.” you say when he attempts to embrace you entirely. “shower. both of us.” and when he doesn’t respond—“shower. you came twice in your pants.”

daryl shoves his face in the crook of your neck then, ears red.

when the water eventually does come down on you both, it’s shameless in its lack of purity. daryl, despite the night, used a handjob from you underneath the stream before he’d grown shaky in the shoulders and grumpy in the tone, apprehensive in his age. (“ain’t built for another, you’re killin’ me.”)

and he would know himself best because he’s droopy eyes and clean hair against the pillows afterwards, sleep weighing him down. he’s still like he doesn’t feel your gaze, but squints open an eye when you speak.

“i lied about being cold. wanted you in bed.” you smile to contain laughter.

daryl scoffs. “mhm, well .. shit worked.”

[sneakyboymerlin]

Some people don’t seem to get the gist of Gwaine’s character so let me break it down:

Gwaine deciding that Arthur is worth defending as a king and wanting to repay him for saving his life… does not mean that he loves Arthur the way he loves his literal best friend. Gwaine is deeply bound by his sense of morality, and his moral compass points him to Arthur. The anger with which Gwaine responds to threats against Arthur is identical to his response when, say, the Cailleach laughs at the knowledge that innocent people are dying because of her own inaction. Gwaine posits himself as a defender of good, and Arthur proved himself to be “noble” in his eyes. Ergo, he protects Arthur, as he protects civilians.

All in all, there is nothing really personal to their bond, just as there is little personal about Gwaine’s duty to the people of Camelot. Gwaine and Arthur have a begrudging respect for each other, and both have a sense of duty to ensure that the other does not come to harm. This dynamic does not need to be construed as anything other than what it is, but since we have been conditioned to believe that people can only act altruistically given a motive of friendship, romance, or family, their actions are subsequently read as such—contrary to the onscreen evidence.

I cannot stress this enough: this series is based on Arthurian legend. The knights are meant to display chivalry. That is the bond between them.

This differs greatly from Merlin and Gwaine’s dynamic, wherein Gwaine’s attachment does not stem from a sense of duty but, rather, his own personal feelings. He is drawn to Merlin from the start, finds an understanding and emotional support from Merlin that he’s never had with anyone before, and is stunned touched that Merlin hasn’t grown tired of him, despite the burden he’s placed on Merlin’s shoulders since his arrival in Camelot. By contrast, Arthur grew sick of Gwaine… almost immediately, and their dynamic was established as one of mutual duty the moment Arthur said, “He saved my life… He’s to be given anything he needs.” This is very much a discernible difference. An important one, too.

This is the reason that, despite how he is willing to lay down his own life for Arthur as early as 3x04, Gwaine explicitly does not consider him a friend afterwards in 3x08, but does for Merlin.

Furthermore, given Gwaine’s moral code—the very same one he used to judge Arthur as “noble”—Gwaine would indeed side with Merlin over Arthur in the case of a magic reveal (not to mention the fact that Merlin is his friend, he knows that Merlin is good, and he doesn’t want Merlin to be hurt). Gwaine believes that one’s actions determine their goodness, rather than their birth circumstances. Therefore, Merlin being born with magic is not proof that he is corrupt.

Outside of magic reveal scenarios, and despite his sense of duty to Arthur, Gwaine is still shown to put Merlin first. There is nothing wrong with Gwaine placing Merlin above Arthur. It’s not “unfair” to Arthur that Gwaine cares more about Merlin, and it’s not something that needs fixing. Arthur is not entitled to Gwaine’s love or loyalty. It’s beautifully satisfying, both emotionally and narratively, that Gwaine’s loyalty is to a servant first and a king second. That is the entire crux of Gwaine as a character. It is a deliberate choice on the part of the writers, and it’s perfect as is.

[ingravinoveritas]

Following up on this excellent post from @nightgoodomens, it really is astonishing to see so many people in the GO fandom misunderstanding the characters/personalities of Aziraphale and Crowley. While I by no means am against people having head canons or differing interpretations, it has become frustrating to see people pushing their ideas about Aziraphale and Crowley onto others and declaring them to be official canon, leaving no room for any kind of discussion.

One of the things spoken about in the above linked post is the denigrating of Crowley, which seems to be a near constant in the fandom at this point, particularly in relation to the "apology dance" scene. (Which, to be fair, is chock full of soft!Dom Aziraphale vibes--thank you, Michael Sheen.) What seems to keep getting missed is that the entire apology dance routine is something that Aziraphale and Crowley do to each other. There is just as much of a possibility that Crowley sat there with a similarly smug look on his face and let out a guttural, snakey "Very nice" when Aziraphale did the dance in the years he listed off, because they play this game together.

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is one of equals, and I think this is also something people seem to not understand well. It seems as though a lot of fans who project themselves onto Crowley want to be taken care of, and so they want to believe the same of Crowley, and that the reason he wants to be taken care of is because he is broken. But someone doesn't have to be broken to want someone to take care of them. Sometimes the people who are a shambles on the outside can be dominant, just as sometimes the most buttoned up, put together people can also be submissive. And sometimes the people who look in control on the outside can feel not at all that way on the inside.

But this nuanced thinking seems to increasingly be difficult for many GO fans, particularly those who spend a great deal of time on social media, a place where people are either blindly praised or denigrated and torn down, and where such behavior greatly reinforces that binary, black-and-white mindset. We so badly want the world to be clear-cut--good vs. evil, heroes vs. bad guys--but very often that just isn't how things work. And it is exactly what Terry and Neil were trying to speak against in the GO book (and subsequently, the TV show).

The other thing that I think influences a lot of fans' perceptions about Aziraphale and Crowley is their chosen corporations (i.e., Crowley being thin and Aziraphale being plump). There is an automatic assumption that thin somehow equals more vulnerable, and for all of the emphasis that is placed on Aziraphale and Crowley being genderfluid/nonbinary/not subscribing to traditional gender roles, it's Crowley who seems to be viewed as more androgynous/femme, and is therefore looked at as inherently vulnerable. Meanwhile Aziraphale is thicker and viewed as more masculine, and therefore he is somehow inherently not vulnerable. Yet if the body types were reversed, it seems highly likely that fans' attitudes toward them would be much different.

(It also saddens me that this seems to mirror the fans' treatment of Michael and David, where Michael serves as a target for the fans' venom and is seen as less desirable/more threatening because he presents more traditionally masculine, while David is not targeted or attacked and is seen as more desirable/less threatening because he presents much more androgynously. Consequently, many fans find it easy not to sympathize with Michael, and when you can readily disregard someone's feelings, it becomes easier to see them as "less." In the case of Aziraphale and Michael, it leaves no room for either one to be vulnerable and is unfair to both of them.)

