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jiminiecrickets · 9 months

Text

jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 2k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, in an alleyway, exhibitionism + getting caught, jealousy, rough sex, biting, crying

thursdays at a nightclub – most would expect a half-alive sort of creature, mostly empty and a little dull. but the nights never sleep and neither do its people, and the building is warm with electric bodies and the sweet, heady scent of spilt alcohol.

jungkook squeezes out of the crowd on the dance floor, releasing a lungful of thick air as he meanders towards the bar. he'd lost you a few minutes ago, and nothing was as fun as grinding on his boyfriend in a dark room full of strangers. he takes a seat and orders a drink.

not a second later, a presence slides up behind him. "what's a looker like you doin' all alone?"

his welcoming smile vanishes. that's not you. he glances over his shoulder at the young man, who looks so generically attractive that jungkook feels as if he's an instagram filter become reality.

he turns away, disinterested. he scans the crowds. "i'm not alone. here with my boyfriend."

"really? where?"

there's a grating smugness to his words. he's probably never had anyone say no to him before. "we got separated. this place is pretty big."

the guy hums, leaning against the bar next to jungkook. "that's true. he probably won't find you for ten minutes, maybe more. not thinking of spending all that time sittin' alone at the bar with just a whiskey to warm you, are you?"

"i am, actually."

"well, maybe i could interest you in something else," he suggests, "to pass the time."

jungkook lifts the glass to his lips, throwing it back. he hisses at the pleasant burn. "yeah, no. i'd rather watch paint dry."

"oh, i'm not that bad," he jests. his fingers slide over jungkook's bicep, gorgeously accentuated by the neckline of his black racerback tank. it's fitted and cropped – he did it himself – and shows off his tight stomach and defined apollo's belt. "you wouldn't even have to look at me, y'know. those hands of yours would make a nice necklace, don't you think?"

he glances down at his many silver rings and bracelets. "oh. oh. uh, i don't think you're reading me right. um, i don't swing that way."

the man's brows furrow. "what? you said you had a boyfriend."

"i do." jungkook clears his throat, carefully sliding off of the barstool. the other man's eyes follow him up; jungkook has a few inches over him. "i, uh..."

"there you are, baby. thought i'd never see your face again."

jungkook positively lights up at the sound of your voice, smooth and pleasant. it's the kind of voice that cuts through boardroom chatter like a hot knife through butter, carrying with it a natural, easy assertiveness that ceos wish they had.

"hyung," he coos, giggling as you drape an arm over his shoulder and tangle that hand in his long, messy curls, tugging slightly to press your lips to his cheek. he lets you move him around like a doll, grinning up at you adoringly. "hi."

"hi," you reply, amused. your eyes flicker over to the other man, whose face is slowly turning red. your eyes narrow slightly. "sorry, i don't think we've met. i'll be stealing him for a minute."

you're usually so polite – but this time, you didn't even add an 'if you don't mind' to that second sentence. jungkook nibbles on his lower lip. are you angry? are you angry at him?

"hyung?" he asks when you lead him outside into the alley, the cool breeze soothing his hot skin. "what's up?"

you turn on him. his eyes widen. "he was flirting with you, wasn't he?"

"what?" he fumbles. "w-well, i mean, yeah, but you know i wasn't gonna do anything if that's what you're worried about—"

"i don't care about that." something in the back of jungkook's mind swoons at the knowledge that you're so secure in his affections for you that it doesn't bother you in the slightest. you lean in, pressing a hand against the rough brick wall and pinning him in. his heart begins to race. "i care that he thought you were available. all this skin you're showing and not a single mark defining you as mine?" a slight growl marks that last word. jungkook gasps softly. "we'll have to fix that."

"now?" jungkook stammers, glancing around. the alley's dark, and the streets on either side are mostly quiet. a few haggard-looking youths stumble by every so often. "but what if someone sees? my dignity, hyung, you're gonna rip it to shreds."

"i'm 'gonna'?" you lift a brow, eyes glittering. "you sound as if you want this."

he swallows. "i – i do, i always do, but i don't want anyone getting an eyeful of my ass..." he hooks his fingers through your belt loops. "that's just for you, hyung-ah."

you hum, leaning in. you press your lips against his and he moans softly, tugging your hips flush against his. "that's right, baby. you're just for me. all this..." you squeeze his ass roughly over his black cargo pants and he whimpers out a moan, arching his spine into your touch. "all mine. why?"

"'cause you fuck me the best," he gasps, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as your hot kisses travel down his jaw and collar. his cock stirs. "you fuck me so well, baby. i could never want anyone else when i have you. i belong to you – hey!"

you yank his teasingly tight pants down over his thighs, pinning him in place easily with your own body. he's already half-hard – has been for the last hour in the club – and you hum appreciatively, gently turning him over. he obliges, arching his spine as he gazes watchfully over his shoulder, pink lips parted and palms pressed against the wall.

your hand runs over the tight silver-ringed harness that cradles his chest and shoulders and emphasises his tiny little waist. you nearly growl at the sight, nails digging into his skin.

he presses his ass into the front of your pants, round eyes sparkling with anticipation. "you're being so rough," he breathes as you nip at his neck just below his ear, tugging the fitted neck of his top down to reveal more of him. "did that really touch something tender? ah!"

he jerks as your teeth clip his soft skin, indenting the shape of your teeth as a red bruise. his heartbeat thuds faster as your palms glide over the mounds of his chest, perfectly sculpted by his tight shirt and harness, and dance over his cock to stroke his sensitive inner thighs. they tense under your touch.

he's wearing a pair of tiny black jocks with a rainbow elastic that cups his ass. you stifle a laugh, trying not to break character.

"what?" he mumbles, blushing. "shut the fuck up. they're cute."

"oh, i agree." you give them a light smack and he moans sharply at the impact. "wonder what that guy would think if he saw you in these – if he saw how pretty you are, spreading your legs for me..." one hand strokes his taut stomach, passing below his hips to cup the cute bubble in his jocks. he whines softly as you squeeze. "be a good boy and keep quiet for me, yeah?"

he nods feebly, gnawing on his lower lip. you've barely done anything and yet he already feels ragged, his skin scorching and tight.

something hot and thick prods his asshole. he slaps a hand over his mouth as you snap your hips forward, burying yourself so deep in him that he sees stars, the burning stretch achingly good. "mmph—!"

you hush him softly, holding him steady as he trembles in your arms. the hot weight of your body pinning his into the rough, cold alley wall is almost mind-numbing. "that's my good boy... halfway there. my good boy takes cock so well, doesn't he?"

whining softly, he nods fiercely, gasping out a shaky moan as you press your hips tight against his ass. "mhm, mhm, i do – ah! you're just s-so big, 'm close, so close—"

"already?" your hips smack quick and rough against his ass, the lube making things wet and messy. he shoves his hand between his teeth and claws at the wall, the thick head of your cock grinding into his prostate and gliding against it with each thrust. "i just put it in, baby."

"s-sorry," he squeaks, his breathing haggard as his eyes dart between the ends of the alleyway. the headlights of a car rumble by and he clenches around you, eliciting a deep groan that rattles his spine and echoes in his head. "s-someone's gonna see – fuck, right there – h-hyung, they're gonna see—!"

"they will if you keep squealing your pretty head off," you grunt, gaze trained on the join between your bodies. his ass ripples, bouncing off of your hips with wet smacks, and arousal flames through your veins. you grab his wrists and pin them to the wall beside his head. "but you're so much tighter than usual – s'almost hard to fuck ya," you chuckle breathlessly. "you like this, don't you, my good boy? do you want someone to see the way you're crying on my cock?"

tears prick his eyes. you're right. his heart threatens to pound out of his ribs. he sniffles, moans high and airy. "n-no, i don't, 'm your good boy – please, sir, s-slow down—!"

his hips snap forward with a sharp cry as your cock slams into his guts. his vision whites out and his head spins, his body hot and sweaty even in the cool night, and he melts.

he arches his spine, throwing himself roughly back onto your cock and babbling for more. his hair bounces quickly, sticking to his temples, and his thighs shake violently as he comes into his jocks, sniffling and whimpering with hot tears streaking down his cheeks.

he's so messy. so embarrassed. he's acting like a slut. he squeezes his eyes shut and gulps back his loud moans, turning them into gasped whines and heavy pants as your dick scrapes his insides so wonderfully, filling him up like no one else ever could.

