#and the thing is that i am more than happy to reason and discuss these things and explain my reasoning with people but i never get the

[ducktracy]

hi sorry to drop this long ass ramble in your inbox but god you and that anon are both so right and the tlts post made me realize something

so i personally don’t mind that much when the looney tunes’ characterizations are off, just bc of how often they seem to change. even in the original shorts it seemed like every director had their own spin on the characters’ personalities, to a point where there’s never really felt like there was one “correct” way for them to be, at least to me. but they’ve always been funny is the thing. even when i don’t care much for an interpretation of them, if the show has strong enough writing it’ll still make me laugh! gonna be honest, i really don’t like TLTS Bugs a lot of the time, but he’s still funny! I think about the bit where he gets addicted to energy drinks and punches a hole in the wall for no reason at least once a week! 

but then we get into the thing you mentioned about fandom-ification, and THAT is what ends up bugging me. when we get into the same tired incorrect quotes and snowclone memes and “bugs is gone so i’m gonna cut off all the sleeves on my shirts bc he’s 80% of my impulse control blah blah blah STOP ITTT!! it’s not funny anymore and that’s like the most important thing the looney tunes have to be!! i love TLTS but oh my god it’s so clear a lot of people have never engaged with any other LT media and they just want archetypes to project the same years old fandom tropes onto. if you make the looney tunes unfunny you have failed, go watch a roadrunner cartoon and write me a paper on what you’ve learned about visual gags /j. This is also kind of the same reason i don’t like space jam 2 or a lot of the 90s stuff that does the “heh.. in case you didn’t know, we’re the looney tunes, and yeah. we’re pretty wacky” thing. if you have to tell me how looney you are i don’t believe you.

sorry again for length i had a lot to say abt this dhsjdjd

MY FRIEND you are sending this to the long ass ramble BLOG!! IT’S MORE THAN WELCOME! especially because i um. kind of exploded in this oops. you are not the long rambler here

and before i get into this too deeply, i just wanna say THANK YOU—both for you sending this and the receptiveness of these Hot Takes. it’s hard for me to put my usual positive spin on this subject because my opinions are so strong, and i’ve ended up annoying a lot of people over this in the past and so i just end up kinda grinning and bearing it.. plus it’s not conductive to my time, spiraling over what i don’t like does no good.. but i do feel so strongly about this because it’s tied to what i do love and. just. YEAH. we all know this. but i still feel the need to apologize because i hate coming off as gatekeepy or like a know it all, it’s not my intent or belief at all. so i’m grateful for you guys giving me the chance to rant and knowing that i’m not alone, because very often i feel that’s not the case :’)

I AGREE WITH THIS.. and thank you for reminding me, i probably should clarify that, again, LT has no canon. these guys are always changing characterization and context. we have shorts where Daffy is miserable and calling Bugs despicable and getting his beak shot off, and in the same release year we’ll have a short where the cartoon ends out on him going HOOHOO HOOHOO and he’s the one with the relatively calm disposition. these characters are always changing! there is no canon! and so i guess when i say i don’t think TLTS is “in character”, i moreso am saying “TLTS doesn’t preserve the integrity of the characters in my eyes”. i’ll get into this in a bit

therein lies the rub. there are persistent character traits regardless of director, but there are so many different shades of character. and modern adaptations don’t have this benefit! because the directors who made these guys are dead, but because modern adaptations don’t have the same sort of flexibility in structure. and i very much think it’s possible to make an “amalgam” of a personality for these guys—i do it all the time! you can borrow elements from multiple different directors and shades of these characters. but the TLTS characterizations are the TLTS characterizations, and i think this makes people think that this is how THE characters act, period. because it’s all they know, and because i think the admittedly convoluted existence of these characters can be hard to understand… at first. i’m losing my words on this, but hopefully that makes sense? i think that’s a very big part of this “condensation” of these characters found in TLTS. and, again, that’s compensated for in the writing by replacing many unique traits these guys have with stock sitcom tropes. and most people don’t know these characters well enough to identify any differently. it’s this caricature-within-a-caricature homogenization, and when you say that these characters weren’t intended to be like that, you’re seen as a blow hard or a pretentious know it all. but yes, please tell us about how “um, actually, Daffy’s neck ring is made of diamonds” when speaking about Daffy as a whole/all LT media as a whole. or how um, actually, these characters are actors (i’m more sympathetic to this one, it’s a common angle for these characters and more modern stuff like Back in Action doesn’t do much in clearing this “misinformation”. but i don’t think people realize that they’re actors only in the shorts where they’re established as actors—it’s just a funny way for the directors to “explain” the meta elements of the shorts, running with the joke of “wouldn’t it be funny if these guys were ACTUALLY actors”? it should only be assumed that they’re actors in the shorts where they say they are. it’s a set dressing. Daffy Duck is Daffy Duck. not Daffy Duck, actor. Porky pulling out a script in Porky’s Duck Hunt does not mean that every single short that has him in it means he’s an actor. it’s just a silly gag. sorry this is irrelevant and more innocent of a misunderstanding, but thats always been something i find myself explaining too and people getting weirdly defensive about)

ANYWAY, getting back to relevancy. i agree with you!! there is a lot about the show's writing that IS funny! again, i should reiterate that i LOVED this show! i've seen every episode a minimum of 3 times, there are still things that make me smirk, i once skipped class to watch episodes in the college library lol. i'm very well acquainted with the show because i was once a fan, and it has made me laugh. but anything i have laughed at is purely divorced of the characters. i would laugh probably more if this were a show that had entirely original characters instead, and i wish it did because it would be one of my favorite shows in that case.

but that's The Thing. it's tied to these legacy characters and does them so. dirty. i always rant about Porky because i think they did him worst, and he's already had such a volatile legacy as is, but i'm ranting about his portrayal again because i think it's just the best encapsulation of my issues with this show. here is my every issue with TLTS summed up in one image:

THIS SHOULD NOT BE A VIDEO THAT EXISTS!!!!! IT LITERALLY GOES AGAINST HIS CORE CHARACTER! I!!!! AHHHH!! i know i sound insane ranting about this because it's Looney Tunes. it's fucking Looney Tunes. but the original directors distinctly abstained from having Porky be too hurt because he's a sensitive character, and they knew that it was unpleasant to watch him get beat up! or made fun of! when Daffy makes fun of his stutter in Tom Turk and Daffy, there's a long pause where Porky just blinks and stares at him and doesn't react, before continuing on with his day. because that puts the blame back on Daffy. the joke isn't "lol Porky stutters", the joke is "lol Daffy is a complete asshole here". and there's no "lol Daffy is a complete asshole here, but we love him, right?" like there is so much of with TLTS. i don't know, they have Daffy act horrifically towards him in TLTS, and i know it's not saying "let's all be like Daffy" BUT PORKY GETS NO.. COMEUPPANCE.. OR ANYTHING. there's no "checking in" or "revising" on Porky's part to show that it didn't affect him. or, a lot of times, the originals will have PORKY be the instigator, and that justifies Daffy's retaliation against him! and, again, in the case where this isn't true, where Daffy is just beating up on him for no good reason (The Ducksters), THE SHORT HAS PORKY GET HIS COMEUPPANCE AND DELIVER THE EXACT SAME TREATMENT TO DAFFY. there is a very carefully curated balance here. because nobody wants to see Porky get beat up. the directors were very conscious of this. Porky in Wackyland has him getting hit on the head with a bunch of bricks, and he starts crying--the remake, Dough for the Do-Do, cuts this out because THEY KNEW THAT WAS UNPLEASANT! EVEN FOR A GAG! i don't really like DftDD, but that's one thing i think they did right.

and THAT'S why i get so mad about the Porky abuse in this show. not only because of how it completely misunderstands the Porky and Daffy dynamic and leading people to make bizarre assumptions about them ("Daffy and Porky are toxic together" 1. it's Looney Tunes 2. no your only understanding of their dynamic is from TLTS which is violently misrepresented 3. IT'S LOONEY TUNES 4. IT'S. LOONEY. TUNES.), but because it just feels like it goes directly against these intentions that the directors had with the character. Porky differs per director, but there are still some resounding rules in place

and it just comes off as accidental resentment for the character. i don't think it's on purpose. i know the whole thing is "but Porky's actually nice, he doesn't deserve this" BUT IT DOESN'T COMMUNICATE THAT EFFECTIVELY. your fat jokes about Porky being fat--WHEN HE'S THE SKINNIEST HE'S EVER BEEN--AND HIM TAKING OFFENSE TO IT, WHICH, AGAIN, SHOULD NOT EVER HAPPEN, EVER, ARE!!!!! I. I JUST LOST MY WORDING I'M SO MAD!!! BUT YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!!!! making an entire song about how Porky is a lonely loser incel shut-in and will never get a date isn't on his side or pitying him. and it's literally just mean for the sake of meanness.

i always feel silly complaining that TLTS is meanspirited, because so are the shorts. this is why we love the shorts. LT is filled with assholes and cynics and characters of every shade of derangement. the shorts are mean. i love Bob McKimson's shorts and they're some of the meanest around. i love them because they're mean. one of my favorite Porky shorts ends with him killing himself and it being played with extreme cynicism. i'm not at all opposed to cynicism or meanness, but that cynicism or meanness in the originals is never at the expense of the actual integrity of the characters. there's a baseline of respect, i guess. the mean-ness in TLTS just comes off to me as putting down the intent of the original characters, and it comes off to me as accidentally disrespecting the vision these directors had for these characters. i again don't think it was on purpose. but you can see how that becomes a chain reaction in fandom circles of fans misrepresenting even what they're watching on TLTS (i've since been told that there are some people out there who say they've gotten into LT, and by that i mean watching those godawful YouTube tumblr-brained compilations that clip things out of context and nothing else. sorry i'm being incredibly mean right now but i just. agh. sorry). and there's just this convoluted chain reaction that ends up feeding into this feeling of disdain for the originals, even if it's unintentional

"Porky would be a more popular character if he wasn't the brunt of so many fat jokes and, in spite of shows like TLTS trying to play it off as irony, it's sort of absorbed by osmosis and subconsciously absorbed into a lot of peoples' opinions about him. the same applies to the stutter jokes through the years" is unfortunately a real opinion i have and got mocked for lol. which, to be fair, there is a lot to mock, it's FUCKING LOONEY TUNES, but it's coming from similarly pedantic people who try to play off their knowledge as gospel and will call you a gatekeeper for saying that that's not representative of the character

ugh sorry im getting on a whole 'nother rant but. like. WHERE'S THE JOKE. WHAT'S THE JOKE HERE. "the joke is that Daffy was wrong the whole time, it's a misunderstanding" OKAY BUT HAVING PORKY TAKE GREAT OFFENSE TO THIS AND NOT EVEN IN AN INDIGNANT WAY, BUT JUST A SAD WAY, MAKES THIS SO UNPLEASANT HOW IS THIS FUNNY. WHERE IS THE FUNNY. "it's funny because he was wrong" BUT THAT STILL DOESN'T MAKE UP FOR THE FACT THAT WE'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO LAUGH AT THIS? "well it's supposed to be meanspirited and Daffy is the asshole" OK BUT THIS IS JUST UNNECESSARILY CRUEL? and THIS IS MY FAVORITE EPISODE OF THE SERIESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! AAAAHHhhh. AND HE'S NOT EVEN FAT HE IS STARVING GIVE MY MAN A SANDWICH

and again i keep saying it but there's this weird phenomenon of "well, the originals made fun of Porky's weight!" Daffy saying "oh well, i'll be [the bigger person]...........goodnight, fatboy!", demonstrating how he's NOT BEING THE BIGGER PERSON AT ALL and is being an immature little shit is SO much more different than this or talking about how Porky needs to lose weight because he has so much face or whatever. not that it makes the fat jokes in the originals better, they're very much there, but at least it feels like there's some sort of weird, twisted endearment behind them. Daffy calling Porky an "overstuffed cherub" is much different than characters telling him straight to his face that he needs to lose weight. and this is not an issue just with TLTS, it's incredibly common all through the past 30 years of LT content, even LTC has a "lol Porky's lying about what he actually ate because he's fat" joke that gets me :/ because the originals never! did! that! and i just. iunno. complete misunderstanding of the originals

and i want to say again that, in spite of all this, i don't think the originals are the end all be all. i don't think you have to see all 1000 LT shorts to be a fan. if you're just in it for TLTS? THAT'S AWESOME! enjoy it! but my issue comes from people acting like these things are FACT and SAYING these are FACT, and will go out of their way to say "don't correct me because i didn't watch some old ass short" or will accuse you of being uppity and "sophisticated" just because you're saying "that's not how this was intended". my issue is that people will "fansplain" (i hate that term im so sorry i know i sound like such a pompous elitist but it gets the point across quickly) these things to me and insist that these misrepresentations are cold hard fact (like, again, Daffy's neck ring), and then they get mad at you for trying to correct them. and it's not like i think people are stupid for not knowing these things!! but there's been such a violent pushback against educating yourself ABOUT FUCKING LOONEY TUNES GUYS IT'S LOONEY TUNES!!!!!! that has really just... ?????? i swear i've never been in a fandom that takes such pleasure in bragging about its refusal to educate itself than i have in the LT fandom. and yall. i have a very unfortunate track record of having been young on the internet and being in fandoms i should not have been. eyeballing the 10 or so of you who followed this blog from 2016-2018. hi.

god i'm getting off on so many different tangents i am so sorry anon i'm just 😭. in response to the fandomification thing/extension of that, i'm not even AGAINST the fandomification of things... IF THEY'RE DONE RIGHT. i've been a part of it and know it firsthand (hi guys you know how you are👋)! write that fic draw that fanfic have fun do what you want, etc. but it's so clear that the CONSUMPTION of these characters is purely FOR a fandom lens, when, preferably, it's the other way around. characters first, then add what you wanna do on top! but it's always the other way around, these characters are fit into the most stock and milquetoast tropes and it becomes a breeding ground of misrepresentation and turns into a domino effect of people yelling at you for disagreeing with their points that they play off as fact. life is short do what you want HAVE FUN FOR YOURSELF FIRST AND FOREMOST. i've been teaching myself this again. you don't have to have The Official LT Guidebook to draw or write what you want. but there is very much a fundamental issue of people viewing these characters with a Fandomification Lens first and foremost and using that to base their entire perception of the character and acting like that is how these characters were intended to behave, and that you're a pompous gatekeeping asshole for saying otherwise

i'm not saying you can't make your ooc posts, i'm not saying you can't ship things, i'm not saying you can't write or watch or surround yourself in what appeals to you. but i am saying that i take issue with the frequent ego problems i've run into this fandom. THE LT FANDOM. IT'S LOONEY TUNES!!!! i take issue with the ego problems i run into that are based purely on misinformation, and the borderline pride people get out of refusing to budge from it. there's so much proud ignorance and i just. iunno. me getting offended on behalf of a bunch of dead 110 year old men who have offended me on multiple occasions with some of their cartoons doesn't do anything very productive either, but. "Anti-Intellectualism and The Looney Tunes Fandom: An Essay". <- that's it that's the tweet because it made me laugh because of how insane it sounds, but i can't say it's not the point i'm trying to make

i also agree wholeheartedly with the 90s thing too. ugh. these characters and these directors and this franchise has been done so dirty over and over again

thank you so much for giving me a chance to rant i am so sorry for how whiny and obnoxious i've surely been i've just hit my limit 🙃 so many problems could be solved by watching a Daffy Duck cartoon instead (a real one that does his character justice) (just kidding) (kind of) (a little bit) (hypothetically)

how it feels

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

I saw a comment on the post-trial shortonegaming video that went something like this: "everyone loves Gonta, but no one respects him," and honestly, I think that's a great way to sum it up. They all love him and care about him, but they don't really take him seriously.

And it's noticeable in smaller things, like when almost everyone brushes off his comments about tiny bugs (and in bonus interactions he talks about it A LOT). But in the 4th trial this is even more obvious. They don't see him as a person who could kill for everyone's sake. They only see him as a victim.

Gonta is a very observant person with strong moral principles and a desire to be helpful. But mostly he's seen as a kind but very naive child. And this is a different, but really heartbreaking kind of pain💔

(Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember people saying much when he calls himself stupid. He does this a lot, but people often don't go out of their way to convince him that it's not true. They scold Kokichi when he says this about Gonta, but they don't say much when Gonta says so himself. Of course, I could be wrong, maybe I need to pay more attention to it next time)

Anyway, I really enjoy reading your thoughts about Gonta! I liked him before, but you made me appreciate him on a whole different level❤

I haven’t seen shortonegaming’s post trial video yet, but yeah. That’s a really accurate way to put it. Gonta has always seemed so isolated from the others, never having one close friend/ally for longer than one chapter. He was always appreciated and loved, but not respected as a person so never fully integrated into the group. Its part of why I think going from having a small group of people working with him in the student council to being completely by himself in chapter 4 (with his ideas always dismissed in this chapter, even if it was to stop him from sacrificing himself) added to everything he was feeling at the time.

And it SUCKS. Because as you said, nobody says anything when he self deprecates, only when Kokichi really pushes it in chapter 4. Even when Miu is rude to him in previous chapters a couple of times, nothing. Because they take his self loathing at face value despite the fact that he IS smart. He’s very thoughtful, observant, and brave. One thing that stuck out to me in trial 4 was Himiko defending Gonta from Kokichi’s accusations, she said something along the lines of “Gonta couldn’t have done all of that! He’s not smart-“ before getting interrupted by Kokichi with something else. Not only do a lot of them casually brush him off, but they also agree with his own judgements of himself without questioning it.

The only person who ever tried to push back against Gonta being hard on himself, if I remember correctly, was Kaito. Sometimes, when Gonta would apologize for something a bit excessively, Kaito would say “a man shouldn’t apologize so easily!” (Which isn’t exactly a good way to correct that but. Thank you Kaito for trying). The only other time I remember was that moment between them in the virtual world right before Gonta goes to kill Miu, where Kaito directly counters him calling himself stupid. But I genuinely can’t remember any other character saying anything like this. (If anyone else remembers, please let me know!!)

But yeah. It’s just so so tragic. And it’s why I think post game Gonta would be such a lonely person.

And thank you for the kind words q^q it makes me more happy than you could know to hear that me posting about Gonta has got people to appreciate him more. He’s such a special character to me and it’s so rare to find fanworks going into these parts about him

[forest-hashira]

Dragon Powers

AU POSTING HOURS AGAIN!!! this time you all will be learning the powers each dragon has. I don't have powers assigned to every dragon yet bc i'm a little obsessive when it comes to making a good match but this post will include all the dragons that do! next post will probably be the names of all the named dragon so far, so be on the lookout for that this weekend!

before i get started, when i say "powers" i mean an element a given dragon has a certain amount of control over, usually in the form of being able to spit/breathe whatever element it is but i will include any other important info. if this is still confusing just lmk and i can try to elaborate more! just know that i do plan to explore the range/limits of each dragon's powers in the actual fic by showing them in action. that being said, here is what i've got so far!

Note: pronouns will refer mostly to the dragons themselves. I will refer to the riders by name

Satoru's dragon's power is ice. This means he is comfortable even in freezing weather in a way most other dragons are not, and is generally resistant to/happy in the cold & snow. He is also the fastest dragon over long distances.

Suguru's dragon's power is wind. He is capable of creating strong gusts and even vortexes (like tornadoes) with his mouth or with the movement of his body. He has the best endurance of any of the dragons in this AU.

Reader's dragon's powers are unknown. Very little about metallic dragons is fully understood, and she has yet to demonstrate power over any particular element. She is faster than Satoru's dragon in short bursts (anywhere from 5-15 minutes, depending on weather & other factors). She is also the largest dragon in the settlement, which gives her a slight advantage over them when it comes to strength.

Yuji's dragon's power is fire. Nearly all dragons are resistant to burns to a certain extent (though ice dragons like Satoru's are the most susceptible), but being able to breathe fire means that she is completely immune to burns.

Nobara's dragon's power is lightning. She can both create & direct lightning bolts, and any lightning bolts she creates are accompanied by a clap of thunder, just like real lightning. However, this does mean that she is frequently surrounded by excess energy and is prone to give people intense static shocks if she's touched (even Nobara, sometimes).

Maki's dragon does not have a power. Despite this, he is the fastest and strongest multi color dragon in this au. His agility both on the ground and in the air is unmatched (most dragons are only very agile in one or the other).

Toge's dragon can manipulate sound waves. Mostly this looks like her amplifying her cries/shrieks to the point that they can shatter glass and burst eardrums from their volume and/or frequency.

DISCLAIMER HERE BECAUSE BEYOND THIS IS DISCUSSION OF THE CURSES' DRAGONS

Sukuna's dragons powers are poison and fire. Like Yuji's dragon, this makes him immune to burns, but with the added immunity to virtually all types of poisons, especially airborne poisons. His poisonous fumes are also flammable. His strength is well above most other dragons.

Kenjaku's dragon's power is wind. His abilities are the same as Suguru's dragon, but his endurance is not as high as Suguru's dragon's endurance.

Mahito's dragon's power is acid. He is not immune to burns, like Yuji's and Sukuna's dragons, but his resistance is higher than most other dragons. His resistance to poison is similarly heightened, but he is not immune. His agility is heightened, almost on the same level as Maki's dragon.

This is all I have so far! anyone who was mentioned in any of the previous posts as having a role in this AU who is not in this post does not yet have a power assigned to their dragon. I will update this post accordingly as other dragons are assigned powers.

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

You are actually the only person I have seen say anything that makes sense regarding HDWR recently, thank you for your good takes. I love this manga, but it really feels like I’m not reading the same story as most people sometimes

I for the record think that there is a lot (in fact i'd say majority) of interesting discussion about hdwr, even now, (just the other day in the main tag i saw a post that i liked talking about tamaki as a character & her and miwa's relationship and despite the subreddit having a lot of silly posts lately i think a couple months ago around ch. 113's release there were a lot of good comments about MiwaSae and both of their development throughout the story and I think even now there's good discussion about ch. 119 and miwa and tamaki burried in the silly stuff) and in some sense like i feel like the current wave with ch. 119 was always going to happen, it's a very emotionally charged topic that we're seeing how much it hurt a character people tend to like so like i understand being upset by it and having strong opinions about it.

That all being said, the kind of discussion that tends to surround the story of "sae was unfair/toxic to miwa" "tamaki has always been manipulative" "yuria is unfair to sae" are baffling to me because I feel like to get anything out of this story- to not instantly just be frustrated with it- you have to interact with it a little bit on its terms and I think part of that is acknowledging that these characters are more complex than the simple one word "abusive/toxic/manipulative/innocent" labelling and have complex emotions and imperfect reasoning that cause them to make mistakes, be cruel to each other, and do the wrong things. This doesn't excuse the characters' actions but that's not what the story is interested in doing anyway.

And like, I don't think the story is for everyone, I don't think everyone has to want to interact with the story on those terms; which is why while i personally don't agree with the kind of people who say "i had to stop reading when miwa and sae broke up bc it was too sad/too frustrating" and the like, I can at least understand it as just the story has goals that reader doesn't want to engage with, which is completely understandable. Where it confuses me is getting so far through the story and still not choosing to interact with the story on its terms. What are you getting out of this story then??? Does viewing sae as toxic enhance the story for you? Is it a useful way in looking at the narrative?

Especially since I feel like tamifull has attempted to make these characters realistic almost to invite us the reader to examine both ourselves and our relationships as we read. Is How Do We Relationship a useful tool to to analyze yourself or your own relationships with if you flatten the characters into good and bad? Is that a lens you'd want to view your own relationships with? I don't think so. I feel like the only things it could lead to is "i wouldn't make that mistake because I'm not toxic." "i wouldn't find myself in this situation because me and my partner aren't like them." So like. What benefit does viewing these characters in this way give you? You clearly seem to agree with/like the goals of the story if you're still here 100+ chapters later so like. What are you getting out of this?

I dunno. Like i said, I do think there's still a lot of good discussion about hdwr. That's why I still lurk the subreddit and read posts in the main tag. It's just this specific genre of discussion i can't understand especially when it happens with like more recent chapters

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 3

In which things are made official.

Warnings: smut in the middle. lando being jealous. Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 4.6k words

(a note: happy new year loves!!! hope you enjoy part three!!)

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername testing testing... BFFSarah so jealous! >>>yourusername miss you! ❤️ landonorris stalker >>>yourusername 😘 >>>BFFSarah 👀

"I'm funnier than Greg, right?" Lando grumbles, not even bothering to take his eyes off of you.

"Mate, what?" Oscar replies, eyes narrowed, totally mystified as to what the hell his teammate is talking about. "Like, Greg, the guy on the strategy team Greg?"

"Yeah, him." Lando raises his chin towards where you stand opposite of said strategy Greg, laughing (even louder this time) at something he's said. Lando knuckles go white on the counter he's standing when Greg leans in just a bit too close for his comfort.

It was the first day of testing in Bahrain and Lando had just come in from his first test stint of the 2025 season. When he'd walked into the garage a few minutes earlier, he'd instantly clocked where you stood near the back of the garage staring up at a few computer monitors beside his newest nemesis, Greg. At first he hadn't thought anything of it but then he heard you laugh, a sound that was quickly becoming one of his favorite things, and he had stopped what he was doing to stare.

"I don't think I know Greg's sense of humor well enough to be the judge of that." Oscar responds, still confused as to why Lando was asking him such a random question. When Oscar follows Lando's line of sight though, everything clicks into place and starts to make a lot more sense.

"Oh..." He mutters, unable to quell the smirk that surfaces.

"'Oh' what?" Lando snaps, still attempting to assassinate Greg with a glare.

"You're jealous." Oscar practically giggles. He might be the quieter one of the driver duo, but that quiet demeanor meant that he noticed a lot more than other people gave him credit for and Oscar had caught onto Lando's crush after the first time he had stumbled into your office and disappeared on him for hours.

Lando finally tears his eyes away from where you're standing, still staring up in rapt attention to Greg. "I most certainly am not." He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest in a move that is very reminiscent of a Stella temper tantrum.

"You two aren't even together, are you?" Oscar reasons, doing next to nothing to reassure Lando that he has nothing to be worried about.

Lando narrows his eyes at the Australian as he fights a pout. "I mean, no. Not technically, I guess."

And that was the problem, wasn't it? You two had been on a few dates and he'd been coming over to your house to hang with you and Stella more and more but a serious discussion of what was happening? He'd been too scared to have that kind of talk with you so quick. You made him nervous but being rejected by you sounded even worse.

"Maybe you should like, talk to her about it then? If that's what you want? I mean, I've never seen the sight of a girl talking to someone else send you into orbit like this before. You really like her, don't you?"

Oscar had worked hard to keep his opinion of you and Lando together to himself. He hated when people commented on his relationship with Lily, which was a big reason why they were so quiet together, so he had made it a point not to press when it came to you. He'd spent most of the morning with you though, while Lando was in the car and he could see why Lando was so attached to you already. You were wicked smart and the program that you had been writing for the team was impressive. He knew there were other people in Lando's life that didn't think the driver could handle being with someone like you but the more Oscar got to know you, the more he could see why you two got on so well.

Lando's gaze slides back to you then. "I do, yeah." He murmurs, a sudden sense of determination settling over him. Before he has the chance to chicken out once again, he pats Oscar on the back and starts off towards where you and Greg are still huddled together in front of a computer screen.

"Greg, can I steal her away from you real quick?" Lando says by way of greeting, his tone needlessly possessive. "Will and I wanted to go through last sessions data with you before lunch." He lies.

You hadn't noticed the way Lando had been staring daggers at you and Greg up until that very moment but the feral look he's giving you takes you by surprise. Greg had approached you as Lando's session had wound down and your new program was stretching its legs on your laptop. He wanted to talk about the inputs you were adding in for this year and give you some feedback on the initial data capture of this morning's session. It was totally innocent and when Lando had slid up next to you practically breathing fire, you had been a bit caught off guard.

"I'll see you at the cocktail party later tonight, Greg." You give him a smile before turning back to Lando. "Where do you want to go, the debrief room?"

"Sure." Lando huffs, giving Greg a fake smile before grabbing your elbow and leading you towards an empty conference room. Like hell you were going to see Gregory at any point for the rest of the day.

You're totally confused at the way he's practically dragging you down the hallway and even more perplexed when Lando nearly slams the door closed behind him and you find the debrief room completely empty. "Where's Will?"

"What?" Lando frowns.

"You said you and Will wanted to go over some data after your session." Annoyance moves through you. What in the world was going on?

"Oh, yeah no. I lied." Lando glares at you like you're the insane one, frown deepening.

"Lando!" You sputter, resisting the urge to chuck the nearest laptop at his head. "I was in the middle of a conversation with Greg."

When he rolls his eyes, you swear you see red. "Yeah, I know. We all saw how endlessly entertaining the conversation was."

The pout that finds it's way onto his face is what unlocks everything for you though. Sudden understanding washes over you as it all finally clicks.

"You're jealous!" You gasp, desperately trying not to burst into a fit of giggles.

Lando at least as the decency to look a bit ashamed of his behavior but attempts to deny it. "I am not."

You arch an eyebrow at the man standing across from you as if he's not the easiest book in the world to read. "Lando Norris, you were jealous of a man who was telling me all about how his boyfriend took him on a trip to the Bahamas over the holidays and got bitten by a wild swimming pig."

The way Lando's cheeks go scarlet as he crosses his arms over his chest nearly has you doubled over with laughter.

"Oh."

"Oh is right, you muppet." You chuckle, using the term of endearment he's become famous for. In a few strides, your within arms length of him, tugging at the waist of his half unzipped race suit. Lando takes a step forward as you pull him closer.

"Jealously looks good on you, Norris." You smirk before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, mindful of the fact that you're still at work.

Lando settles his hands on your hips, drawing you even closer to him, seemingly forgetting that he's still at work. He grins down at you, a flirty glint sparking in his eyes.

"Yeah, well. What can I say? The sight of some idiot flirting with my girlfriend kind of set me off."

Your hands slip around Lando's waist. Heart hammering so fast you're amazed Lando can't hear it, you beam up at him. You'd never experienced the kind of contentment and safety you felt whenever you were with Lando before. He frequently caught you off balance like this and had you feeling like you were a teenager again, still believing in fairy tales and happy endings.

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"That's right." He whispers. The rasp in his voice has you pressing your hips into his, seeking friction from his body.

"Well, since I'm your girlfriend then I guess you’ll be needing this for later tonight." Reaching into the back pocket of your jeans, your fingers find the thin plastic card you'd stashed there to slip into Lando's hand sometime this afternoon.

Anticipation sparks between your bodies as Lando figures out what you've just pressed into his palm. All this time he'd been building up this big conversation that he thought had to be had and nervously putting so much pressure on himself to do this all the right way. It had only taken a matter of seconds though and you had reminded him that it like most everything that happened between you and him, this was easy too. There's a silent understanding that passes between you two then that maybe this was how it was supposed to be from the beginning and that sometimes wires get crossed and we meet people later than the universe intended.

"I have to get back to work and you should really find Will and actually debrief but I think I'd like to skip tonights cocktail hour if that's okay with you."

Lando reluctantly lets go and nods, swallowing around the thick lump of emotion stuck in his throat.

"Yeah." He croaks before reaching back out to bring your face to his, kissing you so intensely your knees buckle. "I'll see you tonight."

Not even five minutes after Lando responds to your text, you hear the beeping of the lock to your hotel room door and it swings open moments later. Anxiety flows through you despite the flirty text you'd just sent. This kind of thing was totally out of your wheel house, with most of your adult life spent focusing on your daughter and not dating. It had been Sarah's suggestion to send that risky text but after your conversation with Lando earlier, you were briefly confident that it would be well received. And judging by his response, you were right. That didn't do much to calm your nerves though so the knock on your door sends the butterflies in your belly flying around in what feels like a category five tornado.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Lando groans when he sees you kneeling on the bed waiting for him. Every thought tumbles straight out of his head at the sight of you waiting for him in nothing but black bits of lace. If he had known this was what had been waiting for him all night, he certainly wouldn't have gone to dinner with some of the team.

"You like it then?" You ask, barely resisting the urge to dive under the covers you feel so exposed under his gaze. Lando can't stop staring and it's starting to make you nervous, the way he's dragging his eyes up and down your body without making an attempt to move from where he stands just inside your hotel room.

"Like it? Baby, are you fucking kidding me? I don't think I've ever seen a prettier sight in my entire life." The rasp in his voice drags down your skin like sandpaper.

"Then stop staring and get over here."

Lando obeys immediately, toeing off his shoes before joining you on the bed. His hands find your hips and before you can make a sound, he's pulling you into his lap and attaching his lips to your neck.

"I think everyone got the impression I was about to be sick or something, I got up from that table so fucking fast." He mumbles against you. "Also, give me some warning next time you're going to send me that kind of thing, Osc nearly got an eye full of something that is for my eyes only."

Lando had been attempting to show Oscar something on his phone when your text had come through and the moment he'd swapped over to his iMessage app he was glad that Andrea had picked that exact second to call Oscar's name. He had shut down the message app so fast, all of his blood rushing straight from his head to below his belt.

"Oops." You giggle. "Sorry."

"You're not one bit sorry, don't lie."

All you do is shrug as you preen under his attention. He eyes drag lazy lines up and down your body, stalling when they fall on the black lace barely hiding your most intimate parts. The heat of his gaze has fire stoking deep in your belly and for the first time in years, you feel desired and wanted. It's an unfamiliar feeling that you're still getting used to but with Lando, it feels safe. You feel cared for and it's unlike anything you've ever experienced with anyone you've slept with before. Which, to be totally honest, wasn't a lot. You haven't been in a serious relationship since Stella's dad, the only dates you've gone on in the last six years usually ending in casual flings that don't end up meaning much outside of the bedroom.

This though? This feels different and you know Lando feels the same.

Lando's hands grip at your hips as he moves you off his lap briefly and stands up. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head when he unbuckles his belt with one hand, tugging it off in one smooth motion, the leather slapping against itself and echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. 

“Jesus.” You breathe and desperately try to catch your breath as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. You've known that Lando has a sinfully good body for a while, his entire career is centered around his body afterall so naturally, he is in amazing shape. There’s a reason that women will do next to anything to get any of the drivers in their bed. Nothing prepared you for the hard planes of his chest and the insane cut of his abs though. The way his waist nips in to show off a deep V cut of his torso makes your mouth water. With both his jeans and shirt now discarded, he stands in front of you in just a pair of gray boxers that do absolutely nothing to hide how rock hard he is.

Fuck. 

Before you can stop yourself, you rise up on your knees and move towards him, needing to get your hands on his body. On your knees before him while he’s standing, you only come up to his collar bones but that’s enough. You drop kisses on his heated flesh and relish the way his breath hitches in his throat when your lips make contact. He allows you to continue kissing him for several moments, his hands roaming all over your body. You don’t know how long it is but after his hands have taken full a full tour of your skin, he pulls back and looks at you with a primal glint in his eyes. “Lay down." He orders "I need my tongue on you. Now.” 