What I have always taken away from Good Omens--and from Michael and David's portrayal of Aziraphale and Crowley and how deeply they both understand these characters--is that Crowley doesn't need to be a perfect angel for Aziraphale to like him. He just needs to be a little bit of a good person. And Aziraphale doesn't need to be a perfect demon for Crowley to like him--he just needs to be enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. Neither one has to fully subscribe to the other's outlook or point of view to listen to what they have to say.

Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the middle. In the place that becomes their side, and where they take care of each other, fight with each other, and love each other. And that's more than most of us could ever ask or hope for...

[sunderwight]

had a thought of what if Airplane had leaned a little more into the self-insert idea for Luo Binghe when he was still at the early stages of writing, with an end result that Luo Binghe actually Looks Like That because he basically looks like Airplane but with long flowing hair and a more idealized figure

SQQ going "why the fuck did you make his face so pretty???" and Airplane bullshitting about plausibility while trying really hard not to blush. twisting his fingers and scuffing his toe like jeez bro he's not that good-looking...

which of course sets SQQ off because how DARE!?! not 'that' good-looking?!?! just look at him! he's xianxia Helen of Troy with a face that launched a thousand harems! like okay sure with looks like that it does make sense that half the female population was willing to timeshare a marriage with him, but it's also totally unfair to SQQ, who has no recourse against those looks either! and who could? that is the most beautiful face ever!

Airplane's getting flustered. tries valiantly to make the case that objectively speaking Luo Binghe isn't that good-looking, it's just that SQQ is biased, but boy does that not go over well. SQQ has hitched the tattered remnants of his self-perception as a straight man onto the idea that Luo Binghe is just so devastatingly attractive anyone would want to hop into bed with him, and he is not letting go of it, so Airplane is just gonna get wrecked with inadvertent compliments

bonus if the Shang Qinghua look is actually the result of several illusions because when Airplane first transmigrated in, he got the same face too, and foresaw potential problems if the half-demon protagonist turned up looking like him. so he used illusions. he doesn't actually look all that different, in fact! the illusions just make it so that when people see him, they get a strong impression that he's unremarkable, so they don't really register what his face actually looks like and their brains fill in the assumption that he must just be kinda plain

oooh ooh double bonus if the system inserted a behind-the-scenes explanation for it too, which is that Shang Qinghua is actually unwittingly related to Su Xiyan!

and the whole thing comes to light post-epilogue when Shang Qinghua's illusions get stripped away by some monster-of-the-week, while everyone except Mobei Jun has a freak out about why do you look just like Luo Binghe?! (Mobei Jun isn't freaking out because he already figured out how to see past the illusions and just assumed everyone else wasn't mentioning it for some human cultural reason or something) and then Yue Qingyuan calmly explains that Luo Binghe's mom is Shang Qinghua's matrilineal cousin. Shang Qinghua's mother and Luo Binghe's human grandmother were half-sisters.

what? how does Yue Qingyuan know? you think that Cang Qiong doesn't check up on the candidates for the peak lord positions before handing off power, doesn't make sure there are no conflicts of interest or divided loyalties to other sects? what sorts of things do people imagine Qiong Ding's diplomats do? (I don't know either but, for the purpose of this scenario at least some of it is tracking down this stuff -- YQY handled most of it personally for his generation's ascension because he didn't want anyone else digging into his and Xiao Jiu's pasts) anyways, the connection could have been troublesome for its ties to Huan Hua Palace, but by the time it came to light Su Xiyan was deceased and there was no evidence that Shang Qinghua had ever even met her. so it wasn't deemed significant enough to matter, was just made note of and then mostly forgotten

so Shang Qinghua is like "oh THAT is why you kept bringing her up to me back then?!" because at the time he'd just been fully in "haha how would I know anything about the impending plot and the tragedies I am both partly responsible for and powerless to prevent haha that's so funny shixiong I KNOW NOTHING" mode, which luckily at the time was easily read as him just not wanting a dead cousin he never met to tank his chances of securing a promotion

SQQ is floored. he is having issues about this. Shang Qinghua is related to Binghe? Shang Qinghua looks exactly like him?! wait. Binghe has human family? still alive? like grandparents and stuff out there, who might want to meet him...?

Luo Binghe decides to step in at that point because he does not want to meet any more relatives! no more surprise relatives! no!

luckily this distracts Shen Qingqiu from thinking about all of the things he's said to Airplane about Binghe's looks for long enough for Shang Qinghua to flee the scene

[interstellarsystem]

Endogenic Systems and Experiences in the Neurodivergent Community

We tend to stay mostly on the fringes of syscourse nowadays without directly interacting with it too often but I'm going to post this more broadly and less focused on our specific instance of this because community-wise I think it's important to talk about.

Endogenic and other non-traumagenic systems are so commonly excluded from so many neurodivergent-safe spaces where they would otherwise be able to gain knowledge about the disorders they might have, share experiences and coping strategies with peers, or at least have a sense of community that is so commonly valuable to disabled and/or neurodivergent people. In a lot of cases, even people who only support non-traumagenic systems get shoved out.

[Continued under the readmore as it's long.]

This obviously harms non-traumagenic systems, but I have to point out that when people sit there and say "we care about REAL disabled people!", I have to say.... Do you? Because if you did care about those with mental illness, physical disability or neurodivergence, you in my mind wouldn't exclude them based on something unrelated to the topic itself which might even be something as small as holding an opinion that other people get to be the judge of their own experiences. You can say that you care about "real" disabled people, but what about when a traumagenic DID system also has a tulpa that they consider just as valid and real as their alters? What about when a system labels themselves as quoigenic because in reality, you owe no one the knowledge that you are vulnerable and traumatised? What about when a system starts out as endogenic but gains so much trauma later on that they develop dissociative symptoms?

We're quoigenic because while yes we are diagnosed with DID:

DID does not have trauma in the diagnostic criteria so our diagnosis doesn't mean anything by way of origin. Nontraumagenic is not the same as nondisordered the same way that traumagenic isn't the same as disordered.

We cannot remember a time before we were plural so we cannot say with accuracy what our actual origin was.

We have headmates we consider to be from both traumagenic and endogenic origins and it feels unfair to pick one.

We don't owe anyone a quick little "hey, we have trauma!" flag on our pinned post which can easily paint us as a target. This is the exact reason we don't share our triggers online--it's not safe.