"sir – hyung," he babbles, melting into your hot kisses a little more with each harsh thrust, "hyung, hyung! please—!"

in the alleyway, the indent of the doorway you're hiding yourself in swings open. a familiar sleek face greets you, a cigarette between the lips.

it falls to the ground.

you yank jungkook's hips back onto your cock and he squeals, whimpering in shock and embarrassment as you fill him up right then and there. his huge, teary eyes stare back at you, his shaky hands pushing meekly at your stomach in an effort to get you to pull out, but you just step closer, forcing his body still as cum drips down his inner thigh from his jockstrap.

you tilt your head at the man who once, not too long ago, threw himself at jungkook, expecting to walk away in the morning with a satisfying ache between his legs. a tug on jungkook's long hair reveals the collar of dark, bruising hickeys littering his neck and shoulders.

jungkook moans your name, exhausted, and slumps against the wall, his hands trembling as he tries to steady himself against the cold bricks. you give one final thrust and jungkook keens, practically collapsing into your arms as his knees buckle.

you turn away from the stranger at last, dropping a chaste kiss to the nape of jungkook's neck. he shivers and whines softly, gripping your hips for dear life. you're the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the ground like a stringless marionette.

rapid footsteps. the door slams shut. you hush jungkook, nibbling another hickey into his flushed skin as you slide his pants over his ass.

"such a good boy," you whisper, wiping his tears away with the pad of your thumb. "my good boy, isn't that right?"

after a minute, he nods once, sucking in lungfuls of air as his head gradually clears of the thick fog. he leans back against you, tucking his warm face into the crook of your neck. your arms wrap securely around his waist. "yeah," he whispers vacantly, the tingle of pleasure still zinging through his nerves. "'m hyung's good boy... his..."

he's so cute like this, you think as you stroke his cheek and press a lingering kiss to his bitten lips. walking out of the alley, he grips your hand as if he'll die otherwise, but he decides that it's not close enough and hooks his arm over your shoulder, keeping yours around his bare waist. you help him keep steady on his shaking legs. his rosary of dark hickeys is a public announcement: he is yours, and you are his.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #bts x male reader #dom reader #top reader #bottom bts #bottom jungkook #jungkook x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut

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shomixremix · 3 months

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Hello! If it's okay, can I make a silly request? (I think they are open? I apologize if they aren't) may I request something fluffy with the immortal characters (which ever you write for) where their s/o is mortal but they've been together so long that their s/o is an old wrinkly person and the s/o gets mistaken for their grandparent? I just want some cute fluff, but everyone writes smut 😫

Eternal love ♡︎

hi anon!! yep, reqs are open!! i'm so sorry for not being here for some time, exam week was hell but i'm back now lovelies!!

idk rlly which immortal characters you meant but i hope it's okay that i chose these two!! and also i know that this is like fluff and all but for some reason this is so sad to me!! like yeah the reader is old and they are immortal but the reader is GONNA DIE AND OH MY GOD THEY'LL BE ALONEEEEEE AND GRIEVEINGGGG i don't deal well with thinking about death so this was a little challenging to write. but fun!! and hehe don't worry anon even though i write smut more i'm always here for fluff!!

hope you lovelies enjoy <3

tags: zhongli, neuvillette, fluff, slight angst, female!senior!reader

-> being in love with an immortal being had its' many perks, and yet, it had it's flaws. you only began to realize those flaws existed once you celebrated your 50th anniversary with your husband.

reqs open ♡︎

-> zhongli

"there you go, love. would you like to rest now? it is way past your usual nap time... you're sure you'd like to stay here?"

your husband asked, handsome face washed in worry for you. his appearance, ever so youthful and mighty, completely contrasted with your wrinkles and gray hair. but morax didn't mind the slightest - he still thought you were beautiful.

even though you were now hunched over, thick glasses sitting snuggly on the bridge of your nose and spent most od your times either asleep or knitting, he had loved you just the same as all those years ago. he looked at you now, at seventy, in that same way he did when you were his sweet, twenty-year-old fiancé. you were still you, no matter how old, and you were still the most heavenly person he has ever met.

"i'm sure, dear," you reassure, nodding softly, "i would like another cup of tea, please"

he hurriedly called the waiter of the lovely liyue café you were sitting at to bring you a cup more.

"could we get one more cup of this tea for my date?"

the waiter, seemingly very polite and kind, nodded.

"certainly, sir. and i have to comment, i think it's very lovely you're taking your grandma out for brunch! i don't get many people who respect their elders"

zhongli's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. respect his elders? when he was the one a aproximately a millenia older than you?

your husband looked to you, then back, clearing his throat. his voice slightly offended, he spoke: "this is my wife. we're celebrating our anniversary"

the way the waiter's face fell made you softly giggle, giving him a look full of empathy. you knew you appeared much older than zhongli and that people weren't used to it, with you looking like some kind of sugar mommy he married for the inheritance. people had no idea he was actually the older one, and how would they even be able to tell with the way his face hasn't aged a day?

"oh, ma'am, i'm so sorry, i cincerely apologise-"

"it's alright, sweetheart, i can see why you'd think i'm his granny!" you laughingly reassure. the waiter quickly runs to get you your tea, and zhongli turns to you.

"pft, you're not even that old, love. seventy-three is nothing." he scoffs, kissing your saggy cheek, "and no matter how old you are, i don't appreciate you calling another man sweetheart"

-> neuvillette

"are you alright? would you like to sit down, mon amour?" he asks, moving his feet inch by inch as he walked alongside you. even though this pace was almost torterous for him, he'd never dare go any faster. he'd walk alongside you, always, no matter if it meant he had to move at a snail's pace.

"i'm quite alright, my dear. but, could we have a break, just for a moment?"

his ocean-blue eyes frantically searched for a spot to rest, scanning a nearby bench. he set you down on it, wrapping a careful arm around your shoulder and let you rest.

you were so adorable, even now, with saggy skin and an obsession with cardigans. his beautiful, incredible wife, so gorgeous and full of life even though you were in your seventies.

those eyes of yours looked at him with just as much love and just as much wanting as they did a whole lifetime ago. when you first got married, he always had that thought in the back of his mind of a youth potion, always thinking that ot would feel weird if you would change with age and he would not.

but he was wrong. chief justice neuviellette was so, so wrong.

it wasn't weird at all - it was beautiful. your face and body, even though old and wrinkly, perfectly showed everything you two went through; your big smile lines, from a lifetime of chuckling with him, eyes so full of care from the few young ones you raised, hands veiny and rough from a lifetime of caressing his scales.

"would you like to feed the birds, mon cherie? remember, we brought the bread crumbs?"

you nodd softly, softly laying your gray head on your husbands chest.

"oh, yes, the birds! i almost forgot!"

as he gives you a little baggy filled with some leftover baguette breadcrumbs from your breakfast that morning, a couple of melusines swarmed around the two of you.

"mr. neuvillette! mr. neuvillette! we have never seen your grandma before!! hello, mrs. neuvillette's grandma, very nice to meet you!"

your husband softly chuckled, intertwining your fingers. he pressed a loving kiss to your hand, returning his gaze to the scattered melousines: "this is my wife, and i can asure you, you've met her many times before"

"oh, really? we can't remember.." one of the melousines replied, scratching her head.

"that's alright, neither does she" he whispers playfully, earning him a soft smack from you, "hey, i can still hear you, you know!"