You obey and crawl back, watching him prowl after you. Your head rests on the pile of pillows as he covers you with his body and suddenly, the insecurity and anxiety from earlier flashes through your mind. You've never been with anyone who seemed to want to do anything but fuck you and then be done with it. This reverence for your body is completely foreign and the reality of what is about to happen crashes through the haze of lust that clouds your mind.

You must stiffen a bit because a frown appears on Lando's face as his arms cage you in and he hovers over you. “Baby?” 

You shake your head, refusing to let your insecurity ruin the night. Your eyes close and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I’m fine.” You whisper but Lando doesn’t believe you. He drops back onto his knees and straddles you, drawing back so he can see your entire face. 

“What’s wrong? We don’t have to do this tonight if you’re not ready.” 

Your face heats, but from embarrassment this time. Fuck. You do not want to ruin this.

“No. It’s okay. I just…I’m just not used to this kind of attention.” You don’t tell him how your're used to being used for your body, for whatever pleasure your partner can get out of me and nothing more. You don’t tell him how insecure it makes you to think that he could do the same thing to you too, despite how safe and good he makes you feel no matter what. Sometimes, habits are hard to break. Especially habits that are born out of trauma. You can't tell him any of that though because you think it might break his heart. 

Lando tilts his head and seemingly understands what you're saying. “I don’t know what the fuck the guys in your life were thinking, having you in their bed and not treating you properly, but baby, I am not them. This is not about me, this is about you.” His fingers trace long, lazy lines from your shoulder down over your bra and continue down your body as you shudder with pleasure.

“That’s it." He coos. "I know you’re scared but I swear to you, you are safe with me.” His voice is barely a whisper but you can hear the sincerity in it. Your heart thunders in your chest as you hover between wanting to stop and throwing every bit of caution away and allowing him to do whatever he wants to you. 

“I know I am. I always have been.” You hum.

“Do you want to stop? You just have to say the word and we will. This is yours to control.” 

Your eyes search his for any trace of anger and when you find nothing but honesty in his face, you shake your head. “Please don’t stop.”

You desperately do not want him to stop. 

Once he’s sure you're okay, he crashes his mouth on yours once again and you melt into him. His body is so heavy on top of you but it feels oh so good. You never want it to end. You never want tonight to end. Lando presses kisses into your skin all down your body, starting at your jaw, moving slowly downwards. Kisses on that dip between your neck and shoulders, lower to your sternum, even lower to just above where your bra still sits. He stops then and snakes a hand behind you, lifting you up momentarily, and unclasps the back with surprising ease.

“Okay, that was way too easy for you.” You accuse, laughter bubbling up as he tosses the bra across the room. 

His eyes find yours and he shrugs casually, “What?” He feigns innocence, “Lucky first try?” 

“Oh, whatever. Get back to work.” You order, laughter teasing at the edge of your voice. 

Lando shakes his head again, dropping his head back where he had left off and turns his attention to one of your nipples, taking it fully in his mouth. You inhale a sharp breath at the sensation coursing through you. It feels like your skin is on fire, all leading down to a single throb between your legs. He hums in satisfaction when your back arches off the bed. A moan escapes your lips when he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin, the pain sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. After what feels like an eternity, he turns his attention to the other nipple, already pebbled and hard, aching for the same attention. Your mind goes blank as you focus on the jolts of electricity coursing through your body. Your hands tangle in his curls, gripping at the tangles of brown hair, needing something to latch onto. 

“Lan.” His name is a whispered prayer on your lips. 

“Fuck. Baby.” He comes up for air briefly to look at you again and you almost can’t stand to look at him, he looks so good. His lips are swollen from kissing you for so long and he's got this heavy lidded, lustful hazy gaze in his eyes that you've never seen from him before.

“You taste so good.” He rasps before shifting back up to land kisses on your lips. You're so focused on what his lips are doing that you completely miss his fingers digging into your hips. You let out a startled cry when the sound of ripping fabric cuts through the breathy sighs that have filled the room. 

“Lando!” You whine, “I liked those!” You look at the torn bits of black lace that he’s dropped next to him on the bed and sigh dramatically.

“They were in my way. I’ll buy you fifty more tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, his hand dips down towards your pussy and anticipation climbs in you. You gasp when he sinks not one, but two fingers into the heat between your legs.  Your entire body aches off the bed towards his hand. “Christ. Baby. You are fucking soaked for me, aren’t you?” 

It’s all you can do to just nod an affirmation as he swirls his fingers in achingly slow circles. His thick fingers inch closer to your clit but manage to avoid it and you know he’s doing it on purpose. You wiggle your hips in search of that friction you crave so badly but every time you get close, he moves his fingers out of the way. By the fourth time this happens, you're a whimpering mess underneath him and Lando is clearly enjoying it. “Lando.” You whimper. “Touch me.” 

“I am touching you.” He drops another hot kiss on your jaw and traces his tongue down your neck. You swear you're going to explode from the sensations coursing through your body. 

“You know exactly what I fucking mean.” You snap and move your hips again, only to find his fingers just short of the destination you want them in yet again. 

An evil chuckle tickles your skin. “I like you like this. A pretty little mess underneath me. My girl is so wet for me, isn’t she?” 

His girl. The emotions crash through you at his words and every other thought beyond those two words leaves your brain. 

His girl. 

His girl. 

Your brain chants the all consuming phrase. 

Just when you think you can’t take it any more and you feel that familiar tug at the base of your spine and Lando finally gives you what you've been aching for. The pad of his thumb brushes against your clit and your hips fly off the bed towards his fingers. A cry escapes your lips as you claw at his back. He keeps up the same pace and you can feel yourself barreling towards a delicious release.

“Please. Don’t. Stop.” You pant, breath coming in short gasps as you rock your hips against his hand. Thankfully, he keeps his hand exactly where it is and allows you to grind against it, knowing that this is exactly what you need from him. His lips come down on yours again and when he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, you fly over the cliff.

Sweet release shatters your entire body and you stiffen against him. Your nails dig into his back, leaving little half moons embedded in his flesh. He’ll have red welts there for days and he couldn’t be happier about it. You don’t know how many times you cry out his name but he keeps completely still, allowing you to get the relief that you desperately need against him. 

When your orgasm subsides, you practically melt into the bed, mind too muddled with pleasure to talk. You open your eyes and grin lazily at Lando, who has shifted so he’s lying next to you on the bed. He’s grinning right back and tracing shiver-inducing lines up and down your naked skin.

“Fuck. Lando. That…” You are completely lost for words so it takes you a moment to form a complete sentence, “That was the first time anyones been able to make me come with just their fingers.” 

“Well, I’m glad I could be your first.” He smirks, dropping a kiss on your temple as he pulls you closer to him.

You turn to face him and you're struck at how handsome he is. His curly hair is messy from when you pulled at it while he was getting you off, his eyes glassy with satisfaction even though he hasn’t even come himself yet. He seems to get off just watching you and that is a completely foreign concept.

You reach out and feel the light stubble that covers his jaw, enjoying the rough feel against your fingers. You idly wonder what that stubble would feel like against your thighs and decide that you're just going to have to find out exactly what it feels like soon. That one single thought sends heat flooding through your veins once again and you're surprised. You've never considered myself to be one of those girls that could go several rounds. Usually you were finished after one orgasm, most of the time it was faked anyway. But with Lando laying next to you, you feel like you could do this for the rest of the night. A mischievous grin slips across your face as you reach over and push him back into the pillows.

Before you allow yourself to think about what you're doing, you straddle him and relish in the feeling of his dick that is now nudging against your ass. “I think I need you inside me now.” You tell him and squeal when his pupils blow and he flips you onto your back without warning. 

Hours later, you fall into such a deep sleep you don't notice Lando slip out of bed to get a drink of water from the bathroom. You'd spent the better part of the evening underneath him as he gradually worked you over so good you had lost count of how many times he had made you come.

The mattress dips when he joins you back in bed and Lando is surprised to find that he doesn't want to leave you. Up until meeting you, Lando had been more of a one night stand, never sleep over, kind of person when it came to sex. Getting back into bed with you and pulling you close so he could fall asleep with you tucked next to him was something he never thought he'd want but now that he had it, he knew he'd never be able to live without it again.

When Lando pulls you towards him, you stir a bit, enjoying the way the heat of his body warms your naked skin. You're so fucked out from everything Lando did to your body, your brain is a little sluggish but you turn into him, burying your head deep into his chest.

"You left me." You whine sleepily.

Lando slots his leg between yours, hitching your top leg up over his waist. "I'm sorry, baby." He whispers against your hair. "I needed a drink but I'm not going anywhere."

"I thought you left." In your sleepy haze, the words you probably would've tamped down slip out. "Please don't leave me."

Lando knows you're more than half asleep and probably don't realize what you're saying but something in your words has him feeling you don't just mean for the night. "I'm not going anywhere, sweet girl. Not ever." He whispers, listening to the soft cooing sound you make in response before you drift right back off to sleep.

Tag list: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @glitteryturtledeer @mindless-rock @piastei-fvx

[holybibly]

𝔗𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔱 | Mingi x reader

Pairing: Professor Mingi x cam girl | student reader Summary: You hated Professor Song Mingi wholeheartedly. He was young, successful, too handsome to benefit himself, and сonfident as the devil himself. The living embodiment of all your red flags - 10 out of 10 on the "rich, narcissist, idiot" list. At the same time, Song Mingi was the sexiest, most gorgeous man you'd ever seen. But what will you do when Professor Song discovers your dirty little secret? And that he might be too interested in giving you a private lesson in good manners? Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, University!AU, Sex Work!AU, Non-idol!AU, sugar daddy, student х teacher, forbidden relationships, cam girl. Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 10.3 k Warnings: Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play, spanking, orgasm delay, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), sex work and more. net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: This ff has been in my drafts for a very long time and was supposed to be a really sweet "gift" for my bunnies. But for various reasons, it didn't turn out the way I had planned, and I'm personally not entirely happy with what I've written. But I tried too hard, so I'm posting it. I hope that the bunnies will be pleased with the amount of debauchery and lust that I am about to offer you.

Bunnies, Professor Song is waiting for you in the lecture hall.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity

The real life of a student is not always as fun and glamorous as it might seem at first glance. If you think university life is an endless whirlwind of parties and passionate romances, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Student life is nothing more than tonnes of homework, endless stress, and litres of coffee, which you probably drink on an empty stomach because you've been up all night studying for the next 'ultra-important' lesson, and of course impossibly annoying and boring professors who seem to be just waiting for the moment to ruin your life. So when there was an announcement at the beginning of the new term that your group would have a new French literature professor, you were completely oblivious. Your previous professor had been a boring, retired man with an unhealthy obsession with young female students and cigarettes who always left his classroom reeking of tobacco, so you didn't expect much from another 'amazing' professor. But, God, you were wrong. Professor Song Mingi was maybe, just maybe, the most handsome and attractive man you had ever seen in your life. With his elegant and chiselled features, he could definitely pass for a haute couture model. His body was an art form in itself and the hottest topic of discussion in the entire university, not only among the crowd of blushing girls in love but also among the female faculty members. 

The way his perfectly pressed classic shirts fit his broad-shouldered, muscular body and the tight, expensive fabric of his pants tightened over his thick, juicy thighs, outlining every muscle, could leave no one indifferent, and even you gave in to the temptation of checking his Instagram profile, especially on lonely evenings. In your defence, you weren't the only one who started fondling herself when thinking of Professor Song Mingi. After all, how could you resist when the man was literally a walking list of the categories on Pornhub? But while Professor Song was a wet dream come to life, he was also the biggest jerk you've ever met. And there were more than a few of them. He was 10 out of 10 on your red flag list: arrogant, narcissistic, annoying, and impossibly self-centred. The world seemed to revolve around him as he looked down on everyone from his lofty perch. 

Seriously, every time you thought he couldn't be more handsome and sexy, Mingi would rush out to prove otherwise, driving everyone around him crazy, but in the process, you found even more horrible traits that both excited you and made you hate him with all your heart. 

And it seemed that you weren't the only one to feel hatred and resentment, as Professor Song, for reasons unknown to you, decided to make your life a living hell, infuriating you with his every word and action. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't live up to Mingi's high standards, and you always ended up at the very bottom of his class. In all seriousness, the man treated you as if he had the proverbial stick in his arse 24 hours a day. But God, that arse, if you had the chance, you would have loved to sink your teeth into it. It was juicy and firm, and it just created an irresistible urge to hold it in your palms and pull his body closer as Professor Song fucked you hard into the mattress. All in all, if Mingi had been able to hold his lectures standing with his back to the students all the time, as a good student, you would have wanted a seat in the front row, but hell, that was a pipe dream because Professor Song Mingi found a new way to drive you to hysteria every time. 

It was really fucked up; you were rewriting your report for the third time, and it looked like you were going to keep on doing it for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't matter to Professor Song that everyone who read your report praised what you said and thought or that you spent a lot of time writing it, sacrificing sleep and nerve cells. But it seemed that nothing could live up to Mingi's standards, which no mortal could ever hope to reach—except for himself, of course. 

"Your report lacks depth and understanding of the subject; I'm afraid you weren't paying enough attention while I lectured, Y/N. Did you have more important things to do than listen? Your report is not very good for a student in the third year. I am going to have to ask you to make significant changes; otherwise, you will not be able to pass in my class. Don't let me down this time, or I'll have to take even more serious measures against you."

As if all you ever thought about was being a good girl for him, slobbering all over him, and giving him obedient nods. He can go fuck himself. You hated Song Mingi so much. 

French literature was always the first class of the day on a Friday, and it was absolutely terrible. After listening to Professor Song lecture for two hours in his deep, pornographic voice, you usually spend the rest of the day looking grumpy and depressed. And to top it all off, Mingi decided to wear one of his most stunning black designer classic shirts today, in which he unbuttoned a few buttons so that everyone around him could admire his stunningly smooth skin, which you wanted to lick. You swear that this man is a true spawn of hell, sent to earth to be your tormentor and sexual frustration. Needless to say, as well as he ruining your mood, your panties were hopelessly ruined by the sticky juices that tickled your labia whenever you moved. 

"Good, at least this day is finally over."  You mutter tiredly to yourself as you enter the dormitory that you share with your best friend, who you can't seem to see anywhere at the moment, which is understandable since it's Friday.

Shit, it's Friday; how could you forget it? Damned Professor Song Mingi. You forgot you were supposed to be streaming tonight because you were so caught up in the whole situation. 

You hadn't planned to do this all along. It was just a one-time thing to pay off some debts, but money is a real drug that you get addicted to too quickly. But it wasn't just the money; it was the attention. The huge amount of attention you got from your followers was so sweet and exciting that it was impossible to refuse. So, like most other poor girls, it was no surprise that you got sucked into sex work and webcamming too quickly. It was good money that paid your way through university and your way of life without much thought for the future. You received thousands of comments from people who were desperate to fuck that pretty pink cunt of yours, as they had always told you, or to do many other lewd and horrible things to you. You weren't ashamed to admit that you had always been an attention whore, and their words and praise made you want more. It gave you confidence in your body and gave you immense power over those on the other side of the screen, just because of your well-groomed little cunt.

With an excited smile on your face, you walk to your room and remember the package that was delivered to you this morning. A very special gift that you are hoping will be the highlight of this evening's stream. You give a slight squeak as you see a beautiful black box made of heavy, expensive cardboard sitting in the middle of your bed, with a small envelope on top of it. You pick it up, sit down on the bed, and bite your plump lower lip in anticipation. The envelope looks like it came from one of those books of gothic literature that you love so much. It's as black as the box it came in, with a blood-red wax seal in the middle.

As you carefully remove the seal, revealing the small note inside, your whole body subconsciously warms.

"I hope this will make you think of me, doll." Le Maître 

The white ink on the black matte paper looks too formal, and you're a little disappointed that the note isn't handwritten. But just to be on the safe side, there's no hint as to who the mysterious sender of the parcel might be. After all, for your own safety, you had to accept the parcel under a made-up pseudonym. 

Le Maître. You practically squealed like a schoolgirl when this user first appeared in your paid private chatroom after one of your streams. There were a few other people there, but Le Maître was different; he was regal and bossy to you despite the fact that he paid to jerk off on your body. He was your number one viewer, attending every stream, sending you huge amounts of money, and complimenting and praising you. By now, you can definitely see that you've developed an unhealthy obsession with praise ever since the first time he referred to you as his "good girl."

Just a few days ago, he sent you a text message saying that he wanted to do something special for you—a little gift in celebration of the fact that your account now has over 25,000 subscribers. The gorgeous gift box on your lap is a special gift, and you have an inkling of what's inside the decadent scarlet corrugated paper. You impatiently rifle through the layers of wrapping paper and gasp when you see what you have received—a little sex machine. As you inspect the shiny, erotic pleasure device, you notice a small piece of paper attached to the sturdy, mechanical body of the machine.  "A special gift for my angel, who already has more than 25,000 subscriptions. You are such a sweet girl. Please use it in your next stream so your Maître can see it. P.S. I have a controller, Dolly."

You swallow loudly, feeling a nervous shiver run through your body and heat build in the pit of your stomach; you're sure your pussy is already wet with a strangely arousing anticipation, juices dripping down the quivering folds onto your lace panties. Fuck, he's really going to fuck you, thanks to this sex machine. Your attention will be drawn to the large dildo that is attached to the mechanism. It's thick and long, with lots of veins running down the shaft, mimicking the swollen veins on a real cock. It's cold and textured to the touch, and you can imagine how shiny and smooth it will be when your cum runs down it. You squeeze your thighs together in excitement, looking forward to using it tonight and putting on a show for your audience that they won't forget for a very long time. You put your 'gift' to one side and get out of bed to get ready for your weekly stream. 

"Hello, bunnies! Are you ready for this evening?" You chirp, your voice sweet and luscious with a slightly childish, innocent tone, as you shyly rub the strap of your sheer lace lingerie. "Tonight I'm going to show you something different from my usual show; as you all know, by now I've reached 25,000 followers." You fidget slightly on the bed, twirling a strand of your long hair around your finger. You purse your lips, knowing that the shimmering lip gloss makes your mouth look just fuckable. 

The mini-sex machine is standing on a pouffe out of the camera's view, and you take a deep breath to calm your excitement before you lean closer to the camera so that everyone can see your face and how plump and juicy your tits look in that bra. Luckily, this site doesn't allow screenshots and will quickly ban any user who dares to do so; otherwise, you could be in big trouble. 

"You're all so nice to me; you deserve to enjoy my face. Today,  I'd like to be a little closer to you. Don't I look especially pretty today?" 

One by one, the comments come in, and you giggle at everyone's excitement. 

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." "I want to cum on that pretty face of yours, baby."  "Your face is making me so horny, sweetie." "These lips are made to suck cock." "You're so pretty; are you going to be an obedient kitty for Daddy?"

We all have our own dirty little secret that we carefully hide, and it happened that the secret of the seemingly arrogant and fastidious Professor Song Mingi was that his regular nightly routine involved watching livestreams of pretty webcam girls with small, tight pussies. A man has needs; sue him for that, and being so busy with work and surrounded by a crowd of hormonal, giggling university students every day, he doesn't have the time or energy to find a connection. And Mingi doubted that anyone could satisfy his sexual appetite. He had always been overly demanding in everything he did, and sex was no exception. Mingi wanted to find a perfect little doll who he could fuck and spoil as much as he wanted; he needed a sweet mouth and free access to a tiny pussy, and in return, he would be happy to give the cute doll his black credit card.

One evening, he found one who immediately caught his attention, and not just because of her pretty, juicy tits and doll-like, shiny mouth, while he was browsing through the numerous profiles of various girls. You were so adorable and innocent-looking, but completely slutty. It was an instant match made in heaven for Mingi. Imagine his surprise when he saw you the first day he started working at the university. You were his student, his sweet little student, the girl he had shameless fantasies about all the time. He thought that he should feel disgusted with himself, or at least ashamed, but to be honest, Mingi didn't care; your cunt was pink and tight, and that was enough to make him forget all sense of decency.

Mingi doesn't know how he feels about it, but the way his cock gets hard just at the sight of you means he'll be getting his money's worth and enjoying the show. His classic black shirt is unbuttoned, revealing his embossed abs and golden, luscious skin dripping with sweat. He unzips his trousers and pulls out his big, throbbing cock, which jerks at the sight of you in the slutty lingerie you have bought with his money. He hisses softly, biting his plump lower lip, his eyes fixed on the cleft between your tits. Mingi desperately wants to fuck your breasts.

"Someone very special has sent me a beautiful gift, my darlings, and I am definitely going to make use of it today." Your cheeks are burning from all the lewd comments, but it is only turning you on more and more, making your pussy even wetter and more needy.

You sit down on the bed, bend down until you can't see the chatter, and pull the ottoman between your legs to the edge of the bed. The sound of the incoming tips becomes loud and constant as soon as the erotic device appears in the frame.

Mingi slowly strokes his thick, veiny member with his hand, clutching the small sex machine controller in his other large hand. He can't help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to destroy your pretty pussy with his cock. His dark eyes bore into yours as he bit down hard on his lower lip and used the pad of his thumb to circle the already-leaking red head of his cock. If only he were able to fuck you right now.

You take a bottle of vanilla lube and smear it on the dildo, moaning loudly as you run your hand from the base to the head several times, tracing the ridges with your fingers to simulate veins, imagining that this is the dick of a certain professor. God, you hate and adore Professor Song at the same time; he is the star of all your most depraved and vulgar fantasies, which is why you always cum so hard and profusely. Fortunately, when you collapse during your orgasm, you have enough control over your mouth to keep from moaning his name.

With your other hand, you pull your pretty panties aside and run your fingers through your wet folds, spreading them slightly and showing off your wetness.

"Fuck, your pussy is so nice." "You've played with yourself before; you're already so wet." "Give me a lick of your pussy, angel."

The comments go on and on, as do the messages about the tips while you are gently massaging your pussy. You close your eyes, bite your lip and let out a soft moan as the pad of your middle finger makes contact with your sensitive clit.

"Damn it, I wish I could have your fingers playing with my pussy right now," you whine. Your free hand pulls down your bra straps, exposing your breasts to the camera, your nipples hardening with growing pleasure. You take the nipple between your fingers and gently twist and pull at it. Your pussy is leaking, the transparent, viscous mucus enveloping your fingers, making them shiny and smooth, and running down your milky thighs, leaving a wet, cold trail.

You imagine Professor Song's long fingers penetrating you, stretching your tight hole, and preparing you for the insertion of his dick into your pussy. Mingi has breathtakingly beautiful hands—wide palms, thick, long fingers, always adorned with rings and bracelets. Fuck, just to feel those rings inside you, pressing against the silky hot walls of your pussy, you would do anything. You circle your fingers around the wet, quivering edge of your hole before you slip two fingers inside, your soft walls tightening around them in an instant. Your other hand stops playing with your nipples and reaches out for the toy that is about to fuck you to death.

Your breathing becomes uneven, your chest rising and falling with your moans and gasps. Your fingers run over the silky walls of your pussy a couple of times before you start to fuck yourself to death at a fast and furious pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stick out your tongue and let it drip onto your naked tits.

You know the effect you have on your audience; they love seeing someone so sweet and angelic looking like a slutty whore, and to get more praise and tips, you pull your fingers out of your cunt and slap your pussy with them. The loud signal of the incoming tip is echoed by the wet, disgusting sound of your hand touching your skin.

"Oh daddy, I want your cock so bad; my pussy is throbbing for you," you say. You hold your fingers up to the camera to show how wet they are with your slick. "I'm such a sweet Daddy; I want you to eat me up. I promise I'll come on your tongue like a good girl." You put your fingers in your mouth; you lick them, suck them, and slurp around them. The moans you make sound more like whimpering than something soft and melodic.

On the other side of the screen, Mingi is moaning in a guttural way as he leans back in the big leather chair in his home office, squeezing and massaging his balls as he enjoys the wet slurping sounds that you are making. His cock is pressed against his hard belly, the viscous pre-cum dripping from the head of it and flowing between the reliefs of his abs. His eyes roll back in his head as he imagines fucking your cunt with his nimble fingers, stretching your tight little hole in preparation for his hard fucking. You will be moaning loudly and writhing as your juices flood his hand and run down his sinewy forearm.

You get on your knees on the bed and adjust the toy so that it's right in front of your dripping hole, holding your knickers so that they don't block the view of your pussy. You are already looking so messed up. A long string of mucus is coming out of your hole, straight onto the toy, and the strokes are coming in at a crazy rate. You look straight into the camera with your big innocent eyes; your lips are pouting sweetly. Mingi hisses at this, grabs his dick, and squeezes it several times. The fingers of his other hand are flicking the switch on the controller of the sex machine.

"Please, sir, I've been such a good girl for you. Are you going to fuck me now?" You are licking your lips with the tip of your tongue, and you are lowering your pussy down onto the artificial dick. The silicone is cold and smooth, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot pussy makes you moan loudly and for a long time.

Mingi growls, the desire coursing through him as he hears the respectful title that falls from your plump lips, in the same way that you address him as "Sir" in class when you turn up for his lecture, and it drives him mad. He turns the dial, and the car comes to life and begins to move. Your eyes lose their focus, and your mouth falls open as the toy begins to move inside of you. Your fingers spread your labia, and you show the audience how the dildo is slowly stretching your tight little hole. The size of the toy is huge, despite the artificial penis being cold and lifeless, but that doesn't change the fact that it is tearing you apart. Your legs tremble as you try to maintain a stable position on the bed. Your toes curl as you begin to play with your swollen, sensitive clit, stimulating yourself further and causing more of the sticky, slippery fluid to gush out of you.

Mingi watched intently through the screen as you writhed and moaned; the toy was finally buried completely inside you, and he could see its impressive size causing your belly to bulge. Damn it! He can bet his bottom dollar that the silicone head of the dick is in direct contact with your cervix. When he sees how greedily your cunt swallows the toy, his predatory dark eyes flash, and he swallows noisily. You can take his cock like a good girl, and he'll see to it that it happens soon. Even though this toy is much bigger than any you've fucked your cunt with in previous streams, Mingi doesn't give you time to get used to its size. But he knows that in reality, you are an absolute slut who lives for the cock and that you can easily take anything that is given to you.

The sex machine picks up speed, and you scream loudly as you feel the fake veins on the dildo drag along the walls of your body with every mechanical movement—your hands cupping and massaging your breasts, your fingers pinching your swollen nipples. The pleasure coursing through your veins, your moans growing louder by the minute, and your head falling back. Your thoughts turn to Professor Song, of course.

God, that man—the way your body has reacted to him has been completely abnormal. Professor Song Mingi is an absolute asshole, and all he does is bully you and ruin your grades. But fuck, you wanted it so much—to destroy your pussy with his dick. You hate every part of his gorgeous appearance—that stupid long hair, a weird shade of orange that looks damn good on him, those sharp fox eyes that always look at you with judgement. There's such disgust and contempt in his eyes; it's like he's saying, "You're a worthless whore," and God, you really want him to address you like that, especially in that porn voice that makes your pussy leak.

Under your fingers, what will his hair feel like? Will it be as soft to the touch as it is to the eye? What will his eyes be like? Will they be filled with unbridled hunger as his long, slick tongue flicks across your clit? Will his deep voice vibrate against your skin as he moans softly and tastes you in his mouth? Will his big, rough hands be gripping your hips, digging their fingers into the soft flesh until you're bruised and scratched, holding you still as he buries his face in your cunt as if he couldn't live without it for a single day? All these vivid erotic images flash through your brain, the constant beeping of the donors just background noise as you imagine your professor's deep, velvety voice commanding you to cum.

"Wish you could fuck me now. Oh fuck! Please, sir, fuck your pretty little doll properly." You moan loudly as the speed of the sex machine increases, all the words blending together. The whirring sound of the machine synchronises with the rapid beating of your heart as the silicone cock thrusts into you, lewd squelching fills the room, and your moans and cries become longer and more pitiful, like a cat in heat, as your orgasm begins to build rapidly.

"Oh sir, I'm thinking about the way your dick is sliding between my legs. Is it as thick and as big as this toy? Are you going to feed your doll with your cum?"

There are few things in this world that can make Professor Song Mingi lose his balance, but the sight of his cute little student fucking her dripping, plump cunt with the toy he has given her is definitely the one thing that makes his jaw drop. You are fucking beautiful, a real doll that Mingi would like to sit on a velvet cushion in his house and admire like a work of art. He knows you're about to come—your cheeks are flushed, your lips are parted in a perfect orgasmic "oh,"  your trembling little hand reaches for your clit to rub the throbbing bundle of nerves and bring you to the desired climax, and your eyes are so closed you can hardly see.

Mingi's hand glides a little faster over his dick; it's slippery and shiny with the sperm that leaks out of it. At the same pace as you rub your aching clit, Mingi makes sharp, quick circles with his palm around his cock.

"Fuck!" Mingi growls as he grips the arm of the chair and pushes his hips into his hand, the massive bracelets around his wrist clanking as his hand comes down hard on his cock. As the sex machine fucks you hard and fast at top speed, the controller is forgotten on the table next to his laptop. Your piercing moans are music to his ears, and the way your thighs subtly tremble shows the immense pleasure he is indirectly giving you. Your head is thrown back, exposing your neck, and your hips roll on the toy, the juices from your vagina running down your ass and soaking the sheets beneath you, your juicy, plump tits bouncing with the movement of the sex machine.

"Sir, Daddy, please! Can I cum for you? Please let me come for you! I've been such a good girl for you!" You are shaking all over, your orgasm is growing stronger with each passing second, and you know that it is going to be amazing. The palm of your hand is slapping your pussy again, and the sounds of tipping over are coming with renewed force. What fucking perverts!

When he realises the effect he is having on you without even touching you, a tingle runs down Mingi's spine. He has complete control over your orgasm, and you will do whatever he wants without him interfering in your real life.

"Come for me, my doll." His voice is dark and deep, despite the force with which he fucks his hand, the leather chair creaking from the powerful thrusts of his thick, meaty thighs. As if you can hear him, you pinch your clit sharply and squeal deafeningly, your body shaking in small convulsions as you cum on a toy you imagine is Professor Song's dick. The walls of your pussy contract as you try to hold the fake cock inside you as you ride out your orgasm.

Mingi cum right after you, moaning gutturally, his eyes rolling back in his head as streams of cum spray onto his thighs and abs, his mind clouded by the orgasm, and he completely forgets that he hasn't turned off the toy that continues to mercilessly stuff your cunt. His attention is drawn back to you when he hears you squealing pitifully, the tears rolling down your face and smearing your make-up, and Mingi finds himself thinking that he would like to see the same look on your face when his dick is deep down in your throat.

"Oh my God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, bloody hell! Sir, I beg you..." You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face as the sex machine continues to fill your pussy with cock like there is no tomorrow, your hands gripping the sheets as the sensory overload washes over your body like a tidal wave.

Mingi looks at you with hunger and animal lust as he watches the toy abuse your used, dripping cunt. Of course, he could turn it off if he wanted to, but he doesn't because he knows that you could just lie back on the bed and put an end to your supposed agony, but you don't want to.

He gives you a devilish grin and licks his lips as he watches the fat tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you beg him to make it stop. Your whole body glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat, and as Mingi has watched your body countless times, he knows every reaction of yours—you will cum for him; he is sure of it.

"Oh god, damn, damn! I'm going to cum again, Daddy." You let out another loud squeal, your back arching as you come for the second time that night, and this time a clear stream of liquid shoots out of your pussy, soaking the sheets even more. The tipping sounds are louder than they were before, and if there was an audience in your room, they would definitely enjoy watching you squirt over and over again. Damn, you really put on a show for them that they won't forget in a hurry.

Mingi smiles with satisfaction and strokes his cock once more, this time prolonging his pleasure with lazy strokes as he watches you whimpering and twitching with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm. He is kind enough to put an end to your torment by picking up the controller unit from the table and turning off the sex machine. The loud mechanical whirring ceases as the toy stops fucking you. You slowly rise from your seat, the thick dildo sliding out of your pussy—glossy and wet with your essence. You whimper quietly, still too sensitive, your chest heaving with heavy, ragged breaths. The next thing you do is make Mingi sink teeth into his lower lip until it starts to bleed.

"Let me clean you, Daddy; you have been so good to me today. My cunt feels so warm and full." Your pretty, plump lips wrap around the fake cock's head, smacking sweetly before shoving the larger half of the toy into your mouth, sucking and licking with your tongue like a real cock. After tasting the juices running down the length of the silicone, you close your eyes and moan.

Your brain forms images of how you would do this to Mingi, choking on his cock, swallowing it to the base, tickling his balls with the tip of your tongue; sucking him like a good girl, licking every swollen vein along its huge velvety length, and you know Professor Song has a big, thick dick. You think about how he will grab your hips, slap your butt cheeks hard, and penetrate your needy, horny cunt with one hard thrust until his balls are slapping against your ass. Fuck, you really want Professor Song to destroy you, and this desire almost overshadows the hatred you feel for this man.

Snap back to reality, and you're practically crawling over to your laptop with innocent, tear-stained eyes before pulling the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and smiling brightly at the camera as if you hadn't just been ruined by a silicone dick. Your mouth is shiny and wet from a mixture of saliva, sticky pink lip gloss, and your juices.

"Fuck, that was so hot."

"I'd like you to splash on my cock as well, honey."

"Wow, baby, I didn't know you could do that. Will you squirt on my face if I pay you?"

"I want to cum in your cunt so bad, sweet cheeks, daddy must keep you full and pretty with his cum."

"You're so fucking beautiful, angel, I'll jerk off on your face every night."

"That was your best stream ever, princess."

All these comments are making you giggle. Men are really just horny animals; show them a nice pussy and they will be at your feet.

You spend some time interacting with the public, reading comments, and showing off your new toys and lingerie that you bought with the money you made from streaming. The cursor hovers over the bright red button, and before you press it to end the broadcast, you look straight into the camera, first slowly licking your lips, then slightly tilting your head to the side with the sweetest expression on your cute little face. It may seem that you are talking to all the viewers, but in fact you are talking to just one man, Le Maître.

"I hope you have enjoyed today's show, sir, and that you have had a lot of fun. But I really want you to use your real dick to make me cum and squirt so hard. I really, really want you to fuck me in real life, Daddy." You kissed and winked at everyone, and you finally finished your show.

Mingi couldn't sleep at all that night; after the show, he jerked off two or three more times, even using an artificial pussy, imagining he was fucking you instead of a cold silicone toy. He came so much that his cum was everywhere, even landing on his luxurious diamond-encrusted Rolex.

In contrast to your restless, overheated professor, you fell asleep almost immediately—tired and satisfied—from an amazing orgasm and from a huge amount of money that fell into your bank account after the stream had ended. Of course, your Le Maître was the biggest donor of all.

Next Friday

"I expect all of you to take this course more seriously and to have your homework done by Monday. From next week, there will be three more lectures on French literature in your course, so don't be a disappointment to me. The class is dismissed."