You don't owe anyone personal medical information including your diagnostic history, your trauma history or lack thereof, your current medications or how many times you've been in a hospital. That is your business and yours alone to decide who you share it with. It's downright dangerous to share some of it, especially so publically. So who is anyone online that clearly isn't your specific medical practitioner to decide whether your experiences are real enough to allow you into spaces meant for a usually completely unrelated thing? Why would someone holding the opinion that endogenic systems get to decide what labels they use be denied access to spaces just because they support people with differing beliefs and/or experiences?

If we as a system with multiple disabilities want to go into a space for people who are schizoaffective because we need others who won't immediately jump on the ableism train when discussing something we're diagnosed with that has so much stigma, should we be denied that just because we don't label our origin with a clear-cut "we are traumatized!!" label? Should we be denied access to spaces because we don't want to sit around and smile while parts of our system and other members of our community are called fake and evil and whatever else they come up with? It's so common in spaces for people with disabilities to be exclusive to traumagenic systems and people with an anti-endogenic mindset that people don't realise they're not only hurting the endogenic community, but literal chunks of their own community itself.

I can't even begin to understand the reason why.

Endogenic systems by just existing do not cause harm. They're not like a transphobe you would not be safe around by default of having a label. Not every nontraumagenic system is a saint but if you took any communtiy and called everyone in it the equivalent of an unproblematic holy angel, you'd be lying. People are bad in every community, some worse than others, but the nontraumagenic system community literally just wants to exist--and yes, sometimes a nontraumagenic system (or supporter of such) does have dissociative symptoms, or maybe they have autism, or maybe they're physically disabled. Should they be not allowed access just because of the way they chose to label their system, or their opinion of people picking their own labels for their personal identity?

What exactly is the reason they're so excluded everywhere? I'd try to assume that this level of exclusion (to the point of endos being on DNIs next to transphobes and racists) would mean there's some real harm being done on a community-wide scale, but even when looking for it there isn't any explanation we've been able to find. "They're fake" is all we seem to see which has no actual backing whatsoever. "They're harmful" is another but.. How? We might be looking in the wrong places, but we have never seen an actual explanation for how nontraumagenic systems cause harm as a community just by being themselves.

At this point, I have to wonder how many people who say "we care about real disabled people!" are just covering up their "we care about socially acceptable disabled people who I understand and/or do not find cringey" sentiment instead. Being neurodivergent should never be about fitting into tight little boxes--it's part of the whole point of having a community like this. You're not the majority, and that's okay. So why are we dividing the disabled community into boxes too?

Of course, this doesn't only apply to ND spaces. LGBT+ spaces are similar and even more divided from the concept of being a system that it makes even less sense to block nontraumagenic systems from entering the space. How does their system origin relate to their LGBT+ identity? Sometimes it can, but should a trans person be excluded from a trans space because they have a friend who is an endogenic system and they support them fully?

Overall, the main point is that it makes no sense whatsoever to be anti-endo in general, let alone so violently anti-endogenic system to the point where you hurt members of your own community due to it. Sometimes from something as simple as them supporting endogenics alone. Your safe spaces aren't actually safe if you exclude a nonharmful group who also belong in that space due to having a personal identity or opinion different to yours. If you want somewhere to be a safe, inclusive space, it should include everyone as long as letting those people in won't cause harm. People who are seeking to cause harm (racists, transphobes, etc) obviously do not belong in a safe space because they seek to harm others, thus making the space unsafe. But people who just want to be themselves without harming anyone should be included in your space if they fall under whatever it may be topic-wise. Even the "cringey" ones. Even the ones who don't quite make sense to you or have "contradicting" labels. Even the ones who use labels completely differently to the way you do. And even the ones who are uninformed or misinformed but trying their best to learn. Your safe space is not safe if it excludes those who do not follow your every single mindset and thought without any deviation.

[otogariado]

only halfway thru the new frieren episode i was almost tearing up because the theme of protecting each other and caring about life more importantly than winning is so poignant. not all the characters are human in species but once again the humanity is blossoming in frieren's story. i was so afraid they'd actually get killed last ep but i mean it's so funny now what was i even thinking. this is frieren. they won't kill unless it was really necessary.

the reveal that richter raised the platform not to make his fight with lawline and kanne easier but actually to protect them from denken's attacks was so good. the "magic is nothing if you cannot imagine it" line is so wonderful because i'm a big fan of magic systems that revolve around that logical "science-y" aspect of like. understanding how it will work in order to do it. (same reason why i love the magic in "world's greatest assassin".) laufen getting caught by frieren even though she knows it's a trap just bc she didn't want denken to get hurt was also so good. the reveal that denken didn't have a grander motive to be a first class mage beyond "i wanna go back to my hometown and visit the cementary there but only first class mages are allowed to enter" was so painfully human and so reflective of real life. it also strikes you because he was introduced as a high-profile, politically influential mage.

i love what denken says about not going out without a fight. i love that the episode ends in a fistfight for him. i love it when media uses fistfights and punching in such an emotionally-charged human way, beyond the violence, instead depicting it as some sort of catharsis really. because sometimes all you need is a good rough n tumble. in denken's case, it's his way of not giving up without a fight. i like that. i also like that this was foreshadowed by denken telling laufen to cut the tree down instead of trying to cut the restraint. "we don't have any mana" "neither do they". sometimes all it takes is to find a differently way to approach your problems and sometimes the solution is simpler than you think.

i'm a big fan of frieren breaking the barrier because she thought it was unfair to cut kanna (and by extension lawline) out of her source of magic, giving her an unfair disadvantage and honestly a handicap. it's a short part of the episode but it's so important, because it shows that if people are given the right tools and the accessibility, they can do for themselves what they want and need to do. i love that frieren is like "can you imagine winning against a water manipulating mage with water around? i can't."

i'm a fan of how the "basic" combat and defensive magic are depicted and treated as in this show. yes, people more on from traditions, but traditions are there in the first place. richter's explanation of magic history in their world provides an insight to how modern magic evolved from the foundations. but the foundations were still foundations for a reason. they made it a point with fern saying "frieren doesn't restrict me from spells" (even tho it was the setup for a small joke) that the point isn't to pick a side between tradition vs modern, but rather to learn from both and decide for yourself what you want to apply to yourself. the depiction of fern and frieren winning with traditional magic and richter and kanne overwhelming each other with modern magic makes it clear that the show isn't trying to preach to either side.

i also like the theme of "pursuing magic out for the sake of magic is enough". it's nice to hear that denken shares this mindset with frieren, because again he was introduced as someone influential and you'd think he thinks like he could use magic as a source of power. and that's the impression i got of him too from previous episodes, but a lot of first impressions of mine were proven wrong later and i'm so happy for that bc these characters have so much depth packed into them in so little time.

what else have i missed...