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fluff #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #zhongli fluff #neuvillette fluff #fluff #female reader #old reader #request #anon request #requests open

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horreurscopes · 6 months

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So, I could be out-of-bounds here since I think you meant it as dark humor, but what did you mean in the tags of that 'israel-hamas war' post? I suspect you(and op) are criticizing that framing because Israel is obviously demolishing much more than 'Hamas'(and probably doing a terrible job of actually targeting terrorists- they seem content to reduce Gaza to rubble even if the brass of Hamas escapes). I'm guessing that by saying "joining the Israel-Hamas war on the side of Hamas" you mean, if they're going to conflate Palestinians with Hamas unilaterally, then you're saying, whatever the media wants to call Palestinian civilians- you still support them. I am asking anyways though bc, given reports of increasing antisemitic activity in the US and Europe, I am worried about the potential for blurring lines between the cause of Palestinian civilians and the alt-right individuals who are likely masking their antisemitism in the context of being anti-Zionist. Although Israel's government has been the source of Palestinian loss for decades, (it seems to me that) even joking about supporting terrorism is enough to reinforce the persuasion that Israeli/Palestinian Jews and Palestinian Arabs must be mutually-exclusive peoples. I don't think it's fully rational per se(tho I'm not claiming to have all the relevant information myself, and I'm white US American goyim so like- grain of salt-), but I think that existential fear is the incredible hurdle facing Zionist Jews. (Idc too much about the opinions of non-Jewish Zionists bc I don't grant that they are dealing with the same emotional complications at this time, although that doesn't stop me from arguing w my acquaintances abt their callous acceptance of US/Israeli propaganda.) I just think..... isn't it overall harmful to allow anti-semitic rhetoric, even used sarcastically, to enter the genuine humanist cause for Palestinian liberation? Or, have I misunderstood, and you actually are not in opposition to Hamas, or something else I didn't think of?

hi! thank you for approaching the question thoughtfully and with curiosity, i really appreciate it. i was being kind of flippant with that meme, but this is the only ask i'm going to reply to on the matter given that i am neither jewish nor arab, so i'm going to answer in earnest:

hamas is a political resistance movement with an armed wing, much like the black panthers party was, and like the bpp, a large part of the organization is dedicated to social welfare and civic restoration.

they have stated that they are not against judaism, but against the zionist project. they openly support political solutions.

labeling hamas a terrorist group is a propaganda tactic used by the united states and israel to justify the horrors of settler colonization.

hamas is palestine, a part of it, even if palestinians like any other demographic on earth, are not a unified, single-minded people. to declare hamas a separate entity falls prey to the imperialist lie that there is an enemy to fight "fairly" within the people they are displacing and exterminating.

am i rejoicing in the deaths of israelis? of course not. killing civilians and taking civilian hostages is a war crime, whether it is committed by the opresor or the oppressed. the israeli government is not its people, and many jews, within israel as well as in the US, are bravely risking their lives to publicly dissent the criminal acts of the israeli government. all loss of human life is a tragedy.

no one should ever be faced with the choice between annihilation and murderous violence after exhausting all other forms of peaceful protest and being massacred like animals.

but why is it that we consider a resistance group formed within a population with a median age of eighteen a terrorist group, and not the IDF, a US-backed military force with an annual budget of twenty billion dollars?

i am currently reading hamas and civil society in gaza by sara roy to learn more about hamas and the history of israel in palestine. i'll remember to post more excerpts which i am admittedly terrible at.

but all of the information above can be found by reading wikipedia. investigating with duckduckgo searches (not gonna pretend google isn't prioritizing propaganda, to be fair), and reading reliable news coverage like aljazeera and the many journalists who are at risk of, or have lost their lives, reporting on the ground.

i have also appreciated reading posts from @determinate-negation @opencommunion @fairuzfan @ibtisams and @bloglikeanegyptian amongst others

in conclusion:

#palestine

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ghouljams · 7 months

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You Really Bug Me

Rating: G Tags: stalking, bugging, König x f!oc/reader, Cowboy au, reader has committed crimes and will commit more Summary: Being a tech wizard has its drawbacks, namely: sometimes the government tries to keep an eye on you. Good thing it's not the government listening to you, but your lovely boyfriend König.

It's when you drag your step stool into the living room to replace the overhead light's bulbs that you notice it. The little metal box hardwired into the fixture has a tiny metal grating you can only assume is a microphone. Your stomach drops. You should have expected to find a bug at some point. You're not... you're not unreasonably paranoid, but you probably brought this on yourself. You know exactly what this is about too.

You leave the bug dangling from your light and go to your office to grab an RF detector. Really you should have been checking, but you're in the middle of nowhere, no one knows you're out here, and you- well you just hadn't been worried. You find another microphone in the bathroom and one with a camera in your bedroom. You chew your lip staring at the bugs. You're tempted to crack your phone open.

Instead you go to your office and thank God that there isn't anything stashed in there. You suppose that's what the lock is for, but it's weird that the feds would be so polite as to ignore a locked door. You grab a shoe box off the bookshelf and drop your phone into its aluminum lined safety. You close the lid tight and do to raid your pantry. Time to be paranoid you suppose. Disconnecting bugs is the best way to let people know that you know about the bugs, so it's better to shut them all off at once, and hope the owners think the problem was on their end.

You're almost finished taping aluminum foil over your lights and windows when König opens your door. You should start locking that. His eyes are wild as they dart around the house. They're sharp and dangerous when they finally land on you, and you press back against your new silver wall coverings to try and avoid them. He cocks his head, taking in your makeshift Faraday cage with something akin to annoyance.

"You're not answering your phone Schatz," He tells you, his voice tight with something. You blink.

"Yes," You tell him. His eyes widen a little further as his shoulders roll back to his full height.

"What did you find?" He asks, you can't place his tone, but it's somewhere dangerous that makes you want to shiver.

"Keep your voice down," You hiss, his eyes lose some of their sharpness for confusion.

"Me?"

"Yes you, who else?" You press, feeling some of the anxiety start to catch up to you now that you aren't focused on radio-proofing your house. "The government is bugging me," You whine, feeling like a kid complaining about not getting a new toy, "how am I supposed to know which information is publicly available? Senators don't label anything." You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, feeling the scratch of soon to come tears. König makes a strange noise, you'd almost call it relief, and before you know it you're bundled in his arms.

"Meine Liebe," He soothes, "how many bugs did you find?"

"Three," You sniffle, he kisses the top of your head, "you doxx one congressman and suddenly you're not entitled to privacy."

König mumbles something in German that you don't catch, and kisses your head again. You like that way he curls around you, protective. You wrap your arms around his waist to keep him close, to bury your face against his chest. His hands rub your back, a firm comfort to your whining and sniffling.

"Why don't you come stay with me for a while liebling," König offers. You shrug, you have animals to feed, and a house to take care of. You really just want these things out of your house. "How about just for tonight?" He compromises. You give him a squeeze, you could do that.

"Ok," You sigh, "but help me get these things disconnected first."

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #könig x you #König x oc #könig mw2 #cowboy!König #nasty boy being nasty #the way he was so ready to just grab Bee and take her home if she knew they were his bugs #nearly lost living on her own privileges #Good thing Bee commits cyber crimes and has been bugged before #oc: bee #I love her so much she's so silly

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trippinsorrows · 1 month

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with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls.

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more.

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for.

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening.

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest.

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.”

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from.

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face.

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening.

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit.

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.”

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22.

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink.

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill.

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts.

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable.

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed.

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob.

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you.

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested.

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating.

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it.

Pictures of Callie.

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something.

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means.

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations.

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible.

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.”

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such.

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go.

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?”

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger.

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child. “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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catofoldstones · 2 months

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The thing about arya fans' argument that arya comes before sansa in the line of succession because robb disinherited her because of her forced marriage is the underlying misogyny and victim blaming of it, and their assumption that grrm thinks the same. We don't have jon [you know the actual person robb chose over sansa, and i think its time we start talking that the will specifically was about sansa and jon and that shit means something narratively] asserting that winterfell belongs to sansa despite everything and him not falling to the bait of stannis calling her a lannister, to just assume that according to grrm what robb did was OK. If people actually think grrm wants to show robb was right and girls truly are not important and thus his disinheritance of his sister's rights will be upheld, then they need their heads checked. Its not like he showed us that jaehaerys's sexism was what led to death of the dragons and downfall of targaryens even though grrm considers him a good ruler. Ultimately, catelyn will be validated when brienne saves either sansa or arya with oathkeeper and sansa will become lady of winterfell/qitn DESPITE robb's will. He [and arya fans] can suck it.