You sigh heavily, already anticipating the torment the extra pairings with Professor Song will bring you. Fuck, you hate him so much, but the sight of his thighs in those tight trousers should be illegal. That's a real crime against humanity. You gather your things and hope to get out of the stuffy lecture hall, which now always has the smell of pure sex—Professor Song's perfume. If you didn't know any better, you'd be thinking that the man was literally bathing in an aphrodisiac, because it's just not real to smell like that. You never thought you'd be turned on by someone else's perfume, but here we are, drooling on the floor at the incredibly sexy scent that Professor Song Mingi wears like a second skin. Sometimes you wonder: Does the bitch know how attractive he is? But he does, and he uses it to his advantage, judging by that smug, arrogant grin that always sits on those plump, sensual lips. 

You are just about to leave when you hear his deep, husky voice calling out your name. Oh no, not now. 

"I'd like to talk to you about your performance, Y/N." Mingi begins to speak slowly, stretching out the letters and putting emphasis on the last word. There is definitely a certain ambiguity in all this, which you can't quite make out. "What can you tell me about it?" He walks around his desk, leans his gorgeous butt against it, and crosses his arms over his chest. His poor shirt buttons try harder than the devil on a good day.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion and walk down the stairs, authematic, to be closer to him. Why is he asking you that now? Damn, he always finds the perfect time to throw you off balance. Your heart races, and you try to ground yourself, thinking about what an idiot he is and what strange things could be going on in that beautiful head of his. You struggled to read him; his stunning model face always had this arrogant royal expression that completely failed to convey his true feelings, so every time you talked to him, it was like playing with a big cat. 

"I think I'm all right, Sir. Why are you asking?" You stammer slightly, but when you hear Mingi's deep moaning, all your mental scolding about your nervousness quickly fades away. You stare at him with your eyes wide open in an attempt to comprehend what the hell is going on. Your eyes focus on Professor Song. The way your narcissistic jerk of a professor shamelessly adjusts his trousers, which now show a very noticeable bulge in his crotch.

Before you know it, you're standing right in front of him, and your nervousness has returned with a vengeance. He's even more handsome up close—classic glasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose, his long fingers reaching up to remove them and place them on the table. He stares at you with his dark fox eyes, towering over your petite frame, as he carefully pulls the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows, revealing the massive bracelets around his wrists and the bulging veins on his forearms. God, does he have any idea of the effect this has on you? Too afraid to look him in the eye, you cast a glance at the small cross around his neck.

"Yes, you're doing very well. Too well, actually, aren't you, Y/N?" As his thumb runs down your soft cheek, tracing the outline of your mouth lower until he slides it between your parted lips, you almost gasp and feel like you're going to faint. You don't hear anything but your heart pounding in your ears. It feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. You stare at him helplessly as he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue, stroking it lightly. A devilish grin appears on his plump lips, replacing his usual bitchy expression with something more sinister and dangerous. "Such a beautiful little dolly, aren't you? So skilled with your fingers, so good with that pretty little doll mouth of yours, and you definitely know how to serve that little cunt of yours perfectly." Mingi whispers as he leans closer to you, his other hand reaching under your skirt and squeezing your bare bottom. Fuck, you definitely shouldn't have worn a thong today. "I'm sure you're playing with your sweet bottom, too, bunny." He continues to rub his thumb over your tongue for a few more moments, while his other hand gives your arse a hard massage that makes you squeal with pleasure. You're quite sure that the skin on your bottom is already red from his aggressive touch. As soon as Mingi stops touching you and pulls his hands away from you, crossing them over his broad chest, the situation comes back to you.

You are watching his every move, breathing heavily, letting your eyes glide over every pulsing vein on his forearms, and praying to God that you will have enough strength not to lean over and run the tip of your tongue over them. 

"P-Professor, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about."

"Oh, darling, don't play innocent; you have a very clear idea of what I'm talking about. I'm really glad you found a good use for the gift I gave you last night, my angel." Professor Song's voice is a velvety whisper, and considering how quiet it is in the lecture theatre, he might as well have shouted, the meaning of his words ringing loudly in your ears. He's like a predator, slowly circling around you, the soles of his designer shoes clicking on the parquet floor. Your feet feel as if they are glued to the floor, and you don't know what to do. When you try to speak again, your voice sounds broken, and you are on the verge of tears. 

"Will there be a report against me, Professor Song? Or what? You haven't got any hard evidence that it's me." You say it with conviction, and hope springs, but unfortunately, it dies as soon as Mingi opens his mouth.

"That may be true, my dear. But you wouldn't want such terrible accusations to be made against you, would you? Mingi taunts you; his deep voice suddenly comes very close to your ear. You feel so unprotected in his presence, so tiny in comparison to his huge, tall body. Why does this man have to be so bloody big?

"They'll never know it was me who found your profile on the porn site; I could easily pass it off as an anonymous tip." You catch your breath as you feel his rough, hot hand slide under your skirt and up your thigh. Mingi smiles at your reaction and leans in closer to you, biting the lobe of your ear. "Besides, this is going to get rumoured around the university. People will be tempted to do a check on your account—people you know, people you might be close to." He goes on, the heat of his breath making you shiver. 

His broad palm grips your mound in a possessive way, the heat from your pretty pussy causing his cock to twitch in his trousers. You try to stifle a shameful moan, but the sound escapes you, and you unconsciously lean forward, pressing your breasts against him. Mingi wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body as he does so. Oh shit, your head is spinning from the smell of his perfume so close, and on top of everything else, you're ashamed to admit it, but your pussy is terribly wet, and you're pretty sure Professor Song can feel your wetness in the palm of his hand. 

"It may be illegal to screenshot, and your streamers will disappear, but what about the pictures and videos you've posted? Of course, everyone will be able to see your sexy little body all over the place. And don't you dare argue about it. You always look like a thirsty slut, wearing those tiny skirts and shoving your tits in everyone's face. You are a worthless little bitch." Professor Song hisses and presses the palm of his hand harder against your pussy, and you want to rub it against it so badly that it's almost pathetic.

Your tongue doesn't turn into an object; it's as if it were glued to the roof of your mouth. Mingi was right; you've always dressed rather provocatively, and it's never bothered you, but it seemed to bother him. 

"Either way, your name will still be in tatters, and my reputation will be perfect and clean, as it should be. I'm a respected professor with a model student. I'm not someone who watches a cam-girl stream every Friday night and watches how she stuffs a fake cock into her luscious little cunt." Wiping away a tear that has accidentally escaped your eye, Mingi's thumb runs down your cheek. Your vision is blurred by the tears, and the dark, lustful eyes of Professor Song are the only thing you can see clearly.

"Please tell me... What can I do to stop you from saying anything about me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, and your words are a useless string of letters. Mingi's eyes flash angrily at your whimpering plea.

"Ah angel, you sound even better in real life when you're begging." Mingi moans as his middle finger slowly rubs the folds of your folds through your panties, which are more like a tiny piece of lace and do very little to cover the plumpness of your cunt. You whimper softly as you lean back against his shoulder. You've always been easy to arouse, and the wet sound you make when Mingi's fingers tease your pussy makes it clear that you're absolutely flowing for him right now. You can be sure that as soon as he pulls your panties off to the side, your viscous slime will be dripping freely out of your hole and onto the polished parquet floor. "I think you know very well what it is I want from you. I pay you good money all the time; don't you think I deserve the real thing, my doll?" You let out a loud whimper as his big hand pressed down hard on your shoulder. "On your knees, little one; don't keep your sir waiting."

As you kneel before your professor, facing the growing bulge in his trousers, your lower lip trembles. Professor Song is leaning against the desk, his hands on either side of his body, gazing up at you from under the lashes of his eyes. Your trembling hands are fumbling with his belt, and the sound of the metal echoes through the empty room.

"Oh, now you're embarrassin' yourself, darlin'? Where's that slutty bitch who was squirting all over yesterday because she let her pussy get stretched by a big dildo?" Mingi says it arrogantly, tilting his head to the side and tapping his fingers on his desk in disappointment. You flinch at his words like a slap in the face, but don't bother to reply as you pull down his trousers and underwear, the sight of his thick, wiry cock making your mouth dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Like everything else about Professor Song, his cock is amazing—a drop of pre-ejaculate glistening on the flushed head, a thick vein swollen and throbbing just waiting for you to run your soft tongue over it, and its size—he's got a huge cock with a massive girth that you can barely wrap your palm around. Mingi wraps his hand around the cock, his thumb smearing the wetness over the head before he brings it to your lips and runs his whole length over it, leaving a wet sheen, and slaps your mouth a couple of times. 

"Open your mouth, dolly."

Mingi's other hand tangles in your hair, pulling hard on the long strands as you obediently open your mouth for him. His thick cock enters your mouth slowly, your jaw tensing as you try to get used to the size of it. You choke as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and the balls rest against the side of your chin. Mingi's thumb caressed your tear-stained cheek, and he cooed sweetly as he watched you gurgle around his cock, drool bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin. His cock is hot and heavy in your mouth, the veins stretching across the sensitive, velvety skin. Professor Song doesn't give you enough time to get used to the size of his cock and pulls your head back until the only thing left in your mouth is his head.

"Don't you think you should lick me before I fuck you in the mouth, doll? You were very eloquent about wanting me to do it yesterday." You obediently run your tongue around the head of his cock, feeling more pre-cum pouring from his slit onto your tongue. It has a sweetly bitter taste, and you think that it is very suitable for Mingi. "Well done." Professor Song hisses at you before he pushes his cock all the way back into your mouth. You gasp as your hands fly to his strong, muscular thighs in an attempt to push him away as his hips thrust sharply forward, mindlessly using your mouth as his personal cock sleeve. The thick length of it presses down on your throat, and the bulge of his cock is perfectly visible against the back of your neck with each powerful thrust. 

"I have been waiting for such a long time to fuck that slutty mouth. Darling, I can see that you have nothing more to say to me, do you? That's how it's supposed to be; whores don't get to talk." Mingi lets out a deep moan and throws her head back as she pushes you down on his cock. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum and sticky lip gloss, coating the length of thickly dick, making it shiny and smooth so it slides easily over your tongue and deeper into your throat. As you reflexively try to swallow, your jaw aches, your lips stretch around the thick circumference, and the walls of your throat contract. Never in your life have you sucked such a big, long cock, yet here you are, fulfilling the role of a pretty sex toy for your professor to enjoy. At least, unlike some lifeless silicone, no matter how expensive, your cunt and mouth are warm and moist. 

As he mercilessly fucks you in the mouth, Professor Song is not shy about his volume, emitting hoarse, prolonged moans and growls. Anyone could walk into the lecture hall at any moment and see your compromising position, but for some reason it turns you on. Maybe you really are a slut, although as long as you get paid enough, you don't mind being one, especially when Mingi is the one scolding you daily until you pass out. 

"Fuck, I'll cum." Mingi gasps as he wraps both of his large arms around your head, trying to hold it in place. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Professor Song growl ducky as he presses harder into your slluty mouth and your grip on his hips tightens, your nails digging into the juicy flesh, leaving vicious marks, but Mingy doesn't give a shit; you could rip his skin off if he keeps fucking you like a personal doll. His dark, foxy eyes find yours, his beautiful, plump lips are slightly parted, and his balls are clenched, slapping you on the chin. Now you don't even know what to call him. If you thought Song Mingi looked like a wet dream before, then now he's sex itself. 

"Damn, damn, damn, doll!" He moans loudly, jerking his hips as his sperm pours into your mouth. As you forcefully swallow the viscous liquid that seems to have no end, your prolonged whimper is distorted. There's so much of his cum that some of it seeps through the corners of your mouth. He continues to slowly fuck your mouth. "Don't waste it, slut." He says it in a threatening voice, and you whimper at the venom in his tone. Mingi uses his long fingers to push his cum between your lips and roughly wipes the wet mess around your mouth. All of his rings are covered in a thin layer of cum and saliva, but you think it's hot.

You blink twice, catch your breath, and the next thing you know, your knees are no longer touching the cold floor, and your face, wet with tears and sperm, is pressed against Professor Song's spotless, cold desk; he has thrown you on the desk like a fucking doll. Fucking hell, that wasn't supposed to turn you on, but God, this man is just driving you crazy. You're too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that Mingi has lifted your skirt, exposing your wet thong to his gaze. The cold air in the audience causes your hole to clench in reflex and the liquid to squirt out. 

You have to clench your fist to keep from squealing as the tight, expensive leather of his belt lands on your bottom with a loud crack. Oh my God, he has just hit you with his belt. Oh shit. Mingi doesn't let you recover; he holds your head against the table with one hand while he slaps your bottom again with the other. The sting of the contact between your soft flesh and the belt makes you squirm and writhe. 

"You just sucking my cock, and you're already so wet? You really are a slut. Aren't you?" He smirks as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the flushed skin of your arse before giving you another good spanking. You whimper as Mingi pulls your thong down your trembling legs, long strands of your own slime tugging at the insignificant piece of fabric as he does so. He pushes your buttocks apart so that your plump, flowing pussy is exposed to his hungry eyes.

Mingi picks up your leg, which is bent at the knee, and puts it down on the table. You whimper and grab hold of the edge of the table, embarrassed at how open you are to him at this moment. To be honest, it's the most disgusting feeling—you're embarrassed, but at the same time, you want him to do even more disgusting and humiliating things with you. Professor Song crouches down in front of you and spits into your cunt before licking a long, sloppy strip between your folds. Mingi uses his fingers to push your folds apart and then slides the tip of his tongue into your tight hole, tracing the edge of it. 

"Oh, God, sir..." As Mingi eagerly licks your cunt, avoiding your throbbing clit, you let out a long moan and arch your hips towards his tongue. He pulls back abruptly, his heavy hand coming down on your bruised arse to spank you hard before you can get the stimulation you need. 

"Did I tell you you could move, huh? You impatient bitch." You whimper at his reproachful tone. You scratch the wood with your fingernails as he spanks you again. "A good student answers the question, Dolly." Mingi hisses, mixing the scalding pain with the pleasure of the spanking, as his hand touches your bottom again.  "N-no, sir! You didn't tell me to move! I'm so sorry."

"That's right, doll, but I have a feeling the games are over for today." Professor Song says as he finally gets up to his full height and puts his arm around your neck.

Breathing heavily and hoarsely, Mingi feels the heat emanating from you as he guides his thick cock into your little hole. You let out a loud breath and wonder if his cock will feel like the toy he has given you. Probably not; however much you like it, nothing compares to the warmth and throbbing of a real cock, especially Song Mingi's cock.  You squirm as you feel the head of his cock pass slowly between your muscles, a soft howl escaping from your lips. The dildo you used yesterday is nothing compared to Mingi's dick; it feels bigger and thicker, the swollen veins of his cock stretching deliciously along your silky, trembling walls. The urge to hold him inside you is almost irresistible, and you can't help but clench around him. Fuck, and here you thought Mingi couldn't be more slutty and godlike, and you were wondering if his cock had been given special attention during his creation? You let out a loud moan, your tongue flicking out of your mouth, and right now you definitely fit the definition of 'well fucked'. Drops of sweat roll down Mingi's neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his hot golden skin and sculpted breasts. Heavy breathing replaces what he's saying, and you feel partly grateful for that. When he finally enters you at the base, the head of his cock touching your cervix and his forehead pressing against your shoulder, you both moan loudly.

"S-Sir, y-you're too big."

Ignoring your whimpering, Mingi grabs you by the hips and immediately sets a brutal but rhythmic pace with you. The objects on his desk shake and fall, shattering on the parquet floor as he fucks you, pressing your body against the desk with the full weight of his body. The fabric rubbing against your hardened nipples sends a pleasant tingle down your spine and makes you shiver from the added stimulation. Your moans grow louder and louder, your cheeks burning, and you can hear his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he thrusts your tight pussy back and forth along the length of his throbbing cock. The humiliation of pouring cream around Professor Song's cock brings tears to your eyes, but at the same time, you come to an almost orgasmic pleasure as he slaps your arse again. The sting stings like a bitch, but it feels fucking unbelievably good.

"That's it, goddamn it. I've been thinking about fucking that tight little cunt for ages. You really are the perfect doll to fuck."

It all makes you dizzy, and you moan "sir" and "daddy" as your pussy sucks him up greedily. You're getting so excited; you don't want to admit it, but you can't help yourself. You can't get enough of Mingi's cock. It feels so good inside you. 

"That's my good little girl. You're definitely worth what I've paid for you." Mingi growls in your ear as he pushes harder and harder into your used cunt. He presses down hard on your neck, pinning you to the table, not letting you move, and fucking you relentlessly, his hips moving hard and fast as he takes complete control of your body. Your orgasm starts to form, an intoxicating sensation of rapture coursing through your veins like lava. 

"Sir, please! Harder!" You need to cum so badly that you beg him to go harder.

Mingi's eyes were narrow—dark and cruel—and his muscles were quivering and tense from your pathetic begging. He's a professor, and professors always want the best for their students, especially the ones they like best.

"Look at you, begging for my cock like a good little bitch," he says. He accentuates the last word with a strong thrust and plunges so deep into your cunt that you can almost feel the head of his cock entering your cervix. A mixture of incoherent words and intermittent moans escape your lips. Your head falls forward as Professor Song releases your neck to grab your thighs again, leaving more bruises on them. 

"Will you cum for me, bitch?" He leans down to your ear and nibbles on your lobe, the slapping of your skin and squishing of your pussy echoing through the empty hall.

"Hell yeah! I'm going to cum for you! I'm going to cum for you, Daddy; I'm going to cum on your cock!" You scream, the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter, and Professor Song fucks your flowing cunt faster and harder.

"Then cum, bunny." He growls, his hips losing their rhythm and jerking, his cock throbbing as thick, hot jets of cum coat the walls of your cunt. He moans your name quietly while your voice is barely audible—a weak, panting whisper, 'Mingi'. Both of your bodies are slowly at rest, revelling in the haze of your orgasms. Soft cries and whimpers escape from your lips, and you shudder as you feel your mixed juices pour out of you, staining the floor that was once so clean. You collapse helplessly on the table, your body going limp, a puddle of saliva pooling under your cheek, and your breathing heavy as you try to clear your mind.

Mingi moans. He bites his plump lip as he comes out of you. You whimper, squirming awkwardly as more cum pours from your pussy. You turn back to look at Professor Song, and your eyes almost pop out of your head as you see him pressing your panties to his nose and moaning loudly and satisfied. He smirks at you vulgarly, licks his lips, and wipes his cock with your underwear before tucking his dick into his trousers, the zip jangling loudly. He dismissively tosses your thong aside and presses against you again, pinning you between the desk and his big muscular body, his hot breath touching your earlobe, before whispering in his deep porn voice.

"Don't think that this is just a one-time thing, doll. I have paid for you, and now you belong to me. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, Professor Song. I understand you perfectly."

"That's good. You're a real teacher's pet. On Monday evening, I will be expecting you for an extra lesson. Don't you dare disappoint me, doll." He slaps your butt once more before he pulls himself away completely and walks out of the classroom. 

Oh, this is really fucked up. 

[aequitaes]

@sicsemper suffer my tag rambles. ✌🏻

The way Haikaveh/Kavetham is written in a way that makes both of them have their individual characters while also being an integral part in each other's lives. Both of them have their own beliefs and ideology. They both have different things they work on, Alhaitham being this avid researcher and Kaveh being this idealistic artist. Their characters don't necessarily revolve around each other all the time, but there is no doubt that they are both very important people to each other. Kaveh is the exception to Alhaitham, and Alhaitham grounds Kaveh. They each complete the other while the other completes them. So even though they're their own people, you can't separate the influence they have on each other.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Murder, Love, and Destiny: An Eridan Ampora Character Study

Warnings for things from Homestuck, like discussions of child abuse, mental illness, murder, suicide, etc. etc.

Because there's a huge wall of text after this point, I'm going to summarize what I hope to convince you of in bullet point format, and then hope you'll actually read the rest of the text before arguing with me about it.

Eridan is the least casteist highblood, if you ignore all the slurs.

Those are his emotional support slurs.

Pale EriKar was not only canon, but set up to be endgame.

Eridan is incredibly plot-relevant, thematically relevant, and was definitely originally intended to be brought back to life, alongside the other dead trolls.

He's Sad.

The first thing we have to establish is what counts as "canon" for the purpose of this essay. I am only counting the original comic up to Game Over, after which there's a general consensus that Hussie kind of gave up on his original planned ending, and slapped together something that most people hate. So I am immediately disqualifying Pesterquest, supplementary material, fanworks deemed canon, the epilogues, and Homestuck^2.

Moreover, we are taking Hussie's commentaries with a grain of salt, for two reasons. The first reason is that I firmly believe - and will be arguing - that the original plan was to bring Eridan (and the other dead trolls) back; therefore, Hussie (who has a track record of playing coy with future plot twists) can't speak too fondly of him, lest he give it away. The second reason for de-emphasizing Hussie's words is that, post-retcon, Hussie isn't very well going to say that he had plans for a better ending, and then didn't execute on them; to save face, he has to act as though his trashing of several prior plot threads, including but not limited to Eridan, was the plan all along.

Therefore, this essay will not be putting too much emphasis on Word of God, and will instead be relying on textual evidence from the comic itself, of which there is plenty. So without further ado:

Eridan is a Consummate Murderer.

The reason I'm starting with this point is that, far more than any other, this truth lies at the core of his being. Eridan is formally introduced to us with a murder, and he's haunted by an overpowering genocide complex. He outright describes to Rose at one point that "killin is all i evver done practically," and uses "murder" as an expletive (ie "swweet stinkin murder"). With a conservative estimate of 5 kills per week for 4 sweeps (Vriska looks VERY young when she has to start killing, and Eridan was likely a similar age when he began), both Eridan and Vriska easily have bodycounts above 2000 - the real number is probably even higher.

At this point, many raise an objection that Eridan is only killing lusii, but I believe we need to count his kills as troll murders, for three reasons: first, a dead lusus results in the orphaned troll being culled; second, one has to assume he has had cases of trolls trying to defend their lusii, or coming after him for vengeance; and third - and most importantly - Eridan HIMSELF is thinking about the orphaned trolls.

Compare Feferi: Go Home:

That should keep her happy for a while. At least until she dies.

To Eridan: Go Home:

That should keep her happy for a while. And make a freshly orphaned troll somewhere very sad.

So Eridan, to a much greater extent than even Feferi, is thinking about the orphaned trolls he's leaving behind, and considers his own actions to be murder.

Now that we've established the facts regarding his murders - a rough bodycount, and the fact that, by his own admission, he barely had any hobbies outside of it - we can move on to the effect that it's had on him. It's not very good!

Vriska's manipul8tions and murders had to be done for her own sake - if she ever stopped, she died. Therefore, much of Vriska's personality revolves around justifying her own actions so she doesn't have to reckon with her softer feelings, like guilt or kindness - which she expresses would be viewed as scandalous by others of her caste.

But if Eridan ever stops feeding Gl'bgolyb, everybody dies. The stakes he has riding on his shoulders are, at all times, the fate of all trolls, including all his friends. Given Dualscar's title was "Orphaner," it's implied that killing lusii for Gl'bgolyb has always been a violet blood's duty, and is seen as such by the others, which is why nobody expresses gratitude for his hard work even a single time.

Which brings us to our next point:

Eridan is Crushed by Anxiety.

If Eridan stops killing lusii, everybody - especially his friends, but everybody else, too - dies.

If Eridan ever shows guilt or kindness, he'll be considered "weak" by the standards of highbloods - he shares this with Vriska.

Eridan is expected, by aristocratic tradition, to take on the mantle of his ancestor Dualscar and finish his work. Dualscar met a comedically cringefail end, so this is a massive undertaking.

Before finding out that god tiering is an option - so, for nearly his entire life - Eridan has had to live with the expectation that he will outlive all of his friends. The lowbloods from culling or dying on the battlefield, the highbloods from old age, and Feferi from being killed by the Empress when she gets old enough.

(This is reflected in who he talks to the most - Feferi, who's the only one with a natural lifespan longer than his, Vriska, who's a highblood, Kanaya, who's practically guaranteed to survive into adulthood, and Karkat, whose anonblood allows Eridan to give him the benefit of the doubt.)

Also if he can't land his concupiscent quadrants he'll die from that too, but that seems pretty secondary to the rest of his concerns.

He can't even make friends with the other highbloods, because sea dwellers are expected to hate and antagonize them.

He had a free ticket into adulthood, but would almost certainly be expected to join the army and serve as a commander. That is to say, his fate of performing the role of a vicious, murderous sea dweller seems dreadfully inevitable to him.

NO WONDER he can't stop having emotional breakdowns. NO WONDER his chatlogs swing wildly from relentless self-aggrandizement to traumadumping. NO WONDER he's obsessed with murder and death and genocide.

Doc Scratch calls him a "vengeful boy on the path of nihilism," and it's not hard to see why: Eridan's entire life has been about living up to the role imposed on him by society, sacrificing his own time and sanity for everyone else, which he "nevver got any appreciation for anywway." And all he had to look forward to was more of the same, all his friends dropping dead one by one before him. For Eridan, there has never been any hope.

SGRUB could have been a way out for him, but a combination of his own terrible choices, spurred on by his anxieties, and his teammates' unwillingness to knock some sense into him, meant that he only wound up mired even deeper in his hopelessness.

We all know about how Eridan wouldn't stop killing the angels on his planet, provoking their aggression and turning it into a ball of death. How he was definitely not supposed to be doing this, and how his stubborn insistence on it led to his further ostracization from the rest of the group. The thing is, when we look at his angel-murders from the point of view that Eridan's entire life has been about murdering things or else Something Bad™ happens, it actually starts to become... kind of sad.

KARKAT: BETWEEN A TRIGGERHAPPY PRINCE WITH A GOD WEAPON BLASTING ANYTHING THAT TWITCHED AND A MILLION CRAZED ANGELS HE DELIBERATELY ENRAGED, IT WASN'T WHAT I'D CALL AN IDEAL SOCIAL HUB. KARKAT: IF YOU WERE LONELY WHY DIDN'T YOU VENTURE OUT MORE OFTEN? ERIDAN: wwell i wwoulda but nobody else wwas vvolunteerin to pick up the slack on angel killin duties

Killing the angels is something he feels like his has to do, because his entire life has been about killing things he doesn't want to kill. He's unable to break out of that mindset on his own, and his unpleasant personality has scared off anyone who might want to help. No one on the team tries to understand his thought process on a deeper level, not even Karkat, who just tells him it was an idiotic thing to do without addressing his underlying anxieties at all. Indeed, "nobody understands."

And this is really the root of why I think so many people get the wrong read on Eridan - Eridan is constantly contradicting himself, constantly denying his own feelings, constantly pushing an image that he doesn't actually believe in, and constantly insisting that he's fine with all the horrible shit in his life - that he likes it, even. After all, he can't admit to his guilt for his murders, or how much he doesn't want to watch his friends die, or how scared he is about the future - that'd be weakness!

CC: I can't look after you anymore. CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble

You see his contradictory nature with his stated love of history, which he only ever offhandedly mentions - because he's not actually that interested in history, it's just something that's expected of someone of his station. And you see it with his wavy accent, which he himself calls "weird" and drops when he's trying to be emotionally sincere. And you see it with his dumbass outfit, which is very clearly an imitation of Dualscar (with the only exception being the wizard-ass scarf, because wizards are his actual interest. I don't believe he likes fashion. I genuinely believe - and Eridan himself says so - that he basically has no hobbies outside of murder).

Even being proud to be a sea dweller is pretty much an outright lie:

CC: You can't )(ave t)(e sort of affinity for "our kind" t)(at you profess if you've only spent, w)(at... CC: A few days underwater, maybe? IN YOUR W)(OL-E LIF-E!

One that he tells because he's SCARED OF THE OCEAN. Because he knows what lives in the ocean, because he's been feeding it his entire life. I see a lot of people who give Eridan an interest in marine life, and I'm telling you, that's just got no basis in canon. He's fucking TERRIFIED of the sea.

And for that matter, land dweller genocide. Eridan doesn't want to do it. Both Feferi AND his internal narration call him out for not actually wanting to do it. He outright states he wouldn't kill his friends.

CA: wwell CA: im not goin to vvery wwell kill you am i that wwould be fuckin unconscionable CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be

But he feels like he HAS to want it, HAS to believe in it, HAS to be talking about it constantly, because that's what's expected from him as a sea dweller, and a sea dweller is ALL that he will get to be. The mutation that puts a violet streak in his hair is damning. It's a fate he feels like he can't escape. Which brings us to:

Eridan is Not Actually Casteist, Well He Is But Not Like That, It's Complicated

Secondary title: Those Are His Emotional Support Slurs, Okay

In the exact same vein (haha) as secretly not wanting all the land dwellers dead, Eridan also genuinely doesn't feel like he's better than lower blood castes. Vriska and Equius obviously put quite a bit of stock into being nobility, and both have acted superior to Karkat for it. Feferi actually revels in her high status, and while she is genuinely well-meaning, she's not as interested in abolishing casteism as she is in changing the meaning of "culling" specifically (the hemocaste, aristocracy, and casteism still very much exist in a Beforus under her rule). Gamzee MIGHT be the only highblood less casteist than Eridan, but then again, as soon as he snaps, he does say a lot of casteist stuff to Equius, although it's unclear how serious he is, and he also proceeds to get really into his weird highblood clown cult.

Meanwhile, Eridan - despite all his slurs and talk of genocide - does not actually try to "pull rank" on a lowblood for being a lower caste than him with a single exception. That exception is Sollux... after he's already shown having entirely caste-neutral opinions on Sollux:

CC: But Sollux finally came t)(roug)(, and now I believe t)(e full c)(ain is complete! CA: man that guy CA: hes a fuckin drama machine it is fuckin pathetic CC: YOUR STUPID FIS)(Y FAC-E IS T)(-E DRAMA MAC)(IN-E T)(AT DO-ES NOT)(ING BUT W)(IN-E AND GLUB. CC: 38P CA: fuck SORRY CC: Anyway you s)(ouldn't say t)(at about )(im, )(e is a )(ero and )(e saved my life. CA: yeah sorry

CA: my feelins seem petty and meaninless noww CA: she had better things to wworry about than my ovverwwrought bullshit CA: like the dead guy wwho savved her CA: so forget it thanks anywway

It's only AFTER he's mad at Sollux for dating Feferi that he starts going in on Sollux with casteist rhetoric... which is treated as unrequited flirting and not serious casteism:

ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted. FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling. FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)(at you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspisticize between you two, and pull us out of our quadrant! FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!

THEY don't even think he's being casteist.

In fact, directly contradicting this earlier argument he has with Feferi:

CC: T)(is is t)(e last time I will say t)(is. CC: W-E AR-E NOT B-ETT-ER T)(AN ANYBODY!!!!! CC: GLUB. >38( CA: pshh CA: hemospectrum begs to differ

He OUTRIGHT states his real feelings here:

CA: im the biggest fuckin idiot who ever lived CA: i cant BELIEVE i just opened up to you like a chump when i knew what was comin CA: i am one sad fuckin brinesucker CA: overemotional sappy trash youre right im not better than anybody CA: im worse than anybody CA: EVERYBODY CA: all the bodies

So the question of "is Eridan casteist" has an answer of "kind of, but also no." Eridan DOES espouse the rhetoric; he's constantly saying stuff that a casteist sea dweller "should" be saying. However, if you look at his ACTIONS, and the way he actually treats people, he doesn't actually care about blood color. He'll hit on anybody, and he's rude as fuck to everybody. The real problem with him is that he's terrible to talk to, not that he's discriminatory.

That's the thing about Eridan. Understanding him means looking past the way he presents himself, the lies he tells to himself, and even, at times, the way the narration presents him. His "overblown emotional theatrics" seem a lot less overblown when his problems ARE so real, deep-seated, and constantly causing him an unimaginable amount of anguish.

The problem is, the main people he has to bounce those problems against are Feferi, Vriska, and Kanaya, three of the people most comfortable with their privileged positions, for whom Eridan's genuine emotional distress seems like needless melodrama. Feferi loves being a princess, Vriska enjoys her noble privileges, Kanaya doesn't need to worry about culling. But for Eridan, his noble status, and the duties and expectations placed on him for it, have caused him nothing but pain - of course he would feel like nobody understands. Most of his closest friends genuinely don't, nor do they try to.

Because that's what he is at his core - a traumatized fucking child, who doesn't see any way out. Eridan is not a casteist genocidal sea dweller... he just wishes he was one, and tries to be one, because if he actually was one, he wouldn't feel so awful and scared and sad all the time. He'd be normal, like his friends.

The reason he constantly spouts anti-land dweller rhetoric and uses casteist language is to assuage this cognitive dissonance. That's why he has to come off so strong, present himself in such an aggrandized way, act like such a douchebag. They're his emotional support slurs. He doesn't actually believe what he says, which means he's a Bad Sea Dweller, which means he's Failing, which means Something Bad Will Happen, so he'd better get his ass in line and say something casteist!

And it's all made worse because:

Eridan is Dumb of Ass (and True of Word)

Oh my god you guys he's so stupid that it hurts.

Okay, that's not entirely fair. Eridan is clearly well-educated and book smart; he has some of the most elegant prose out of the trolls, and he's prone to going off on insane rants with it. (Actually, his language gets more flowery and showy when he's trying to impress a stranger, and gets progressively more laid back, chill, and even kind of "bro"-y when he starts talking to people he doesn't feel like he needs to impress.)

CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

What I mean is this: his brain is so full of anxiety and cognitive dissonance and murder and death that he struggles to care about other people, which has devastating effects on his social skills. I go really in-depth on how his though process informs his behavior here. The question may have popped up in your mind already: if his casteism stuff isn't actually real, then what is Eridan actually like? The answer is, overwhelmingly, and discomfortingly, SINCERE.

This boy is gunning at 100% emotional earnestness 100% of the time, and it's deeply uncomfortable for others to deal with. He'll swing wildly from insults and derogatory language, to stating a desire to kill all land dwellers, to awe and amazement at his friends' prowess, to demanding that they do things for him, to traumadumping and venting, without missing a beat. Often in the same conversation.

CA: kan its hard GA: What CA: being a kid and growwing up CA: its hard and nobody understands

He's also specifically terrible at parsing hostility. Functionally, he interprets all hostility aimed AT him as either pitch/ashen flirting or "ironic repartee," and similarly views his own hostile words as verbal jousting, pitch/ashen advances, or even just factual descriptions of the world around him (ie calling Nepeta a "kittycat shipper cavve girl"). Hostility and aggression are just kind of his baseline, default state of being, and he basically has no ability to differentiate between good and bad attention. I talk more in-depth about his emotionally bereft upbringing (and shitty lusus) here, but suffice to say that our boy isn't getting any emotional support at home, and as a result, craves attention, no matter what kind.

This also means he's insanely gullible. For example, Rose calls him an idiot to his face, and then blows up his computer, sarcastically calling it "your first lesson in showmanship." Eridan proceeds to literally considers it that, blowing up Jade's computer after he's done talking to her. Furthermore, Kanaya sees him as a burden, insults him to his face, and pretty much just bullies him along with Rose for fun.