[fairladyjenny]

i think the responce to transmisandry/transandrophobia has been mostly reactionary in that trans people (in my experience, transmasc and transfem and nonbinary alike) refuse to interact with the whole premise partly due to the underlying problems of "misandry" as a whole and partly due to bad actors' assimilation of the topic, but it's definitely unfair and dishonest to throw all transmasculine experiences with discrimination under the blanket term "transphobia" while separately recognizing the issue of transmisogyny [in the specific misogyny-based transfeminine experiences with discrimination]

the common (and very valid) justification for not wanting to see misandry as a problem relies on the correct premise that cis men, by default, face almost no gendered discrimination, and as such it is counterproductive to discuss such discrimination in the same optic that you would use to describe misogyny; transmisogyny is the extension of the common variety misogyny in a way which is specific to transfeminine people, with how some form of violence [mostly] do not apply to trans women and how other forms of violence are applied disproportionately, or are unique to trans women. in this sense, there is a strong case to be made about the existence of gender-specific violence against trans men too: they [mostly] do not face some forms of gendered violence, and have other forms of gendered violence, again, applied to them disproportionately

since i'm russian one of the examples of such disproportionately applied violence would be the draft: trans men who changed their documents when that was still a thing that could happen can be drafted (since F64.0 is no longer a valid reason to avoid the draft), and, henceforth, have to face unique transphobic violence, that, i hope, needs no explanation. yes, trans women who haven't changed their documents can be drafted too, and cis men and cis women can be drafted also, but:

1. some experiences of transmisogyny can be shared between not only transfeminine people (which is why the whole TMA/TME doesn't really make sense, if you happen to live in a v. supportive environment even as a trans woman you could experience no transmisogyny in your life, and vice versa); some experiences of other forms of discrimination can happen outside the particular group they're specific to also; there's no reason why this wouldn't apply here

2. it's painfully obvious that trans men are going to have very different experiences with the draft than trans women or cis women or cis men.

though, one could argue that at this point you're just making up more and more convenient little boxes with names that sound catchy for the purpose of melting down everyone's unique experiences in a pot, and that this could be counter-productive with how many identities exist out there... but this kinda goes both ways and why not just call all prejudice and acted out discrimination against specific groups of people "chauvinism" and be done with it. having specific words for specific topics is nice

[2sw]

🖤Understanding Season 4&5 Sam🖤

long post, 30 gifs

sorry I don't care if my english sucks or not anymore. I live with the urge to defend Sam 24/7, that's what it's about.

this post looks weird on pc… recommend you to read on the app

Supernatural S1E01 Pilot // S1E06 Skin S3E08 A Very Supernatural Christmas S4E19 Jump the Shark

Do you see the parallels here? This is why I think people who say season 4 Sam was annoying also hate every other character in this show, they just don't realize that. It was not a big deal when other characters treated Sam the way they did, but when Sam started to mirror them you suddenly find it annoying? That's absurd. I know almost every filmmaking choice of this show is unfair to Sam and I hate that too, but still we audiences can see things from various angles and think for ourselves. And sometimes you need to see the story as a story, not something to take sides.

Supernatural S3E16 No Rest for the Wicked Supernatural S4E04 Metamorphosis

Sam lost his entire family at the end of season 3. He was full of remorse, and to make up for that he was literally following his family's footsteps. Sam became obsessed with revenge like John did after Mary died. Season 4 was about that vicious cycle, the tragedy of it. Dean sold his soul for Sam just like John did for him. Sam tried to be more like his dad and big brother and did what they taught him. And Sam's relapse was a part of the addiction cycle. But Dean locking up Sam in the panic room changed nothing, the final seal was broken after all. So Lucifer gets out, and the oldest family drama is about to start all over again. It wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the circle, a never ending story. The next season was about restoring trust in each other and seeking redemption, and Sam eventually broke the chain by sacrificing himself. That's what makes Swan Song the tragic ending of all time. (though it all comes back as the show keeps going on... but what is spn without The Codependency™)

So, yeah, it's beyond me how some people can't see the reason behind Sam's choices in this season cause the context was SO clear. If you watch the show, you can see how much Sam and Dean affect each other and how much both are affected by John in different ways. And it's natural because they are family. We are who we are because of everyone and everything that has happened in our lives, and same goes for every fictional character, including Sam. It's just as simple as that. Sam was just trying to live by his brother's will while battling with grief and loss. He had to keep on fighting without Dean. And the reason why Dean wasn't with him was because Dean sold his soul to save Sam and went to hell for it. It not only made Sam the sole survivor of the family but also made the very being of him their entire legacy. Starting with Mary making a deal with Azazel, every choice ever made in this family is what brought him there. As I said earlier, it's the cycle. And a consequence. In short, if it is a sin, I think it’s everyone’s.

Supernatural S4E04 Metamorphosis

Sam and Dean's fate to be vessels? Their destiny? It doesn't matter in the end. This show was always about fate AND free will. Free will was always there. You always have choices. Sam was the one who believed that most desperately so he became the one who broke the cycle. Even though it was only the last page, he ripped out the written fate anyway and wrote the ending himself. YES HE IS THE MAIN CHARACTER. And after everything he did for the world, the story made him suffer eternal agony with the Devil because he is also a tragic hero figure. (SIGH literally the character of all time)

You can see this all only as an observer, as an audience. For Sam, the only thing he could do at the moment was just find the person to blame―in this case, it's a demon named Lilith― and get revenge. And he was lost somewhere along the road, he became an addict because he couldn't do anything about his loved ones dying, but when he drinks the demon blood it gives him power and a sense of control. (aaaaaand I still don't get why writers wrote this as some kind of diabolical desire in 4x18. I get it sammy what the fuck would chuck know about helplessness)

You can say you wouldn't suck up the demon blood, that's fine, but this story was written in this way, and if Sam didn't do that, the story couldn't go forward. Why? Because he is the main character. (It always had to be you, Sammy!) And reminds you that if you want to watch a show with multiple seasons, you have to remember what happened before to understand what’s going on now. So please don't make up things in your head, just go back to where it all started. There are contexts in everything. Everyone is a consequence of each other, but we don't have to be bound to that fact. We have choices: to change, to make things better. That's why we should be kind to each other, and for that, I love and respect Sam so much cause he didn't let his traumas define him and always tried to be a better person. ♡

I'm not done yet!!! see also this:

Supernatural S3E04 Sin City Supernatural S4E04 Metamorphosis

Dean worried when Sam killed a demon with the Colt to save him cause it also killed a person who was being possessed, and it was 'cold'. But then when he finds out about the demon blood, he is so mad that he doesn't even care about the fact Sam was saving possession victims and just screaming in Sam's face "Use the knife!". It's so??? What is the logic here? This just proves it's always been about his feelings, not really about saving people. Is that an evil thing? No, I don’t think so. Dean is just a human, he can’t control what he feels. But if you use this to beat up Sam, I'll go feral then. Cause Sam is a human too.