Hi soulmate anon,

Before we start, I have to let you know that one our previous posts was screenshotted and circulated in the arya stans circles because “we’re spreading our agenda on a neutral public platform” or something along those lines. Idk if you’ve seen that or not but I had to let you know before we go off kicking another hornet’s nest lol.

Anyway, that out of the way, to the Arya stans who are so hellbent upon removing Sansa from the Stark succession, Robb declared Jon as his heir, pushing Sansa further down the line (not disinheriting her jesus fuck) because through her Tyrion may lay claim to Winterfell, landing it in the hands of the Lannisters, exactly what Robb and Cat are trying to prevent. Robb didn’t “disinherit” Arya because he thought she was dead. Hope that helps.

WAIT!

the will being specifically about Jon and Sansa and that we need to start thinking about that narratively

SCREAM

Okay, I have now moved on (I have not). Though please feel free to talk about this more, I wanna know more. Guess I’ll now have to add jonsa tag to this answer hehe :P

I mean Robb did come from a place of “authority over the female members of his family” here with the will and that’s exactly the kind of thing we have to side eye. Taking it at face value and uncritically thinking about it is not a fair way to engage with the text I feel. You’re right when Jon himself reiterates Sansa’s claim over Winterfell, we are supposed to think twice whether Robb’s action was equitable or not. Stannis calls Sansa “Lady Lannister” to coax Jon into staking a claim over Winterfell so that Stannis gets a good reason to march to Winterfell and attack the Boltons (which he will anyway, but Jon’s, a member of the Stark family, support would mean political backing and reason). If we fall in the trap that Stannis thinks Sansa is now a Lannister, and therefore she is now a Lannister with no claim to Winterfell, then we’ve lost the plot and are coming from the same misogynistic hypocrisy (he wants Shireen on the throne if he dies but calls Sansa a Lannister, how does that work old man?) that destroys Westeros (your Jaehaerys example). And are no different from a crusty medieval era middle aged man btw.

It’s so fucking funny when the readers start emulating the same sexism that the author wants them to critique, and then start calling themselves feminists because they’re supporting a woman’s rights! Which woman’s rights besties? Because the one that clearly has them, you’re actively against her staking her claim. Wait till they read the books with their eyes open and realise that Arya comes at the end of the heirs to winterfell list, despite Sansa getting “disinherited” lmao. And I love Robb, he’s just a boy trying to do his best, but he truly made mistakes, especially with not listening to Catelyn. We also cannot deny the undercurrent of misogyny and chauvinism that Robb demonstrated with the will. Re Sansa’s rights and Jon’s decision to be with the Nights Watch. I will patiently wait for Catelyn to be validated and Sansa to be the Lady/QiTN not only because that subverts reader’s expectations and Westerosi patriarchal standards but because I want to see Sansa antis have a grand old meltdown.

#soulmate anon #asoiaf #anti arya stans #pro sansa stark #sansa stark #jon snow #robb stark #jonsa #anon your mind #anon asks t #long post don’t look

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princesssmars · 1 year

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Hiiii! If you don’t mind could you please do a Sam carpenter x fem/gn!reader, where the reader is just like completely overstimulated and someone from the friend group does something that just makes the reader like get super upset and makes them walk away and sam is kinda confused and goes to asks the reader and comforts them and stuff? If not then that’s okay!

trust me

a sam carpenter x reader

wc : 1533

cw : fluff. angst. reader is stressed. conflict caused by mindy but its justified so don't think i don't love her! italic bit thats readers thoughts. ethan slander fuck that little worm. (f/t) means fave takeout!

an : couldnt think of a title nahh 💀but thank you for the request im happy to do it! i hope you like this even if it might be a bit rushed bc i wanna help add to the sam tag since im obsessed with her rn.

when you first moved to new york city it was a whirlwind. new people, new things to see, great food. granted when you got off of your first subway ride a rat tried to fight you over the grinder you had in your hand, but you still loved it.

but of course, everything didn't stay sunshine and rainbows for long. the big apple was expensive, and finding a job that fit your schedule and was able to pay your side of the rent was tough. but you managed. kind of.

your roommate and close friend convinced you to see a therapist she had heard about from a friend, and you decided it couldn't hurt to try. the guy was helpful if a bit annoying, but it was worth it when you saw her coming out of her session. now NYC was filled with a plethora of hot people, but you swear when she made eye contact with you and gave you a polite smile you felt your brain melting.

you saw her a few more times before you introduced yourself. she seemed wary but told you about herself as well, telling you her name was sam and that she had moved to new york not long ago as well with her sister for college. she seemed nervous, but you were a stranger so you chalked it off as anxiety.

you asked her for her number and did a small mental celebration when she said yes, deciding to text her the next afternoon to not seem too desperate.

luckily your efforts paid off! she was a bit distant the first few times you talked, but after inviting her out for lunch at some new restaurant in brooklyn she warmed up to you quickly, even enough to introduce you to her sister and her friends.

it was only after a few weeks of knowing her that you found out what happened in woodsboro. you had an inkling that something bad had happened, the way sam was hesitant with phsyical affection, the caution they all took when locking their doors and carrying mace and tasers with them to get groceries. when sam had let you in to what happened with ghostface - her ex - and how he had almost killed all of them. you had let her know it didn't make tou think of her any differently, that you still cared about her and her past wouldn't change that. that moment had led to the first kiss between the two of you.

and you had meant what you said to sam, that you would stick beside her no matter what. but it still took a toll on you, that danger was following you and the people you had grown to care about no magter what.

the one thing you didn't expect was for them to expect the danger could be you.

it was supposed to be a normal friday night at sam's apartment, spent talking to each other and her friends and maybe watching a movie with some takeout after her appointment. nice and simple.

the door opens and you turn to see if it's sam, smiling when tara, chad, mindy and anika walked through the door. chad's roommate. ethan, wasn't with them this time and you let out a small sigh of relief. he seemed nerdy enough

"hey guys, everything alright?" you asked the group, noticing the down and wary looks on their faces. tara mumbled something before quickly walking into her room, chad hot on her heels. anika rested on the couch next to yours with a sigh, mindy sitting next to her and farther away from you. a bit odd, but you chalked it up to all of them being tired from school.

"something happened over at fordham. some girl from blackmore was found almost butchered in an alley." anika wrings hers hands together, a nervous habit she told you she picked up as a kid.

"jesus christ, do they have any clue who might have done it?" you ask.

"oh please, how many freaks do you you think like to nearly carve out peoples chest?" mindy scoffed, busying herself with something on her phone.

"you don't think it's ghostface, do you?" your voice was wavering against your will. after sam had told you what happened you did some digging into the masked killer, and its safe to say you were on edge until it eventually showed its face again.

she shrugged. "we all knew they were gonna find us again eventually. nows just a matter of determining who it is." she looked at you, and you felt the strain behind your eyes at how far they widened.

"i hope you're not saying what i think you're saying..."

"dont take it too personally, y/n. she accused me and ethan too." anika waved your worries off, and even though her normally peaceful personality would calm anyone down, it wasn't really working right now.

"i'm just saying, you're also new to the friend group, coincidentally moved here a while before us and had the same therapist as sam? and then started dating her? it's suspicious." mindy lists off the reasons she suspects you, and with each item you feel your chest tighten.

is this really what they think of me? a threat? does sam think of me like this? does she not trust me? does she not love me?

you don't register the sound of mindy's voice or the sound of the front door opening before you hurry from the couch to the bedroom near the back of the apartment - sam's room.

you sit on the edge of the bed and put your head in your hands, trying to calm the racing negative thoughts in your head. it feels like hours when its probably been a few minutes of you failing to calm yourself down when the door opens slowly and a weight sits down on the bed next to you.

"is it ok if i touch you?" sam ask from next to you, making sure to keep a good distance so as not to overwhelm you. when you nod and whisper out a yes she moves to sit behind your body, wrapping her arms around you and allowing you to fall back and rest on her chest.