So she trains Eridan to become a powerful white wizard of hope to challenge her, as a joke.

And yet, in spite of all that, Eridan still has nothing but gratitude and praise for Kanaya:

ERIDAN: kan i been meanin to thank you KANAYA: For What ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help KANAYA: But I Didnt Even Really Train You I Just Made You A Wand ERIDAN: yeah wwell thats all i needed i guess ERIDAN: i just needed for someone to showw a little faith in me so im sayin thanks i owwe ya KANAYA: Okay Then Youre Welcome KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic ERIDAN: wwhat KANAYA: The Thing I Just Said KANAYA: I Didnt Even Realize How Sarcastic I Was Being Its Starting To Become A Problem I Think KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science

Like, he's in the middle of genuinely thanking her for believing in him, she makes fun of him to his face, and his response is to laugh it off and offer to teach her how to properly insult someone. It's honestly... kind of sad. Not that he doesn't deserve the ridicule, but what we're seeing here is a traumatized, emotionally neglected boy trying to communicate the best that he can that he loves and appreciates his friends, and receiving nothing but mockery in return.

It's really not a surprise, then, that he goes off the deep end. His entire life prior to the game has been shit; he got broken up with as soon as he entered the game (by someone who didn't even care enough not to use fish puns while doing it); he's ostracized and avoided for the game's duration; and then he spends the rest of his time on the meteor being bullied. He feels deeply hopeless and anxious about their situation because he literally doesn't know how else to exist, and his concerns are dismissed and mocked at every turn. When Feferi turns on him with intent to kill, that's his breaking point.

I see a lot of people say he goes grimdark, or succumbs to external influence somehow, but I don't think that needs to be true (nor is it) - he's just a deeply traumatized kid with almost no support network who's finally been pushed to the edge, despite displaying every possible warning sign and making multiple cries for help. Yes, ultimately, he's guilty for his own actions, but his killing spree - alongside Gamzee's and Vriska's - represents a cohesive failure as a team to address very clear problems in their midst.

So Feferi and Kanaya are sick of his ass. Sollux hates him platonically, Equius doesn't like him, and Nepeta thinks of him as a creep. Vriska is his awkward ex, and Terezi agrees with him when he calls himself pathetic. He never interacts with Tavros, Aradia, or sober!Gamzee. Is there anyone that treats him nicely?

Uh, okay, so I swear this isn't shipping goggles -

Pale EriKar Is Canon And I Can Prove It

So, I'm going to start this with a disclaimer: you can ship what you want to ship. I don't mind. I don't care. Headcanons are valid, death of the author, etc. What you do in your free time is up to you.

What I am attempting to argue in this section is that an Eridan/Karkat moirallegiance was heavily foreshadowed, one of the most heavily foreshadowed things in the entire comic, and - assuming that the original ending of Homestuck included all the dead trolls being brought back and redeemed - was going to be endgame. There's a torrential amount of evidence pointing to this, and very little of it is acknowledged even by the EriKar shippers, which is a shame.

At the very least, I'll be happy if I can convince some Karkat RPers to be extra nice to Eridans, because they are actually just friends who care deeply about each other. Canonically.

The first thing to note is that Eridan and Karkat, at least prior to SGRUB, talk all the time, to the point where Feferi feels the need to comment on it:

CC: You know, I'm not sure w)(y we never talk about our romantic aspirations. CC: We s)(ould more often. It is kind of -EXCITING! CA: shrug CC: Probably because you fill your gossip quota wit)( your nubby )(orned bro. CC: You leave not)(ing left to talk about wit)( your dear sweet moirail! CC: We are supposed to )(elp eac)( ot)(er wit)( t)(at stuff too, remember. CA: maybe CA: seems kinda CA: odd though

("Can you please stop having an emotional affair with Karkat" "Eh, I'll think about it")

The second thing to note is what the contents of those conversations entail. Sure, they "gossip," but it goes deeper than that, because they gossip about things that Karkat would NEVER gossip about with anybody else, because Karkat usually respects his "VERY GOOD FRIEND"s. For example, here Eridan mentions that Karkat has speculated on Kanaya's love life with him:

CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that GA: No Thats Not It CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly

And it's not even a one-off thing, because here Karkat is again, mentioning Nepeta's crush on him:

KARKAT: OK, BUT TO BE FAIR, I'M PRETTY SURE SHE'S STILL OBSESSED WITH ME. KARKAT: IT'S A VERY UNFORTUNATE, VERY RED AND VERY UNREQUITED SITUATION I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TIPTOE AROUND FOR A LONG TIME, OK? KARKAT: HER DISINTEREST IN YOUR ADVANCE WASN'T A REFLECTION ON YOU AT ALL. KARKAT: COME ON, WE TALKED ABOUT THIS.

It's a situation he's been trying to "tiptoe around for a long time," and he tells ERIDAN, of all people? MULTIPLE TIMES? (AND HE ALSO TELLS ERIDAN THAT THE REJECTION WASN'T HIS FAULT???? WHAT??????)

So we've established that they talk frequently and about some pretty seriously sensitive topics. But did you know that they also talk about... their feelings?

See, the thing is, Karkat has always been weirdly nice to Eridan. Here he is in a memo near the very beginning of their game, when Karkat is at his most "rah rah, I'm the big bad leader":

FCA: i got a problem FCA: wwith feferi FCA: and im really kinda sittin here in bad shape about it emotionally speakin CCG: OK, WELL CCG: I GET THAT, I HEAR YOU BRO CCG: BUT THIS IS STILL NOT THE RIGHT PLACE FOR THIS SO I'VE GOT TO BAN YOU. CCG banned FCA from responding to memo. CCG: BUT SERIOUSLY JUST GET IN TOUCH WITH ME IN PRIVATE ABOUT IT, OK MAN? CCG: WE'LL GET YOUR SHIT STRAIGHTENED OUT.

Compare that to Tavros asking for advice later down in the same memo:

PAT: sINCE i DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE NOW, bUT MAYBE HELP ME, PAT: aBOUT A THING THAT HAS TO DO WITH A GIRL, PAT: lIKE, PAT: a ROMANCE THING, yOU MIGHT KNOW ABOUT, CCG: YOU PEOPLE ARE IMBECILES. CCG: ALL OF YOU. CCG: I AM NOT POSTING THESE MEMOS TO COUNSEL YOU ON YOUR PAST AND FUTURE DATING PROBLEMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CCG: WHY ARE YOU ALL SUCH BASKET CASES. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE. PAT: sORRY, CCG: SHOULD I BAN YOU? WHAT'S EVEN THE POINT ANYMORE! ONE OF YOU STOOGES WILL BE RIGHT ON THE LAST ONES HEELS WITH ANOTHER SOB STORY. CCG: JUST CCG: HURRY UP AND TELL ME WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS BRO.

He then proceeds to dispense no actual love advice; he just points out that Vriska can totally read this memo too, and then mocks them both when she shows up - thus making it clear that he is giving Eridan special treatment.

You see it again in his discussion with Eridan in [S] Kanaya: Return to the Core, where Eridan invokes a "pact" between them, and Karkat immediately plays nice with him, despite himself being extremely high-strung and stressed out:

KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT. KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS. ERIDAN: i dont fuckin need this from you i take enough shit as it is from the rest a you dirtscrapers i thought you and me had a kinda pact or wwhatevver KARKAT: OK FINE, SHUT UP, I APOLOGIZE. I KNOW IT'S TOUGH BEING YOU.

That's definitely pity, which Karkat states to be the basis of all relationships besides pitch. But, sure, okay, Karkat is sometimes nice to his friends. He is, after all, the Friendship Troll, so that's not necessarily out of the ordinary. But how about the fact that it goes both ways?

That's right, Eridan "100% aggro 100% of the time" Ampora is actually really considerate toward Karkat's feelings, and basically nobody else's. Upon hearing that Karkat is distressed that Sollux has died, Eridan actively puts his own meltdown about his breakup with Feferi on pause:

TC: BeCaUsE OuR GoOd bRo sOlLuX JuSt kIcKeD ThE WiCkEd mOtHeRfUcKiN ShIt CA: wwhat the fuck do you mean by that CA: are you sayin hes dead TC: YeAh :o( CA: oh fuck CA: oh god fuck noww i feel like an asshole

He then goes on to chastise Gamzee for his shitty advice, demanding to be given the chance to comfort Karkat himself instead:

TC: BuT I ToLd hIm tO Be cHiLl TC: BeCaUsE ThErE Is a mIrAcLe cOmInG, i cAn fEeL It CA: that is the wworst fuckin advvice CA: wwhat an awwful thing a you to say CA: MAGIC ISNT REAL STUPID STOP BELIEVVIN IN IT TC: i'Ve gOt tO BeLiEvE At wHaT My hEaRt tElLs iN Me, EvEn iF It's a fAkE ThInG TC: HoNk CA: this is a lot a pointless fuckin rubbish and isnt no emotional help to him or me either for that matter CA: put kar on

Before finally giving up when Gamzee insists he's "too scared of Jack" to help, drinking some Faygo, and trying to ask past Karkat for help, because past Karkat isn't sad yet about Sollux dying. So, to recap,

Eridan's first instinct when in emotional duress is to go to Karkat.

Eridan feels like he knows Karkat well enough to know that Gamzee's advice would be useless (and is proven right by the fact that Gamzee and Karkat's moirallegiance fails for similar reasons).

Eridan is willing to shelve his own emotional meltdown for Karkat's sake.

Eridan demands to be the one to provide Karkat with emotional support.

And this is, again, not a one-off thing. In the memo Karkat opens right after Eridan and Gamzee have both turned murderous, after he's spent several minutes making death threats toward Eridan and insulting him directly, he goes:

CCG: I'M SO UPSET, I'M JUST COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE. PCA: yeah i knoww wwhat its like you wwanna talk about it

Eridan spends this entire memo under the belief that it's a completely run-of-the-mill conversation they're having:

PCA: i mean yeah obvviously i kneww you wwerent serious PCA: i guess i appreciate the effort youre puttin into cheerin me up PCA: i can alwways count on you for some good ironic repartee kar nobody else really gets our sense a humor CCG: UGH, NO PCA: are you busy PCA: you said youd try to make it to lowwaa soon wwell howw about it

Which implies that offering to listen to Karkat's feelings is also a completely regular thing for them.

But something magical is ALSO happening within this last memo, and to really explain it, I'll first have to be a little mean to the GamKar shippers (sorry).

So, canonically, GamKar doesn't work out for them, despite also being somewhat foreshadowed. In fact, they feature on Nepeta's shipping wall, which is actually, in my opinion, foreshadowing that it WOULDN'T work out. (Nepeta's ships being wrong, and shipping being something she needs to learn to outgrow, is a whole essay on its own, that I'm not getting into here.)

But the thing is, the seeds for them not working out were also planted in the first - and only - real post-moirallegiance interaction that they have with each other, where Gamzee tries to calm Karkat down... and FAILS:

GAMZEE: naw brother, i was just about to all say for you to try and get your settle down on, maybe. GAMZEE: :o( ... KARKAT: OK KARKAT: OK YEAH KARKAT: I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT. KARKAT: NO, YOU'RE RIGHT, I SHOULD RELAX. KARKAT: AND BREATHE. KARKAT: I MEAN, WHAT ARE MOIRAILS FOR, RIGHT? KARKAT: THIS IS HOW IT WORKS, I STOP YOU FROM KILLING EVERYBODY, THEN YOU RETURN THE FAVOR AND CALM ME DOWN AND I JUST KARKAT: BREATHE KARKAT: LIKE KARKAT: THIS... KARKAT: SNIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK, THAT SUN IS BRIGHT. KARKAT: CALL ME CRAZY, BUT IT'S KIND OF HARD TO RELAX WITHIN A STONE'S THROW FROM, OH, I GUESS ONLY THE BIGGEST FUCKING STAR ANY MORTAL HAS EVER LAID EYES ON. ... KARKAT: BUT I MEAN, CAN THIS BE HEALTHY? KARKAT: AREN'T WE GOING TO GET BURNED OR HAVE OUR RETINAS SCORCHED BY LOOKING AT IT? KARKAT: OH GOD I THINK I'M HAVING A PANIC ATTACK.

But let's go back to that memo where Karkat is freaking out in every way possible. This is how he starts that memo - so upset about the deaths of his friends and terrified by Gamzee that he can barely string together a coherent thought:

CCG: WE ARE SO SCREWED. CCG: OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK. CCG: GUYS, I AM TERRIFIED, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. CCG: I'M IN A ROOM FULL OF BODIES, AND I THINK I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO TURN MY BACK ON THEM? CCG: OH MY GOD, I JUST HEARD A HONK. ... CCG: FEFERI, I'M SORRY. CCG: IT WAS MY FAULT, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. PCC: Sorry for w)(at?? CCG: FOR CCG: I CCG: I CAN'T DO THIS CCG: IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME, I'M SORRY.

In fact, he's so distressed that he bans Past!Feferi and Past!Gamzee almost immediately after they come in. But then Eridan comes in, and... I mean, first of all, just compare how long it takes for him to ban Eridan:

But more interesting are the contents of their conversation. Over the course of talking to Eridan... Karkat completely calms the fuck down. Like he's entirely forgotten that he's shitting his pants with fear. In fact, he even starts critiquing Eridan for his dumbassery:

PCA: evven if i wwasnt compelled to think you wwere still bein flippant and ironic wwith me you cant exactly outright reject me can you CCG: WHY NOT PCA: cause youre future you PCA: doesnt count unless its present you til then its all fair game CCG: IS THIS REAL, ARE YOU BEING IRONIC OR SOMETHING, I CAN'T EVEN TELL ANYMORE CCG: THE PROBLEM IS, I CAN'T PUT THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR PAST YOU AT ALL, SO I DON'T KNOW. ... CCG: YOU'RE KILLING ANGELS NOW, AREN'T YOU PCA: no CCG: YOU ARE KILLING FUCKING ANGELS, RIGHT NOW, IN THE PAST, WITH YOUR SHITTY GUN. I JUST KNOW IT. PCA: wwell uh PCA: therere just so damn many kar and theyre not gettin any less bloody pissed is the thing CCG: THIS IS WHY IT WOULD NEVER WORK BETWEEN US, MAN.

It's extremely funny. Over the course of talking to Eridan, he goes from:

CCG: OH GOD OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD CCG: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

To:

CCG banned PCA from responding to memo. CCG: ANYWAY CCG: THAT'S IT I GUESS.

Eridan isn't even trying to calm Karkat down. He still succeeds in doing so. This is because they are soul mates. And I mean that in the sense that the comic literally calls being moirails soul mates, which it doesn't do for the other quadrants:

A reasonable human translation would be the concept of a soul mate, but in a more platonic sense, and with a more specific social purpose.

That "social purpose" being that an even-tempered troll calms down a more hot-tempered one, and vice versa.

It also goes on to note:

But some pale pairings, as the one above [referring to a picture of Nepeta and Equius], will be strikingly obvious to all who know them.

But what's really interesting is the next page.

And yet others will seem to have been hatched for each other.

Did you catch that? Let me zoom in.

(Also, the blue and red cuttlefish to represent Sollux - Feferi and Sollux spend the whole game together, and even wind up talking about their feelings constantly in a pile - more on piles in a sec.)

In fact... in Eridan's first visual appearance...

The crab has always been there for him.

It's also important to talk about the bottle of Faygo that's been photoshopped to be candy red, Karkat's blood color. The path that it takes actually directly mirrors Karkat's relationships with Gamzee and Eridan - it's initially something that Gamzee has, but winds up being ejected out of his life, and washes up on Eridan's shore. In fact:

TC: SnAtCh aN IcEcOlD, dOg TC: MoThErFuCkIn cHuG ThAt sHiT LiKe yOu aNd tHe bOtTlE WaS ReUnItEd lOvErS CA: are you recommendin a bevverage to me or somethin CA: is that wwhat this is TC: YeAh mAn SlAm A FaYgO CA: i dont havve a fuckin faygo you stupid fuck wwhy wwould i keep that disgusting shit on hand TC: ArE YoU MoThErFuCkIn sUrE AbOuT ThAt? CA: oh CA: oh god youre right i do CA: i totally forgot about it TC: YoU SeE MaN TC: MoThEr TC: FuCkIn TC: MiRaClEs TC: :o)

When Gamzee and Eridan discuss this exact bottle, Gamzee even likens it to "reunited lovers"; it's something that Eridan has had this whole time (after all, he was cheating on Feferi with the guy), but never realized.

There are a few miscellaneous things that don't really mean anything on their own, but put next to all this other stuff, is worth considering, so I'll list those now.

First, they both do the bonk:

Second:

CG: ARE WE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE BECAUSE OF STUFF I SAID. TA: eheheheh you LIITERALLY a2k me that every tiime are you jokiing. TA: ii cant even tell anymore. CG: IT'S A JOKE MORON. CG: HONESTLY I'M JUST GLAD NOBODY ELSE IS PRIVVY TO OUR CONVERSATIONS.

Third, Karkat muses to his future self about how he misses his friends, especially the assholes, two pages before staring at a dead Eridan's ass (joking, he's definitely looking at WV, but it's still significant that this thought is being associated with Eridan):

CCG: I MEAN, DON'T GET ME WRONG. CCG: I MISS ALL OF MY DEAD FRIENDS A LOT. CCG: EVEN THE ASSHOLES! I MISS THEM TOO. MAYBE EVEN ESPECIALLY THEM, IN SOME PERVERSE WAY. CCG: AND I SHOULD BE RELIEVED THAT THEY ALL SEEM TO BE HAPPY IN SOME WAY, EVEN IF IT'S BY FLOATING NEBULOUSLY THROUGH DREAM PROJECTIONS WITH THEIR FREAKY BLANK EYES. CCG: AND I GUESS I AM RELIEVED ABOUT THAT. CCG: BUT AT THE SAME TIME IT'S LEFT ME UNSETTLED.

Fourth, in the same conversation, he bemoans his failed relationship with Terezi, before Future!Karkat chastises Past!Karkat for his instability and mixed signals. Going back to the page on moirallegiances, an explicit function of a proper pale relationship is stabilizing a troll's other relationships:

The two partners in a strong pale relationship will serve to balance and complement each other's emotional profiles, and thus allow their other relationships to be more successful.

Of course, I don't need to tell you how messy and unstable Eridan's relationships have been.

And finally, Piles of Stuff™ are associated with moirails, and directly stated in-comic to cause an outpouring of emotion:

Standing near this pile stirs powerful emotions. The closer you stand to piles of stuff, the more freely the feelings flow. It is a law of reality.

So here's a seven-word tragedy for you: For Sale, Shitty Wand Pile, Never Used:

ERIDAN: at least i got the upright basic decency to hide my shitty wand pile somewwhere in the lab you wwont find it dont evven bother lookin KARKAT: WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES HAVE PILES OF THINGS, JUST STOP.

(Which he specifically tells Karkat about.)

So, yeah, what I'm saying is, there's just, like, a weirdly large amount to read into here. That Karkat and Eridan are probably soulmates or whatever. And that this is important because...

Eridan Is Plot Relevant (Well All The Dead Trolls Are But This Is An Essay About Eridan)

So. Now we are going to talk about themes. Yes, like we are in schoolfeeding again. I'm going to keep it simple, because "The Themes of Homestuck" is a whole essay on its own, and this one about just the shitty fish boy is already way too long.

I think it's fairly non-controversial to posit that the main theme of Homestuck is, "children should mature, care about each other, and throw off the shackles of their old society, because they will be responsible for a new world one day."

Up until Game Over/the Retcon, this is so prevalent and well-established that SBURB/SGRUB's coming-of-age themes will outright be commented upon by the characters, and the main villain is a child who deliberately stunted his own growth so he could go around kicking over other peoples' toys forevermore.

So, the thing is, with that being the theme of Homestuck, if ALL of the Alternian trolls don't survive to the end, the ending is thematically unsatisfying, because the message suddenly gains an addendum of "well, some kids just need to die," which totally sucks. Like, sure, Eridan was a violent, crazed murderer even at the best of times, but his permanent death within the canon ending kind of means that the comic is saying that people in his position don't deserve kindness or second chances. That position being a traumatized, emotionally neglected child, who was being bullied by people he considered his friends. It's a pretty terrible message.

It's even worse when you consider what other trolls don't make it to the end - Nepeta, the most outspoken troll against the hemospectrum (and Davepeta does NOT count, don't try to tell me the final culmination of Nepeta's character arc is being combined with some guy she barely knows and a bird). Feferi, who genuinely wanted the best for others, even if she was kind of a privileged princess. Aradia and Sollux also stay behind in the bubbles, even though their lives have pretty much been endless parades of suffering and being used by other people. Even Equius doesn't deserve it - he was kind of a casteist freak, but not irredeemably so, and the fact that he became kinder to Karkat over the course of SGRUB proved that he had the capacity to change. And Tavros, allergic to himself and being insulted by Vriska, is a terrible way to end his arc.

It's also really clear that, since half his friends are dead, Karkat just doesn't really have anything to do. His title is the Knight of Blood, and Blood is about bonds - romance, friendship. And yet, he ends the comic having never figured out what Blood was about, with no confirmed filled quadrants (sorry DaveKat likers, but within the comic itself, DaveKat is never confirmed), and most of his bonds nothing more than ghosts in the bubbles. It's a terribly unsatisfying ending for the most narratively important troll.

I think, then, that even if you don't agree that Homestuck should have ended with full revivals and redemption arcs for all the trolls, the essay is going to proceed on like you do, so, sorry, I guess.

The thing with Eridan, specifically, is that he's actually tied deeply into the plot and themes, and his return means more than just Karkat finally getting a date (although that's important, too). Eridan is directly intertwined with a prophecy to kill Lord English; he's set up to mirror Caliborn and Calliope; and thematically, his redemption would be the most clear instance of the "interrogating society" part of the theme of Homestuck, because Eridan is kind of the Society Troll. And also, he was definitely supposed to be Roxy's wizard boyfriend.

Just gonna get that last one out of the way real quick because it's a fast one, Roxy fucking loves wizards and is a hipster. Eridan is a wizard and is also a hipster. Roxy has a crush on a prince. Eridan is also a prince. Roxy wears a purple striped scarf. Eridan wears a blue striped scarf. Roxy uses rifles. Eridan uses rifles. Momlonde's introduction includes a passive-aggressive fridge battle that features a cameo of Eridan's quirk.

Using the colorful MAGNET LETTERS, you recently left a succinct message, which may or may not have been directed toward anyone in particular. But you couldn't find the letter W, so you just stuck two V's together. Your mother then purchased a fresh pack of W's and left them there for your convenience.

Yeah. So. Uh. Not only did Eridan need to be brought back to date Karkat pale, but he also needed to be brought back to date Roxy flushed. Can you imagine how funny it would be. They'd get together within 5 minutes of meeting for the first time and Rose would lose her shit. Anyway.

Him being a parallel to Calliope and Caliborn is also a quick one - Caliborn uses Riflekind/Sceptrekind, and Calliope uses Pistolkind/Wandkind. Eridan's two weapons are rifles and wands. Lord English is described as an evil wizard and at one point is shown using Calliope's wand. Eridan is also an evil wizard who uses a wand.

Look, I'm not saying that Eridan is necessarily directly related to these two, nor am I even necessarily saying that he and Roxy HAVE to date, but I am saying that he's got Weird Plot Connections that make him bizarrely relevant to characters that only come into play well after his death - almost like the comic was setting up that he would be coming back. His reaction to Cronus supports this, which I go into detail about here.

There's other strange "Eridan's plot important" things, too - like the fact that he's completely unimpressed by Faygo, considering it to be "just soda," and seems to be the only non-cultist who's okay with it. Or the fact that he's actually been awake on Derse since before the game (but unable to hear the horrorterrors, maybe foreshadowing some psychic resistance?) which he casually reveals to Kanaya and which Terezi is aware of, hence he's included in the people she names are "in" on the existence of the game. Or the fact that the genetic code for Alternia's first guardian was written within the pages of four FLARP books, with the addition of a fifth code Gamzee wrote in Karkat's ~ATH book... but Eridan was the fifth FLARP player in the team, implying that Doc Scratch/LE influencing Gamzee caused him to usurp Eridan's part of the first guardian code, giving LE his way into the trolls' universe.

Individually, it's all kind of nothing, but it just paints a bigger picture of Eridan being weirdly relevant, especially when we get to the juicy stuff:

The Prophecy

ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. ... [T]his magician once somehow from afar tried to strike him down at a young age, so he would never have to face him. 8ut the evil spell was deflected, sealing the magician's spirit away in a series of unassuming vessels until he could find some other cunning way to enter our universe. ... ARANEA: 8ut at some point he 8ecame disillusioned with magic. If there ever was any truth to his far fetched vision, the legacy of defeating the evil magician would have to 8e passed on to his descendant, or if his descendant proved to 8e as much of a failure as he did, then perhaps on to some other Hero of Hope.

ERIDAN: i slaughtered enough angels to knoww my limits and wwhere i stand against the lord of all angels they prophecized

GG: im pretty sure hes from the future! CA: wwhy GG: because he said hes my grandson CA: wwhat the fuck is a grandson CA: is that some kind of pervverse human familial thing GG: umm yes ... CA: that gun i just gavve you is somethin of a hatchright to the kid CA: happy i could play a role in your dirty stinkin lineage GG: like an heirloom? i guess it could be ... CA: i kinda think thats wwhy i found the gun in the first place CA: but noww im forsakin it because fuck i just found a better destiny than my old crappy one wwhich i nevver got any appreciation for anywway

Jake is supposed to have been the one to defeat Lord English. (No, Jake defeating pre-LE Caliborn right before he gets sealed into Cal doesn't count! He doesn't even get the final blow in that fight, DIRK does.)

But Eridan at one point had that destiny on his shoulders. Aranea turbohealing Jake, and the resultant hope field, summons a bunch of angels, which are heavily associated with Eridan - yet another random connection that Eridan has with future plot events.

Jake was another character, alongside Karkat, who was kind of reduced to a joke by the end, despite the fact that he had literally, directly, been passed the destiny of defeating Lord English. It's hard not to see this as a consequence, at least in part, of removing Eridan from the story. By cutting him out of the fabric of the ending, several plot threads - including this prophecy - are left dangling in irrelevance. And so Jake, like Karkat, now has nothing to do.

Homestuck is generally a series where every prophecy does come true, which makes it kind of startling when several prophecies fail to - Feferi's to "unite the two races," Jake's to defeat Lord English, and Karkat's to bring "compassion, forgiveness, and equality among all bloodlines" in the Signless's place.

That last one is actually relevant to:

The Thematic Importance of EriKar As Soul Mates

Eridan represents the worst aspects of Alternian society. He's a sea dweller at the top of the caste structure, with free reign to murder whoever he wants, soaked in the blood of thousands of innocent trolls. He espouses the casteist rhetoric that their society is built on, calling for the deaths of all land dwellers and the oppression of the lower castes. And while he should be benefitting from his position of privilege, it has also done nothing but hurt him.

Karkat, meanwhile, is a pariah. A mutant who would've been culled on sight, who spent his entire life living in hiding, and most of the game in fear that he would be ostracized or worse by the rest of his friends if they found out about his blood color. He's also the second coming of Troll Jesus, and thus, more despised by the Alternian ruling class than a mutant normally would be. For most of his life, he dreamed of nothing more than finding belonging within the society that had deemed him unfit.

Their friendship is something that "should not be." The highblood and the mutant. The royal-v and the off-spectrum. The empress's sea dweller and the second coming of the signless. Eridan "should" see Karkat as a miscreant to cull on sight. Karkat "should" be terrified of Eridan's very existence.

But in reality, Eridan doesn't give a shit about blood color, and Karkat just wants to be accepted. Eridan just wants someone to care about him, and Karkat loves his friends. Aside from Feferi, Eridan is the only highblood who never comments about Karkat's mutant blood, and they were best buddies even before Eridan knew.

Eridan and Karkat getting together isn't JUST the two most undateable trolls on the team finally landing a stable quadrant. These two, moreso than any other pairing, represent the themes of Homestuck. Children growing up, caring about each other, and throwing off the shackles of their old society.

In the pre-retcon timeline, their team failed to do so. This led to Gamzee falling into his highblood clown cult, Equius letting himself and Nepeta die by submitting to his place in the hemospectrum, Vriska killing Tavros because she couldn't allow herself to show weakness, and Eridan completing his caste's dream of genocide. Karkat spent the entire meteor trip and beyond beating himself up about it, since he considered it all to be his fault.

But with the introduction of John's retcon powers, they have the chance to, one by one, redeem themselves. I believe that's how the original ending would have gone: Terezi would ask John to bring Vriska back, because she only feels comfortable fixing her own mistakes. Vriska would then have asked John to bring back Tavros, whom she regretted killing. Tavros would be there for Gamzee, rendering him an ally. Gamzee would ask John to bring back Equius and Nepeta. Equius would ask John to help him not make the same mistakes with Aradia, and Aradiabot would catch John by the wrist and demand he bring her back in time to before she died, allowing her to circumvent her own death and Sollux's guilt. Sollux would ask John to keep him from provoking Eridan, saving Feferi. And Feferi would be pretty ok with the way things were... but KARKAT would then pull John aside, and drop an entire book of mistakes he made on John's lap, and this would result in a finalized timeline where all his friends are alive and god-tiered.

Because all the trolls SHOULD have survived.

Vriska should've survived because people should be allowed to have second chances.

Tavros should've survived because caring about each other, and being willing to show kindness and mercy, are good things.

Gamzee should have survived because people mired in religious fundamentalism and cults deserve to be offered a helping hand.

Equius should've survived because people should be allowed to grow and change their beliefs.

Nepeta should've survived because she was the anti-casteism troll. Casteism is bad, folks! Not only that, but I'm convinced that she was originally going to give the Ultimate Self exposition, and Davepetasprite^2 had to be contrived in the canon ending in order to shortcut Nepeta's character development, ruining it in the process.

Aradia should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team and live a life free of the control of evil uncles and shitty ancestors.

Sollux should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team because we all deserve to heal and be happy.

Feferi should've survived so she could be in a kismesistude with Nepeta, and realize that casteism itself is bad, not just the definition of culling, and then used her Witch of Life powers to even out the lifespans between the next generation of trolls, which needs to happen or else casteism will just happen again as long-lived highbloods inevitably amass power. And, also, it would complete the prophecy Gl'bgolyb gave her that she was intended to unite the two races (dream bubbles don't count, because by that metric, Sollux did more than she did by establishing a connection between the trolls and humans).

And Eridan should've survived, because the harm society has done to us can be undone. We don't have to submit to the roles it imposes, to the laws it wrote, to the abuse it inflicted. We can be free.

I've seen a lot of people who believe that such-and-such character did SUCH awful things that they don't deserve a happy ending. Oftentimes, it's Eridan, but nearly all of the dead trolls have gotten this treatment. So, let me just ask all of you who have gotten this far and still hold that opinion one thing. Do you think that's what Troll Jesus would have wanted?

This is why pale EriKar is so important: for it to happen, Eridan has to make a choice between upholding the beliefs of his shitty society, or pursuing a happier, kinder future, one where he outright rejects the caste system. For it to happen, Karkat has to shake all his insecurities about not being good enough by Alternian standards, and take on the duty of creating something better than what he came from. If pale EriKar happens, it means Eridan and Karkat choose love, not fear. Compassion, forgiveness, and equality.

This choice - this pairing - is the ultimate representation of giving Alternian society one big middle finger. Saying, we don't need you anymore, fuck off! Saying, we reject you at your core; we will choose something better! Saying, we will create a new world, and it will be kinder than the one we came from!

Pale EriKar means LOVE WINS.

Thank you for reading.

[butyoudidthis4what]

You’re Okay

Jack Abbot x Doctor!Reader

5.4k || All my content is 18+ MDNI.

Jack Abbot was the man who broke me.

I genuinely never thought I would write fanfic again and even when new characters and hyperfixations came I didn't, no matter how much the urge was there. I just could never go through with it. I write for a living currently and so the last thing I wanted to do when I got home from work was more writing, even if it was a different style and all my own. And then Jack Abbot entered my life at a time and I went on vacation where I had absolutely no access to work and was refreshed while also emotionally going through it and really had the urge to write and so here we are. A perfect storm.

In typical me fashion I decided I was so sad and anxious that I just wanted some happy fluffy stuff and wrote the exact opposite. I'm just an angst with a happy ending girl what can I say. But also I just really want someone to comfort me like this and it was cathartic to write. However, I'm not going to lie that I started feeling a bit better when writing this so it became a bit harder to write, weave together, and finish and I'm just rusty. Read the CWs please, it's rough stuff and potentially triggering, so protect yourself, and if I missed any please (nicely) let me know.

I have a number of other ideas and thoughts for this man and am desperate to yell about him so feel free to send your thoughts in the ask box or DM me to yell about Jack.

Titles and summaries are unlikely to ever get better. Please be gentle with me as this is my first foray back into writing and posting in years. Please let me know if you like it. I thrive on positive feedback.

Again, please read the CWs: suicidal ideation; self harm ideation; extreme depression and anxiety discussed; discussion of anxious depressive attack; reference to rescue meds; self hate; reader is not okay; reader tries to push Jack away; abandonment issues and themes.

Summary: You have an anxious depressive attack for no readily apparent reason. Jack is the best and gets you through it. Happy ending. Established relationship. You and Jack live together. Age gap but not specified or referenced. No use of y/n or related. Absolutely zero proofreading, I mean none. No beta. This is also a bit open ended and could be conducive to a part two depending on reception and if anyone would be interested.

The sadness consumes you, sticks to you like the tegaderm you apply to patients. The most irritating part is how it just seemed to have come out of nowhere. Sure, you were feeling a bit more anxious and depressed than usual, but nothing horrific. And then it got a little worse towards the end of your first twelve hours. But then around hour sixteen it was like you just walked into a black hole and were totally consumed by it as you took a few minutes to yourself to use the bathroom. 

It was the crying out of absolutely fucking nowhere for no apparent reason kind of sadness. The kind that left you perpetually teetering on a ledge and unable to breathe. The kind that makes you think this is it, you’re so broken now you’re past the point of fixable. Makes you think you will just be here forever, stuck in this sadness, unable to move or enjoy anything, condemned to a life of faking it. Makes you itch to hurt yourself. The kind that is so consuming and distorting it makes you ideate and think that ending it all might be an act of kindness to yourself and your closest; you no longer consumed by the sadness and them no longer burdened with you. The kind that is so frustrating for you because one sliver of logical, rational brain large enough to understand what is happening and that your brain is manipulating you escapes, so you know that you’re being unreasonable, that it’ll pass and yet you can’t seem to believe it. Or maybe it’s that you do believe it, it’s just that surviving until it does pass seems so hard and you are so tired. 