And look at Ruby's masterful manipulation skill. Makes Sam feel guilty about everything, and comes back with what he needs when no one's left around him. She really was the best of those sons of bitches.

Supernatural S4E04 Metamorphosis

Seriously, what was Sam supposed to do? Everyone on this show didn't even bother to understand Sam and just decided everything he ever did was fundamentally wrong. Sam was using his own body to change the things outside of him, cause there is nothing he can do about the fact of his body, the blood in it. In life, there are things we can change and we can't. We have to live with that non-negotiable fact for our whole life. Sam learned this most painful way... And one thing about Sam is that he never let the unchangeable things make him give up the things he can change. It's not always a good thing though, cause Sam in s4 was very self-destructive. He was obsessive, and that is one of his problems. Sam is so stubborn and doesn't give up on anything easily. Actually this problem could be solved after s7 cause he tried to move on, but s8 happened… so it got worse, kept getting worse, and look what happened in s10. The most heartbreaking domino effect, I'd say...

Supernatural S5E03 Free to Be You and Me Supernatural S5E06 I Believe the Children Are Our Future

Anyways, back to the point. Unfortunately, Sam started the apocalypse. And what did he do after that? When the whole world tried to hunt him down, the devil wanted to crawl inside him, and an angel called him an abomination? He didn't give up there to remain that abomination. He didn’t surrender. Instead, Sam begged for a second chance. He wanted to atone, wanted redemption. He still believed in others even though he lost trust in himself. He believed there was still something he could do about it. Even when he was possessed by Lucifer, he fought till the end to save his brother and the world. And he did it. He was a fucking hero at that moment, sadly a tragic one too. But the important thing is: Sam Winchester represents hope. (I think Swan Song was a perfect ending as a tragedy. This show got weaker and weaker after s5 which kinda ruined the perfection, but I'm also so glad the show continued cause this message fits more hopefully in Carry On. I needed to see Sam rewarded with something better than eternal agony after all those additional tortures of 10 more seasons.)

One last thing, you know what's funny about Metamorphosis? Dean had nothing to say about the fact Sam saved more people than when they were hunting together, so he just went "That what Ruby wants you to think?" Dude what was going on in your mind. like that was what Ruby intended, he was right about that only by chance, but I still find it funny that Dean said that at this exact moment. And he does this a lot, attacking the messenger when he can't refute the message. He didn't have any rational reasons like Sam, he just didn't like it and that's all(and honestly I think this can be an actual reason too cause there's a history behind it which I talked about it here. I wish Dean had just talked to Sam and had a real conversation. but he never talks about his feelings, that's what Dean Winchester does. so… yep not gonna happen. also, if the brothers have a healthy relationship, that is not supernatural lol), so he brought up Angels and evoked Sam's religious guilt. And the Angels in question also turned out to be manipulative assholes later. Everyone makes mistakes, but somehow Sam is always the one who gets most condemned and blamed. Dean, On the other hand, is justified by the narrative so many times even when it is actually his fault. As I said, unfair. This is not even a Dean crit post, I'm just mad at unreasonable people and the way this show works in general.

I swear I was normal before watching this season. Sam's demon blood arc was what made me insanely fall in love with him, so when I found out all those hate for Sam… that really could be my villain origin story but instead I chose to be on tumblr, so yeah I believe love wins<3 ha what a way to end a post. sorry guys

[drkmgs]

Unfair

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warning: mention of two-timing, not loyal, hurt, sad, just painful, torture, beaten, starved, dehydrated, this took too much effort...

"You're being unfair, Wednesday. I have ignored what you have been doing behind my back. Your everyday meeting with Tyler and Xavier? Worst kissing Tyler, while you have a partner who is constantly worried about you, and when were you going to tell me about your engagement? huh?! When?!" You screamed at her, it almost broke your vocal cords. This was the first time you screamed at someone, specifically someone you love.

You couldn't help it. The last month being with Wednesday was torture for you and your heart. Everything came crashing to you this week, her random rendezvous with Tyler and Xavier you have known for a while but didn't confront her about it, and the engagement was just a day ago when your mother asked if you were going to attend.

"What do you want me to do, Y/N? Cancel the engagement? You know I can't do that. Tyler and Xavier were merely my subjects for the investigation. The kiss with Tyler? I didn't regret it, because it lead me to solve the mystery." Wednesday says with her logical tone.

You could hear your heart shatter at her comment. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You gave her everything, but in return, that's all she had for you? She didn't even make an effort to cancel her engagement. Did she even love you?

"Tell me, Wednesday Addams. Did you ever love me?! All the sweet things you said to me, were they all lies? Did you just use me for your pleasure? Is that all I am to you? Cause if it is, then we should break whatever we have now and you go on with your engagement." You wiped your tears away and composed back to your confident self.

"As I told you I cannot easily break off the engagement. I need time." Wednesday argued back with ease. "How much time do you possibly need to call off an engagement? What reasons do you need to delay it? If you don't love them you won't make this hesitant decision! If you love me you would have chosen me already, but you don't! You keep procrastinating!" You fire back at her.

There was silence engulfing you both. This was the sign you were waiting for. She didn't love you as much as you love her. You sighed and turned your back to her, you gave her a glance over your shoulder.

"Then I may congratulate you on your engagement, Ms. Wednesday Addams. I wish, we never see each other again." Your tears completely stopped by now and you gave her a thin smile. You left her dorm quickly.

___

After that incident, you completely vanished from Nevermore Academy. Nobody knew where you were, and a lot of students speculated that you dropped out, because of what happened between you and Wednesday.