"do you wanna tell me what's going on? it's alright if you dont, i'll still be right here."

her soft tone makes you squint your eyes hard, scared that she's trying to get you to let your guard down. but there's a little voice in your head that trusts her more than anything. that desperately wants to let her in. so you do.

"it's just...mindy was talking about ghostface and she was questioning me. i know that you've all been through so much but...if they can't, if you don't trust me then i don't know what i would do."

sam doesn't interrupt while you speak, fully paying attention to your words as you let her know what's bothering you. you're just about to walk back your statement because of her silence when she softly turns your body to sit sideways in her lap, bringing her hand up to cup your face and turn it so you can't look anywhere but her eyes.

"hey, i want you to listen to me, ok? you know mindy. she's just looking out for us, she didn't mean to antagonize you im sure of it. if anything i'm pretty sure if ghostface comes back she's more likely to suspect ethan right away, the kid weirds her out," she says, unable to help herself from smiling when you giggle at her words.

"but more importantly you know me. you know i'd never have anyone around me, my sister or our friends if i didn't trust them, yeah? i trust you and i love you, more than anything."

you cant help but tear up and smile at her words. sam wasn't one for frequent words of affection, so you knew when she said something she meant it. she lets out a small grunt when you throw yourself into a hug in her arms, tackling the both of you onto the bed in a heap of giggles. you spend the next few minutes laughing and sharing small i love you's and sweet kisses.

after you've both calmed down sam asks if you're ready to head into the living room, squeezing your hand when you give a strained little nod. walking together back to the living room, your face lights up at the smell of your favorite takeout, rushing to the couch to see everyone munching down on some food.

mindy turns her head around to see you and purses her lips awkwardly. "uh, i was hungry so i ordered some (f/t). there's enough for the both of you."

"she's trying to apologize for calling you ghostface." tara butts in while taking another bite of her food, ignoring when mindy slaps her on the leg.

"aww, it's alright cheeks. i understand." you tease the brunette with the silly nickname you gave her a few weeks ago, reaching over to squish her cheeks together like a kid. she sticks her tounge out at you but doesn't move to stop you, figuring she'll let you have this.

"yeah yeah whatever, sit down and eat your food."

you sit on sams' lap on the squished couch, ignoring the kissing noises and fake gagging sounds of your friends. in this moment, nothing anyone says can get to you.

i believe in the lost art of ending the fic with a cheesy bit. happy pride gaybos.

#scream #scream 6 #scream vi #scream x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter fluff

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cottoncandy-cult · 9 months

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Sebastian Michaelis x Neko Child! Reader

Sebastian was walking the streets of London with Ciel, searching the alleyways for a magical thief. Ciel wasn't quite sure why he was sent to search out the thief, from what he had found the thief was only stealing food. He assumed it's because the police had been on this case 3 months and made absolutely no progress, though apparently the night before one of them managed to graze the thief with a bullet. Sebastian was quick to stop when hearing whimpering, drawing the young male's attention as well to a small box that had a bit of blood leaking from the bottom.

Curiously he approached, when carefully moving one of the flaps he spotted the tiny form of a young girl. She was in a dirty and torn dress; her side was bleeding heavily. But what stunned the male was her ears and tail, they were that of a cat. With one look he knew it was a bullet wound, their thief was a child. She tried to hiss at him, but it was weak and pathetic. "It's ok, I just want to help you." His voice was soft and calm, but she soon fell unconscious. He was quick to act, lifting the girl up with ease as he rushed to his master.

With a groggy groan (E/c) eyes began to open, the room was dim which she was glad about. Her head ached, she moved slightly only to feel a sharp pain in her side making her hiss. "You shouldn't move, you're hurt pretty bad. But don't worry, we'll make sure you have a full recovery." The butler spoke softly from the bedside, watching her with his usual polite grin, The trio of trouble making servants not so sneakily peeking in seemed flabbergasted, they knew she was getting special treatment because she was part cat. The guy was obsessed with them after all. The young girl watched him warily, but she was so drowsy and weak. "Go ahead and sleep, the medicine for the pain is gonna make you tired." The girl was out like a light as he finished his sentence, making the older demon chuckle.

A year had passed since that day, (Y/n) had been adopted by the butler but Ciel had taken to her, so she was more like a princess than anything. Lizzy adored her, the 6-year-old just ate up the love and attention. Sebastian adored her most; he spoiled her greatly and was never shy to show his affection. They had been out for a walk one day, Ciel had to go through London in search of a particular shop. She had tagged along and of course Sebastian was going, as they walked, she spotted something. It was a kitten, white with one blue eye and one green eye. One of its paws was hurt, it seemed to be almost looking for help. The girl did the only thing she could think of, she scooped up the cat and brought it to Ciel. "Ciel look!" At the sound of her voice, he turned to her, the small girl showing him the injured kitten in her arms. "Ciel can we take her home please!?" She bounced slightly on her feet, her eyes glossy with worried tears.

She was a soft-hearted child, her heart ached for everyone and everything. He kneeled down, looking at the kitten as he patted its head. Sebastian was right beside her, stroking its chin. "She does need to learn about responsibility, this could be a good chance." Ciel was quiet as he thought, Sebastian held his breath and hoped for a yes while the girl looked ready to cry. "Ok fine, tell you what. You can take it home, but you have to take care of it." That was where it began, the sweet girl did chores and errands to earn money. She was smart in how she used it, because she was doing so well, he began to give in anytime she brought a homeless animal to him. The mansion was like a massive foster home, but Ciel had found a way to use this as an advantage. Sales had gone up, people enjoying the fact he cared for animals. They'd have balls and fundraisers, rehoming animals and doing adoption charity events. He wished he had listened to Sebastian when the demon would ask to take in a cat, as now he was making almost triple what he was. Sebastian loved it, at least he loved all the cats.

Now here he sat in the garden, leaned against a tree as (Y/n) cuddled into him. Being part cat meant she needed attention, and he was happy to give it to her. Kittens and puppies ran and played around them, it was a calm day and Ciel generously gave everyone a break. He had been in a wonderful mood for a bit. Sebastian smiled down at the girl who had fallen asleep from his rubbing of her ears, soft purrs escaping her. The demon just couldn't wrap his head around it; she was just so sweet. She was so innocent, a miracle worker that had yet to understand what she could do. Sometimes he wondered if maybe she was just a lost angel, either way he was happy he found her. Her one act of kindness had proven that karma exists, her desire to help animals had led to them being in an even better position financially. Ciel having opened a few charities for various causes.

Sebastian moved to stand, carrying the girl easily. She stirred slightly, but simply snuggled into him. "So warm..." Her words were a sleepy mumble, she gave a whine when he placed her in her bed. But she soon relaxed and fell back into a deep sleep, Sebastian could only chuckle as he removed her shoes, socks and coat. Gently he tucked her in, she slept a lot but that was likely because she worked so hard to take care of her responsibilities. He was proud of her; nothing would ever change that.

#black butler #sebastian michaelis #x reader #fem reader #child reader #neko reader #fluff #black butler fluff #candy cult vault

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max1461 · 4 months

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Here's my other problem with tumblr discourse: even when I make the context/intended interpretation of a post really explicit, people ignore this context and respond to it in like... for lack of a more charitable term, a discoursebrained way.

So a while ago I made a post about some ethical intuition I had, and at the top I put a huge disclaimer which said something to the effect of "this is just an expression of my feelings, it's not meant to be a philosophically airtight position, please don't take it as such", followed by a readmore and then the actual post. Why did I do that? Because I figured that if I didn't, people would nitpick it in various technical ways that missed the basic point. Lo and behold several people still did that, and when I replied basically restating the disclaimer, one of them said "oh I didn't even see that. Well I think if you post a half-baked thought online I retain the right to nitpick it".

I guess that's true. My blog is public. But the point is that I want to use my blog for certain things and not others, right, that's what I'm attempting to do. And people seem actively resistant to my attempts to guide the discussion on my blog in certain directions, which makes blogging less enjoyable. Of course some people will always do that, that fact doesn't bother me, but it feels like the irrelevant/point-missing discourse so often overshadows the meaningful discourse that I start to feel less of a desire to put in the effort.