Work keeps you busy. Busy enough to be able to push the thoughts to the side and just live with the feelings for now, both mentally and physically. You can focus on others, on fixing others, saving others, solving other people’s problems. It’s a good distraction, but just that. A distraction. It does nothing to fix anything and the second it’s gone you know it will all come crashing down. 

Jack’s eyes are scanning for you the second he walks in the ED. Something was off with you when he finished his shift and left you for the second half of your double. You’d assured him you were just tired and would get some more caffeine and be good and he hadn’t pushed you. He’d told you to text or call him if you needed him, that he would probably get some sleep but would sleep with his phone on loud and near his head in case you needed him. He could just sense it on you.

You hear him make some sarcastic remark back to someone before you see that he’s here and it makes your heart race. There’s a little burst of happiness at seeing him of course, but then even that is overcome again by the sadness that rules your mind currently. You don’t want to ruin his mood, don’t want him to have to deal with you. It makes you more anxious, threatens to rip you in half in deciding what to do, tell him or try and pretend. You know that would be pointless though and you don’t really have a choice. Not when it comes to him. One look at your face and he’s going to read you like a chapter book. You thought the time getting home and ability to take some meds since you wouldn’t be working might help you calm down enough for it to not be quite as bad once you got home. You look back down at your tablet but chew hard on the inside of your cheek, taste the iron of your own blood, and when Mel walks up to you with a question you shift your tablet so that you can dig your nails into the skin of your hand. Just something to ground you. Just a little physical pain to match the internal.

Jack clocks it from where he is, finding you just as you look back down at your tablet. Your nails and cheek. There’s something else about the way you’re holding yourself that’s off too. His own anxiety ticks up. Were you hurt? Did something happen? He turns back to ask Santos if something happened this shift but she’s already gone. When he looks back over to where you were standing with Mel he finds you and Mel gone. He thinks you just went with her until he spots her alone with a patient. 

You had to flee after answering her question and telling her you were off and to spread the word if anyone asked. You wouldn’t know how else to describe it other than giving into this urge to run and hide. Some sort of flight or fight thing undoubtedly, you’d just never had the feeling before. You had to get out of there before you lost it in front of everyone. 

Jack being here isn’t good. It wasn’t the plan, the one you’ve been preparing and repeating to yourself all day to get through it without losing it. You’d get off, go home, he’d be there and you’d be okay and not feel like this because he’d be there. Or at least if you still were feeling like this he would be there and that would make it a little better, a bit less suffocating. It would make it all feel survivable. 

But now he’s here and you can only assume that means he picked up a shift and you’ll have to go home to an empty place, something you’re not sure you trust yourself with right now. You try and tell yourself it’ll be fine, that you’ll take some meds at home and just sleep through it until he gets back and then sleep more with him and that the feelings will pass. And you know it’s true. Your logical brain knows that these feelings will pass. Your emotional brain that tells you you’re going to be stuck in this all-consuming sadness and anxiety wins, however, and the thoughts just won’t stop. The physical feeling of sadness and anxiety won’t leave. It’s enough to make you gag. 

You don’t want to ruin his roof for him but you don’t know where else to go and think maybe you’ll find whatever it is Jack finds up here that seems to help him. And really you know you want him to find you. Need him to. Need him to take one look at your face and know how to help you, how to comfort you, like he always does. You hate putting that on him, though.    

You don’t even consciously do it. You just look up and realize where you are. Right on the ledge. It’s so metaphoric it’s disgusting. It’s odd though, being on the other side of the guard rails. It feels like it should be scary or exhilarating in some kind of way but it’s just not. It’s nothing. Everything is nothing except that everything is also abhorrently and suffocatingly sad in a way you can’t explain. You let your hands come out a little and catch the wind. Some part of you hopes it’ll carry you away. It doesn’t and you’re so in your head you don’t hear the door or him as he walks over to you until he speaks. 

“You’re in my spot, Doll.” His voice is gentle, feeling you out and giving you room. He’s desperate to see your eyes, to read your face in the way only he can. 

You shrug. “I suppose I am.” 

He walks a little closer, rests his arms on the bar. He doesn’t know yet, how bad things are, how bad you are right now. You’re just a little too good at hiding it with your back to him when he can’t see your eyes or face. “Bad shift?”

It takes you a minute to respond and when you do it’s a single word and an iciness starts to seep through him. “No.” 

The way you say it is off. The way you sound, the way you’re standing, body leaning just slightly forward.

“What’s up? You don’t seem okay. What happened?” The genuine concern in his voice melts you but at the same time a large part of you feels bad for it, for making him concerned and worried about you. It’s unfair of you to do. 

You shake your head a little in response. “Nothing.” As much as it sounds like a lie, it’s really the truth, at least to his last question. Nothing happened.

“Did you pick up a shift tonight?” You ask him quietly. 

“No.” “Why are you here then?”

He gives a soft laugh, almost a touch of disbelief to it. “I don’t know, the way you seemed when I left and we said goodbye. I thought you were just tired but it sat with me, stayed with me when I woke up. I just felt, I don’t know, drawn to come pick you up. Get my eyes on you as soon as I could.” There’s a pause. “I’m glad I came.” 

You hum. You hate that he can pick it up off of you, that you can’t hide it better to protect him.

He’s never seen you go past the guard rail and combined with your demeanor and body language and the aura radiating off you it scares him, scares the fuck out of him right now. “Will you come here, please? Even if not to me, just to the other side.” There’s a pause as you consider. He leans back up off the rail to keep his hands free, ready to jump and grab you by the scrub top if he has to. 

You don’t want to scare him, to hurt him. That’s the whole problem. And then you end up doing so anyway. He deserves so much better. You hate yourself.

“I’m afraid if you touch me I’ll shatter. Just totally fucking lose it. And you shouldn’t have to deal with that.” The way you say it tells him you want nothing more than to be in his arms. He’s right of course. He recognizes it for what it is beneath your words, an invitation for him to pull you back to him. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“Alright.” It’s his normal voice. Just Jack. He reaches and grabs your arm with his hand, gentle, but firm enough to keep you from going anywhere and show his seriousness. “You’re coming back on this side. Now.” It’s his Dr. Abbot voice, the one you know he must have developed in the service. “Please Doll.” And there’s your Jack, the tone he only uses with you, soft and sweet, empathetic, vulnerable in a strong way. Full of the love he has for you. You know if you pulled away he’d let you, but you don’t want to. You want him. Want to be close to him.

You don’t shatter from his touch. Not yet anyway. You let out a long breath but nod, let him help you back to the safe side. His hands are on your face, one thumb brushing over a cheekbone as he searches your eyes. You try to look away but he follows you. He hates what he sees, how sad and small you look and must feel, the nondescript anxiety coursing through you. 

“Doll,” he says a little breathless, aching to make it all better. “I need you to talk to me, please.” It’s desperate, on the cusp of begging. “Let me help. Let me in.” If anything the dialogue is normally reversed, but it’s been a good while since you’ve had to ask him to talk to you or let you in. You’ve been together so long now that it’s automatic for him. The only things he tries to keep you out of sometimes are his PTSD and flashbacks and phantom limb pain, but even then. He’s an easy lock for you to pick.

You scrunch your shoulders up hard for a few seconds as you take a deep breath and let them fall back down as you let it out through your nose. “And if I say I’m fine?” You give him a hint of a smile.

He gives a little scoff of a laugh. “Then I’ll be hurt by how much of a blind idiot you think I am.” It’s a little reassuring though. That you still have it in you to joke. It tells him you’re still in there. 

You give him the smallest smile before your face fades back into a heartbreaking sadness. “I don’t know Jack,” you say softly. “I… Nothing is even wrong. Nothing has happened. I just…” You trail off and he lets you, gives you the space to gather your thoughts even as he watches you with concern etched into his features. You look away from him, out at the city. He can still see your eyes get glassy though, the slightest tremble of your chin before you recover. “I’m too mentally ill for you. You deserve better.”

He has to give another laugh at that. “Have you met me?”

You look at him, and while he sees sadness and hurt he also sees terror. 

“I’m just… sad. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s all consuming and feels never ending even when I can sit and rationally tell myself I have nothing to be sad or anxious about. It just doesn’t fucking matter. It still feels like I can’t breathe except I am and I’m aware of it because I’m still alive and still thinking, still sad and spiraling. I’m almost like, fucking lightheaded it’s so bad, I shake, I can’t get that pit in my stomach and burn at my diaphragm to go away and over what? There’s nothing. There’s absolutely fucking nothing for me to be this sad or anxious or upset over.” You close your eyes and bring a shaky hand to your lips. “I’m just a huge mess for no god damn reason and I fucking hate it, Jack. And you deserve better, so, so much better, even if you don’t think so or want to admit it. You deserve not to be stuck with this, with whatever it is I am.”

He opens his mouth to speak but then shuts it. There’s so much he wants to say he doesn’t know where to start. He just wants to hold you. To hug you until all the pieces of you fit back together the way you’ve done for him so many times. He wishes he had a way to let you into his mind so that you could see how much he loves you, how much he needs you. 

“I feel so fucking melodramatic. The shift was fine. Nobody died. It was a good shift if anything. Life is good. I have friends who love and care about me. I’ve got you for christ’s sake, I’m the luckiest woman in the fucking world.” You shake your head a little. “And yet here I am. Like this. Feeling like the world is falling out from under me and so sad I almost want to jump for no reason. No fucking reason. And now I’m making you deal with it, with me. I hate it. I hate myself. You would be better off without me, you really would.”

“That simply is not fucking true,” he almost gasps out, just needing to get something out to you. “Jesus fucking christ I don’t know that there would still be me without you.” You shrug. “No. Don’t shrug, please do not shrug. This is not whatever. You are not whatever. It’s true, I don’t know if I’d still be here without you. I don’t know if I could go on without you. That’s just the truth. You’re not too mentally ill for me. You’re not too sad for me, or too anxious or too whatever. I can’t deserve better when I already have the best, regardless of whether you don’t think that’s true or want to admit it.” He sees you shaking a little. “I need you.” 

His voice cracks a little on ‘need.’ “Your brain is lying to you, no matter how real it seems in this moment, I promise. It’s okay to feel this way and to need to lean on me, to need my support. It won’t push me or make me go anywhere. I want to be here for you. I want to help you, help you feel better and not so sad. The depression and anxiety don’t care if the shift was good and nobody dies and you have friends and me. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel as deeply and as badly as you do right now. It doesn’t mean it’s melodramatic. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve your life or me. You’re struggling. That’s okay.” His thumbs wipe some tears away from your face and his heart cracks. He feels so helpless, this is one of the only things he can’t just fix for you, can’t protect you from. He wants to cry himself. “I’ve got you. This is an anxious depressive attack,” he reminds you. “You are so strong and you will come out of it. It will pass.”

“It’s just been happening more and more, Jack! I’ve been having this happen more and more. And one day you’re going to wake up and realize you’re exhausted by it. And I,” a few tears slip out as you take a shuddery breath, “I feel so fucking guilty making you deal with me and watching you deal with it, with me. How much it scares you and makes you sad. I just want the best for you, happiness and easiness and a calm, steady, good life. You deserve that. After everything you’ve been through you deserve that and more and I don’t think I’m that. I’m just more stress, more exhaustion, more to deal with. And that’s not fair and you deserve better.” The tears flow more freely now and your voice shakes with every word but you haven’t totally fallen apart somehow. 

“I get this exact same way too. I struggle too. I feel the darkness consume me just like you are now. I lean on you, ask for your help, or accept it when you have to offer because I can’t ask for myself. Why should or would I not do the same for you? Why would I give up on and abandon you when you’d never dream of doing it to me?” He asks, hands a bit firmer where they’re still holding your face. 

“It’s different,” you mutter. 

“How? How is it any different?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. It just is. You’re different. It’s okay when it’s you.” 

“Well that’s bullshit, Doll, and I know you know that,” he says with loving sternness. He softens again. “It’s okay when it’s you too, I promise. The way you feel about me when it’s me is the way I feel about you right now. It’s okay if you don’t know why you’re feeling like this and it’s okay if the reason is buried deep inside and it’s okay if there is no reason and you’re just feeling like this. It’s okay. We’re okay. I’m not dealing with you, even though your mind is telling you that. You’re not a burden. You’re not pushing me away by being like this. Your brain is lying to you right now. I’m not going anywhere. For better or worse you got yourself stuck with me when you agreed to that first date. Because I knew it was you then. And I won’t lose you and certainly not to this.” His thumbs brush over your cheeks again, one going to brush over your thumb. His eyes are so earnest it almost hurts.

You look at him for a moment and then he’s pulling you into his chest and arms as you’re falling into them. He lowers you both to the ground with you in his lap as you do finally shatter in his arms. 

You sob into him. Not soft tears that are silent or even heavy tears with some sniffing and stuttered words. It’s ugly, chest heaving. You almost seem to scream into his chest at times in between the huge breaths you try to take in. There are times where you choke, cry so hard you dry heave. But Jack doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to get away or pull away with any kind of disgust at any of it. He just holds you, his arms warm and steady and solid around you, keeping you grounded, even if just. He rocks softly at times, shushes you softly but not to get you to be quiet, just to reassure. There are whispered words, “I know,” “It’s okay, you’re okay,” “I’ve got you,” “I’m not letting go,” “Let it out Doll, I’m here, I’ll always be here,” “I love you.” He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back, squeezes you tight to try and help you regulate, desperate to do anything he can to help. 

Eventually you cry yourself out and are reduced to small sniffles and hiccups. You go so still a couple of times he thinks you may have fallen asleep in his arms, knows how tired crying can make you, but then you let out a sigh. You pull your head from his chest a little, look up at him with sheepish eyes. It’s heartbreaking, how swollen and red your face and eyes are, how beautiful you look even this sad. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” he whispers when you go to speak. He knows you too well, better than he knows himself sometimes, you both swear.  

“I just hate it. Feeling like this. And having the rational part of my brain know at the same time that it’s ridiculous and unnecessary and all wrong but it losing to that emotional part of my brain that drags me into panic and all consuming sadness. I hate it.” You sniffle hard, try to wipe your face with your hand but it does nothing. Jack pulls his shirt up a little so that he can use it to wipe your face for you. 

“It just feels like it’ll never get better. Like I’ll be stuck in this darkness and sadness and anxiety forever.” Your words are muffled against him and make him hold you a little tighter. 

“I know. But I promise these feelings, especially at this intensity, will pass. I’m not dismissing them or saying they aren’t real, at all, but they will pass.” He kisses your hair a few more times, continues rubbing your back. He knows there’s not much he can say right now and doesn’t want to overwhelm you with words, just reassure you.

“Yeah,” you murmur. He doesn’t push you to accept it. 

“Did it help? The cry?” He asks gently.

You shrug in his arms. “I don’t know, probably.” You let the steady thump of his heart in your ear regulate yours. After a few moments you amend your answer. “It wasn’t the cry. It was you.” 

The corners of his lips turn up just slightly. He likes hearing he helped. “I’m glad.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper. He gives you a squeeze in response. A couple more minutes pass as you sit there just trying to recover. 

“I got your shirt all gross.” 

He shrugs. “It’s okay. I’ve had worse on me from people I don’t love more than anything.” He kisses the side of your head. “Plus it’s the one you like to steal anyway,” he whispers in your ear.

That makes you laugh, laugh enough that you start crying and let your head fall back into the side of his neck and shoulder again. “I’m sorry,” you almost squeak out.

“Oh baby,” he gives a sad little laugh. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

This round doesn’t last anywhere near as long, largely because you’re just too fucking tired. A bit because he was right, it was an acute anxious depressive attack that’s starting to lift. You sigh into him. “I think I’m done.”

“Let’s get up and go home. Get some food in you, maybe some of your rescue meds if you want, and some sleep. It’ll help even though I know everything feels kind of helpless right now.” He kisses the top of your head, your forehead and then your lips. Nibbles on your nose just to pull a smile from you. He goes to pull away so that you can get up but you make a little whine of protest and just hold onto him tighter, nuzzle your nose against his neck. 

“I’m already home.” You murmur. “You’re home.” You’ve both said it to each other before and he knows how fucking true it is for him but it still makes him smile, knowing he’s that safe place for you. 

He gives a fake exasperated sigh just to see if it’ll pull anything from you. “Let’s get up and go to our house, then, little miss pedantic. Get in our bed.” 

You smile against his neck and it makes him relax a little, makes him feel good knowing he’s the only one who could pull you out of this and make you smile. “I’m not pedantic, it’s just the truth. And even if I am pedantic I’m your little miss pedantic.” 

You don’t say it as a question but he knows it is one, a subtle way of asking for reassurance when being direct is too hard. 

“Yes you are. All mine.” He squeezes you a bit tighter to drive home the point. “I happen to find pedantism so hot. Gets me all bothered when you get so concerned about all the little details.” He mouths at your neck, rubs his scruff against you lightly because he knows it tickles you and wants to draw a little laugh. 

It’s just barely successful, you give him a little huff of a laugh, but with how you were, he’ll take it. You finally let yourself fall out of his arms and stand up with him. He can tell by your face that while you might be feeling the slightest bit better in the moment, you’re not really. You’re still deep in that hole and struggling. You see the recognition of it flicker in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “That I made you think I wanted to… end myself and for scaring you. And that I’m not better. That I might never be better.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I understand. I really do, Doll. And I don’t expect it to be better with one conversation or two or three. And I’m not going to get tired of it, of you, as much as your brain wants you to believe that. I’ll be here and helping you through it just like you will with me until we’re in the ground together, okay?” You nod at him.  

He winds his fingers through yours and squeezes. “Let’s go home,” he says again, “to our house, the physical building where we reside together, where our bed is.” You go to open your mouth. “Yes, I still want you in my bed,” he cuts you off. “I could shower you first if you wanted.”

“Shower me? First?”

He holds the door of the roof open for you and you step in and hit the elevator button. “I know me washing your hair and body calms and grounds you,” he murmurs. He drops his voice a little lower, in volume and pitch and moves his face closer to yours so that his lips brush yours when he speaks. “And I say the shower is first because the second thing I could do for you, well, hopefully it would give you some oxytocin, dopamine and serotonin,” he smirks, gives you a teasingly light kiss on the lips. “Or if that’s all too much right now then we’ll just go home and get in bed and I’ll hold you while you sleep. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

You grin at him as he pulls away. It actually meets your eyes, even if it’s not the biggest smile he’s ever pulled from you. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve you Jack Abbot.”

“You were born.”

You start laughing. Like can’t breathe laughing, tears streaming, laughing. A smile pulls onto his face and he has to start laughing because yours is so contagious. “What?”

“I don’t fucking know,” you get out in between laughs, “just the way you said ‘you were born’ so seriously was so fucking funny. It was so… you.” You look up at him, eyes sparkling from tears but also love. “I’m so lucky,” you whisper, words a bit shaky. “I love you.” The laughing so hard you cried has brought you back to the precipice of tears. 

“I love you more,” Jack tells you as he wraps you back in his arms. The elevator opens though and you’re able to take in a deep breath and keep it together. 

“You wanna go out the side and I’ll meet you outside the ambo bay? I’ll swing back to the ED and grab your stuff.” He wipes a few tears from your face. It’s an offer to save some face and not look like a mess in front of everyone. 

“That bad?”

“You never look anything less than gorgeous, but the crying is obvious, yeah. It’ll draw questions.” He says it so matter of fact, that you’re never anything less than gorgeous in his eyes and that the crying is so obvious and people will gossip and it’s just another thing that feels so him that it helps tether you to reality. 

You nod. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

When you reach the door he squeezes your hand. You can see a little fear in his eyes. “You’ll be waiting, yeah? On the sidewalk?”

You give him a soft laugh and smile. “Yeah, on the sidewalk.”

“Good.” He leans in to give you a quick kiss. “I need you, you know? Just as much as you need me.”

“I know. I do, I promise.” As he walks away you call his name and he’s back by your side in a second. “I am sorry, you know. I would never actually do anything and leave you, and I’m sorry for hurting you by insinuating otherwise.”

He shakes his head slightly. “You don’t need to feel guilty for saying how you feel or felt. You don’t need to apologize.  I want you to talk to me, even if it is painful for me to hear. It’s the only way I can help.”

“It’s just hard to say, especially when I worry so much that it’ll make you go away. And I promise that’s not a reflection on you, or that I think you would-” He silences you with a kiss. It’s uncharacteristic for him at work, even if you’re not in the ED. That makes the fact of it happening a little better in some way, you think.

“I know. I understand, I promise.” He pulls back and looks at you. “I would tell you if it was becoming a problem or something I couldn’t handle. But I’m never going to have to tell you that. Now go wait for me.” He flicks his chin at the side door and gives you a little tap on the ass, flashes you one of his smiles that’s almost a smirk and makes you melt. You nod, do as instructed. And Jack watches you walk away until you disappear out the door, a whole piece of his heart out there existing outside of him. He knows you’ll be okay, that you’ll get through this. But it still scares him, still kills him to see you struggle like this. He wants to protect you from everything, does everything he can to, but always ends up trying to grapple with and accept the fact that he can’t really protect you from yourself. 

Outside, you wait for him on the sidewalk like you promised. Things are a bit lighter now that you’ve been able to speak to Jack, to just let yourself fall apart and cry. The guilt still eats at you even though you try not to let it. You watch him walk up to you, see the way he smiles when he spots you. It makes your heart ache. “I really love you, you know?” You murmur to him when he’s back at your side. 

“I do,” he nods. His lips pull up in a teasing smile as he starts up his favorite ‘argument’ you guys are always having. “I also know I love you more.”

[lonely-ey3s]

To Go, Please | the materialists pt 1/2

pairing: Harry Castillo x reader (the materialists)

word count: 2.7k

summary: You have been seeing Harry for a couple of weeks now after meeting him at your friend's wedding. After your last date was cut short due to a work emergency, the two of you want nothing more than each other's company tonight.

a/n: ok so are we all insufferable today between the apple airpod trailer and the materialists? because i am. my god. also, we are calling him Harry for now, as the name card he picks up in the trailer I assumed was his, and the name on it is Harry Castillo?? but either way, i'll change it if need be. also, i've already thought of a new series containing this man-- so much is coming.. ahhh !!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Part One

The sushi place that you were currently sitting at was something of a hidden gem you liked to go to when you needed a break from everything. Being a matchmaker had its joys and perks, being surrounded by people falling in love- and finding their happiness. However, it also had its days when you wanted nothing more than to curl up and vow that love doesn’t exist. Today was one of those days after a client you’d lined up with someone turned out to be nothing but a fraud, leaving the bride at the alter– one of your biggest nightmares.

However, Ming’s Sushi was one of the small slivers of joy you could get access to on a day like today. That and well as of late, another sliver of joy and peace was Harry.

Harry as well had a busy day, not bad, just busy. It was filled with meetings, contract signings, budget reviews, and at the end having to be submitted to a board meeting to discuss the quarterly numbers.

He called you when he was leaving the office, wanting to see you after a long day as well as after hearing about your day, wanting to offer some comfort. He asked where you wanted to go for dinner, and when you said Ming’s, he asked you to be ready within the hour.

Harry was a man like no other. Yes, he was filthy rich, which set him aside– but he was also one of the most generous individuals you’d ever met, not only as a person but as a partner as well.  

He was consistently making you feel seen, heard, and appreciated in every aspect. This was shown by the way you’d offer to help carry something inside last you were together. He thanked you with those big brown eyes and warm smile but insisted on doing it for you– his reasoning was always he wanted to take care of you. 

It was also shown when he would appreciate how beautiful you looked. He’d find small things that you didn’t think you’d notice like the color of your nails, the earrings or eye shadow you wore– small details to you, but he made them feel so much more valuable– made you feel more valuable. 

He worshipped you. 

When he introduced himself at your best friend’s wedding, and from the start, he had a way of somehow making you feel like the most desired person in any room. 

After a night of drinks, getting to know each other more, a few slow dances and a very polite and respectful goodnight kiss from him, he called you the next day to ask you to dinner. 

Since– the last 2 weeks have been nothing short of a complete dream. You’d gone out with him a few times to dinner and once out for a lunch date, but every time he took you home, he kissed you goodbye, kissed the top of your hand and would tell you he’d call you tomorrow— which he always did. 

After the 3rd dinner date you were going to invite him in, but the moment disappeared when an emergency work call of his interrupted the doorstop make out session on your front step— you two were enthusiastic attendees to. 

He reluctantly had to wish you goodnight and promised he’d make it up to you. 

Since then the sexual tension between the two of you has been at an all time high. 

When he picked you up today, it was the first time you'd seen each other since. He wasted no time after helping you into the back of his car before his lips were on yours, whispering how much he missed you, how he’d hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. 

To both of your disappointment, the car ride from your place to the restaurant was less than a few minutes, again cutting your make out reunion short. 

While eating you made small talk about what you’d done since you last saw each other a few days ago. 

You’d momentarily dazed off for a moment as there was a moment where he ordered a dessert from the waiter and your mind wandered. You kept your gaze on the soy sauce bottle in the middle of the table, your mind being pulled back to the events of earlier today. 

He turned to look at you after ordering, noticing where you were. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb shyly and cleared his throat softly, “You look beautiful if I haven’t told you already. Those earrings bring out your eyes…” he said from across the table, taking you away from your thoughts— his brown eyes sparkling from the warm lighting the dining area brought in.

You immediately snap out of it, looking at him across the table, softly smiling, “Oh, um, thank you, you’re very sweet.” you blush, reaching up to touch one of the earrings, suddenly feeling shy. You purse your lips together and lean forward to give him more of your attention. 

He slowly reached his hand over the table for you to take, “So tell me, what’s the story with Ming’s? I wanna know the history…” he smiled warmly, speaking softly.

You looked down at his hand and took it. His hand acts as an anchor for you and the anxieties of today. He immediately started softly running his thumb over your knuckles in an attempt to soothe you, to keep you with him. He leaned himself in closer to give you his fullest attention. 

You kept your gaze on your hand in his, “My grandmother's apartment was about 2 blocks from here growing up. She was friends with the owner. They both had husband’s that worked at the docks back in the day.” you smiled remembering the memories held within these four walls, then you looked up at him, “This place brings a sense of stillness to my chaos. Brings me back to her in a way.”

He nodded, then brought your hand to his lips and gently kissed it, keeping his big brown eyes of maple syrup on you, “I have a place like that, I’ll take you there next time…” he tilted his head as he gazed at you.

You couldn’t help but smile a little brighter, “What’s your ‘Ming’s’ then? Give me a sneak peak…”

He let out a small light chuckle and set your hands down, keeping yours in his, going back to running his thumb along your knuckles, “Esmeralda’s…” he bit the inside of his cheek, “My abuelito’s good friend owns it, has since the 60’s.” he looked down at your hands, “When my tia used to watch me and my siblings, she’d take us there with my grandparents, it was our little thing.” he chuckled reminiscing, “All of the New York fine dining I’ve had over the years… nothing can compete with her tamales…” he tsked and looked up at you as you let out a small chuckle.

“Tamales from Esmeralda’s… Egg Rolls from Ming’s…” you softly hummed, “Anywhere else that brings you that level of comfort?” you asked, looking down at your hand in his.

“Anywhere in the world when I’m with you…” he confessed, not missing a beat. 

You looked up and blushed but let out a small snorted chuckle, “That was horribly cheesy… even for you.” you teased.

His smile lit up the whole room, and he slowly shook his head, “No no, you’re right, that was horribly cheesy— but completely and utterly true.” he stopped and bit his bottom lip for a moment, “Why don’t we get the dessert to go? We can go back to my place— rent a movie or something…” he raised his eyebrows, hopeful, his thumb continuing to rub softly still against your knuckles.

You were a sucker for those damned brown eyes, the ones that looked like a puppy dog whenever he’d look at you in any shape or fashion like this. 

You tsked, smiling, and looked at the waiter passing by and raised your hand, “Excuse me? Could we get the dessert we ordered, to go please?”

He nodded and smiled, telling you he’d have it ready for you in just a moment.

You looked back at Harry, his eyes hadn’t left you. He was puckering his lips a little like he was thinking, he had a small smirk on his upper lip.

You chuckled knowing what he might be thinking and bit your bottom lip, attempting to play hard to get, “Just a heads up, I can only come over for a little while, I’ve got an early morning meeting.” you tucked your hair behind your ear and stood as the waiter brought the dessert in a to-go bag.

He stood and came around to help you put on your jacket, leaning in and kissing your temple and then cheek. “Of course…” he said, putting his hand on the small of your back as he came to stand beside you and offer his arm. You took it and held onto it while you two walked out. 

“Just a little while…” he said as opened the door for you with a wink, and that smirk grew a little bigger.

He had his driver pick the two of you up within moments of you leaving the restaurant. 

As soon as the car door shut and the privacy screen was up after he told the driver to go to his house, you turned to him and had your bottom lip between your teeth, trying not to smile but your eyes said otherwise.

He chuckled lowly and cupped your cheek before leaning in slowly and nudging your nose with his, “Just for a little while, don’t worry— I’ll make it worth your while…” he whispered before his lips fell onto yours, kissing you deeply and passionately.

The air damn near was struck out of you by how he kissed you. You hummed as his lips glided against yours, smiling ever so slightly at the understanding of what was about to happen.

His hand slid slowly down your body onto your waist and pulled you closer. He was greedy in the fact that he always wanted closer than you already were, especially in situations like these when each other's lips and tongues were cascading over each other.

Your hands were everywhere, slowly going up and down his chest to pull him closer with this torso, pulling the collar of his sweater towards you, at one point your hand fell to his belt and gave a gentle tug— being bold for once. 

He groaned, panting softly as he pulled his lips away from yours momentarily, "Stay... stay the night..." he pulled you in by your chin, kissing you a few more times before pulling away again, foreheads against each other, out of breath, "I'll buy you clothes, have them delivered tonight..." he cupped your cheek and before his lips fell onto yours he asked once more, "Stay..." he pleaded. 

You two hadn't slept together yet and part of it was you were trying to avoid it deep down. To avoid getting too involved so quickly, knowing he could do so much better than you. 

A part of you was flattered and happy he had given you this much time, but then the other part screamed it was only temporary, you were only meant to be temporary. You knew it wouldn't be forever. Someone like him couldn't make someone like you his forever, right?

However, in the time you had known him, he had been very clear about his intentions and feelings towards you. He wanted it all with you. He was sure of it. He was stubborn about it. He never faltered, never doubted— in fact, he solidified it all by words of devotion and acts of sincerity.

He was something of a rarity. He was a fantasy. The unicorn. The diamond in the rough. He was the perfect fit for most of your clients, however, he wanted you and only you. 

Whether you wanted to believe it or not, he checked off every single box that you buried deep down and even provided more. You hated to admit it to yourself but he was everything you had ever dreamed of for a partner. He brought light to your life, warmth to your days. 

He was what you needed.

He was what you wanted.

You nodded slightly, not realizing you didn’t verbally agree to stay and continued to kiss him. 

After a moment the car came to a stop and the locks all shot up, signaling you had arrived where you needed to be.

He pulled back slowly, hand on your cheek every so softly, "Will you? Stay?" he looked at you with those big brown eyes and you couldn't help but smile and blush. 

"I'll stay..." you nudged your nose with his, softly.

He softly stroked your cheek with his thumb then lightly pecked your lips before reluctantly moving away to open the car door and offer his hand to help you out of the car.

You thanked the driver and scooted out, reaching out and taking his hand while you got out of the vehicle, turning your head ever so slightly to smile at him.

He wrapped your hand around his bicep and closed the door, walking up with you to the front of his building.

His doorman opened the door and welcomed you inside, "Mr. Castillo..." then nodded to you and smiled, "Miss..." greeting you as well.

He smiled warmly and gently touched the man's arm in the most genuine and friendliest way, like the two had known each other for years, "Good evening, Henry, how’s Ruth doing?"

“Feeling much better, she came home from the hospital today, my daughter is taking care of her. Thank you for asking sir…” he smiled. 

Harry smiled and nodded, “You’ll let me know if you guys need anything, yes?” 

Henry nodded and smiled, “Of course sir. Have a lovely night.” 

Once inside, an elevator opened up and the both of you stepped inside, he pushed the top floor.

The tension was palpable, you could shatter it with one small breath. You watched as each floor passed by, trying to calm yourself down, taking small but deep breaths. Mentally telling yourself  level out-- but as soon as the top floor 'ding' hit and those doors opened to his penthouse, you were both on each other.

His hands had a firm but gentle hold on your waist as he backed you up against the wall of his living room, lips crashing over yours in a heated but passionate fit of kisses.

Your hands were on his cheeks then in his hair. They eventually laid on his chest as you pressed yourself against him. 

He moved his head down and kissed your jaw and then neck, sucking a soft mark into your skin.

You moaned his name, gasping softly as his hands moved up your body to pull you off the wall by wrapping his arms around your waist and up your back, continuing to kiss and softly mark your skin.

He went to move down the hall a few steps, moving off your neck and leaning back in for your lips. 

You momentarily opened your eyes to look at him and smiled at you before his lips fell onto yours. Your eyes registered your surroundings and you pulled back to pull your gaze to the nearby surroundings. You chuckled, "Holy... sh-..." your jaw slacked a little, "This is where you live?" you looked around.

He let you do this for a few moments, your eyes looking around you, smiling, looking somewhat baffled before pulling you back to him, making you giggle as he pulled you close, putting one of his arms around your waist.

He whispered hoarsely, "I'll give you a tour later... but I think we've got more pressing matters to get to, yes?" he teased his lips against yours, hand cupping to your cheek.

You nodded and breathlessly whispered back, "Yes..." your eyes fluttered back shut, and leaned to kiss him.

He grinned and leaned in as well, "Good... now where were we?" he then reconnected his lips with yours in a slow deep kiss.

Next Chapter

no pressure taglist: @thebeautytoyourbeat,  @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7, @queenofdisaster12

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 51

(Jasper is a student of Royal Sword Academy and has taken an intense interest in the Human that lives in Night Raven College. Where most RSA students have joined up to the 'Save the Human' fan club that has gathered in strength an numbers, Jasper feels it is a ridiculous club that is no better than the many poachers that have tried to move to Sage island. He believes that the Human should only be 'saved' if they want to be and that trying to save them against their will makes the students no better than the Poachers that have arrived in abundance. Jasper has also become rather well known for picking fights with poachers when he sees them among the general populous of Sage Island.)