But that wasn't the case. You had some unfinished business back in your hometown that needed to be done before you graduate from Nevermore. You didn't drop out, Principal Weems put you on temporary leave for future purposes. When you came back, everyone was shocked at your drastic change. You didn't look like how you left. You had bruises, cuts, and healed wounds all over your body and face. It looks like you got ganged up on.

For Wednesday the bruises, cuts, and healed wounds didn't bother her, what bothered her the most is your eyes. They were soulless. They weren't like the ones before, full of life, full of sparkles, and galaxy colors. Now it's pitch black, like the color of a raven. Also, your smile was far gone. This made Wednesday's heart clench as if someone is squeezing the blood out of it.

"What happened to you?" That was her approach to you. "Hello to you too, Addams. or is it a different surname now?" You said, not looking at her. You kept your head low, hiding underneath your hoodie. "Still Addams. Answer my question." Wednesday is very determined to know. "None of your concern." You answered. You head to the office of Principal Weems, and Wednesday still follows you, which irritated you. "Look, Addams. I'm not going to tell you anything even if you follow me into the bathroom. So, stop following me and piss off." You snapped at her. She was about to say something when you turned around and walked off.

Soft knocks got the Principal out of her thoughts. "Come in" was the only thing you heard from the other side. "Oh, Y/N." She stood up as soon as she saw you enter the room. You ran up and hugged her. That's when you broke loose to any emotions you were holding. "It's okay. You did great holding on. You're safe." She soothes you by rubbing your back. Before you left, you did talk to Principal Weems about your family situation and when she lost contact with you, it was her mission to get you back safe and sound, but when she found you, you were already covered in scars and wounds.

Your family is one of the major shareholders of an assassins association, when you learned about this you didn't want to be in it. So, your family and you agreed, before you graduate from Nevermore, you'll have your first and last mission as an assassin in exchange to be set free. To hear that at a young age, it was a perfect deal but when you came to realize it was a way to get rid of you for disgracing the family name, you needed help, that's when you reached out to Principal Weems.

You were tortured, beaten, and nearly starved to death when police raided your family's mansion. They found you shackled on the wall, dehydrated, and lumped. Principal Weems saw the raid go down and couldn't believe how your own family could do this to a such wonderful child.

Now you're in her care and safe back in Nevermore. "I hear from a little bridie Ms. Addams called off an engagement." She whispered as she comforts you. "Is that little bridie as big as a person, has blonde hair with blue/pink highlights?" You snickered. "Hm. Maybe?" She moved out of your hug and looked at you. "Wednesday's mother called. She confirmed it." You looked at her confused, but then you smirked up at her. "Y/N. Don't get cocky. I am still your Principal and I was invited to the engagement party." She shrugged. "I wasn't going to say something, but okay. I don't think it's smart to get back with Wednesday." You say avoiding Principal Weems as she sits back on her swivel chair. "And why is that?" She asked eyeing you as you drift your eyes everywhere but hers. "because who would want a broken me?" You whispered but loud enough for someone to hear who just entered the room.

"Me. I want you. back." Wednesday answered standing behind you and glaring up at you. Principal Weems smiled at the sight. "Ms. Addams, would you show Mx. Y/N their new room? Mx. Y/N, I'll talk to you again after supper." Principal Weems shoo both of you out of her office. "Come with me." Wednesday leads you to your new room. She opened the door and let you in. You looked around to find all of your belongings there.

"Isn't this your Typewriter?" You stopped in front of an extra desk and chair with a black Typewriter. "Yes. I have used this room for writing my novel and it reminds me of you." Wednesday said as she stepped forward towards you. "I apologize. For everything. I wasn't considering your emotions and feelings in the past. When you stormed out of the room, I have come to realize how important you're to me. I searched for you the next day, but you were already gone." Wednesday came very close to you. "I have never considered torture as painful but when you left me that torture was unbearable." She continued. "Come back to me, amore mio." her eyes pleading. "I can't. Wednesday. I have been through hell these past months. I can't throw myself into a relationship right now. I'm broken." You say looking into her eyes.

"I'm willing to wait until you're ready, amore mio."

[bones4thecats]

goddess! Meg from Hercules Disney with Heracles, poseidon, indra, rudra and shiva please? With her being on the side of humanity, after she met adam and eve and saw their love for their children (found family😭) so she just goes like 'frick you all gods I'm going with humans' like how meg changed after meeting Hercules in the movie.

A/N: People, pay attention to the character limit please!! My limit is 3-4, not more!! I’m getting request after request with more than 4 characters, so before you request please check the Request Form!! Because of having 5 characters, Poseidon and Heracles are in another part, thanks. Anyways, enjoy~

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🌊 Indra understood why you were so upset, you didn’t want to help them out that much, it was just a favor you owed Zeus, and he used it for this

🌊 Thankfully, he wasn’t possessive like others

🌊 When you pulled him aside after the first round and told him you were going to deflect to Humanity’s side, he just sighed, knowing he had no way of stopping you, he did enjoy your stubbornness, but sometimes it was far too hard to handle

🌊 Watching you announce it after saving the life of Adam made him smirk, you really cared for him, his wife and kids, huh?

🌊 You looked at your husband in the eyes and he just waved and pretended to tip a hat to you

🌊 He may be a God with a few personality issues, but with you, he understands better than anyone else

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⛈️ He and you were friends for such a long time, but due to pantheon issues, you guys cut off a lot while growing up

⛈️ As the Greek Goddess of Loyalty and Independence, you were busy constantly with handling many different affairs, mostly Hera complaining and getting revenge against Zeus’ ladies on Earth

⛈️ But when Ragnarok occurred, you noticed how unfair the Gods of your pantheon were looking down at the humans, who just wanted to continue their descendants life

⛈️ In this case, you jumped in the middle of Heracles and Jack’s fight and announced that Ragnarok would continue with you siding with Humanity

⛈️ In honor of the fallen Adam and Lü Bu, you would continue fighting and finish what the Gods and Valkyries had decided to start

⛈️ Rudra just smiled gently down at you, he knew he couldn’t stop you, you represented independence, you can’t take that away from someone, especially you

⛈️ He supported you full-heartedly, and as fights continued, you’d meet afterwards and relax with one another, speaking on how your sides were matching

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🪩 He dislikes humans quite a bit, but he did admire how peaceful you seemed with them

🪩 You were a Greek Goddess, specifically one that represented Revenge and Love, true love, you’d always correct, not the fake stuff you had to deal with your fellow pantheon members

🪩 Shiva and you had spoken about your allegiance with the Gods, and when he heard you wanted to side with Humanity, he snapped and flew into a quiet rage

🪩 Why would you want to side with them?! Those impeccable creatures were the reason your heart broke all those years ago! Yet you still like them?! WHY?!