Like, the point of issuing that disclaimer was to say, as explicitly as I could manage, "I am trying to have a discussion about feelings and intuitions here, I am aware there might be ways these intuitions are not fully consistent, but that is not the discussion I'm trying to have". But even so explicit an attempt to specify a conversation topic does not work; the discourse machine demands a certain kind of engagement and that is the engagement every post will get no matter what.

I don't want to put the person who missed my disclaimer on blast: it's honestly an error that anyone could make and on its own it's no big deal. If said person is reading this: you didn't do anything wrong and I am not mad at you, to be 100% clear.

It's not a one-off mistake that bothers me, it's the fact that this is how discussions on here so often go that putting in the effort to discuss things productively often feels wasted.

Another example of this that... if you go through my #society tag, you will see a lot of uncertainly in my phrasing. You will see me say a lot of "it seems like we should..." and "we should find some mechanism to..." and so on and so forth. Why? Because, as I've mentioned before, I've gotten a lot out of political discourse on here. When it's good, I actually find it quite good. But it's good when it has a constructive or collaborative tone, when I am bouncing ideas or thoughts back and forth with someone. Generally I am trying to invite this kind of discourse.

Sometimes, again, I say it really explicitly. I don't have them off the top of my head, but I know there are quite a lot of #society posts where I've said something quite straightforwardly to the effect of "here are some niche social/political issues I've been contemplating, does anyone have any ideas for how to respond to them". Obviously there's a spectrum in how explicit I am about this, but even when I'm really clear, most of the responses I get are still "discoursebrained", in the sense that they seem antagonistic and generally more interested in saying "X guys are cool and Y guys are lame" than in productively engaging with a set of ideas.

Even if you disagree with my claims or my premises, there is a way to state that which adds to a conversation instead of shutting down a line of inquiry. I am always trying to invite this type of mutually-productive discussion, and I so rarely achieve it.

Over the years my methods have changed. I come from a background of like, forums for specific nerd interests. Those places are plenty contentious, full of plenty of drama and disagreement. But ultimately, I always still felt that productive discussion was valued above destructive discussion; that because we were all united in a common goal of [doing our nerdy hobby], a comment where you build on someone's idea to say something useful to others or to introduce a new insight was generally valued above one where you just said "you're wrong for such and such reasons, hah!" or even "you're right for such and such reasons".

Coming from this background, I assumed this would also be the case on tumblr, and that I would not have to put in any extra effort to invite this sort of discourse. Alas, this was not true; even long and thought-out replies from respected discoursers often just amount to "here are the guys I agree with and here are the guys I disagree with, for such and such reasons". This is lame and boring and not appealing to me.

So over the years I've tried to be more and more explicit about what types of discussion I am trying to have, I've tried to tee up the sort of interactions I want as much as possible, but it hasn't really worked.

The problem is not strictly the quality or measuredness of the responses or their tone or anything like that. These are the things most people focus on when they critique the discourse, but I think they miss the point. The problem is that most responses don't seem to be intended to advance a mutually-productive discussion, they don't build on the base of what they are responding to, they just make various assertions and statements of allegiance in the vicinity of the material they are responding to and call it a day.

Maybe this is too harsh. I'm sure I do this too. And it's not always bad. Sometimes I use someone else's post openly as a jumping off point to elaborate my own ideas (although I try to be careful about this, and also make it somewhat clear that I am doing it), and this can be productive. I do actually want to hear people's ideas. It's not any single instance of these things I'm complaining about, it's just that discoursey responses seem to drown out all other types of discussion, even when you are really clear about what type of discussion you are trying to have.

So that's my complaint.

#navel gazing

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matan4il · 1 month

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Hey, I just felt the need to vent and see if you or your followers had any advice for me because I feel so stuck.

I don't have any relatives or friends in Israel so sometimes I feel I have no room to talk on the conflict. I'm in the US, I'm 'safe', my family is safe, but I still feel so hurt and the grief from everything happening to 'my people'

I was talking to a friend and I know we have conflicting opinions on everything happening. I just feel so heart broken by him as we were discussing things and he cuts the conversation when I said "Hamas is a terrorist organization". I don't know how I can trust him anymore when he can't even see that. I love him so much. He's essentially my best friend. It hurts so much and I don't know what to do. At this point I just keep quiet but there is resentment building and I hate it.

Any advice would help. Sorry for rambling. I'm just emotional.

Hi Nonnie! I totally understand, you're being legit in how you feel, and I'm sending you many hugs!

I believe I've answered a similar ask at some point since the war, I'm just not sure how to find it, because Tumblr's search option sucks. Maybe through the ask tag, IDK. If anyone's better at handling this site, and can find it and link it in the comments, I'm sure the anon (and definitely me) would appreciate that!

I think that ask was more generalized though, so here I'll refer more specifically to yours.

First of all, if you're Jewish, you have family in Israel. All Jews are one big family, one tribe, and I consider every Jew a part of my extended family. That said, there's actually a good chance that, given enough genealogical research, you'll find that one, two or three generations ago, the family tree split, and there's a branch where people returned to Israel, so you have distant relatives you weren't even aware of here. If you're interested in looking into this, a good place to start is to contact the Anu Museum, which delves into the history of the Jewish people, and also keeps extensive genealogical records for Jews.

Hamas is a terrorist organization, that's not an opinion or debate, it's a fact. People tend to claim that resistance can be seen as terrorists or freedom fighters, depending on one's opinion, and it's true that at times the term "terrorists" has been abused, but there's actually a very simple way to figure out the matter. If an organization intentionally targets civilians with violence, including lethal violence, for the sake of achieving some sort of a political change (and that includes political change in service of an extremist religious cause), then we're talking about terrorists. The differentiation between a regime as a legit target for a struggle, and innocent civilians who should never be targeted with violence, that's the difference between freedom fighters (whether we agree with them or not) and terrorists.

The exact date of Hamas being established as a terrorist organization is not known, most believe it was Dec 1987 (it announced it was joining the First Intifada on Dec 15, when it started on Dec 9. Hamas escalated it considerably, as it did the Second Intifada), while the son of a Hamas founder (Mosab Hassan Yousef. He was repeatedly jailed by Israel for terrorist activity in the service of his dad's organization, but as a teen in prison saw how Hamas was torturing Palestinians. He decided to flip and help Israel in order to save his own people from Hamas) says it was actually slightly earlier, in 1986. Either way, by the end of 1989 (just two years after its first public statement), Hamas was already so brutal and violent, that it was outlawed here. Soon, especially as it started carrying out extensive suicide bombings (the very first one was on Apr 16, 1993), it was also recognized as a terrorist organization and outlawed by multiple governments (including the UK, the US, Jordan, the EU, Japan, Norway, Iceland, Canada, Australia and Paraguay).

Not only is Hamas clearly a terrorist organization since its very first act of terrorism, after Oct 7 it is also one of the most successful ones ever (second only to Al-Qaeda after 9/11, though if you look at the number of fatalities per population size, then Hamas have surpassed Al-Qaeda as well). To not recognize Hamas as a terrorist organization is to not recognize terrorism, and that it is fundamentally wrong, because nothing ever justifies killing civilians to affect a political change, and THAT is an incredibly disturbing position to take.

On top of that, Hamas is Islamist, it wants a world ruled by an Islamist regime, and sees the eradication of Israel as a first step on the way there. It will only condemn other Islamist terrorist organizations for digressing from this plan of eradicating the Jewish state first, before taking on the rest of the world. Hamas is also genocidal towards Jews. Its founding charter declares this explicitly, that Judgment Day will not come until all Jews are exterminated. Its leaders have continuously and repeatedly expressed themselves in similar ways, calling upon "true believers" to kill Jews everywhere around the world, and in fact since Oct 7, several Hamas terrorist cells have been exposed as operating against Jews outside of Israel.