Warnings; yandere, yandere behavior, multiple yanderes, platonic and romantic yanderes, conflict between yanderes, arguing, hurt feelings, semi-peaceful moments between stressful ones, Kalim refers to his father as 'Baba', party, confrontation, yanderes don't like being called out for being yandere, wishes, Shinigami, Dragon, Vampire Bat, Naga, Genie, Merfolk, Cecaelia, Selkie, Hellcat

~~~~

"You wished to speak, Lord Hades?"

The elder Shinigami turned to regard the Dragon that stood next to his typical Bat attendant, the both of them finally darkening the doorway to the dorm lounge. Where it was technically not Hades' domain, the Ramshackle dorm was where he had been staying for this complicated situation. Humans were a cherished and precious thing, it was only natural those around this last Human felt compelled to protect such a treasure.

"Yes. Come in, young Malleus. Take a seat."

The Dragon and Bat entered the lounge confidently, sitting across from the large Shinigami and his descendants. Idia and Ortho were not present, but their parents were as they sat expectantly watching the pair of Fae.

Shinigami and Fae typically got along well, especially those of the Night Fae variety. As they were both species that tended to live a long time compared to others, they were typically viewed as kindred spirits among one another. Even more so the Dragon Fae that lived until killed. This pair of Fae had no reason to believe that the Shinigami wished to discuss anything other than the wellbeing of the Human for this fact alone.

"I am certain you have been made aware of the Little One's recent transformation to that of a Selkie despite her lack of magic."

"Yes... I am surprised it happened so quickly and that she took to it as well as she did."

"Interesting you should mention your surprise, I would have assumed that you were acutely aware of the events taking place given you have poured so much magic into her already."

This comment made a cold expression take over Malleus' face, a kind of dark shadow settling in the crease of his frown. All his reaction did was prove that he was far more aware of the situation than even Hades had initially assumed. Where the Shinigami elder knew the temperamental and youthful Dragon would likely have some claim lain over the cherished Human, he was surprised to realize there was a level of intent laced over that claim.

Most Dragons claimed others unconsciously. Showing intense protective behavior and eventually integrating that individual into their Hoard without much fuss or theatrics. Putting their magic into others was common during this integration process, but Malleus just showed this was no instinctual call or misstep. It was intentional.

"..."

~•§•~

Kalim watched you with a pleasant smile on his lips, laying across the counter of the Scarabia kitchens. Despite how difficult it had been for the Genie to convince his fellow dorm leader to allow you to spend the evening among Scarabia students, he was happy you were around all the same. It had taken no less than a fair chunk of gold, Thaumarks, and a promise for a future debt to be repaid, but it was worth it to Kalim.

Even though the three Mercreatures had also accompanied you to the sandy dorm, it gave Kalim time with you. Jamil remained nearby just to keep Kalim from granting any wishes as you and the Naga cooked together.

Azul- despite his desire to not share an ounce of your attention- was rather pleased with how he came out on top in this interaction. It was worth it for the price the Genie paid and for the way that you smiled. You were so thrilled with the assortment of spices available to the sand-warmed dorm that it was hard for Azul to feel anything other than joy.

Naturally, Jade and Floyd were keen to bother and pester poor Jamil even while the Naga cooked. Jamil was trying quite hard to not show his irritation and present anything less than a cheerful disposition while you were around. The Twins took this effort of Jamil's and decided to take advantage of it, compelling the Naga to indulge their curiosity.

Even little Grim was thrilled to be around the kitchen as the official taste tester, his little wings fluttering whenever he got a spoonful of the food. Jamil was also keen to ensure the Kit stayed safe among the many heated surfaces and sharp objects, using his long tail to guide the Kit to safe spots.

As you moved around the kitchen, Kalim followed you with his eyes, eager to stay within view of you and keep you within his own view. Anything you needed was quickly retrieved by the Genie who was trying so desperately to be helpful to you. Even Jamil was surprised by how useful Kalim could actually be when he was the one aiding and not the one being aided.

"Once you're done, we can have a whole feast in Scarabia! I know the others in the dorm are so excited to have you with us like this, (Y/n)!"

You smiled, checking on the large pot of rice simmering on a lower heat. Where Kalim had initially insisted that you didn't need to cook, you had happily jumped in to help Jamil and ensure that the dish was not so spicy you couldn't consume it. Jamil didn't taste spice the way others did and Kalim was used to extremely spicy dishes, so you decided to step in for the sake of your own stomach.

"I'm glad to hear that, Kalim!"

The Genie wriggled with excitement at the sound of your praise, soaking up the affectionate behavior from you. What he wouldn't give to have you stay in Scarabia all the time. Even as the two of you chattered away about anything and everything, Kalim found himself leaning in more to hear what you had to say and hanging off of your every word.

"Hey, (Y/n), when everything is cooking and underway, do you want to go on a quick carpet ride with me?"

"Kalim," Jamil quickly interrupted, frowning at the ditzy Genie, "that is not safe for (Y/n) and you know it."

"Aww, come on, Jamil! It is just a bit of fun."

"No, Kalim. (Y/n), don't encourage him."

Somewhere in the distance, as Kalim whined and tried to convince Jamil to let you go with him, you could hear the faint sound of thunder. You rest a hand over the Magestone around your neck, a kind of crackling like static seemed to come from the magically charged item. It felt like something was happening just beyond the confines of Scarabia.

~•§•~

Malleus was slowly feeling rage build in his stomach, not knowing what game the elder Shinigami was playing at. The accusation directed at him certainly made it difficult to keep his emotions in check, especially without his Treasure nearby.

"Whatever do you mean? I simply protect her the way I would protect everyone in my Hoard."

"Do not play coy with me, young Dragon. I am aware that Dragons posses a unique kind of magic that is used to prolong the lives of their mates. This same magic is obviously growing in the Little One's presence. That Magestone she wears is more than telling."

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"It is so I can protect her better. Those who parade around as her guards have done poorly in keeping her safe. I won't allow anyone to bring harm to her."

"Where it is true the others have allowed for injury to befall her, it is not your place to force your magic upon her without her knowledge."

"She is well aware of what that Magestone allows. I told her as much when I gifted it to her."

"Have you told her you are binding her life to your own so that age cannot claim her?"

"..."

The thunder was louder this time, shadows swallowing up the sky as the Dragon glared. He was doing everything in his power to keep his most precious Hoard member safe, how could he possibly be in the wrong?

"Have you told her that the further you entangle your souls, the harder it will be for her to adjust? I heard she could understand the language of the Fae when she confronted those captured during a kidnapping attempt. Now, why would she be able to do that unless your magic were already seeping into her being?"

"..."

"Furthermore, have you informed her that the longer she wears that Magestone, the more power you have over her?"

Green lightning struck the ground not too far from the dorm, thunder shaking the very foundation of the building as Malleus glares. A kind of glowing intensity took over his eyes as he left visible trails of light when he moved, the smoldering flame of rage igniting within the Dragon.

He was not in the wrong. He refused to let others tell him he was wrong. Malleus had lived enough of his life alone- placed on a pedestal others could not reach and always kept at arms length by almost everyone- he would not allow this Shinigami to tell him he was wrong.

Centuries spent in suffocating loneliness where only the few Hoard members he could claim would even approach him, let alone speak to him. His magic had left him sitting above all others he cared to interact with, leaving him isolated aloft a throne that he didn't want. Was it truly so wrong for him to want just one friend that he could claim as his one and only? Was it wrong that he wanted someone who wasn't an equally detached family member or a grandfathered in Hoard member to sit by his side?

Was he truly so wrong to want someone all his own to care for and protect?

"I won't use that power over her so long as she stays safe. She is constantly hunted and chased down by poachers who would sooner see her body used for their benefit than those who wish to keep her safe from such manipulation."

"By keeping her safe, you are justifying keeping her in the dark about what your magic is actually doing to her. You are using your magic on her and claiming that it is for her own good when you are seeking means to your own ends."

An even louder crack of lightning split the sky, shaking the ground with the force of the impact. Malleus didn't care how angry he was getting. He didn't care that others could be outside trying to flee to safety from his storm. He didn't care that his anger was getting out of hand.

He only cared about the infuriating words of the elder on his extremely fragile heart and psyche.

"And you aren't seeking to use her for your own means? I know you seek to use her body to create your own Humans. When you have gotten what you want from her and have more Humans to call your own, will you throw her away just as you did with your previous home in Tartarus?"

This actually managed to make the elder scowl, not typically one who was quick to anger or feel any kind of frustration despite who he spoke to. Naturally, his growing displeasure was obvious to everyone present as those witnessing this argument became acutely aware of the danger. Both Malleus and Hades were powerful beyond those who sat around them and their anger combined could easily flatten the island they were currently on.

Lilia glanced to his phone in concern, wondering if he shouldn't request your presence to soothe the growing tension between the two. It would be better for everyone if this conversation stopped here and now.

~•§•~

"You know, (Y/n), I have been wondering why I can grant wishes for you and not others, but I think I figured it out."

"Oh?"

You were seated next to Kalim at the head of the banquet. Around you, both members of Octavinelle and Scarabia enjoyed the combined efforts of your and Jamil's cooking. The atmosphere was light and the conversation was buzzing with energy while the other students conversed and happily discussed things amongst themselves.

The genuine feeling of relaxation that filled the air was valuable to you, having found it so difficult to find anywhere that didn't seem to be on high alert whenever you were nearby. Perhaps you would have to visit Scarabia more often if this was as common as it seemed. Even the students seemed happier to have time to talk together and spend time enjoying the feast they had been presented with. Some Scarabia students were even comforting a few Octavinelle students who had burst into joyful tears upon tasting the meal you had created.

"Yeah! I've been thinking about it a lot and I only recently realized it is because of your aura!"

You froze at this, feeling your heart race and your mind begin to sprint with stress. How could Kalim possibly know about your aura? When else did he know?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, every species has an aura- Genies communicate and survive using our magic, after all- but your aura is so unique even from Genies or any other species. Genies are made of magic and survive off of magic, so we can see auras where others don't. Some, like Unicorns, can sense aura too, but not as well as Genies can."

Kalim gestured around himself at the constant golden glow that seemed to hum from his very being. Odds are, that golden glow was his own aura shining through in a visible way around the Genie.

"My aura is golden, just like my Baba's aura. Most have a set aura that often shows their intentions and helps create a comradery between species, but your aura is different. Auras all have colors and wavelengths that show what they are like. Usually there is only one color per aura and most auras tend to stay within certain wavelengths. When a wavelength or color match between two creatures, they tend to get along a lot better. Your aura is like a rainbow over an Oasis."

Kalim picked up your hands, holding them close to him with an excited smile. He noticed the way your pretty aura shifted to more golden tones, rising in wavelength frequency to match Kalim's own- rather erratic- aura. That synchronicity soothing Kalim and his volatile magic to something more tamed and controlled.

"Whoever you talk to or touch, your aura matches their color and synchs up on the same wavelength as theirs. Even mine- which is always fluctuating and changing- is so soothed and calmed by your aura. It has to be that your aura communicates with mine in a way others don't! Genies often match their aura with whoever is making a wish so that wish is fulfilled in the desired way. My aura doesn't like matching up with anyone, so that is probably why I can't grant wishes the way my Baba does. But with you... Your aura synchs up to me, not the other way around."

As you felt an immense interest overcome you, your phone suddenly buzzed with an urgency. You had assigned most of these monsters to their own ringtone and recognized the playful tone of Lilia calling you. The Bat had encouraged you to spend time in Scarabia and promised to keep Malleus mostly calm while you were away, so it seemed odd that he was calling you now.

"Hold on, Kalim, I have to answer this."

When you answered the call, your phone switched to speaker automatically, the loud sound of howling winds and thunder overpowering the electronic as you heard a voice within the storm.

"How dare you accuse me of such an abhorrent act?!"

You somewhat recognized the voice though the tone was far too aggressive for what was usually the calm and measured timbre of of the voice that had once crooned to you so sweetly. Lilia was calling you because he couldn't stop the fight that seemed to be taking place. As the sound of wind from the phone picked up, you noticed the rest of the party had gone silent as they all stared in your direction.

"(Y/n)! Come quickly to your dorm! If they keep this up, they're both going to Overbl-"

The phone went silent as the call dropped, leaving an deep and yawning stress in your body while you stared at the screen in front of you. Your silence was louder than any words you could say as Kalim suddenly turned serious.

"Kalim, I need to get to Ramshackle right now, or who knows what will happen. It is my wish."

"... Wish granted."

[resplendent-ragamuffin]

I have encountered issues with JVP in the past in regards to not accommodating kashrut/shabbat observance (and wheelchairs), but previously hasn’t heard about the Mikvah thing. Do you have any sources I can refer to?

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. The noise I made when I saw this ask.

You are probably unaware but I have literally been working on a post on this topic since February. Bless you for asking me about it and giving me a reason to share it. Genuinely. I'm delighted.

Without further ado, now that I've finally finished:

On the JVP Mikveh BS

Some of you are no doubt aware of the Jewish Voice for Peace Mikveh Guide (on JVP’s website here, and here on the Wayback Machine in case that link breaks). You may have seen the post I reblogged about it, you may have seen the post about JVP in general on @is-the-thing-actually-Jewish, or you may have heard about it elsewhere. Or maybe you’ve somehow managed to avoid all knowledge of its existence. (God I wish that were me.) Even if you know about it, even if you’ve scanned through it, you probably haven’t taken the time to read it through properly.

I have.

God help me.

I was originally looking through it to help draft the @is-the-thing-actually-Jewish post back in February, but some terrible combination of horror, indignation, and probably masochism compelled me to do a close reading, so that I could write this analysis and share it with you, dear readers. For those of you who’ve never heard of a mikvah, for those of you who’ve immersed in one, for those of you who’ve studied it intensely—I give you this, the fruit of my suffering, so you too can understand why “Mikveh: A Purification Ritual for Personal and Collective Transformation,” written by Zohar Lev Cunningham and Rebekah Erev for Jewish Voice for Peace has got so many people up in arms.

Brace yourselves. It’s going to be a long journey.

First off, a disclaimer: When I say something is “required in Jewish law” or whatnot, I’m talking about in traditional practice / Torah-observant communities; what is often called “Orthodox.” There’s a wide range of Jewish practice, and what is required in frum (observant) Judaism may not be required in Reform Judaism, etc. Don’t at me.

Second note: I myself am Modern Orthodox, and come from that perspective. I’m also very much more on the rationalist side than the mysticism side of things. I did run this past people from other communities. Still, if I’ve missed or misrepresented something, it was my error and was not meant maliciously.

Third: I am not a rabbi. I am a nerd who likes explaining things and doing deep dives. Again, I may have made errors–please let me know if you spot any, and I’d be happy to discuss them.

Now then. Before we get into the text itself, let’s give some background.

WHAT IS THIS MIKVEH THING ANYWAY?

A mikveh (or mikvah, both they and I switch between spellings; plural mikva’ot) is a Jewish ritual bath, sometimes translated as an immersion pool. Some communities or organizations that run mikva’ot will have a single all-purpose all-purpose, some have separate human- and utensil-pools, and some have separate women’s and men’s pools. The majority of the water in a mikvah has to be “living waters,” i.e. naturally collected rather than from a tap or a bucket. Some natural bodies of water can also be used, such as the ocean and some rivers (ask your local rabbi). The construction is complicated and has extremely detailed requirements. Here’s an example of a modern mikvah:

(By Wikimedia Commons (ויקיגמדון) - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17373540)

Whoever is being dunked (the scientific term) has to be entirely immersed, and the water has to be in direct contact with all of them. That means no clothes, no makeup, no hair floating on the top of the water, no feet touching the floor, no clenched fists. You have to be completely clean as well, so no dirt is obstructing you from the water.

In essence, a person or thing is immersed in a mikvah to change their/its state from tameh (ritually “impure”) to tahor (ritually “pure”). I use quotes because “pure/impure” aren’t really good translations—they have value judgments that tameh/tahor don’t. There’s nothing wrong with being tameh, you aren’t lesser because you are tameh—it’s just a state one enters when one comes into contact with death and related concepts. (There are also different levels of both.) As a matter of fact, technically speaking even after going to a mikvah basically all people are tameh now—the tum’ah (“impurity,” sort of) that comes from contact with dead humans can only be removed by the Red Heifer offering (see Numbers 19), which we can’t do without the Temple. (Why I say “all” even if you’ve never been to a funeral is a much much longer tangent that I’ll spare you for now.) To quote one of my editors on this, mikvah is “about the natural oscillation between states of ritual purity and impurity. Men go to mikveh after having seminal emissions. Menstruating women go to mikveh on a monthly basis (emphasis added).” It’s just states of life.

In the days of the Temple, one had to be tahor to enter it (the Temple). Archaeologists have found a ton of ancient mikva’ot in Jerusalem that were presumably used by people visiting the Temple, which personally I think is extremely cool.

Nowadays, there are three main traditionally required uses for a mikvah. First, and most importantly, observant married women will go about once a month as part of their niddah (menstrual) cycle, part of practice known as Taharat HaMishpacha, or “Family ‘Purity,’” which at its root is a way to sanctify the relationship between spouses. Until she immerses, a wife and husband cannot resume relations. And not just sex—in some communities, they can’t sleep in the same bed or even have any physical contact at all.

The second use is for conversion—immersion is a central part of the conversion ceremony. One enters the water a gentile, and emerges a Jew.

The third usage is a bit different as it’s not for people. Tableware—plates, cups, etc.—made of certain materials have to be immersed before they can be used. This isn’t what the Guide is about, so I’m not going to go into that as much, but felt remiss if I didn’t mention it was a thing. If you want to know more, Chabad has an article on it here.

Aside from uses required by Jewish law, there is a strong tradition in some communities for men to go to the mikveh just before Yom Kippur, or sometimes every week before the Sabbath, to enter the holiday in as “pure” a state as possible these days. (The things they’re “purifying” from still made them tameh, it just matters less without the Temple.) There is also a strong custom to immerse before one’s wedding. Less traditional communities have also started using mikvah for other transitional moments, such as significant birthdays or remission from cancer. There has recently been an “open mikvah” movement, which “is committed to making mikveh accessible to Jews of all denominations, ages, genders, sexual orientations, and abilities (Rising Tide Network old website, “Why Open Mikvah”).”

To quote others:

No other religious establishment, structure or rite can affect the Jew in this way and, indeed, on such an essential level. —Rebbetzen Rivkah Slonim, Total Immersion, as quoted on Chabad.org

The mikveh is one of the most important parts of a Jewish community. —Kylie Ora Lobell, “What Is a Mikveh?” on Aish.com

How important? According to Rav Moshe Feinstein, one of the great American rabbis of the 20th century, one should build a mikveh before building a synagogue in a town that has neither, and even in a town where there is a mikveh but it’s an inconvenient distance away from the community (Igros Moshe: Choshen Mishpat Chelek 1 Siman 42).

A mikveh is more important than a synagogue.

I’d say that’s pretty important.

Tl;dr: A mikveh is the conduit through which a convert becomes a part of the Jewish people. It is traditionally used to sanctify the relationship between spouses. It was required for people to go to the Temple, back when we still had it. It is extremely central to Jewish practice.

So. What does JVP have to say about it?

THE JVP MIKVEH GUIDE

The document in question is titled “Mikveh: A Purification Ritual for Personal and Collective Transformation,” by Zohar Lev Cunningham and Rebekah Erev. I am largely going to quote directly from the text and then analyze and explain it.

Now let me be clear. I’m not trying to say the authors aren’t Jewish. I’m not saying they’re bad people, or that you should attack them. I am not intending any of this as an ad hominem attack. But given the contents of this document, I do think it is fair to call this appropriative, even if it is of their own culture—in the same way someone can have internalized racism, or twist feminism into being a TERF, I would argue that this is twisting Judaism into paganism. In fact, while I use “appropriation” throughout this document, an extremely useful term that’s been coined recently is “cultural expropriation”--essentially, appropriative actions done by rogue members of the community in question. One example of this would be the Kabbalah Centre in Los Angeles, which is the source of a lot of the Madonna-style “pop Kabbalah.” It was founded by an Orthodox Jewish couple, but it and its followers are widely criticized by most Jewish communities. In much the same way, the Guide is expropriation. 

We start off with a note from the authors.

Hello, Welcome to the Simple Mikveh Guide. This work comes out of many years of reclaiming and re-visioning mikveh. The intention of this guide is to acknowledge and give some context to what mikveh is, provide resources related to mainstream understanding of mikveh and also provide alternative mikveh ideas. Blessings for enjoyment of this wonderful, simple Jewish ritual! Zohar Lev Cunningham & Rebekah Erev

This is fairly normal, though “alternative mikveh ideas” is a bit odd to say. I also find “blessings for enjoyment” to be odd phrasing, somewhat reminiscent of the Wiccan “Blessed Be,” but it could be a typo.

The first main section is titled “Intro to Mikveh,” and begins as follows:

Mikveh is an ancient Jewish ritual practice of water immersion, traditionally used for cleansing, purification, and transformation. It's been conventionally used for conversion to Judaism, for brides, and for niddah, the practice of cleansing after menstruation.

This is relatively accurate, and credit where credit is due avoids making niddah out to be patriarchal BS. I do object slightly to “purify” as a translation without further explanation, as I went into above, and “cleansing” for similar reasons—it implies “dirtiness,’ which isn’t really what tum’ah is about. Also, though this is pretty minor, a bride going to the mikveh before her wedding is actually a part of the laws of niddah. I’d also note that they entirely leave out that it was important for going to the Temple in ancient times, though given this is published by JVP I’m not terribly surprised.

For Jews, water signifies the transformative moment from slavery in Egypt, through the parted Red Sea, and into freedom.

On the one hand, I suppose it’s not unreasonable to connect the Red Sea and mikveh, though I think I’d be more likely to hear it the other way around (i.e. “going through the sea was like the people immersing in a mikveh and being ‘cleansed,’ so to speak”). Though they were, rather importantly, not actually immersed in the water. However I don’t think I’d say water as a whole signifies the Splitting of the Sea. In fact, water imagery is more often used to signify the Torah, see for instance Bava Kamma 82a.

There is also a mystical connection to mikveh as a metaphor for the womb of the divine.

A mikveh being like a womb is also not uncommon. It’s found in the Reishis Chochmah (Shia’ar HaAhavah 11,58) and the writing of Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan (The Aryeh Kaplan Anthology, vol 2., p. 382; both as quoted in 50 Mikvahs That Shaped History, by Rabbi Ephraim Meth), see also “The Mikveh’s Significance in Traditional Conversion” by Rabbi Maurice Lamm on myjewishlearning. Filled with water, you float in it, you emerge a new being (at least for conversion); it’s not an absurd comparison to draw. I’m not sure I’ve found anything for the Womb of the Divine specifically, though. (Also, Divine should definitely be capitalized.)

Entering a mikveh is a transformative and healing experience and we have long wondered why it is not available to more people, including the significant trans and queer populations in Jewish communities.

So. I am NOT going to say there’s no problem with homophobia and/or transphobia in Jewish communities. It’s definitely a community issue, and many communities are grappling with it in various ways as we speak. And I’m certainly not going to say the authors didn’t have the experience of not having a mikveh available to them—I don’t know their lives, I’m not going to police their experiences.

However, while Orthodox mikvahs are often still restricted to married women (who by virtue of the community will generally be cis and married to men) and potentially adult men (given the resources and customs, as mentioned above), there are plenty of more liberal mikva’ot these days. Some even explicitly offer rituals for queer events! The list of reasons to go to the mikvah linked up above, for instance, includes:

(Mayyim Hayyim, “Immersion Ceremonies”)

Again, that’s not to say there aren’t issues of queerphobia in the Jewish community, but if you are queer and want to go to the mikvah, there are options out there. If you’re looking, I’ve included some links at the end.

When we make ritual, we are working with the divine forces of presence and intention. The magic of mikveh comes in making contact with water. Contact with water marks a threshold and functions as a portal to bring closer our ritual intention/the world to come.

This is…a weird way to put things. I would say this is the start of the red flags. “When we make ritual,” first of all, is, to quote @the-library-alcove (who helped edit this), “a turn of phrase that is not typically associated with any branch of Jewish practice; we have a lot--a LOT--of rituals, and while it's certainly not completely outside of the realm of Jewish vernacular, the tone here, especially in light of the later sections, starts veering towards the vernacular of neo-paganism.” One might say “make kiddush” (the blessing over wine on Shabbos and holidays) or “make motzi” (the blessing over bread), but not generally “make ritual.”

The next section is titled “Who Gets to Do Mikveh?” Their answer:

Everyone! Mikveh practice is available to all of us as a healing tool at any time.

The healing tool part isn’t the original purpose of mikveh, but there are some who have used it as a part of emotional recovery from something traumatic, by marking a new state of being free from whatever caused it, see for instance Mayyim Hayyim’s list linked above.

The “everyone” bit is a little more complicated. To explain why, we’re going to skip ahead a little. (Some of these quotes will also be analyzed in full later.)

We want to make mikveh practice available as a tool to all Jews and non-Jews who want to heal wounds caused by white supremacy and colonialism. [..] To us, a queer mikveh welcomes anyone, regardless of spiritual background or not. […] Queer mikveh is accessible physically and spiritually to any and all people who are curious about it. You don't have to be a practicing Jew to enter queer mikveh. You don't have to be Jewish. (pg. 2, emphasis added)

Now, I am told there are mikva’ot that allow non-Jews to immerse. I have yet to find them, so I don’t know what rituals they allow non-Jews to do. I also haven’t been able to find any resources on non-Jews being allowed to immerse. I have found quite a few that explicitly prohibit it. If there are any sources you know of, please send them to me! I’d love to see them! But so far everything I have come across has said that mikvah immersion is a closed practice that only Jews can participate in. (Technically, to quote the lovely @etz-ashashiot, any non-Jew can do mikvah…once. And they won’t be non-Jews when they emerge. There is also one very extreme edge-case, which is absolutely not mainstream knowledge or practice, and basically isn’t actually done. You can message me if you’re curious, but it’s really not relevant to this–and even in that case, it is preferable to use a natural mikvah rather than a man-made one.)

If there are any legitimate sources that allow non-Jews to do a mikvah ritual, I would assume said non-Jews would be required to be respectful about it. Unfortunately, this is how the paragraph we began with continues:

Who Gets to Do Mikveh? Everyone! Mikveh practice is available to all of us as a healing tool at any time. You don't need any credentials. Your own wisdom is all the power you need to be a Jewish ritual leader. (emphasis added)

This is where we really go off the rails. First of all, you need more than “wisdom” to lead a Jewish ritual. You need to actually know what you’re doing. You can’t just say “oh you know what I feel like the right thing to do for morning prayers is to pray to the sun, because God created the sun so the sun is worth worshiping, and this is a Jewish ritual I’m doing.” That’s just idolatry. Like straight up I stole that from a midrash (oral tradition) about how humanity went from speaking with God in the Garden of Eden to worshiping idols in the time of Noah (given here by Maimonides; note that it continues for a few paragraphs after the one this link sends you to).

Second of all, this is particularly bad given this guide is explicitly to Jews and non-Jews. As @daughter-of-stories put it when she was going over an earlier draft of this analysis, “they are saying that non-Jews can just declare themselves Jewish ritual leaders based on nothing but their own ‘wisdom.’”

I hope I don’t need to explain why that’s extremely bad and gross?

While we’re on the topic of non-Jews using a mikvah, let’s take a moment to address an accusation commonly mentioned alongside the mikvah guide: that JVP also encourages (or encouraged) self-conversion.

I have been unable to find a separate document where they explicitly said so, or an older version of this document that does. This leads me to believe that either a) the accusation came from a misreading of this document, or b) there was a previous document that contained it which has since been deleted but was not archived in the Wayback Machine. EITHER is possible.

Even in the case that there was no such document, however, I would point out that such a suggestion can be read–intentionally or not–as implicit in this document. This is a guide for mikvah use by both Jews and non-Jews, and includes an idea that non-Jews can perform Jewish rituals on their own without any guidance or even background knowledge, as quoted above. Why would a non-Jew, coming into Jewish practice with very little knowledge, go looking to perform a mikvah ritual?

I would wager that the most well-known purpose of immersing in a mikvah is for the purpose of conversion.

Nowhere in this guide is there any explicit statement that you can do a self-conversion, but it also doesn’t say anywhere that you can’t, or that doing so is an exception to “you don’t need any credentials” or “your own wisdom is all the power you need to be a Jewish ritual leader.” It may not be their intention, but the phrasing clearly leaves it as an option.

Even if this were from a source that one otherwise loved, this would be upsetting and disappointing. The amount of exposure this document is getting may be at least in part because it comes from JVP, but the distress and dismay would be there regardless. If there is further vitriol, it’s only because JVP is often considered a legitimate source by outsiders, if no one else–in other words, by the very people least likely to have the background to know that this document isn’t trustworthy. It’s like the difference between your cousin telling you “the Aztecs were abducted by aliens” versus a mainstream news program like Fox reporting it. Both are frustrating and wrong, but one has significantly more potential harm than the other, and therefore is more likely to get widespread criticism (even if you complain about your cousin online).

On the other hand, as one of my editors pointed out in a moment of dark humor, they do say you don’t have to be Jewish to lead a Jewish ritual, so perhaps that mitigates this issue slightly by taking away a motivation to convert in the first place.

Returning to our document:

We do mikvahs in lakes, rivers, bathtubs, showers, outside in the rain, from teacups, and in our imaginations.

At this point the rails are but a distant memory.

In case you’ve forgotten what I said about this at the beginning of this post (and honestly I wouldn’t blame you, we’re on pg. 9 in my draft of this), there are extremely strict rules about what qualifies as a mikvah. Maimonides’s Mishnah Torah, just about the most comprehensive codex of Jewish law, has eleven chapters on the topic of the mikvah (though that includes immersion in it as well as construction of it). I’m not going to make you read through it, but let’s go through the list in this sentence:

Lakes and rivers: you might be able to use a river or lake as a mikvah, but you need to check with your local rabbinical authority, because not all of them qualify. In general, the waters must gather together naturally, from an underground spring or rainwater. In the latter case, the waters must be stationary rather than flowing. A river that dries up in a drought can’t be used, for instance. (The ocean counts as a spring, for this purpose.)

Bathtubs and showers: No. A man-made mikveh must be built into the ground or as an essential part of a building, unlike most bathtubs, and contain of a minimum of 200 gallons of rainwater, gathered and siphoned in a very particular way so as not to let it legally become “groundwater.” Also, it needs to be something you can immerse in, which a shower is not.

Outside in the rain: No? How would you even do that?? What??

Teacups: Even if you were Thumblina or K’tonton (Jewish Tom Thumb), and could actually immerse your entire body in a teacup, it wouldn’t be a kosher mikvah as a mivkah can’t be portable.

In your imagination: Obviously not, what the heck are you even talking about

We will (unfortunately) be coming back to the teacup thing, but for now suffice it to say most of these are extremely Not A Thing.

Mikveh has been continually practiced since ancient Judaism. It is an offering of unbroken Jewish lineage that we have claimed/reclaimed as our own.

I find the use of “claimed/reclaimed” fascinating here, given this guide is explicitly for non-Jews—who, whether or not they are permitted to use a mikvah, certainly shouldn’t be claiming it as their own—as well as Jews. I find it particularly interesting given the lack of clarity of how much of JVP’s membership is actually Jewish and JVP’s history of encouraging non-Jewish members to post “as Jews.” Kind of telling on yourselves a bit, there.

(Once again, I’m not commenting on the authors themselves, but the organization they represent here and the audience they are speaking to/for.)

We want to make mikveh practice available as a tool to all Jews and non-Jews who want to heal wounds caused by white supremacy and colonialism. We want to make mikveh practice available for healing our bodies, spirits, and the earth.

Setting aside the “Jews and non-Jews” thing, since I talked about that earlier and this is already extremely long, I do want to highlight the end of the paragraph. While there are some modern uses of the mikvah to (sort of) heal the spirit, I haven’t heard of anyone using a mikvah to heal the body—as a general rule Jews don’t tend to do faith healing, though of course some sects are the exception. Healing the earth, however, is absolutely not a use of a mikvah. Mikvah rituals, as we’ve now mentioned several times, are about tahara of a person or an object, and require immersion. You can’t immerse the earth in a mikvah. The earth contains mikva’ot. Healing the earth with a mikvah is a very strange worship (IYKYK).

We acknowledge that not all beings have consistent access to water, including Palestinians.

This is a tragedy, no question. I don't mean to minimize that. However, it is also unrelated to the matter at hand. The Guide also doesn’t give any recommendations on how we can help improve water access, so this lip service is all you get.

A lack of water does not make mikveh practice inaccessible.

Yes, in fact, it does. Without a kosher mikvah of one variety or another one cannot do anything that requires a mikvah. That’s why building a kosher one is so important. I haven’t gone looking for it, but while I’m sure there’s lots (and lots and lots and lots) of Rabbinic responsa out there of what to do in drought situations, you definitely do need water in all but the most extreme cases. If you do not have water, AYLR (Ask Your Local Rabbi)--don’t do whatever this is.

The spirit of water can be present with us if we choose to call for water, so even when water is not physically available to us we can engage in mikveh practice.

This is just straight up avodah zarah (“strange worship,” i.e. idolatry) as far as I can tell. The “spirit of the water”? What? We’re not Babylonians worshiping Tiamat. What source is there for this? Is there a source??

Like all material resources, the ways water is or is not available to us is shaped by our geographic and social locations. The ways we relate to water, what we decide is clean, treyf (dirty), drinkable, bathable, how much we use, how much we save, varies depending on our experiences. We invite you to decide what is clean and holy for your own body and spiritual practice.

This is going to require some breaking down.

To start with, let’s define “treyf.” To quote myjewishlearning, “Treyf (sometimes spelled treif or treyfe) is a Yiddish word used for something that is not kosher [lit. "fit"]. The word treyf is derived from the Hebrew word treifah, which appears several times in the Bible and means 'flesh torn by beasts.' The Torah prohibits eating flesh torn by beasts, and so the word treifah came to stand in for all forbidden foods.”

You may note the lack of the word “dirty” in this definition, or any other value judgments. Myjewishlearning continues, “over time, the words kosher and treyf have been used colloquially beyond the world of food to describe anything that Jews deem fit or unfit.” While this does have something of a value judgment, it’s still not “dirty.” I can’t say why the authors chose to translate the word this way, but…I don’t like it.

Now, when it comes to what is kosher or treyf, food and drink are most certainly not based on “our experiences.” There are entire books on the rules of kashrut; it generally takes years of study to understand all the minutiae. Even as someone who was raised in a kosher household, when I worked as a mashgicha (kosher certification inspector) I needed special training. What is considered kadosh (“sacred” or “holy,”  though again that’s not a perfect translation) or tahor is also determined by very strict rules. We don’t just decide things based on “vibes.” That’s not how anything in Jewish practice works.

Water, in fact, is always kosher to drink unless it has bugs or something else treyf in it. And mikvehs aren’t even always what I’d consider “drinkable;” I always wash utensils I’ve brought to the mikvah before I use them.

We come to our next heading: What is Queer Mikveh?

What is Queer Mikveh? To us, a queer mikveh welcomes anyone, regardless of spiritual background or not.

As I’ve said above, I have yet to find a single source (seriously if you have one please send it to me) that says non-Jews can go to a mikvah. As one of my editors for this put it, “to spin appropriation of Jewish closed practices as ‘queer’ is not only icky but deeply disrespectful to actual queer Jews.”