🪩 Your husband sighed after a while of hearing you out and while he stayed with the Gods with his wives, all four of them smiled while you cheered on Humanity for their wins, starting with Sasaki

🪩 And seeing you smile and care for the fighters for their bravery and dedication, he couldn’t be mad, he’s never seen you so happy and caring before

🪩 Shiva and you would rest together a lot more when the daily rounds ended, he and you were apart most of the days now, and his wives would curl around you both, wanting to feel the love of their amazing and brave wife!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What do you think constitutes as a 'monster'? In the scary monster Halloween event mummies, vampires, werewolves, skeletons and dragons seem to be monsters but there was also the ghost pirate, so do ghosts constitute as monsters? Is 'monster' a term used for creatures that aren't part of the main four species (humans, fairies, merpeople, beastpeople)?

I honestly don't think what counts as "monster" and "non-monster" is a huge distinction to make, nor is it strongly defined in the world of Twisted Wonderland. I also don't think it's something as simple as "these specific 4 races are not monsters and anything outside of these 4 are monsters" because that's just a really arbitrary decision. The labels themselves (if this is the case) are also extremely unfair, as it implies negative things about the non-dominant species when they really haven't done anything to warrant it and can't control the population of their species to come "out" of that monster label. I think it's much more likely that what makes something a "monster" is how it compares to a human in terms of life functions. For many of the "monsters" listed (vampires, mummies, skeletons, ghosts, etc.), they have unnatural means of coming into existence. These creatures are not "born" like a normal living creature would be. Rather, they "turn" or are "made" somehow. In the case of the werewolf, they're also "unnatural" in a magical sense because people are not able to shift into different forms on their own. Even beastmen cannot just assume beast form; Jack's the exception due to his UM. Merfolk need to take a special potion to maintain their human forms, and can only shift in cases when they want to revert back to their merforms from their human forms. They'd need to take another transformation potion to gain legs again. Because a werewolf defies these constraints, that may be what makes them "monsters".

Finally, we come to dragons, which is a particularly special case. We learn that Malleus himself, being a dragon fae, has ancestors who are real dragons. We also learn that beastmen are descended from real animals, and, from this, can probably also deduce that merfolk are also descended from various sea creatures. For this reason, some fae, beastmen, and merfolk are "monstrous" in some regard. However, the label "monster" is seen as derogatory, and is meant to be clearly distinct from just "animal" (see: Malleus's reaction to Rook saying he is "more monster than animal" in Rook's PE vignette). Therefore, beastmen and merfolk are off the hook for this discussion, since their ancestors are animals and not "monsters".

I also considered intelligence being a factor for the monster/non-monster distinction, but that doesn't seem to hold up when you consider that Phantoms and Grim are also called monsters or beasts. Buuut there are cases of intelligent Phantoms, and Grim himself is capable of human speech which is incredibly remarkable. We also don't know enough details about dragons themselves to know if they are "wild" and incapable of human speech. The one thing I could say about dragons that makes them different from humans (and thus fit into my earlier proposal) is that they probably produce eggs that have to be incubated to hatch (similar to chickens, I guess??), if Malleus's birth is anything to go off of. This creates a distinction between human reproduction and dragon reproduction--and since Malleus and other dragon fae have elements of both, it supports the idea that it can be difficult to reconcile with one's humanity vs being seen as something inhuman from the start. This could explain why Malleus takes such offense when Rook comments in the vignette I indicated: it's questioning his humanity.

[beatora-truther]

omg pls tell us more about alan's relationship with todd vs his relationship with jennie-lynn!! you are single-handedly educating this fandom about them btw

thank u they mean so much to me

(also before i begin tw for brief mention of/comic panel showing child abuse)

right off the bat, jennie-lynn was more than willing to accept alan as her dad. in fact she called him “dad” very early into them meeting, even before she had confirmation that he really was her dad. she was the one who came up with the theory that he was her and todd’s father in the first place because of their shared powers, so she felt a connection with him almost immediately.

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todd however does not fuck with alan. jennie-lynn basically fulfilled his quota for a loving family, and he was not looking for any new parents. unlike jennie-lynn, todd preferred to call alan by his first name or just “green lantern” for a while.

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when alan was presumed dead along with the rest of the jsa, jen was devastated, but todd’s response was basically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. when jennie-lynn said it was unfair that alan and molly got such little time together todd just said “life is unfair” which… jesus christ man…

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i think the difference between the 2 relationships comes down to a few things, but first of all it’s about how the two kids were raised. jennie-lynn was able to connect to alan quickly bc she had loving adoptive parents who were encouraging of her desire to meet her biological family.

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she had a positive example for what parents were supposed to be like, so she wasn’t apprehensive of letting her biological father into her life. she didn’t fear being hurt by him.

todd didn’t grow up with loving parents. he grew up with an abusive father and a mother who took off and left him with said abuser.

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he’s never known parents to be anything besides cruel and, in the case of both his biological and adoptive mothers, absent. he has no reason to believe alan will be any different.

there’s also the difference between the twins’ powers. like i mentioned above, jennie-lynn is a living embodiment of the powers given to alan by his ring. that’s something they bond over pretty quickly, even before they have actual proof they’re related. he even said he’d be proud to call her his daughter (which todd was insecure about).

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todd on the other hand has powers that no one is even sure the origin of (at least not until later). his powers are something that he considers dark and scary and a reason why ppl wouldn’t want to be around him. especially his ability to make ppl see the dark and ugly parts of their own souls. a power he has used on alan before.

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and alan isn’t completely innocent in all this. he loves both his kids but it seems at times that he considers todd somewhat of a problem child and someone he has to “take responsibility for”. his relationship with jen is much easier and less complicated in comparison.

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there’s also some awkwardness between todd and alan after todd comes out. we don’t see todd come out to his father or alan’s reaction, but we do get this little scene where alan calls damon todd’s “friend” and todd is obviously very annoyed. so we can only imagine what uncomfortable convos they’ve had on this topic off-panel.

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(the context of this obviously changes if you look at it in light of alan repressing his own sexuality but that’s a retcon that wasn’t even in any writers’ minds before the new 52, so it’s kinda irrelevant in this analysis)

allllllll that being said alan loves his kids but he’s also a fuck-ass old man. the kids love their dad but they’re two very different ppl who have led very different lives. this family is so messy and strange and complicated i could talk about them all day long.