Someone who can't even admit Hamas are terrorists will likely not recognize the genocidal, antisemitic and extremist Islamist nature of Hamas, either. If you're Jewish, what that means is that your "friend" is willing to turn a blind eye to the declared statements of those who wish to kill you simply because you're Jewish. And if you ask me, that's not a friend at all. But even if you're not Jewish, I think the willingness to allow Hamas' genocidal antisemitism by denying the nature of this organization is morally despicable. I would kind of get it if your friend lived in a non-free country, where he can't get the true info on Hamas. But if you live in a free society, and your friend can get online, and go to one of the sites that share info on Hamas, especially the footage from Oct 7, but he's still denying what this terrorist organization is really like? I think you're very right to be upset by that.

At the end of the day, how you deal with it is up to you. It sounds like this person is really important to you, and I get it. At the same time, it sounds like you're having a hard time living with his views of Hamas, which is beyond justified. If your friend is willing to overlook this, what else is he willing to allow? I guess the question is whether you feel like you can have a talk with him, where you put this all on the table, not just Hamas being a terrorist organization, but also the genocidal, Islamist and antisemitic nature of it, and explain to your friend that it is personally distressing to you, that he can act as if Hamas is a legit organization? Do you feel like you can talk to him, and if he understood what it means to you, he might be more willing to listen? If you don't talk to him about this, do you feel like you can live with his views?

I'll be honest, I personally would not want such a person as a "friend." I would never feel like I could trust him. That doesn't negate all of his other good traits and what he can and does give you as a friend, though. I get that. I understand that it is a loss, if this ends your friendship. And that's why I say that it's up to you. It's up to what you feel is in the best interest of your well being. Do you still trust him to have your back despite his views? Do you think you'd be worse off to lose everything else about your friendship? Or do you think he values your friendship enough to listen? Do you feel like the distress of knowing what he supports is too much, and is bad for your well being? At the end of the day, only you can answer these questions.

Just know that no matter what you decide, you're not alone. There are others who feel like you do, and who would accept you, all of you, anti-Hamas views included, and will be true allies and friends. You def have a friend here. I'm wishing you well with whatever you decide to do, and if you feel like sending follow up asks, please don't hesitate to! Much love, Nonnie. xoxox

(for more of my posts regarding Israel, click here)

If this is a person who you define as your best friend, but they're cool

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wingsdippedingold · 28 days

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My statement on ACOTAR characters

(unedited; really just a brain dump)

I know I use a lot of pro and anti tags when it comes to ACOTAR, and while I do have characters I like more than others, I really just dislike them as a whole. I think the series is poorly written and SJM is the one I actually hate.

I honestly can't really criticize or defend any character properly, because the characters themselves are just deficiently made. They all come from the same dumbass author. The main thing keeping me in the fandom are the actual people in it, because they have actual thoughts that make sense, and I find discussing the topics presened entertaining. So I don't wanna hear any "Well if you hate the books so much stop talking about them" bs

I don't hate Rhysand, in fact I think he has a lot of cool moments. I like the idea of him not bowing to anyone but his own people, so he got a knee tat of Velaris (even if I think its dorky). I enjoy his outlook on what's right, and I did genuinely like him early on. But I think the way SJM writes his actions (especially political ones) and their justifications incredibly disjointed poorly thought out. I think he's wrongfully used and justified and digs people into a bad way of thinking ethically because SJM has made no move to do anything but portray him as a white knight. Had the narrative acknowledge some of the things he's done as actually bad, in fact that most of them have bad outcomes for some even if they benefit others, I'd have no issue with him. SHe just writes him doing heinous things for reason and then is like "Oh but he's traumatized so its okay!"

I don't dislike Feyre, but I think she's often shoved into a backseat role in her own series. I know this is a multi-pov story, but seriously? How the fuck did SJM make Feyre's pregnancy climax to nothing more than more Nesta hate??? Why was her experience and thoughts just completely missing in the plot that literally revolved around her?? I find her flaws charming, and yet they're often forgotten or used to justify things that shouldn't be justified. I don't have any issue with her beyond the SC disaster. But, I think the fact that there's Feyre antis in general speaks to how bad of a writer SJM is. You can't even make people agree on liking your main fucking character? In fact most Feyre antis are Pro Nestas... which is ridiculous. How poorly do you have to write for people to pit sisters against each other WHEN YOUR MAIN TROPE IS FOUND FAMILY. The way SJM uses Feyre pisses me off endlessly

I think Feysand has its moments, and I don't hate anything about them specifically - but rather how they're presented and treated by the narrative. I think they make sense together, and I prefer them to Feylin, but I hate how SJM and fans bend over backward to justify everything.

I'm not a Nesta stan, I just think the narrative (and especially SF) is an injustice to real world issues and the logic used against her makes no sense in reference to the other characters. SJM says she loves her so much, but shows her none. I find the way the fandom treats her lacking empathy, and SJM has done nothing to actually better her character. I think its ridiculous no one acknowledge that she grew up in the same fucking cottage as Feyre with the same parents. SJM constantly dredges up new shit to pit her and Feyre against each other instead of just letting them be happy. She treats Nesta like she's irredeemable, and when she does "redeem" herself its literally in service to the people who are forcing her to fix herself??? She's used as a point for juvenile drama and placed in a cycle of being antagonized with no outlet to place blame. See my full thoughts on her here

I don't actually despise the ic, I think they all are just wasted and thrown into whatever whirlwind situation gives SJM a boner. I think Morrigan had so much potential, but SJM decided it would be better to use her for petty drama and forwarding a ship. I don't hate her because she doesn't do anything for the woman in the CoN, because quite frankly I don't think SJM has thought that far. I don't think Cassian's the worst man alive, but I think SJM has a poor grasp on him and what a healthy relationship (even in the bounds of a fantasy novel) is. And I just find Azriel particularly useless, he's not a thoughtful sensitive soul, he's just yet to be focused on. And I do not look forwards to the day he is, based on his first and only current pov.

I'm not a Tamlin stan, in fact I really don't care for his character, but I think he suffers from lazy writing and some severe character assassination. I think the switch up on his character after the first book is absolutely ridiculous.

I dislike how SJM throws Elain around and treats her like a little precious baby and making her out to be an airhead whos absolved from the same crimes Nesta's hated for.

I'm not an SJM fan, I'm an avid SJM hater. I actually despise her, and while I won't write out my entire long list of grievances with her here, just know that literally all of my issues with the series would be gone if she was just a better person and writer. Seriously, I think she lacks so much mechanical and analytical skill (which is crazy, she's been publishing books for 12+ years and written like 15) and I see no change in the future. She constantly retcons, switches characters up for whatever her narrative calls for, and sacrifices good character writing for a fast track to mediocre faerie smut.

I hate the way she sexualized Feyre's experience under the mountain. I hate the way she immediately objectified Feyre when she got pregnant (the blurb describing Feyre walking around while pregnant is insanely kinky and I hate it). I hate the way she throws around trauma and mental illness like cute little stickers so that she can pick and choose the aspects she thinks are cool. I hate that she's fucked up people's perception of abuse and mental illness. I hate the way she uses poc and steals credit for representation she didn't care to make. This isn't even all of it, its just what I can remember within the 9 minutes I spent writing this brain dump. SJM does not deserve more of my time 😭

If I was a character in the series I genuinely think I'd avoid all of them, because I don't care, and if I somehow did have to be cornered with any of them, I'd hate all of them. But If I ever faced up with the mother (aka Sarah), it'd be on sight. My hatred for her knows no bounds. Hate is a strong word, and one I used so many times in this post (something SJM does a lot too though, so I'm not worried, seriously get a thesaurus and stop using the same phrases every 6 pages) because it's true.

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti sarah j maas #sjm critical #rhysand #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #tamlin

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kishimotomasashi · 6 months

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Alright, Uchiha Clan oppression longpost

This is the unavoidable, and often central, topic people tend to surround their Naruto politics takes on, and is as a result a big, ugly discourse-generator. It's also a subject I'm definitely always thinking about when it comes to Naruto as a noted Sasuke stan, and my thoughts on it have changed gradually over the years. I'm making this post to share what my current interpretation on "how and why the Uchiha Clan were oppressed" is.