Also, and this is not remotely the point, but “regardless of spiritual background or not” is almost incoherently poor writing.

As Jews in diaspora we want to share and use our ritual practices for healing the land and waters we are visitors on for the liberation of all beings.

I have tried to be semi-professional about this analysis, but. “Jews in the diaspora,” you say. Tell me, JVP, where are we in the diaspora from? Hm? Where are we in diaspora from? Which land do we come from? Which land are we indigenous to, JVP? Do tell.

Returning to the point, I would repeat that mikvah has nothing to do with “healing the land and waters.” It’s ritual purification of whatever is immersed in it. You want to heal the land and waters? Go to your local environmental group, and/or whoever maintains your local land and waters. Pick up trash. Start recycling. Weed invasive species. Call your government and tell them to support green energy. You want liberation for all beings? Fight bigotry—including antisemitism. Judaism believes in action—go act. Appropriating rituals from a closed religion doesn’t liberate anyone.

We have come up with this working definition and welcome feedback!

Oh good, maybe I won’t be yelled at for posting this (she said dubiously).

Queer mikveh is a ritual of Jews in diaspora. We believe the way we work for freedom for all beings is by using the gifts of our ancestors for the greatest good. We bring our rituals as gifts.

I have nothing in particular new to say about this, except that I find the idea of “bringing our rituals as gifts” for anyone to use deeply uncomfortable, given Judaism is a closed religion that strongly discourages non-Jews from joining us, and that has had literal millennia of people appropriating from us.

It acknowledges that our path is to live on lands that are not historically our peoples [sic] and we honor the Indigenous ancestors of the land we live on, doing mikveh as an anti-colonialist ritual for collective and personal liberation.

Again I would love so much for JVP to tell us which lands would historically be our people’s. What land do Jews come from, JVP? What land is it we do have a historical connection to? What land do our Indigenous ancestors come from??

And why does it have to be our path to live on lands other than that one?

Secondly, to quote the lovely @daughter-of-stories again when she was editing this, “Mikveh as anti-colonialism, aside from not being what Mikveh is, kinda implies that you can cleanse the land of the sins of colonialism. So (a) that’s just a weird bastardization of baptism since, mikveh isn’t about cleansing from sin, and (b) so does that mean the colonialism is erased? Now we don’t have to actually deal with how it affects actual indigenous people?”

I’m sure that (b) isn’t their intent, but I will say that once again they don’t give any material suggestions for how to actually liberate any collectives or persons from colonialism in this document, including any links to other pages on their own website*, which surely would have been easy enough. It comes across as very performative.

*I disagree strongly with most of their methods, but at least they are suggesting something.

Queer mikveh is a physical or spiritual space that uses the technologies of water and the Jewish practice of mikveh to mark transitions. Transition to be interpreted by individuals and individual ritual.

I have no idea what the “technologies of water” are. Also usage of a mikvah to mark transitions beyond ritual states is a fairly new innovation, as mentioned above.

Queer mikveh in it's [sic] essence honors the story of the water. The historical stories of the water we immerse in, the stories of our own bodies as water and the future story we vision [sic].

This just sounds like a pagan spinoff of baptism to me, if I’m being honest. Which would be non-Jewish in several ways.

Queer mikveh is accessible physically and spiritually to any and all people who are curious about it. You don't have to be a practicing Jew to enter queer mikveh. You don't have to be Jewish.

First off, once again whether or not non-Jews can use mikvah seems at best extremely iffy. Secondly, accessibility in mikva’ot is, as one of my editors put it, “a continual discussion.” We have records of discussions regarding access for those with physical disabilities going back at least to the 15th century (Shut Mahari Bruna, 106; as quoted in 50 Mikvahs That Shaped History by Rabbi Ephraim Meth), and in the modern era there are mikva’ot that have lifts or other accessibility aids. That said, many mikva’ot, especially older ones, are still not accessible–and many mikva’ot don’t have the money to retrofit or renovate. Mikvah.org’s directory listings (linked at the end of this) notes whether various mikva’ot are accessible, if you are looking for one in your area.  If you want to help make mikva’ot more accessible to the disabled, consider donating to an existing mikvah to help them pay for renovations or otherwise (respectfully) getting involved in the community. If you want to help make mikva’ot more accessible for non-Orthodox Jews, try donating to an open mikvah (see link to a map of Rising Tide members at the end of this essay) or other non-Orthodox mikvah.

Queer mikveh is an earth and water honoring ritual.

Not even a little. We do have (or had) rituals that honor the earth or water, at least to an extent–the Simchat Beit HaSho’evah (explanations here and here) was a celebration surrounding water; most of our holidays are harvest festivals to some extent or another; there are a large number of agricultural mitzvahs (though most can only be done in Israel, which I suppose wouldn’t work for JVP). (Note: mitzvahs are commandments and/or good deeds.) Even those, though, aren’t about the water or earth on their own, per se, but rather about honoring them as God’s gift to us. This description of mikvah sounds more Pagan or Wiccan–which is fine, but isn’t Jewish.

Queer mikveh exists whenever a queer person or queers gather to do mikveh. Every person is their own spiritual authority and has the power to create their own ritual for individual or collective healing.

Absolutely, anyone can create their own rituals for anything they want. But it probably won’t be a mikvah ritual, and it probably won’t be Jewish.

Do you know what it’s called when you make up your own ritual and claim that it’s actually a completely valid part of an established closed practice of which you aren’t part? (Remember—this document is aimed just as much at non-Jews as at Jews.)

It’s called appropriation.

With the next section, “Some Ideas for Mikveh Preparation,” we begin page three.

(Yes, we’re only on page three of seven. I’m so sorry.)

The most important part of mikveh preparation is setting an intention.

This isn’t entirely wrong, as you do have to have in mind the intention of fulfilling a mitzvah when you perform one.

Because mikveh is a ritual most used to mark transitions, you can frame your intention in that way.

To quote myself above, “usage of a mikvah to mark transitions beyond ritual states is a fairly new innovation.” I’d hardly say it is mostly used for marking transitions.

You can do journaling or talk with friends to connect with the Jewish month, Jewish holiday, Shabbat, the moon phase, and elements of the season that would support your intention.

If this were a guide for only Jews, or there was some sort of note saying this section was only for Jews, I would have less of a problem. But given neither is true, they are encouraging non-Jews to use the Jewish calendar for what is, from the rest of the descriptions in the Guide, a magical earth healing ritual.

This is 100% straight up appropriation.

The Jewish calendar is Jewish. Marking the new moon and creating a calendar was the first commandment given to us as a people, upon the exodus from Egypt. Nearly all our holidays are (aside from the harvest component, which is based on the Israeli agricultural seasons and required harvest offerings) based on specific parts of Jewish history. Passover celebrates the Exodus and our becoming a nation. Sukkot celebrates the Clouds of Glory that protected us in the desert. Shavuot celebrates being given the Torah.

According to some opinions, non-Jews literally aren’t allowed to keep Shabbat.

If you are a non-Jew and you are basing the collective earth healing ritual you have created under your own spiritual authority around Jewish holidays and calling it “mikvah,” you are appropriating Judaism.

Full stop.

This isn’t even taking into account the generally Pagan/witchy feel of the paragraph, with “moon phases” and “elements of the season.” Again, if you want to be a Pagan be a Pagan, but don’t call it Jewish.

Things only go further downhill with their next suggestion for preparation before you go to the mikvah.

Divination: A lot can be said about divination practices and Judaism.

There certainly is a lot to be said. First and foremost, there’s the fact that divination is forbidden in Judaism.

(Screenshot of Leviticus 19:26 from sefaria.org)

One method of divination they suggest is Tarot, which is a European method of cartomancy that seems to have begun somewhere in the 19th century, though the cards start showing up around the 15th. While early occultists tried to tie it to various older forms of mysticism, including Kabbalah, this was, to put it lightly, complete nonsense. (Disclaimer: this information comes from wikipedia; I’ve already spent so much time researching the mikvah stuff that I do not have the energy or interest to do a deep dive into the origin of Tarot. It isn’t Jewish, the rest is honestly just details.)

I have nothing against Tarot. I think it’s neat! The cards are often lovely! I have a couple of decks myself, and I use them for fun and card games. But divination via tarot is not Jewish. If I do any spreads, I make it very clear to anyone I’m doing it with that it is for fun and/or as a self-reflection tool, not as magic. Because that is extremely not allowed in Judaism.

The authors suggest a few decks to use, one of which is by one of the authors themselves. Another is “The Kabbalah Deck,” which—holy appropriation, Batman!

In case anyone is unaware, Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) is an extremely closed Jewish practice, even within Judaism. Traditionally it shouldn’t be studied by anyone who hasn’t already studied every other Jewish text (of which there are, I remind you, a lot), because it’s so easy to misinterpret. I mentioned this above briefly when explaining cultural expropriation. Pop Kabbalah (what Madonna does, what you see when they talk about “Ancient Kabbalistic Texts” on shows like Supernatural, the nonsense occultists and New-Agers like to say is “ancient Kabbalistic” whatever, it’s a wide span of appropriative BS) is gross, combining Kabbalah with Tarot is extremely gross. I’m not 100% sure, as the link in the pdf doesn’t work, but I believe they are referring to this deck by Edward Hoffman. For those of you who don’t want to click through, the Amazon description includes this:

(Screenshot from Amazon)

Returning to our text:

Another practice that's been used in Judaism for centuries is bibliomancy. You can use a book you find meaningful (or the Torah) and ask a question. Then, close your eyes, open the book to a page and place your finger down. Interpret the word or sentence you pointed at to help guide you to answer your question.

Bibliomancy with a chumash (Pentateuch) or tanach (Bible) in Jewish magic is kind of a thing, but the tradition of Jewish magic as a whole is very complicated and could be its own entirely different post. This one is already long enough. This usage of bibliomancy is clearly just appropriative new-age BS, though, especially given you can use “[any] book you find meaningful.”

Also, if you aren’t Jewish, please don’t use the Torah for ritual purposes unless you are doing it under very specific circumstances under the laws for B’nei Noach (“Children of Noah,” also called Righteous Gentiles; non-Jews who follow the 7 Noachide Laws).

Sit with your general intention or if you aren't sure, pose a question to the divination tool you are using. "What should be my intention for this mikveh?" "What needs transforming in my life?" "How can I transform my relationship with my body?"

As I hope I’ve made clear, there are very specific times when one uses a mikvah, even with more modern Open Mikvah rituals. You always know what your intention is well before going—to make yourself tahor, or mark a specific event. I’m not here to police how someone prepares mentally before they immerse—meditation is fine, even encouraged. But magic? Like this? That’s not a thing. And given the fact that divination specifically is not only discouraged but forbidden, this section in particular upset a lot of Jews who read it.

Those of us already upset by everything we’ve already covered were not comforted by how the Guide continues.

How to Prepare Physically For Mikveh: Some people like to think about entering the mikveh in the way their body was when they were born. By this we mean naked, without jewelry, with clean fingernails and brushed hair. This framing can be meaningful for many people.

We went into this at the beginning of this essay (about 6500 words ago), but this is in fact how Jewish law mandates one is required to immerse. This is certainly the case in most communities, whether you are immersing due to an obligation (as a married woman or a bride about to be married) or due to custom (as men in post-Temple practice) or due to non-traditional immersion (as someone coming out); wherever on the spectrum of observance one falls (as far as I could find). A mikvah isn’t a bath, it’s not about physical cleanliness—you must first thoroughly clean yourself, clip your nails, and brush your teeth. Nail polish and makeup are removed. There can’t be any barriers between you and the water. Most mikva’ot these days, particularly women’s mikva’ot, have preparation rooms so you can prep on site. When you immerse, you have to submerge completely—your hair can’t be floating above the water, your mouth can’t be pursed tightly, your hands can’t be clenched so the water can’t get to your palms. If you do it wrong, it doesn’t count and you have to do it again. It’s not a “framing,” it’s a ritual practice governed by ritual law.

We suggest you do mikveh in the way you feel comfortable for you and your experience.

This isn’t how this works. If you have a particularly extreme case, you can talk to a rabbi to see if there are any workarounds—for example, if excessive embarrassment would distract you from the ritual, you may be able to wear clothes that are loose enough that the water still makes contact with every millimeter of skin. But you need to consult with someone who knows the minutiae of the laws and requirements so you know if any exceptions or workarounds apply to you. That’s what a rabbi is for. That’s why they need to go to rabbinical school and get ordination. They have to study. That’s why you need to find a rabbi whose knowledge and personality you trust. For someone calling themselves a religious authority in Judaism to say “you can do whatever, no biggie” with such a critical ritual is…I’m not sure what the word I want is.

The idea is to feel vulnerable but also to claim your body as a powerful site of change that has the power to move us close to our now unrecognizable futures.

The idea is to bathe in the living waters and enter a state of taharah. Though that could be an idea you have in mind while you are doing it, I suppose. I could see at least one writer I know of saying something like this to specifically menstrual married (presumably cis) women performing Taharat HaMishpacha (family taharah, see above).

For some people, doing mikveh in drag will feel most vulnerable, with all your make-up and best attire.

Absolutely not a thing. As I said last paragraph, the goal isn’t to feel vulnerable or powerful or anything. It may feel vulnerable or powerful, but that is entirely besides the actual purpose of the ritual. What you get out of it on a personal emotional level has nothing to do with the religious goal of the religious practice.

And if you are wondering how one would submerge oneself in water in full drag, don’t worry, we’ll get there soon.

For some, wearing a cloth around your body until just before you dip is meaningful.

This is just how it’s usually done. Generally one is provided with a bathrobe, and one removes it before entering. You don’t just wander around the building naked. Or the beach, if you’re using the ocean.

If you were born intersex and your genitalia was changed without your consent, thinking about your body as perfect, however you were born, can be loving.

I’m not intersex, so I’m not going to comment on the specifics here. If you are and that’s meaningful to you, more power to you.

We enter a new section, at the top of page 4.

Where To Do Mikveh: There is much midrash around what constitutes a mikveh.

“Midrash” is not the word they want here. The midrash is the non-legal side of the oral tradition, often taking the form of allegory or parable. This is as opposed to the mishna, which is the halachic (legal) side of the oral tradition. They were both written down around the same time, but most midrashim (plural) are in their own books, rather than incorporated in the mishna.

There is, however, a great deal of rabbinic discussion, in the form of mishna, gemara, teshuvot (responsa), legal codices, and various other genres of Jewish writing. More properly this could have just said “there is much discussion around what constitutes a mikveh.”

Most mikvot currently exist in Orthodox synagogues[—]

This is perhaps a minor quibble, but I don’t know that I’d say they’re generally in synagogues. They are frequently associated with a local congregation, but are often in a separate building.

[—]but there is a growing movement to create more diverse and inclusive spaces for mikveh. Mayyim Hayyim is a wonderful resource with a physical body of water mikveh space. Immerse NYC is a newer organization training people of all genders to be mikveh guides. They also work to find gender inclusive spaces for people to do mikveh in NYC.

This is true! Mayyim Hayyim is a wonderful organization I’ve never heard anything bad about, and ImmerseNYC also seems like an excellent organization. Both also only allow Jews (in which group I am including in-process converts) to immerse.

The mikveh guides thing I didn’t explain above, so I’ll take a moment to do so here. Because the rules of immersion are so strict, and because it’s hard to tell if you are completely immersed when you are underwater, most mikva’ot have a guide helping you. Depending on the circumstance and the mikvah, and depending on the patron’s comfort, who and how they do their jobs can differ somewhat. For a woman immersing after niddah, it will usually be another woman who will hold up the towel or bathrobe for you while you get in the water, and will only look from behind it once you are immersed to make sure you are completely submerged. If you are converting, customs vary. Some communities require men to witness the immersion regardless of the convert’s gender, which is very much an ongoing discussion in those communities. Even in those cases, to my knowledge they will only look once the convert is in the water, and there will likely still be a female attendant if the convert is a woman. While there are negative experiences people have had, it is very much an intra-community issue. We’re working on it.

Mikveh can be done in a natural body of water.

Again, this is true, though not all bodies of water work, so AYLR (Ask Your Local Rabbi).

Some people are also making swimming pools holy places of mikveh.

We’ve already explained above why this is nonsense.

In the Mishneh (the book that makes commentary on the torah [sic]) there are arguments as to what constitutes a mikveh and how much water from a spring or well or rainwater must be present.

The main issue in this section is their definition of the Mishneh. As I explained above, the Mishna (same thing, transliteration is not an exact science) is the major compilation of the Oral Torah, the oral tradition that was written down by Rabbi Judah Ha-Nasi so it wouldn’t be lost in the face of exile and assimilation. It’s not so much a commentary on the (Written) Torah as an expansion of it to extrapolate the religious laws we follow. It’s certainly not “the book that makes commentary on the Torah.” We have literally hundreds of books of commentary. That’s probably underestimating. Jews have been around for a long time, and we have been analyzing and discussing the Torah for nearly as long. There are so many commentaries on the Torah.

The second issue is that while there are arguments in the Mishna and Gemara (the oral discussion on the Mishna that was written down even later), they do generally result in a final decision of some sort. Usually whichever side has the majority wins. Variations between communities are still very much a thing, and I can explain why in another post if people are interested, but there usually is a base agreement.

We are of the school that says you decide for yourself what works.

The phrasing they use here makes it sound as though that’s a legitimate opinion in the Mishnah. I cannot emphasize how much that is not the case. While I myself have not finished learning the entire Mishnah, I would be willing to wager a great deal that “whatever works for you” isn’t a stance on any legal matter there. That’s just not how it works. While some modern branches of Judaism may have that as a position, it is definitely not Mishnaic.

If you are concerned about Jewish law, the ocean is always a good choice. There are no conflicting arguments about the ocean as a mikveh. As the wise maggid Jhos Singer says in reference to the ocean, "It's [sic] becomes a mikveh when we call it a mikveh." Done.

(To clarify, I don’t know if that typo was carried over from the source of the original quote or not.)

This is true. However if you are concerned about Jewish law I would very much urge you to look to other sources than this one—be that your local rabbi or rebbetzen, the staff at your local mikvah, or a reliable website that actually goes into the proper requirements. If you want to use a mikveh according to Jewish law, please do not use this document as your guide.

We recognize immersion in water does not work for every body. Therefore, a guiding principle for where to do a mikveh is: do a mikveh in a place that is sacred to you. Your body is always holy and your body is made of mostly water. Later in this guide there is more information on mikveh with no immersion required.

I cannot emphasize how much I have never once heard this before. This, to me, reads like New Age nonsense. If you are unable to immerse in a mikvah, talk to your rabbi. Don’t do…whatever this is.

Our next section is a short one.

Who To Do it With: Do mikveh with people you feel comfortable with and supported by.

This is fine, though many mikva’ot (perhaps even most) will only allow one person to immerse at a time.

Do a solo mikveh and ask the earth body to be your witness.

With this, we return to the strange smattering of neo-Paganism. The “earth body” is not a thing. Yes, the Earth is called as a witness in the Bible at least once. It’s poetic. You also, unless you are converting, don’t actually need a witness anyway. A mikvah attendant or guide is there to help you—if you were somewhere without one, you could still immerse for niddah or various customary purposes.

Do mikveh with people who share some of your vision for collective healing.

As I’ve said before in this essay, collective healing is not the point of a mikvah. If you are Jewish and want to pray for healing, there are plenty of legitimate places for this–the Shemonah Esrei has a prayer for healing and a prayer where you can insert any personal prayers you want; there’s a communal prayer for healing after the Torah reading. You can give charity or recite a psalm or do a mitzvah with the person in mind. You can also just do a personal private prayer with any words you like, a la Hannah, or if you want pre-written words find an appropriate techinah (not the sesame stuff). If you want to work towards collective liberation, volunteer. Learn the laws of interpersonal mitzvot, like lashon hara (literally “evil speech,” mostly gossip or libel). Connect fighting oppression to loving your neighbor or the Passover seder. We have tons of places for this–mikvah isn’t one of them.

Next segment.

What To Bring to A Mikveh: 1. Intentions for the ritual for yourself and/or the collective.

See previous points on intention.

2. Items for the altar from your cultural background[…] (emphasis mine)

If I wasn’t appalled by the “immersing in makeup” or the “do divination first,” this would be the place that got me. This is wrong on so many levels.

One is not allowed to have an altar outside of The Temple in Jerusalem, the one we currently do not have. It’s an extremely big deal. One is not allowed to make sacrifices outside of the Temple. Period. This is emphasized again and again in the Torah and other texts. Even when we had a Temple, there were no altars in a mikvah.

And you certainly couldn’t offer anything in the Temple while naked, as one is required to be when immersing in the mikvah.

Even when we did bring offerings to altars (the Bronze Altar or the Gold Altar, both of which were in the Temple and which only qualified priests in a state of tahara could perform offerings on), the offerings were very specifically mandated, as per the Torah and those other texts. Even when non-Jews gave offerings (as did happen) they were required to comply. You couldn’t just bring any item from your cultural background. This is paganism, plain and simple.

Now, again, let me be clear: if you’re pagan, I have no problem with you. My problem is when one tries to take a sacred practice from a closed religion and try to co-opt it as one’s own. It’s a problem when someone who isn’t Native American decides to smudge their room with white sage, and it’s a problem when someone who isn’t Jewish tries to turn a mikvah into a pagan cleansing rite. And even if the person doing it is Jewish--I have an issue when it’s Messianics who were born Jewish, and I have an issue when it’s pagans who were born the same. Either way, whether you intend to or not, you are participating in appropriation or expropriation.

Which makes the line that follows this point so deeply ironic I can’t decide if I’m furious or heartbroken.

After suggesting that the reader (who may or may not be Jewish) bring items for an altar to a mikvah, the Guide asks:

[…] (please do not bring appropriated items from cultures that are not yours).

Which is simply just... beyond parody. To quote one of my editors, “This is quickly approaching the level of being a new definition for the Yiddish word 'Chutzpah,' which is traditionally defined as 'absurdist audacity' in line with 'Chutzpah is a man who brutally murders both of his parents and then pleads with the judge for leniency because he is now an orphan bereft of parental guidance.' If not for the involved nature of explaining the full context, I would submit this as a potential new illustrative example.”

The next suggestion of what to bring is

3. Warm clothes, towels, warm drinks

All these are reasonable enough, though most mikva’ot provide towels. Some also provide snacks, for while you are preparing. They may also not allow you to bring in outside food.

4. Your spirit of love, healing, and resistance

This, again, has nothing to do with mikvah. The only spirit of resistance in a mikvah is the fact that we continue to do it despite millennia of attempts to stop us. Additionally, to me at least “a spirit of love” feels very culturally-Christian.

Our next section is titled “How to Make Mikveh a Non-Zionist Ritual.”

Right off the bat, I have an issue with this concept. Putting aside for a moment whatever one may think of Zionism as a philosophy, my main problem here is that mikvah has nothing at all to do with Zionism. In Orthodoxy, at least, Jews who are against Zionism on religious grounds perform the mitzvah the same way passionately Zionist Jews do, with the same meanings and intentions behind it. It is performed the same way in Israel and out, and has been more or less the same for the last several thousand years. It is about ritual purification and sanctification of the mundane, no more and no less.

There is a word for saying anything and everything Jewish is actually about the modern Israel/Palestine conflict, simply because it’s Jewish.

That word is antisemitism.

How to Make Mikveh a Non-Zionist Ritual: Reject all colonial projects by learning about, naming & honoring, and materially supporting the communities indigenous to the land where you hold your mikveh. Name and thank the Indigenous people of the land you are going to do your mikveh on.

If you removed the “non-Zionist” description, this would be mostly unobjectionable. We should absolutely help indigenous communities. The framing of “reject all colonial projects” does seem to suggest that there is something colonial about the usual practice of going to the mikvah, though. I would argue that the mikvah is, in fact, anti-colonial if anything—it is the practice of a consistently oppressed minority ethno-religion which has kept it in practice despite the best efforts of multiple empires. Additionally, while Zionism means many different things to those who believe in it, at its root most Zionists (myself included) define it as “the belief that Jews have a right to self-determination in our indigenous homeland.” Our indigenous homeland being, of course, the land of Israel. (This is different from the State of Israel, which is the modern country on that land.) If you are a Jew in Israel, one of the indigenous peoples of the land your mikvah is on is your own. That’s not to say there aren’t others—but to claim Jews aren’t indigenous to the region is to be either misinformed or disingenuous.

Take the time to vision [sic] our world to come in which Palestine and all people are free.

I really, really dislike how they use the concept of The World To Come here. The Jewish idea of The World To Come (AKA the Messianic Age) is one where the Messiah has come, the Temple has been rebuilt, and the Davidic dynastic monarchy has been re-established in the land of Israel. Arguably that’s the most Zionist vision imaginable. This isn’t to say that all people, Palestinians included, won’t be free—true peace and harmony are also generally accepted features of the Messianic Age. But using the phrase in making something “non-Zionist” is, at the very least, in extremely poor taste. (As a side note, even religious non-Zionists believe in this–that’s actually why most of them are against the State of Israel, as they believe we can’t have sovereignty until the Messiah comes. They do generally believe we will eventually have sovereignty, just that now isn’t the time for it.)

Hold and explore this vision intimately as you prepare to immerse. What is one action you can take to bring this future world closer? Trust that your vision is collaborating with countless others doing this work.

Having a “vision” of a world where all are free isn’t doing any of the work to accomplish it. A “vision” can’t collaborate. At least not in Judaism. This sounds like one is trying to manifest the change through force of will, which is something directly out of the New Age faith movement, where it is known as “Creative Visualization.” Even when we do have a concept of bringing about something positive through an unrelated action–like saying psalms for someone who is sick–the idea is that you are doing a mitzvah on their behalf, to add to their merits counted in their favor. It’s not a form of magic or invocation of some mystical energy.

(Once again: I have nothing against pagans. But paganism is incompatible with Judaism. You can’t be both, any more than you can be Jewish and Christian.)

Use mikveh practice to ground into your contribution to the abundant work for liberation being done. We are many.

If you will once more pardon a brief switch to a casual tone:

Nothing says liberation like *checks notes* appropriating a minority cultural practice.

The next section of their document is titled “Ideas for Mikveh Ritual,” and this is where the Neo-Pagan and New Age influences of the authors truly shift from the background to the foreground.  

We start off deceptively reasonably.

Mikveh ritual is potentially very simple. Generally people consider a mikveh to be a full immersion in water, where you are floating in the water, not touching the bottom, with no part of the body above the surface (including the hair).

Technically, most people consider a mikveh to be a ritual bath (noun) in which one performs various Jewish ritual immersions. But if we set this aside as a typo, this is…fairly true. What they are describing is how one is supposed to perform the mitzvah of mikveh immersion. However, in much the same way I wouldn’t say “generally people consider baseball to be a game where you hit a ball with a bat and run around a diamond,” I wouldn’t say it’s a case of “generally people consider” so much as “this is what it is.”

This works for some people. It doesn't work for everyone and it doesn't work for all bodies. Because of this, mikveh ritual can be expanded outside of these traditional confines in exciting, creative ways.

Once again, if you are incapable of performing mikvah immersion in the proper manner, please go speak with a rabbi. Please do not follow this guide.

Before we continue, I would just like to assure you that. whatever “exciting, creative ways” you might be imagining the authors have come up with, this is so much worse.

Method One:

Sound Mikveh: One way that's felt very meaningful for many is a "sound mikveh." This can be a group of people toning, harmonizing, or chanting in a circle. One person at a time can be in the center of the circle and feel the vibrations of healing sound wash over their body. Another method of sound mikveh is to use a shofar or other instrument of your lineage to made [sic] sounds that reach a body of water and also wash over you.

This makes me so uncomfortable I barely have the words to describe it, and I know that I am not alone in this. This is not a mikvah. If someone wants to do some sort of sound-based healing ritual, by all means go ahead, but do not call it a mikvah. This is not Jewish. I don’t know what this is, aside from deeply offensive.

And leave that poor shofar out of this. That ram did not give his horn for this nonsense.

(I could go on about the actual sacred purpose of a shofar and all the rules and reasons behind it that expand upon this, but this is already over 9000 words.)

Method Two is, if anything, worse. This is the one, if you’ve seen social media posts about this topic, you have most likely seen people going nuts about.

Tea Cup Mikveh: Fill a special teacup. If you want, add flower essence, a small stone, or other special elements. Sing the teacup a sweet song, dance around it, cry in some tears, tell the cup a tender and hopeful story, hold the teacup above the body of your animal friend for extra blessing, balance it on your head to call in your highest self. Use the holy contents of this teacup to make contact with water.

This is absolutely 100% straight-up neo-pagan/New Age mysticism. Nothing about this is based on Jewish practice of any kind. Again, I’m at a loss for words of how to explain just how antithetical this is. If you want to be a witch, go ahead and be a witch. But do not call it Jewish. Leave Judaism out of this.

They end this suggestion with the cute comment,

Mikveh to go. We’ve always been people on the move.

Let me explain why this “fun” little comment fills me with rage. 

As you may recall, this document was published by Jewish Voice for Peace. Among their various other acts of promoting and justifying antisemitism, JVP has repeatedly engaged in historical revisionism regarding Jews and Jewish history. In this context, they have repeatedly ignored the numerous expulsions of Jews from various countries, and blaming sinister Zionist plots to explain any movement of expelled Jews to Israel (“In the early 1950s, starting two years after the Nakba, the Israeli government facilitated a mass immigration of Mizrahim,” from “Our Approach to Zionism” on the JVP website; see @is-the-thing-actually-jewish’s post on JVP and the posts linked from there).

So a document published by JVP framing Jewish movement as some form of free spirited 1970s-esque Bohemian lifestyle or the result of us being busy movers-and-shakers is a direct slap in the face to the persecution we’ve faced as a people and society.  No, we aren’t “on the move” because we’re hippies wandering where the wind takes us . We’re always on the move because we keep getting kicked out and/or hate-crimed until we leave.

But there is no Jew-hatred in Ba Sing Se.

Method three:

Fermentation Mikveh: Some food goes through natural changes by being immersed in water. If we eat that food, we can symbolically go through a change similar to the one the food went through.

Again, this has no basis anywhere in halacha. We do have concepts of “you are what you eat,” specifically with reference to what animals and birds are kosher, but there isn’t any food that makes you tahor if you eat it. In the Temple days there were, in fact, foods you couldn’t eat unless you were tahor.

Jews may like pickles, but that doesn’t mean we think they purify you.

Also, the change from fermentation is, if anything, the opposite of the change we would want. Leavening (rising in dough or batter, due to the fermentation of yeast) is compared in rabbinic writings to arrogance and ego, as opposed to the humility of matza, the “poor man’s bread” (see here, for example). Is the suggestion here to become more egotistical?

As we wrap up this section, I’d like to go back to their stated reason for using these “alternative” methods (“It doesn't work for everyone and it doesn't work for all bodies”), and ask: if these really were the only options for immersion, would these really fill that same spiritual need/niche? These obviously aren’t aimed at me, but from my perspective it seems almost condescending, almost worse. “You can’t do the real thing, so we’ll make up something to make you feel better.” If any of them had an actual basis in Jewish practice, that would be one thing, but this just feels…fake, to me. Even within more liberal / less traditional streams of Judaism, there is a connection to halacha: 

“We each (if we are knowledgeable about the tradition, if we confront it seriously and take its claims and its wisdom seriously) have the ability, the freedom, indeed the responsibility to come to a [potentially differing] personal understanding of what God wants us to do… [Halacha] is a record of how our people, in widely differing times, places and societal circumstances, experienced God's presence in their lives, and responded. Each aspect of halacha is a possible gateway to experience of the holy, the spiritual. Each aspect worked for some Jews, once upon a time, somewhere in our history. Each, therefore, has the potential to open up holiness for people in our time as well, and for me personally. However, each does not have equal claim on us, on me…Portions of the halacha whose main purpose seems to be to distance us from our surroundings no longer seem functional. Yet some parts of the halachic tradition seem perfect correctives to the imbalances of life in modernity…In those parts of tradition, we are sometimes blessed to experience a sense of God's closeness. In my personal life, I emphasize those areas. And other areas of halacha, I de-emphasize, or sometimes abandon. Reform Judaism affirms my right, our right, to make those kinds of choices.” – Rabbi Ramie Arian

“[Traditional Reconstructionist Jews] believe that moral and spiritual faculties are actualized best when the individual makes conscious choices…The individual’s choices, however, can and should not be made alone. Our ethical values and ritual propensities are shaped by the culture and community in which we live. Living a Jewish life, according to the Reconstructionist understanding, means belonging to the Jewish people as a whole and to a particular community of Jews, through which our views of life are shaped. Thus, while Reconstructionist communities are neither authoritarian nor coercive, they aspire to influence the individual’s ethical and ritual choices–through study of Jewish sources, through the sharing of values and experiences, and through the impact of the climate of communal opinion on the individual. …While we may share certain values and life situations, no two sets of circumstances are identical. We hope that the Reconstructionist process works to help people find the right answers for themselves, but we can only assist in helping individuals to ask the right questions so that their choices are made in an informed way within a Jewish context. To be true to ourselves we must understand the differences in perception between us and those who have gone before, while retaining a reverence for the traditions they fashioned. If we can juxtapose those things, we ensure that the past will have [in the phrase of Reconstructionism’s founder, Mordecai Kaplan,] a vote, but not a veto.” – Rabbi Jacob J. Straub (Note: the Reconstructionist movement was founded in the late 1920s, and has gone through a very large shift in the past decade or so. I use “Traditional” here to refer to the original version of the movement as opposed to those who have shifted. Both are still called Reconstructionist, so it’s a bit confusing. This is on the advice of one of my editors, who is themself Traditional Reconstructionist.)

You may note, neither of these talk about inventing things from whole cloth. To paraphrase one of my editors, “You don’t completely abandon [halacha], because if you did how would you have a cohesive community? Even in a ‘do what’s meaningful’ framework, you’re taking from the buffet, not bringing something to a potluck. Even if you don’t see halacha as binding, there are limits.”

(Again, disclaimer that the above knowledge of non-Orthodox movements comes from my editors, and any errors are mine.)

The next section is “Prayers for Mikveh.”

As a note, I’m going to censor the names of God when I quote actual blessings, as per traditional/Halachic practice. I’ll be putting brackets to indicate my alterations.

I’m not going to go much into detail here, because frankly my Hebrew isn’t good enough, and the six different people I asked for help gave me at least six different answers, but I will touch on it a bit.

First, the Guide gives a link to an article on Traditional Mikveh Blessings from Ritualwell (here is a link on the Wayback Machine, since the original requires you to make an account). Ritualwell is a Reconstructionist Jewish website, and accepts reviewed submissions. Here is their about page. The blessings on this page, as far as I know, are in fact exactly what it says on the tin. I’m not sure the first one, asher kidshanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al ha-t’vilah, is said for non-obligatory immersions (i.e. not for niddah or conversion), as it is literally a blessing on the commandment. The second blessing at that link is Shehecheyanu, which the Guide also suggests as a good prayer. This is the traditional form of the blessing, given at Ritualwell:

Baruch Atah Ado[-]nai Elo[k]eynu Melech Ha-Olam shehekheyanu v’kiyimanu v’higiyanu lazman hazeh.