[class1akids]

The constant Shouto put downs wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact it feels like Shouto is being blamed for how Dabi was treated. Shouto can't be a hero because it's unfair on Dabi. Shouto can't get a power up because it's unfair on Dabi. Shouto can't be the only one who has ice and fire because it's unfair on Dabi. Right now it feels like Shouto is the one being punished for Endeavour's mistakes.

I'm not sure if you are talking about the narrative framing or fandom takes. Fandom takes you will never be able to control - there will always be people whose reading of the story triggers you - all you can do is to choose the spaces you interact with and the people you follow.

As for the narrative framing of the story:

The narrative doesn't blame Shouto for Touya's treatment. It puts the blame squarely on Endeavor and to a lesser extent on Rei. Touya's neglect started before Shouto was even born - in fact, his birth was to "discourage Touya". Yes, Shouto was born for all the wrong reasons, and his birth is clearly not a happy event in the family. He was born to break it, but he chooses to piece it together. That's his arc, his choice, his own affirmation of why he exists. Btw, I feel like Touya is not blaming Shouto for how he's treated. He's envious of Shouto and he blames him for throwing away so carelessly all the things Touya would have wanted for himself. There is a difference.

Shouto couldn't be a hero fully until he faced the turmoil inside himself (hence failing the provisional license exam), but he is definitely portrayed as the hero for the final arc (in fact already starting from the Endeavor internship arc and even earlier, like the Stain arc or Kamino - Shouto is usually on the right side of events, for the right reasons). More precisely in the endgame, he's embodying the theme of the hero who is there both for his family and the public.

I'm not sure why Shouto didn't get a power-up during the final arc. Maybe HK is viewing Phosphor as his power-up - even if it's not a quirk awakening but something he developed and worked on himself, it is clearly a power increase. In the PLF War, Shouto couldn't match Touya fire vs fire. Now he can: fire vs (fire-fuelled) ice. But it's also possible that he'll still get a power-up because saving his family was his "long way around" to the "path he's aiming for". There is plenty of foreshadowing that his endgame is to join his friends.

Like I said, I don't really view Touya having both ice and fire as something that takes away anything from Shouto. They could have the exact same power-set (although that doesn't appear to be the case) - the important thing is what you do with the power you have. That's the theme of the Todoroki family. We know what Shouto chose to do with his power, and I hope we will see at least some resolution with Touya too.

I agree that Shouto is suffering from Endeavor's mistakes - that's one of the points of the entire Todoroki family plot: the whole family suffers for Endeavor's sins. And even if he wishes to atone, he cannot fix anything - as those mistakes keep coming back to haunt them. Shouto's choice to pick up the pieces after Endeavor, to put himself in the path of Touya's wrath, to choose to face him is meant to be a pure and heroic choice contrasted with Endeavor once again not being there for his son. The narrative tries to balance these: the near catastrophic consequences of Endeavor's choice and the heroic save that Shouto gets for making the right choice. I personally think that we should still get a scene, where Endeavor fully steps up as a father and takes on the responsibility that comes with it, and for once in his life puts Touya above everything. This would also let Shouto be able to make a choice freely without having to worry about his family. I think that's the logical endpoint of the three arcs: Endeavor's atonement path to be a father, Touya getting the attention his inner child needs to heal, and Shouto's arc of emancipation and being able to decide who he wants to be.

[zukosdualdao]

i don’t begrudge people interesting aus, and i get why someone might be interested in exploring a plot where azulon didn’t really order ozai to kill zuko and that whole series of events went differently from what zuko was told and what the narrative says (and the comics, contentious as they are, further cement.)

that being said: when it comes to canon, i strongly dislike the argument that it can’t really be that azulon ordered ozai to kill zuko because it’s illogical when he just berated ozai for disrespecting iroh and lu ten after lu ten’s death…

because like… yes. it’s illogical, and unfair, and absurd, especially when he’s ostensibly doing it in the name of love for iroh and respect for the family line (which is not actually what it’s about, but more on that in a minute.)

it’s not logical or reasonable. that’s the point.

abusers don’t care about logic, not as it pertains to them. abusers will often give illogical orders or make unreasonable demands and then treat everyone else as the problem when they can’t live up to them or else point out the flawed nature of them.

(we also see how it affects zuko and azula, who have both been taught this behavior both by example (and, in zuko’s case, by being on the receiving end of it. the demand he endlessly search for a deity-like figure no one’s seen in a hundred years and most people believe to be forever-dead springs to mind.) in the storm, zuko unreasonably demands that they continue their search for the avatar and that the safety of the crew doesn’t matter, but the whole episode is about deconstructing that mindset and showing how he got there, and in the end, he chooses to do the right thing, saving a crew member and deciding to get the ship to safety instead of following aang. azula, by contrast, orders her own soldiers to pull in the ship despite the tides, and only doubles down (and violently threatens) when questioned, showing a lack of respect for the laws of nature itself. this is her first proper episode, and she never truly grows out of this mindset. see also: cherries accidentally left un-pitted being treated as evidence of high treason.)

there is a story about intergenerational trauma and the cycles of abuse being told here. azulon is contradicting himself. he’s a hypocrite! abusers often are! he doesn’t care, though, because why should he, when he defines what’s right and wrong—just as ozai does and as he teaches azula to—not through any consistent moral conviction or code but through what he decides to do and therefore what he perceives as his right to do? in his mind, the only ‘right’ is his final word, and the highest ‘wrong’ is going against it.

and while he couches his outrage at ozai’s attempt to usurp iroh’s place in the line of heirs in language that suggests it’s about loyalty to iroh and respect for the family line—it’s not really. it’s outrage that ozai, the son he clearly doesn’t care for, dares to question iroh’s place, and therefore azulon’s judgment and authority, as the rightful heir, the respected general, the golden child.

but it’s not even about genuinely respecting iroh or what he would want, whatever azulon may tell himself. iroh, who, even at the height of his imperialist indoctrination and military power, i very earnestly believe would have been horrified to learn azulon ordered zuko’s murder and that it was done, ostensibly, on “his behalf”—even though he never and never would have asked for it. and, especially coming just after lu ten’s death, i think he would hate for his grief at the loss of his son to be twisted and used in this horrendous way.

anyway. azulon’s order doesn’t match up with what he say he values and is trying to defend, but that’s because those things are not what he’s truly so angry about. it’s about control. he has it, and he will make any illogical, cruel, sadistic order he wants when someone challenges it, because he can.

which, by the way, is ozai’s whole MO as well.