Before I do that though, notice on what this post is not:

I'm not writing a "discourse ender", a take meant to be spread around with the claim of being the only correct interpretation of events. This is a post I wrote to share the exact way I rotate an aspect of the manga in my mind, and to convince people that looking at it from this angle is interesting. Basically: it's not that serious, I think about this because it's fun.

This isn't a "character-bashing" post or whatever either, so like if you agree with what you read here, I suppose I can't stop you from using those infamous "anti-[X]" tags, it's just that making a post that warrants them has never been my intention.

Along with that, I do want to address the by now very well established fact that Naruto the series is Not Very Good, and has glaring inconsistencies in its writing. The Uchiha Clan drama is definitely not exempt from this, and in its case the failures in Kishimoto's writing usually show in inconsistent power-scaling, in which we're made to accept weird leaps in logic (how does a 13 year old get rid of what we're told is one of the most powerful and feared clans internationally?) That being said, those particular inconsistencies are kind of irrelevant to this particular post, and don't much change the fact that the Uchiha Clan Massacre did happen. I'll be taking it as a given that if you're reading this, you're accepting to suspend your disbelief of those events on a technical level, and are more interested in how I make sense of it all more on the diegetic social/political level.

With that settled, we can get to the important part now:

The most popular take (as far as I've personally seen) on the events that led to the Uchiha Clan's downfall is the one that takes Madara at his word: the Senju have been oppressing the Uchiha since Konoha's conception, and Tobirama becoming the 2nd Hokage gave him the opportunity to put the Uchiha in a more socially disadvantaged position (police force), gradually earning them the villagers' ire, which was the catalyst for their eventual genocide.

This interpretation works if the end goal of your analysis is to say "Tobirama really fucking sucks". I don't think this conclusion is an unreasonable one, since Tobirama's hostility towards the Uchiha is great enough that he can callously tell a 16 year old genocide survivor that if his clan "self-destructed for the sake of the village, so be it". However, to me, the circumstances surrounding the Uchiha Clan are much wider-encompassing and more fascinating than narrowing their fate to a single man in fan meta written to convince you to hate him, so it goes without saying that I don't think "this is all Tobirama's fault" is a very interesting lens to look at this from.

I also don't buy the argument that making the Uchiha cops was (originally) to their detriment. We'll get back to that in a bit. I suppose this depends on how you look at Tobirama's character, but I think that when he said he made the police force as a sign of trust and to give the clan something useful to do in Konoha, he was being genuine. Arguing the opposite requires you to either believe that a law enforcement order could ever be in an oppressed position by default, or that Tobirama created a fundamentally useless new institution because he just hated the Uchiha that much. I think the former is a weird thing to argue if you're trying to be Leftist about all this, and the latter is a very ungenerous interpretation of Tobirama's character in which his own "racism"/pettiness overshadows his more utilitarian instincts to ensure that the village his brother built was safe and functioning. Obviously you could interpret that, but that leads us back to the "everything is Tobirama's fault" take, that I already mentioned I find lame as hell.

So then, how do I think the Uchiha Clan was oppressed? Because I think they indisputably were, or I wouldn't be making this post. Well, I think it was less "The Senju/Tobirama have always wanted to lord over them and wanted them dead", and more: they became gradually more socially disadvantaged during the era of Hidden Villages, with the consecutive world wars creating a souring global opinion on kekkei genkai clans.

(I'm gonna base my arguments primarily on what we see happen in the manga, and I'll add in some information from the fanbooks/databooks that weren't contradicted by what we see happen in Kishimoto's canon)

Let's start with what we know, definitely, that canon tells us:

Kekkei genkai clans are discriminated against to a very high extent, leading to things such as their mass slaughter (eg, the Uchiha Clan obviously, but also kekkei genkai clans like Haku's clan in the Land of Mist), and a vulnerability which puts them in positions where they're likelier to be targeted and kidnapped (eg, Hinata, but also Orochimaru having a whole criminal entreprise built on kidnapping and experimenting on people possessing kekkei genkai).

The trend for their discrimination is in being scapegoated. When Haku talks about the genocides in the Land of Mist (I refuse to call it the Land of Water sorry it sounds so stupid), this is how he describes them:

(chapter 59)

basically, it's not shinobi as a whole who are badly seen even though all sorts of them were likely participating in those wars: it's kekkei genkai clans in particular. Compare this to the Uchiha Clan being blamed for the Nine Tails attack (I mean one of them certainly was responsible, but was entirely unaffiliated with the rest of the clan) and being roped off to the edge of the village as a result.

Kekkei genkai clans are also frequently described by characters as being a bit "wilder" and more violent than usual shinobi. Tobirama calling the Uchiha "cursed", Kushina describing the Uzumaki as being "a bit savage", and Kakashi introducing us to the concept of kekkei genkai initially with these fun visuals:

(chapter 25)

The thing that's interesting about all this is the context in which it exists: the shinobi villages aren't technically "nations", but I think it would be accurate to liken their possessiveness of their secrets and paranoia regarding outside intrusion + conception of themselves as unified cultural entities + incredibly harsh treatment of dissidents (becoming a rogue is essentially a death sentence) to nationalism. There's an intentse "in-group vs out-group" feeling here.

Not to mention that canonically that shinobi have always been tools of imperialism for greater powers. While Hashirama's initial dream was to put an end to that, it eventually became corrupted; there was already discontent regarding land and resource allocations during his tenure as Hokage, and while we have no idea why the 1st War started, we know that by the time we're on the 2nd one, Konoha had become a tool for the Land of Fire's imperialist expansion (and was apparently was expanding its influence as a military village, too).

(chapter 436)

Basically, the "in-group vs out-group" conception that had once solely been clan-centric widened, and became this new concept of shinobi villages.

This is important because nationalistic sentiment inevitably rises during war; as a result, there's be a sharper eye for who'd turn traitor, who wasn't supporting the military effort, who would endanger their nation/village, etc. With this, there would be greater suspicion directed towards kekkei genkai clans, because they're more "genetically predisposed" to being unpredictable, because they would appear more loyal to their own than to the whole of the village, because they were the likeliest to turn traitor, and so on.

This would be a gradual process going on since the 1st War, but I believe that the 2nd War was where this kickstarted into becoming so much worse, because that one saw the destruction of Uzushio. It was a village composed entirely of a single clan, didn't bend to any of the big 5, and the Uzumaki were "savage" and had abilities that were greatly feared. It would be interesting to consider the idea that their associations with Konoha would have done them more harm than good here, too, given that Konoha was the Big Bad in the 2nd War and an alliance with them would not have been viewed positively.

It's thinking about all this in context, where nationalism was at its peak, where there's an idea that genetic chakra abilities impair swathes of people from being regular functioning shinobi like everyone else, is how we can imagine the Uchiha were discriminated against. They had another disadvantage to them as well, given that one of the first deadly attacks committed on Konoha was done by one of them. If we want to go back to the police force argument, it would be interesting to consider the idea that while it had been a good position for them at first, the utility and influence of the institution gradually eroded over time, and by the time the era where the massacre happened came along it became nearly meaningless since most of its original functions had been assigned elsewhere; as the kekkei genkai clan discrimination rose, the Uchiha also fell victim to it and their influence within the village significantly reduced out of fear of them.

The surveillance and the sequestering of the Uchiha Clan came after two important events; the first being the 3rd Great Shinobi War, and the second being the Nine Tails' attack on Konoha which happened barely a year post-armistice. Konoha was barely recovering from global armed conflict when half of it was destroyed in that attack; tensions are high, the Hokage is dead, and so the village saw an incredibly convenient scapegoat in the Uchiha clan.

So... yeah, that's how I see it! I find this a more fun interpretation than just pointing fingers at individual characters, because it allows me to consider the wider worldbuilding of the Naruto world, and also doesn't assume the Uchiha's position was especially unique and the end-be-all of all the problems with Naruto's politics. It's certainly important, but it's part of a greater network of problems too!

#send post #The ground is soft and I'm ready to dig #Uchiha #this is somehow both longer and shorter than I expected it to be #Anyways feel free to discuss and ask for clarification on some points if they seem confusing!

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