Blessed are You, [LORD] our God, Monarch of the universe, Who has kept us alive and sustained us, and brought us to this season.

(As a quick note, you may notice this is not quite how they translate it on Ritualwell–I have no idea why they say “kept me alive,” as it’s definitely “us” in the Hebrew. There’s a long tradition, in fact, of praying for the community rather than ourselves as an individual, but that’s not the point of this post.)

The Guide, however, gives an alternate form:

B’rucha At y[-]a Elo[k]eynu Ruakh haolam shehekheyatnu v’kiyimatnu v’higiyatnu lazman hazeh. You are Blessed, Our God, Spirit of the World, who has kept us in life and sustained us, enabling us to reach this season.

Under the assumption that most of you don’t know Hebrew, I’m going to break this down further. The main difference between these two is grammatical gender–the traditional blessing uses masculine forms, which is common when referring to God. However, while there are often masculine descriptions of God, it is worth noting that Hashem is very specifically not a “man”--God is genderless and beyond our comprehension, and masculine is also used in Hebrew for neutral or unspecified gender. A whole discussion of gender and language is also beyond the scope of this post, but for now let’s leave it at: changing the gender for God in prayer is pretty common among less traditional Jews, and that’s fine. Some of the changes they make (or don’t make) here are interesting, though. The two letter name of God they switch to is–despite ending in a hey (the “h” letter)–not feminine grammatically feminine. I’m told, however, that some progressive circles consider it neutral because it “sounds feminine.” “Elo-keynu” is also grammatically masculine, but a) that’s used for neuter in Hebrew and b) it’s also technically plural, so maybe they didn’t feel the need to change it. Though if that’s the case I would also have thought that Ado-nai (the tetragrammaton) would be fine, as it’s also technically male in the same way. I’m also not sure why they didn’t just change ”Melech HaOlam” to “Malkah HaOlam,” which would be the feminine form of the original words, but perhaps they were avoiding language of monarchy. It’s apparently a not uncommon thing to change.

One of the responses I got said the vowels in the verbs were slightly off, but I can’t say much above that, for the reasons given at the beginning of this section.

Also, and this is comparatively minor, the capitalization in the transliteration is bizarre. They capitalize “At” (you) and “Elo[k]eynu” (our God), but not “y[-]a…” which is the actual name of God in the blessing and should definitely be capitalized if you are capitalizing.

The Guide next gives a second blessing that can be used:

B’rucha at shekhinah eloteinu ruach ha-olam asher kid-shanu bi-tevilah b’mayyim hayyim. Blessed are You, Shekhinah, Source of Life, Who blesses us by embracing us in living waters. -Adapted by Dori Midnight 

The main thing I want to note about this is that…that’s not an accurate translation. It completely skips the word “eloteinu.” “Ruach ha-olam” means “spirit/breath of the universe/world,” not “Source of Life,” which would be “M’kor Ha-Olam,” as mentioned above. “Kid-shanu,” as she transliterates it, means “has sanctified us,” or “has made us holy,” not “blesses us”--both the tense and the word are wrong. “Bi-tevilah” doesn’t mean “embracing us,” either, it means “with immersing.” In full, the translation should be:

“Blessed are You, Shekhinah, our God, Spirit of the World, Who has sanctified us with immersion in living waters.”

The Shekhinah is an aspect/name of God(dess), though not a Name to the same level as the ones that can’t be taken in vain. It refers to the hidden Presence of God(dess) in our world, and is the feminine aspect of God(dess), inasmuch as God(dess) has gendered aspects–remember, our God(dess) is One. It’s not an unreasonable Name to use if you are trying to make a prayer specifically feminine.

(Though do be careful if you see it used in a blessing in the wild, because Messianics use it to mean the holy ghost.)

“Eloteinu” is, grammatically, the feminine form of Elokeinu (according to the fluent speakers I asked, though again I got several responses).

It is, again, odd that they don’t capitalize transliterated names of God, though here there is more of an argument that it’s a stylistic choice, Hebrew not having capital letters.

The Guide then repeats the link for Ritualwell.

Finally, we come to the last section, “Resources and Our Sources:”

First, they credit the Kohenet Institute and two of its founders. I do not want to go on a deepdive into the Kohenet Institute also, as this is already long enough, but I suppose I should say a bit.

The Kohenet Institute was a “clergy ordination program, a sisterhood / siblinghood, and an organization working to change the face of Judaism. For 18 years, Kohenet Hebrew Priestess Institutes founders, graduates and students reclaimed and innovated embodied, earth-based feminist Judaism, drawing from ways that women and other marginalized people led Jewish ritual across time and space” (Kohenet Hebrew Priestess Institute Homepage). It closed in 2023.

I have difficulty explaining my feelings about the Kohenet Institute. On the one hand, the people who founded it and were involved in it, I’m sure, were very invested in Judaism and very passionate in their belief. As with the authors of the Guide, I do not mean to attack them–I’m sure they’re lovely people.

On the other, I have trouble finding a basis for any of their practices, and most of what practices I do find trouble me–again, with the caveat that I am very much not into mysticism, so take my opinion with a grain of salt.

Of the three founders, only one (Rabbi Jill Hammer) seems to have much in the way of scholarly background. Rabbi Hammer, who was ordained at the Jewish Theological Seminary (a perfectly respectable school), has at least one article where she quotes the New Testament and a Roman satirist making fun of a Jewish begger who interpret dreams for money as proof “that Jewish prophetesses existed in Roman times,” which to me at least seems like saying that the Roma have a tradition of seeresses based on racist caricatures of what they had to do to survive, if you’ll pardon the comparison. In the same article, she says that Sarah and Abigail, who are listed in the Talmud as prophetesses “are not actually prophetesses as I conceptualize them here,” (pg 106) but that “abolitionist Ernestine Rose, anarchist Emma Goldman, and feminist Betty Friedan stand in the prophetic tradition.” Given God says explicitly in the text, “Regarding all that Sarah tells you, listen to her voice” (Genesis 21:12), I have no idea where she gets this.

The second founder, Taya Mâ Shere, describes the Institute on her website as “spiritual leadership training for women & genderqueer folk embracing the Goddess in a Jewish context,” which to me is blatantly what I and some of my editors have taken to calling Jews For Lilith. Now, it is possible this is a typo. However assuming it is not, and it would be a weird typo to have, this rather clearly reads as “the Goddess” being something one is adding a Jewish context to–which is exactly what I mean when I say this guide is taking Paganism and sprinkling a little Judaism on it. If it had said “embracing Goddess in a Jewish context,” I’d have no problem (aside from weird phrasing)--but “the Goddess” is very much a “divine feminine neo-pagan” kind of thing. We don’t say “the God” in Judaism, or at least I’ve never heard anyone do so. We just say God (or Goddess), because there’s only the one. In fact, according to this article, she returned to Judaism from neo-Paganism, and “began to combine the Goddess-centered practices she had co-created in Philadelphia with what she was learning from teachers in the Jewish Renewal movement, applying her use of the term Goddess to Judaism’s deity.” The “Goddess-centered practices” and commune in Philadelphia are described earlier in the article as “influenced by Wiccan and Native American traditions, in ways that Shere now considers appropriative (“After Kohenet, Who Will Lead the Priestesses?” by Noah Phillips).” I’m not sure how it suddenly isn’t appropriative now, but taking the Pagan practices you were doing and now doing those exact same rituals “but Jewish” is, in fact, still Pagan.

Shere also sells “Divining Pleasure: An Oracle for SephErotic Liberation,” created by her and Bekah Starr, which is a “divination card deck and an Omer counter inviting you more deeply into your body, your pleasure and your devotion to collective liberation.”

I hate this.

I hate this so much.

For those who don’t know, the Omer is the period between the second day of Passover and the holiday of Shavuot, 50 days later. It’s named for the Omer offering that was given on Passover, and which started the count of seven weeks (and a day, the day being Shavuot). The Omer, or at least part of it, is also traditionally a period of mourning, much like the Three Weeks between the fasts of the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av–we don’t have weddings, we don’t listen to live music, we don’t cut our hair. It commemorates (primarily) the deaths of 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva in a plague (possibly a metaphor for persecution or the defeat of the Bar Kochba revolt). It is often used as a time for introspection and self-improvement, using seven of the Kabbalistic Sephirot as guides (each day of the week is given a Sephira, as is each week, so each day of the 49 is x of y, see here). It’s not, as Shere’s class “Sex and the Sephirot: A Pleasure Journey Through the Omer” puts it, a time to “engage…toward experiencing greater erotic presence, deepening our commitment to nourishing eros, and embracing ritual practices of…pleasure.”

The final of the founders, Shoshana Jedwab, seems to be primarily a musician. In her bio on her website, scholarship and teaching are almost afterthoughts. I can find nothing about her background or classes. She’s also, from what I’ve found, the creator of the “sound mikvah.”

So all in all, while I’m sure they’re lovely people, I find it difficult to believe that they are basing their Institute on actual practices, particularly given they apparently include worship of Ashera as an “authentic” Jewish practice, see the above Phillips article and this tumblr post.

The institute also lists classes they offered, which “were open to those across faith practices - no background in Judaism necessary.” If you scroll down the page, you will see one of these courses was titled “Sefer Yetzirah: Meditation, Magic, & the Cosmic Architecture.” Sefer Yetzirah, for those of you unaware, “is an ancient and foundational work of Jewish mysticism.”

You may recall my saying something some 5700 (yikes) words ago about Jewish mysticism (i.e. Kabbalah) being a closed practice.

You may see why I find the Kohenet Institute problematic.

I will grant, however, that I have not listened to their podcasts nor read their books, so it is possible they do have a basis for what they teach. From articles I’ve read, and what I’ve found on their websites, I am unconvinced.

Returning to our original document, the Guide next gives several links from Ritualwell, which I’ve already discussed above. After those, they give links to two actual mikvah organizations: Mayyim Hayyim and Immerse NYC. Both are reputable organizations, and are Open Mikvahs. Neither (at least based on their websites) seem to recommend any of the nonsense in this Guide. In fact, Mayyim Hayyim explicitly does not allow non-Jews to immerse (unless it’s to convert). ImmerseNYC has advice to create a ritual in an actually Jewish way. I would say the link to these two groups are, perhaps, the only worthwhile information in this Guide.

They then list a few “mikveh related projects,” two of which are by the writers. The first, Queer Mikveh Project, is by one of the authors, Rebekah Erev. The link they give is old and no longer works, but on Erev’s website there is information about the project. Much of the language is similar to that in this guide. The page also mentions a “mikvah” ritual done to protest the Dakota Access Pipeline, in which “the mikveh…[was] completely optional.” And, of course, there was an altar. The second project, the “Gay Bathhouse” by (I believe) the other author and Shelby Handler, is explicitly an art installation.

The final link is to this website (thanks to the tumblr anon who found it), which is the only source we’ve been able to find on Shekinah Ministries (aside from a LOT of Messianic BS from unrelated organizations of the same name). So good news–this isn’t a Messianic. Bad news, it also seems to have a shaky basis in actual Jewish practice at best. It is run by artist Reena Katz, aka Radiodress, whose MKV ritual is, like “Gay Bathhouse,” a performance project. As you can see from the pictures on Radiodress’s website (cw for non-sexual nudity and mention of bodily fluids), it is done in a clearly portable tub in a gallery. As part of the process, participants are invited to “add any material from their body,” including “spit, urine, ejaculate, menstrual blood,” “any medication, any hormones they might be taking,” and supplies Radiodress offers including something called “Malakh Shmundie,” “a healing tincture that translates to “angel pussy” made by performance artist Nomy Lamm” (quotes from “An Artist’s Ritual Bath for Trans and Queer Communities” by Caoimhe Morgan-Feir). The bath is also filled by hand, which is very much not in line with halacha. Which, if you’re doing performance art, is fine.

But this Guide is ostensibly for authentic Jewish religious practice.

And with that (aside from the acknowledgements, which I don’t feel the need to analyze), we are done. At last.

Thank you for reading this monster of a post. If you have made it this far, you and I are now Family. Grab a snack on your way out, you deserve it.

Further Reading and Resources:

https://www.mayyimhayyim.org/risingtide/members/

https://www.mikvah.org/directory

https://www.mayyimhayyim.org/

http://www.immersenyc.org/

https://aish.com/what-is-a-mikveh/

https://www.chabad.org/theJewishWoman/article_cdo/aid/1541/jewish/The-Mikvah.htm

https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/1230791/jewish/Immersion-of-Vessels-Tevilat-Keilim.htm

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/why-immerse-in-the-mikveh/

Meth, Rabbi Ephraim. 50 Mikvahs That Shaped History. Feldheim Publishers, 2023.

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Soshiro Hoshina was hard to rile up, but after seeing a certain captain flirting with his girl, it seemed he needed to take matters into his own hands. Maybe he needed to remind you that he was the only one to bring you pleasure, in any shape or form.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Soshiro Hoshina (Kaiju No. 8)

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.9k

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Fem!Reader x Hoshina. SMUT.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Thigh Riding, Impact Play, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, Narumi being an instigator, Condescention, Choking, Possessive Behavior, Calling Reader 'Kitten', Hair Pulling, Slight Power Dynamics (if you squint).

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Here I am once again back on my Hoshina agenda. Welcome to the cult. Listen this has been on my mind since I saw pookie fight for the first time honestly. So please enjoy this very indulgent fic. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ Also, oops its late. The full masterlist for my kinktober can be found here.

There were few things in this world that truly got under Hoshina's skin, in a world with so much devastation he tried to keep things light and only took situations seriously when it mattered. Keeping a smile on his face nearly constantly, being told by his colleagues his inability to take things seriously. However, when it came to you? Hoshina never took things lightly. Your safety and happiness came above all else. It was one of the reasons he detested your shared occupation at times. Dating his subordinate was taboo to say the least, highly frowned upon.

But, just because you both couldn’t explicitly be forthcoming with the nature of your relationship, didn’t mean anyone with a brain in their head could tell there was something at the very least between the both of you. The longing looks sent in eachother’s direction, late nights spent “training” together, the distinct marks that peeked through the collar of your uniform that could have only been left behind by his signature canines. There were more than a few indicators to hint that the both of you were an item, even one particular close call with Kafka before his reassignment in the training room long after lights out. So why was it that he felt the need to flirt with you every time the first and third divisions were forced to be in the same proximity?

Narumi had always had a nasty habit of finding Hoshina’s last nerve and dry humping it. The two divisions both being based in Tokyo, that natural formed rivalry, assisted in the competition between the two men. Often unable to be in the same vicinity as one another without it devolving to the both of them arguing, throwing nasty insults in each other’s direction. However, as of recently, Narumi had begun to take a different approach since your promotion to platoon leader. Whether he knew what was going on between you both or he simply suspected that Hoshina had feelings for you, was still indeterminable by the vice-captain. Regardless of either possibility, he had seemed to make it his mission to not only flirt with you but make comments regarding you consistently while in his presence. Mentions of “how good you filled out your uniform” and how “he’d like to have some private training with you”. Doing anything to get his blood boiling with rage.

What Hoshina didn’t know was Narumi was fully aware there was something going on between you both. He had incredibly good eyes, eyes that had immediately locked in on a peculiar mark that stood proudly against the collar of your uniform. There was also the time he saw you exiting the vice captain's office readjusting your uniform with kiss-swollen lips as he was on his way to discuss a joint training. He just loved how easily Hoshina was riled up, his signature smile growing tight at each mention of you. So when one of his platoon leaders was sent away and an important mission came up for the first division, of course Narumi was strolling into Hoshina’s office cheshire smile stretching his face as he leaned against the door frame advising him he had already spoken with Mina and he’d be borrowing you for a bit.

To say Hoshina was angry was an understatement, he was absolutely livid, but he gritted his teeth and bared it. He was on edge the entire length of your absence. Was a week truly necessary? He perked up like a pathetic puppy as the sound of your laughter met his ears, indicating your return. However, his excitement was quick to melt into jealousy as he watched you stroll in with Narumi, the current source of your laughter. Whatever he said couldn’t have been that damn funny. His sour mood continued long after Narumi’s departure, the two of them exchanging looks, Narumi’s unbelievably smug while Hoshina’s dripped venom, a concealed threat clear in his gaze.

You, oblivious to being the object of their most recent assault on each other, being caught off guard by Hoshina’s change in mood. Normally whenever you were sent away he all but rushed to your side upon your return. The most you got was him gripping your arm, lips pressed against your ear as he spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll be in your room after lights out I want you ready for me, no fucking panties you hear me?” He was already walking off before you could even formulate a response, more than confused by his abnormal behavior. That was how you found yourself in your current position, waiting for his arrival anxiously in nothing but a large sleep shirl.

Hoshina entered your room after a few moments, not even a single word exchanged before pulling you to your feet. His hands cupped your cheeks harshly as he dove to capture your lips with his own. The kiss was intense from the start, a clash of teeth as his tongue immediately bullied its way past your parted lips. He made out with you hungrily, moving to sit himself on the edge of the bed, taking you down with him. You were quick to straddle his lap, whimpering into the kiss as your hips rolled against him in search of some friction. Without warning, the loud echo of a slap rang its way throughout the room. Hoshina’s large palm coming in contact with your ass. The same hand trailed it’s way up your form, fingers curling around your throat, using it as leverage to pull you away from the kiss.

“How was your time in the first division, baby?” There was an air of harshness in his tone, one that told you he clearly had no interest in how your time had been. “Shiro, what..” Your words were quickly cut off by his lips as they crashed against yours once more. Hoshina rarely lost his temper, but there was something about Narumi that agitated him, his comfortability with you had him seeing red. The captain was extremely popular, garnishing more than a bit of female attention. But you were his, Narumi would have to pry you out of Hoshina’s cold dead hands. “Fuck kitten, missed you so bad.” He groaned against your lips. His desperation clear in his voice. Now, you may have been oblivious, but you were by no means stupid. Hoshina’s actions were out of character, and you were fully aware of his distaste for the first-division captain, he was jealous. Of course he was, it all made sense now. “Missed you too baby, so fucking much.” You whispered as best you could in the kiss.

Your words helped qualm is aching envy, even if only a little bit. His hands traveled south, gripping your ass in his grip, another harsh spank delivered to your ass. Sometimes you forgot just how strong your boyfriend was, a stark reminder coming as he manhandled you into straddling one of his thighs as he pulled away from the kiss. “Yeah, baby? Missed me?” He purred, tensing the muscles of the thigh you were sat on, guiding you’re his by the grip he had on your ass until they started moving of their own volition. “Then show me how much you missed me baby, cause you could have fooled me with the way you sauntered back here, giggling with that fucken ass.” Jealousy dripped from his tone, but you were too far gone. So distracted by the rough material of his cargo pants against your bare pussy as you ground you’re his against his thigh. “Fuck, Shiro, need you so bad.” Your voice was dripping with desperation, your cunt already causing a damp patch to form against the material of his pants with how it was crying for him.

Hoshina’s hand came down on your ass a third time, the sting causing tears to form along your lashline, feeling the skin to warm with the impact. “That’s vice-captain, kitten. You could use my name once you’ve fucking earned it.” He growled, hand returning to its previous home around your neck. There was something about when he got like this, it wasn’t often, but when his seriousness only seen when fighting Kaiju bled into your sex life you folded nearly instantly. Unconsciously your hips bucked, your head fuzzy as he applied just enough pressure to constrict your airflow. Your hips moving of their own volition as you grinded against his thigh.

Normally you would find the act degrading, but between missing him and the allure of him being so jealous you couldn’t help but to give into him. “Yes, vice-captain, please need you so bad.” Your compliance brings a smirk to Hoshina’s face, using his grip on your throat as leverage to force your eyes to lock with his. Vermillion boring into your own as he speaks. “That’s my girl, don’t want you to hide a single sound from me, don’t care if the entire division hears you. I’m done with hiding, they can't afford to lose either of us, what are they gonna do? Fire us? Oh fucking well, need everyone to know your mine. Want that fuck to hear you all the way on the other side of Tokyo, kitten.” His words went straight to your cunt, spurring your movements, rutting against his thigh like an animal in heat. Your thighs were already trembling, the drag of his pants against your clit causing your vision to blur. “Please, fuck, vice-captain, please.” You were not even sure what you were begging for at this point, too far gone to think of anything but the pleasure you were on the receiving end of.

Your words had Hoshina letting out a groan, his own head falling back as your thigh brushed his cock. He shuddered, his cock throbbing with need in the confines of his pants, but he needed this. Needed you to come undone without any other stimulation than just his thigh. His hand moved from your throat, burying themselves in your hair, taking a fistful and yanking your head back to look at him once more. “Gods, fucking look at you kitten.” He groaned, you looked absolutely destroyed, eyes lidded with lust, practically drooling at the thought of your impending orgasm. “Go on baby, do it, fucking come for me.” Each of the last three words was punctuated with a rut of his own hips, giving an added layer of friction to your cunt. “Oh fuck, Soshro!” You all but screamed, your head thrown back, the thrusts of your hips growing sloppy as you rode out your high on his thigh, uncaring of your volume. Your eyes blown wide at a newfound sensation in your belly as the coil of your pleasure snapped, squirting against him, successfully drenching the fabric of his pants.

His fingers detached themselves from your hair, cradling you against his chest. Your body was trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He cooed softly in your ear, rubbing up and down your back in a soothing gesture. All the jealousy melted away as he held you in his arms. “Shhh, my dear, shh. Did so good for me kitten, such a good girl for me.” He reassured between tender kisses pressed against your temple while your head buried itself in his neck while you caught your breath. Once he was sure your breathing had returned to normal, he tilted your chin up to press a sweet kiss against your lips. Pressing his forehead against yours and bumping his nose with yours in a pseudo-kiss. The tender moment didn’t last long before Hoshina grinned. “I’d like to see that two-toned bastard do that. Now come on sweet cheeks, now its my turn to show you how much I missed you, and that I could fuck you better than he ever could, yeah?” You were in for a long evening, and by the end of it you weren't sure if you wanted to thank Narumi or strangle him.

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @stunies @eevees-hobbies @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[kwanhui]

[ access the larger text, image free version of this post here ]

hi, all. i've already made a lengthy post explaining the reasons we should not support this upcoming seventeen album, which you can read here. it is far too long to delve into in any substance here considering this post will already have some serious length to it, however, it discusses the already ongoing boycott and the reasons behind it, as well as the reasons to boycott this album, which include their overwork and mistreatment, and more significantly, their continued collaboation with zionists in the past and on this album, as well as the involvement with a producer promoted his company's work with self professed n/azi kanye west in a highly antisemitic song. i strongly suggest you give it a read.

however, i would like to drive the point home with this post, and that is because both the members and their company continue to be willfully uneducated and ignorant of these matters, and further... unsavory things about their upcoming activities are coming out. they recently announced a 10th anniversary celebration in collaboration with airbnb. airbnb is a pressure target on the official bds boycott list. a pressure boycott per the bds website includes boycotting when there are reasonable alternatives to the company or product. (i don't know about you, but i've never been in a position where i am absolutely forced to use airbnb.)

airbnb is complicit in israeli occupation. settlers list hundreds of homes, apartments and villas for tourists to stay in, allowing both airbnb and illegal settlers to profit off land stolen from palestinian people. they quite literally allow war crimes to be used as tourism. this now makes 2 zionist or zionist adjacent collaborations linked to seventeen's anniversary celebrations, as well as one n/azi adjacent collaboration. i am encouraging you all to boycott more than ever.

there are carats in gaza fighting to survive every day and it is a slap in the face to them that you would sit down and put any money towards this album, even by offering seventeen and hybe so much as a cent of passive income through streams.

those of us wanting to boycott are unfortunately very much a minority but please don't allow that to discourage you. this is how you can use your voice. this is how you can make a difference. if you feel discouraged by the imbalance here, i encourage you to educate others and urge them to join the efforts.

○ this site can be used to watch youtube videos (the music video, the gose episode, etc) if you truly must as it will not give them any official views.

○ this is how you can still use streaming apps like spotify to listen to their music in just a few very simple steps

○ this drive contains a link to every release except spill the feels. you can dm me for stf files and i will reblog this with hbd files when available.

➥ reminder: seventeen are rich. this will not hurt them and this is not an act of hate against them. please consider expressing your love for them by urging them to show accountability, not buying into everything they do.

★ may 21, 2025 // going seventeen special episode: do not watch or engage with the special episode released on this date via any official sources. this means to avoid watching it on youtube/weverse, liking it, commenting it, or engaging in any official plybe posts regarding it.

☆ may 25, 2025 // special "hbd stage" in seoul: avoid official livestreams, official rewatches, and social media content related to this event. pirated content is fine.

★ may 26, 2025 // 'happy burstday' album release: do not stream or purchase the album in any format. do not use any promotional hashtags on social media. do not watch the music video via any official means, or engage with official uploads of it.

☆ june 2, 2025 // release of "nana bnb" show: do not purchase any official copies of the episodes or watch it on any official platforms. (keep in mind disney+, which is will be available to stream on at least in korea, is also a bds boycott target)

do not stream any content from seventeen in an official capacity. this includes title tracks, bsides, solo releases, mvs, and official interviews/performances, past or present. avoid platforms like spotify, apple music, youtube music, etc. do not save, like, or add these songs to playlists. utilize the links included above instead.

limit social media interaction. do not directly like, comment, repost, or share any promotional content.

do not directly buy albums, merch, or paid weverse content. secondhand and pirated content is ok. do not engage in any music show voting events.

do not use any trending tags associated with the comeback or activities. do not use sounds from the album in your tiktoks, edits, or reels.

➥ buy from fans, not from hybe! support ethical artists and creators and purchase their merchandise instead. ➥ donate to the carats for palestine campaign and other palestinian aid organizations. ➥ educate when you have the opportunity to. have tough conversations. loop others in. there are many who hold unfortunate positions regarding this but there are also many who are just unaware.

being a fan of something does not mean you cannot have criticisms or grievances, and it especially does not mean you cannot use your voice. you do not have to swallow your feelings about anything these artists do. you do not owe them anything and they are not entitled to your unwavering support. in fact, when it pertains to matters as disturbing as these, your support of them makes you entitled to speak up when they act in a disappointing fashion.

this is not hatred of seventeen. this is desire for them to better themselves and hope that they will remember their humanity before they act. i encourage you to remember yours, too. you are a human before you are a fan of something. think of your fellow humans, especially those suffering in gaza. act in their best interest, not seventeen's.

[reminiscingtonight]

Guilty

Lia Wälti x Russo!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Tis the season for sequels. Featuring a lot of Kyra and Alessia and not so much of Lia

[The Thing About Families Masterlist]

You should have known better than to trust her. 

There’s a reason Steph’s always more than happy to drop Kyra off on your doorstep whenever camp’s over.

There’s a reason Mini looks like she’s gained five years every time the younger girl has been granted privileges to “babysit” her two kids. 

You have a million reasons to not trust her yet you did. 

Why did you trust Kyra with the ring?

Your knuckles are nearly white as you drag the young girl into a nearby unoccupied conference room. Kyra’s looking apologetically guilty, but a delirious haze is starting to take over you. It’s a mixture of horror and disbelief, but at the bottom of it all, you feel beyond stupid.

“What do you mean you lost it?!”

Kyra looks like she’s moments away from crying, but you can’t find it in yourself to be compassionate. You can console her later. Right now you need to get to the bottom of this and try to salvage your relationship with your girlfriend first. 

“I swear it was stashed at the bottom of my drawer but it just wasn’t there when I looked this morning.”

“Well where did you put it?”

“I never moved it! Someone must have taken it.”

You pinch your eyes shut, praying to whatever soccer gods that are above that this was just a cruel joke. This wasn’t really happening and you weren’t about to postpone all the plans you’ve spent months working on. “Kyra, I am begging you not to do this. What am I supposed to do? The dinner’s been booked! The restaurant knows I’m proposing!”

“We can get you a new one! I’ll front it, I swear.”

Forget Kyra crying, you’re going to cry. 

“Unless you’re willing to shell out five grand in the next few hours, I don’t think ‘buying me a new’ one will work.”

The young Australian’s eyes bulge out at the sound of how much you spent on Lia’s ring. 

It’s not a well kept secret that you were going to propose. You and Lia have been together for years now, married in every way except for the official one. Wedding plans have already been discussed, from venues to food to the invitation list. The last thing you actually had to do was the actual proposing and getting married parts.

Though with the ways things are going, you’re not sure you’re going to get married anytime soon. 

There’s a knock on the door but you ignore it, pacing back and forth as your mind races. There’s not really much you can do at this point. The place you got Lia’s ring custom made at is already closed at this time of day, and your girlfriend deserves something better than a last minute generic engagement ring. 

A flash of blonde enters your peripheral just as you make your decision.

“Okay. I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh I’ve been looking for you guys--”

“Now’s not a good time, Less,” you wave your sister off, not even bothering to pay her any attention. “Okay Kyra, listen closely because I won’t repeat myself.”

The younger girl nods, determination painted all over her features. 

“I’ll cancel the reservations. That’ll buy me a couple days.”

“Guys--”

“Less. Not a good time,” You repeat, shuffling to turn your back to her to ensure Alessia can’t interrupt again. “The jeweler still has the plans I sent him. I can probably get Gio and Luca to lend me some money, but you have to find where you stashed that ring, Kyra. It wasn’t cheap.”

“About the ring--”

“Not now Alessia!” This time your and Kyra’s voices blend together, neither of you willing to give Alessia a minute of your days. 

She lets out an offended huff and you have half a mind to just strangle her right here and now, your mother’s feelings be damned. 

Gritting your teeth you turn around, not really happy to have to find out what your sister wants. She has free reign to bother you at any minute of any day but why was she so insistent on doing so right now? “What could possibly be so important, you impatient piece of--”

You cut off suddenly, eyes doubling in size when you look down at her hands. 

There’s a velvet box clutched between her perfectly manicured nails, the tiny thing sitting there like it’s mocking you for losing your temper earlier. 

“That’s my--”

“The ring! But-- but--”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Oh god, Lessi I could kiss you, you just saved my ass--” Kyra breaks off, something clicking in her brain. “Wait, where did you find it?”

There’s a slight pause as you wait for Alessia’s answer. 

“Err… so funny story.” She blows out a breath of air, trying her best to look nonchalant. “I might have been-- actually Kyra hid…” Alessia fidgets, not liking the crease that was growing deeper and deeper between your brows. “IwantedtoprankKyraaftersheprankedmesoItooktheringthelasttimeIvisited.”

She slams her mouth shut the second the words are uttered, but no one says a word. 

An uncomfortable tension settles into the room and Alessia does her best not to wilt to the ground. 

You stare at her.

Kyra stares at her.

Alessia stares at a spot past your faces, nervously shuffling under the weight of your gazes.

There’s no mistaking icy stare or the clenched jaw that proved you caught every word of her fastball confession. 

“You… What?” There’s an edge to your voice, a tone Alessia rarely was at the end of growing up, but one that she recognizes all the same. The order there is clear, but Alessia’s not so sure she wants to repeat herself out of self preservation.

She shrinks, suddenly wishing she wasn’t so tall. “Um. Well. So Kyra hid my earrings the other day, and I, uh, I thought hiding this would be a funny way to prank her back?” Alessia cringes, not liking the way this all sounds now that she’s saying it out loud. “But judging by the looks on your faces, I’m going to say otherwise.”

Your nose flares but that’s the only response she’s given. 

Kyra looks grumpy, probably the result of taking your misplaced anger from earlier. 

You hold out your hand.

No words are exchanged but Alessia is quick to drop the box into your hand. 

Just as quick as she darts forward to do so, she jumps back, shoving her now empty hands into her pockets. 

“See, no hurt no foul, right?”

Crickets. 

That’s all Alessia hears as she nervously chuckles. 

Neither you nor Kyra have moved, faces giving nothing away. 

At least not until you call the Australian’s name calmly, eyes never leaving your sister’s.

Alessia watches as the two of you slowly peel away from each other. Her eyes keep darting between the two of you, feeling more and more like prey that’s being stalked as the seconds tick by. “Guys, c’mon–”

“Remember how I told you to play nice with my only sister?”

Kyra’s frowning. It’s probably supposed to come off frightening but she looks too much like a kicked dog for it to really do too much.

But the look on your face… yeah, that was intimidating enough for the two of you.

“Forget everything I’ve ever said. I don’t have a sister.”

Alessia gulps.

“Get her.”

She bolts.

[starsainzjr]

The Wine Maker

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wine maker!reader Faceclaim: None

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ynwolff Tuscany

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ynwolff Private wine tastings and pasta making classes are in for 2024

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carmenmundt Mercedes private sessions when?

yourusername When Toto lets everyone out of the factory for once georgerussell63 You should be able to make that happen yourusername You put too much faith in me, Mr. Russell

toto.wolff Schatz, if you keep feeding me wine and pasta no one will get back to the factory

georgerussell63 That a promise? ynwolff I need someone to taste test the new barrels, better luck next time

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bellavitavineyards Tuscany

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bellavitavineyards Bellavita Vineyards open houses are back! Every Friday pop in for guided tours, wine tastings, and pasta making classes! Owner YN Wolff will be at the first open house next week answering questions and leading a few of our tastings!

ynwolff Brackley, England

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ynwolff The only reason why I was invited to the factory was because I bring wine and pasta

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toto.wolff Schatz, you're invited because you're my wife and everyone is less afraid when you're here

ynwolff That's not true georgerussell63 Yes it is lewishamilton Yes it is ynwolff Oh boy

carmenmundt I always invite you places because you're the love of my life

ynwolff My one true soulmate

carmenmundt Brackley, England

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carmenmundt Team dinner to start to season complete with an @/bellavitavineyards bottle of perfection

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ynwolff I had so much wine in my suitcase I think I'm flagged for life with airport security

carmenmundt And we applaud you for it

georgerussell63 Favorite way to start the season with my favorite people

carmenmundt You're being sappy on main again, babe georgerussell63 My bad, my bad

kinggeorge63 Can we discuss how close everyone at Mercedes has gotten since YN and Toto got together

kinggeorge63 Like the past three years it's been crazy how close they all are

mercx8 This team is gonna be on some shit this year. I can already tell

ynwolff Bellavita Vineyards

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ynwolff Back to business as usual. @/bellavitavineyards staff and I have been coming up with some special surprises for the 2024 batches including our first Super Tuscan!

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toto.wolff I am so proud of you, schatz. Missing you terribly

ynwolff I love you, Hübscher. I'll see you soon

carmenmundt So when am I getting my private classes again?

ynwolff As soon as you bring me that perfume I like that somehow only you know where to get it from carmenmundt I'm running to get it immediately

carmenmundt posted a story

ynwolff

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ynwolff Happy one year anniversary, Hübscher. I love you more and more each day. Go do incredible things <3

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toto.wolff Schatz, light of my life. I love you more than words can describe. One year ago was the best night of my life, I cannot wait for more with you

ynwolff You are my one and only. I love you, Hübscher

carmenmundt Genuinely one of my favorite events ever. You two are the cutest and loveliest couple out there!

georgerussell63 The Wolff wedding will go down in the history of legendary events

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